#just in my office having whole heart palpitations

[respectthepetty]

I just going to lay on my office floor and hold my Aran x Tattoo ship close because these shows are really coming for my entire life, and I don't know how I'm going to make it another month with Peaceful Property and Jack & Joker ripping out my heart each and every week.

Like can we chill out, please? Can I just get a filler episode of fluff? Can I get a break from going through eighty million emotions for an entire hour two times a week? CAN'T MY BOYS BE HAPPY?!

God, I love it here. *crying on my floor in a fetal position where I've been since last Wednesday*

[gloomwitchwrites]

Overheard confessions part 2? You over hear them confess to the team about how they love you and want to have an army of kids with you...or like a lot of dogs on a farm lol

Don't mind me, I'm just shrieking like a hyena over here. I am obsessed with the idea of a part two but from the opposite perspective. What happens when we hear the guys making the confession. I had way too much fun with this one. Just pure glee. Enjoy! (Find Part 1 HERE.)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, swearing, breeding undertones, suggestive themes, mild alcohol/smoking, fluff, implied sexual content, mild dirty talk

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“You’re a mess, John.”

You clutch the manila envelope to your chest, coming to a dead stop just outside Captain Price’s office. The door is cracked, your hand pressed flat against the wood with the intent to enter. That flies out the coop. You’re glued to the spot, listening as Laswell continues to speak.

“Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“Care about my sleeping habits, Kate?”

Laswell snorts. “You look tired. What’s on your mind?”

There is a stretch of silence. You don’t dare breathe—don’t dare move. When Price doesn’t answer, you hear Laswell sigh. It’s not an annoyed sound, but one of pity. She knows what troubles him.

“It’s the secretary. Isn’t it?”

A secretary? What secretary?

You comb through all of them in the building. There are only a handful of you—maybe ten total.

“It’s nothing, Kate.”

“Just admit how you feel, John.”

Your hand drops from the door and crosses over your chest. The manila envelope crunches softly against your breasts as you squeeze it tighter.

“What do you want me to say? That I fancy the woman?” He scoffs.

“Yes,” replies Laswell. “It’s that simple.”

Your mind races. Of the ten secretaries in the building, there are maybe three—including yourself—that this could apply to. A blossom of hope blooms in your chest, a racing sensation of your heart palpitating. You shouldn’t wish for it, but for it to be you?

No.

“I’m her superior.”

This time, Laswell scoffs. “She’s not even your secretary, John. She’s mine, and I think you need to say something to her.”

Oh fuck.

It’s you. They’re talking about you.

“Really, Kate?”

“Really, John.” Laswell sighs. “Not to be crude, but maybe if she were getting laid, she wouldn’t hide my cigarettes when my wife tells her to.”

“Christ, Laswell.”

“No, John. Tell me how you feel about her.” He doesn’t. “I’m waiting.”

You hear a grumble on Captain Price’s end, then, “I want to make an army of kids with her. I want to wake up with her beside me and for her to be near when I sleep.” He pauses. “I like the way she throws her head back when she laughs. Her smile.” Then, softly, “I love everything about her.”

There is a tap tap tap of a shoe against linoleum, and then someone’s walking toward the door.

“That’s it, John. Just tell her how you feel and—”

The door opens wide, revealing you. Captain Price and Laswell both freeze. Price’s face goes from surprised to a dark shade of pink. Laswell’s shifts to a knowing smirk.

“Is that the file I asked for?”

“It is,” you affirm.

Laswell nods. “Hand it over to Captain Price. He needs to take a look at it first.”

“Laswell—”

“Goodnight, John,” she calls out, shutting the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

Price clears his throat, standing.

“I heard what you said,” you say quickly.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“I—”

“Wait,” you say, holding up a hand.

Dumping the manila folder on the desk, you circle to his side. Price is perfectly still, watching you the whole time. What you’re about to do is bold.

Placing your hand on his chest, you lean in. His entire demeanor softens as he mimics your movement.

“You said you wanted to make an army of kids with me.”

“It’s one thing I want to do with you.”

Shifting, you inch toward the desk, propping yourself up to sit on top of it. It’s true, you do need to get laid, and why not with a man who is more than willing.

Price’s gaze lowers as you spread your legs.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"She's fucking gorgeous, mate."

"Is that all?"

With back pressed against the wall, you listen in on the conversation.

Kyle and Johnny’s voices carry in the small apartment. You linger in the short hallway that leads to the kitchen and dining room. They have no idea that you are home, listening in just around the corner.

“No,” comes Kyle’s voice. It’s not sad but strained, like he’s trying to form the right words but keeps stumbling over what to say.

Anxiety grips your stomach, twisting tight.

"She's everything I want,” says Kyle, this time sounding confident.

"Everything?" Johnny whistles and you hear the creak of a chair. "You looking to marry her?"

The twisting sensation becomes a clamp. A vice grip that closes your throat.

"If she'll have me," answers Kyle immediately.

Johnny chuckles. "You'll marry her and then what? Pop out an army of wee bairns? Adopt a cat and two dogs?"

“All of the above,” answers Kyle. “Or nothing at all. It’s what she wants.”

“Oh, aye,” replies Johnny. “That's a good answer."

The sudden seizing of limb and lung relaxes, returning you to the moment. Your heartrate speeds up, becoming a thundering thing that threatens to burst from your chest. Kyle may be your boyfriend but you never suspected that this is what he wants.

"When do you plan on proposing?" asks Johnny.

"Haven't thought that far," murmurs Kyle.

"Too focused on how you're gonna have that army of barins?" laughs Johnny.

"You wanker,” mutters Kyle, but you hear the smile in it.

"Just remember—”

You cannot hide any longer. It’s unbearable.

Emerging suddenly—and almost tripping over your own foot in the process—the two men go quiet, their gazes widening as you appear like an apparition before them. Between then is an open bottle of scotch and various containers of Kyle’s favorite takeout spot.

Kyle is out of his seat in a second, heading for you. He whispers your name, a soft thing meant only for you, and all your love comes rushing up to warm your cheeks and soften your insides.

As he nears, the words tumble from you. "You want a small army with me?" you whisper.

"You heard that?" he asks.

The next words you form are dangerous yet you say them anyway. "Do you want to start trying?"

You put every ounce of lust you can muster into those few words. Kyle’s bodily response is immediate. His shoulders straighten, and a hungry need enters his eyes. This man is about to drag you to bed and fuck you raw for hours.

"Johnny," snaps Kyle, voice cracking slightly. He clears his throat. "Time for you to go."

John "Soap" MacTavish

A tornado rips through your senses.

Did you hear Johnny correctly? Surely not.

"You don't understand, Simon."

Johnny is in the bedroom pacing around while he talks to Simon on the phone. At your current distance from out in the hall, it’s difficult to hear Simon’s response.

"You're balls deep in a different lass every week. Don't hardly know their names. And you're going to give me shit about this?"

A snort almost escapes your nose, revealing your location. Johnny isn’t wrong. Simon is a notorious slut among Johnny’s group of friends. There is always a different woman on his arm whenever they go out.

Johnny pauses before continuing. "I love this woman. I want a bloody army of bairns with her. Fuck, I'll take an army of animals if that's what she bloody well wants."

He sounds irritated, but you know it’s just his passion. Johnny can be hotheaded, especially when it comes to the people he cares about. Either that or Simon is giving him shit on the other end.

"I need your support, Simon." All is quiet, and then you hear Johnny’s amused snort. "You're always giving me shit, Lt." He chuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow at brief.”

You slip around the corner and enter the bedroom. Johnny glances up from his phone, his mouth a wide smile upon glimpsing you. “Come here,” he says with a sultry purr, reaching out.

You go to him without effort.

Wrapping you up in his arms, Johnny kisses the top of your head. You tilt your face upward, going in for something softer.

"I heard you talking on the phone,” you murmur, accepting another kiss from Johnny.

"Did you?"

"You want an army of kids?"

Johnny's neck flushes pink. "I may have said that."

Your hug becomes intimate, hands gently caressing until you find the front of his sweatpants. Johnny groans into your mouth as you find him, lightly rubbing him toward hardness. It’s a tease of a touch. The moment he’s throbbing under your hand, you pull away, fingers toying with the strings of his sweatpants.

"You don't mind if we start now?"

Johnny's gentle embarrassment becomes a sultry glare. "Oh, aye. We have the rest of the day and all night to try."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"I want her, Johnny."

The pan of brownies you’re holding nearly go crashing to the floor. Simon’s words are a brick wall. You’ve been baking all day because it’s the only thing you can do to distract yourself. The plan is to drop them off with Simon and let the boys devour them. Instead, you’re dumbfounded, standing right outside the door to the meeting room Price’s secretary told you to drop the sweets at.

“Who?” asks Soap absently.

When Simon speaks again, it is your name that falls from his lips. Yes, you and Simon are together, but you’re not together. This is fuck buddies. This is friends with benefits. This is…not a relationship.

Or so you thought.

But you’re at his place of work dropping off fucking brownies. The rest of his team call you by your first name. They expect you at functions when they all bring their significant others along. Yet you and Simon are not a couple.

Not officially anyway.

"Oh, aye?” asks Soap, his tone amused. “And does she want you?"

Yes. More than you know.

You’re fully aware that Johnny and Kyle give Simon shit about you. Not because they don’t like you—they adore you—but because they think Simon needs to put a ring on it. They aren’t quiet about it either.

But Simon has never been so forward with his feelings for you. He might tell you sweet things when his dick is deep inside you, but you’ve never heard him be this blunt.

"Don't care. She's mine, Johnny. I'll make sure of that." The mine is almost a growl, a possessive bite that sends a bolt of need to your core.

Johnny chuckles but there’s nothing condescending in it. He sounds…happy.

“Finally, Lt. Fucking finally!”

You hear Johnny enthusiastically smack Simon’s back—or shoulder—and then the man growls like he’s aggressively shaking Simon.

“You’re going to fucking crack my ribs, Johnny.”

“I’m just happy for you, Lt.”

You step forward, pressing your shoulder against the doorframe. They are still out of view, but you don’t want to reveal yourself yet.

“Finally going to make an honest woman out of her?” jokes Soap.

Simon snorts. “I’ll even make you an uncle, Johnny.”

“Me? I expect an army, Lt. Five mini-Riley’s running around.

“Fucking hell, Soap.”

Your cheeks are hot, and you’re standing out in the hall like an idiot. The last thing you need is for one of them to open to door and find you here.

Knocking to announce yourself, you open the door of the meeting room. They turn in your direction, but it’s only Johnny’s face that’s clear to you. Simon is wearing a balaclava, and the only part of him you can see are his eyes.

Johnny’s grin is devilish. “What’s that, love?”

“Brownies?”

He perks up. “Gaz is gonna flip his mug.” You hand them over and Johnny removes the foil on top. “I’m eating this entire pan.”

“Fuck off, Sergeant,” says Simon.

Johnny gives him a half-hearted salute before disappearing out the door, a chunk of brownie already shoved in his mouth.

“You just get here?” asks Simon, sauntering forward.

The soft sway of his hips is a tantalizing thing. You’re hypnotized. Locked in.

“No,” you whisper.

“No?”

“I—I heard you and Soap talking.”

Simon is inches away, his broad chest and shoulders seeming impossibly wide, almost boxing you in.

“What do you think?”

“You want me all to yourself?”

Simon’s voice is a growl. “You’ve always been mine. That’s never changed.”

You place your hand on Simon’s chest. “You promised Soap you’d make him an uncle.”

“I did.”

“And if I want to start right now?”

Simon leans in a bit further, his gaze burning like warm whiskey. “Then you should bend yourself over the table and lift that dress.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[sitkainsnow]

Desperately need a fic from a police officer’s pov and they watch SuperBat interactions bc like all the cops either hate or love Bats, but are still kinda terrified of him, but ofc Supes is all sunshine and smiles and “He’s my best friend y’all!” And they KNOW bats probably totally has kryptonite and an attitude worse than the devil.

So they end up in a situation where they’re working together and Batman in taking with the police and Superman’s standing behind him waving and smiling at everyone while Batman is giving single-word or just huffs for answers. And then Superman freezes and cocks his head and to everyone’s surprise grabs Batman by the shoulder and whispers something in his ear and then what’s more surprising is Batman doesn’t even mind as he wraps his own arm around Supes and then they’re gone in a blur of blue and Black. All the cops are just left standing there like 🧍‍♂️shocked bc Bats didn’t mind Supes touching him.

Or another instance where it’s after this big battle in Gotham and it’s with whatever villain but Superman is there too and the villain had kryptonite. Anyways so after the battle Bats is talking to the police and handing over the villain and Superman comes over after talking to the civilians, picks Bats up by the scruff mid sentence politely nods to the officers he was talking too, and moves him a couple feet away and just starts yelling at Bats abt how stupid it is for him to run around jumping in the way of heavy blows EVEN if they have kryptonite and Bats just scoffs and turns his head away and all the police on the area watch as Superman and Batman argue about how stupid it is to risk your life to save the other (they both did it) completely oblivious to their audience and the police whose POV it’s in just thinks “god they sound like a married couple. Wouldn’t it be crazy if the two of the worlds greatest hero’s were actually a couple lmao. But that’s crazy they’re just really good friends”

Gordon watched all this trying not to blow his fuse bc yes, Batman does need to be yelled at, and yes, he does need to prioritize his safety more, but NO, you don’t need to be having your lovers quarrel in front of the whole damn GCPD.

Or in another instance Batman racks up a bunch of charges on him for whatever reason and the GCPD by luck manages to arrest him and so here comes Superman trying to bail his partner(in more ways than one) out of prison and the police are like “we’re really sorry Mr. Superman sir but we can’t legally do that” and Supes goes “what the hell did he even do” and so the officer goes “Property Damage, unlawful violence, arson, punched a cop in the face and broke his nose, caught carrying weed which is illegal in the state of New Jersey, multiple -and I mean multiple- unpaid speeding tickets. Oh, and the DMV wanted us to talk to him about his unregistered Batmobile and Batbike.”and Supes is about to cry as he quietly asks “Okay, so how much is bail” And the officer looks away and mumbled “sixteen grand” and Supes gasps and cries out “I don’t get paid enough for sixteen grand!!”

However thirty minutes later Supes is back at the GCPD station shakily counting out bills bc he can’t use a check or card (obvi) sweating heavily and looking extremely pained. The cops don’t even ask where he got all those bills so quickly and just watch him and another 30minutes later Bats is out and Supes is shaking him by his shoulder shouting “so who’s gonna lag me back!! Who’s gonna reimburse me for for 16k?? Whose gonna apologize for the heart palpitations you gave me?? Whose gonna apologize for all the gray hairs this is going to give me?? You’re giving me gray hairs all the time B!! I can’t do this!!” And Batman just sighs and pats Superman on the back as they walk out of the station and Superman is mumbling about bank credit and loans and how bad he looks with wrinkle lines and gray hair sounding like he’s about to cry.

Meanwhile the police try not to loose their minds throughout this whole interaction and Gordon’s just staring at the door blankly smoking a cigar and the police whose POV it’s in looks at the cigar a little bit closer and goes “That smells like weed” and Gordon looks at her and just says “I feel for Superman a bit more than I want to”

[foxy-eva]

Heart Language

Summary: Spencer has a crush on his doctor (and the feeling is mutual)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader 

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Reader is a cardiologist, Spencer is worried about his health (but he's fine), mentions of (harmless) heart palpitations, blood tests, ECG and echocardiography 

Word count: 2.2k

Masterlist

For thousands of years the word heart has been used for metaphors relating to emotions such as love and pain in most parts of the world. It makes sense considering cardiac activity evoked by certain sensations and feelings is a universal experience. Some cultures even believe that the soul – the essence of who we truly are – can be found in the heart. 

Hearts have always been fascinating to me. So much so that in my daily life as a cardiologist I often forget my patients' faces but always remember their hearts. 

However, when Dr. Spencer Reid entered my office, I knew I wouldn’t forget his face anytime soon. 

He awkwardly waved at me when he stepped in, waiting for me to motion for him to take a seat. I had already taken a look at his chart and was wondering why he’d seek my expertise. 

“So, what brings you in, Dr. Reid?” 

He audibly cleared his voice before he began explaining, “I’ve been having very irritating heart palpitations lately so my primary care physician told me to come here to get it checked.” 

When I took another look at my screen to read over his blood work, I noticed him scanning my face but he averted his eyes once I looked at him again. 

“Your blood work looks fine from what I can tell,” I let him know. 

“Really? It’s just that my diet consists mainly of take-out and coffee,” he confessed. “And I know I’m not getting any younger.” 

I dared to ask the question most of my patients dreaded. “How often do you exercise?”

“Uhm,” he muttered, “about… once…”

Since I wasn’t sure if he’d be able to finish the sentence, I suggested, “A week?”

“A year,” he clarified, making it impossible for me to conceal the smile forming on my face. 

For the first time since coming into my office he locked eyes with me and I almost got lost in the warmth they radiated. His whole demeanor gave away how anxious he must have been. Most of my patients were worried about their health but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was me who made him nervous. 

“I like honesty,” I snickered and he sighed relieved. 

“I know about the health benefits of regular exercise and a clean diet,” he stated as if to avoid getting a lecture (that I wasn’t planning on giving him). “It’s just that my job is very stressful.” 

That was to be expected from someone working for the FBI. We spent a couple more minutes talking about his medical and family history before I explained, “A lot of people have completely harmless heart palpitations from time to time. They can worsen with stress or too much caffeine."

"That checks out," he mumbled. 

He found my eyes almost apologetically, as if he was worried he'd be wasting my time. Little did he know that every chance to take a look at a heart was time well spent for me. Especially when it belonged to someone so interesting. 

I softly smiled at him when I continued, "I have no reason to believe that it’s anything to be worried about. But to be sure I would like to do an ECG and an echocardiography if that’s alright with you."

He nodded and followed me to the other room. As I stepped closer to my beloved devices, I pointed to his shirt and told him, "Take that off and lie down for me please."

As he began undoing the buttons of the fabric covering him, he said, "Just the shirt, right?"

Without thinking about it, I snickered, "If you want to take your pants off too you gotta buy me dinner first."

With widened eyes and rosy cheeks he stared at me, obviously unsure about how to react. I realized quickly how uncomfortable I had made him, already regretting my improper comment. 

"I am so sorry," I apologized. "That was inappropriate." 

The sweetest, most heart-warming smile spread across his face at my words. 

"It's okay," he chuckled. "I like honesty, too."

He shed his shirt and lay down for me to place the electrodes on his skin. His chest was flushed and heated, almost burning against my fingertips. When everything was in place, I focussed on the monitor to look at his heart rhythm. 

Spencer couldn't hide his nervousness from me. 

"Is your heart rate always this high?" I wondered without averting my eyes from the monitor. 

"I don’t think so?"

I found his eyes and joked, "So it’s just in my presence."

The rosy shade covering his face and chest turned a little darker when he confessed, “I’m uhm… a little nervous.”

"Try to relax, Spencer,” I whispered. 

Whether he noticed me using his first name I couldn't tell, but it seemed to be working. His heart rate got down slightly. "Take a deep breath."

He did as told and closed his eyes as he tried to calm down. It was interesting to see how good he was at following instructions.

When his heart was beating at an almost normal rate, I said, "That's better. You're doing great." 

It was then that his pulse went up slightly once more but I didn't comment on it. I removed the electrodes from his skin and was met with a concerned expression. 

Even though I knew he didn't have a medical degree, I still offered him a look at the printed paper. "Don't worry, everything looks normal."

He scanned the ECG with furrowed brows before he wondered, "We're still doing the cardiac echo, right?"

"Of course. There are still some things to rule out," I agreed as I moved to the other side of the bed to access the sonographic unit. "Plus, I never pass up a chance to take a look at a heart."

"You must love your job," he chuckled as I placed the probe on his chest. 

"I do, actually," I said while taking a look at his organ. It looked just as perfect as I'd imagined. "Your heart is beautiful, Spencer."

I could have sworn that I saw his heart make a little jump at my words. When I found his eyes, I noticed him looking at my face instead of the monitor. At first I thought he was trying to read my reaction, to know if everything was alright with him. That was not what was happening though. 

The man laying beside me with my hand pressed against his chest smiled at me. It was then that I realized how oddly intimate it was for me to almost literally touch his heart. Never before had a patient made me feel this way. 

The echo gave his current state away, showing me how much faster his heart began beating the longer we stared at each other like this. I wondered if he suspected to find a similar rhythm thrumming inside my chest if he had the chance. It was impossible for me to ignore my blood pumping organ threatening to jump out of its confines, almost as if seeing Spencer's heart had awoken something inside me. 

Before I could lose myself in the moment completely, I focussed back on the monitor in front of me and began to explain what exactly we were looking at. Spencer listened carefully as he watched his own heart beating. 

When we were done we sat back down at my desk where I made sure he'd understand that nothing was wrong with him. 

"There's no reason for you to be worried. What you're experiencing is completely harmless but you should still reconsider your caffeine intake."

To my surprise he didn't just get up and leave like I expected him to. Instead he waited a few moments as if he had hoped to hear more of my words. 

When he realized that I was done talking, he asked, "Should I schedule an appointment for another check-up to be sure?"

Shaking my head, I reassured him some more, "There's no reason to do a follow-up, you're perfectly fine."

"Oh."

Somehow that sounded more disappointed than relieved. I couldn't shake the thought that this wasn't about his health anymore.

He confirmed my theory when he asked, "Are you sure?" 

Spencer really wanted to see me again. 

And I really wanted to see him again. 

"Yes," I confirmed. "But even if a follow-up was necessary, I'd still have to refer you to another doctor."

"Why?"

The shocked expression written all over his face almost broke my heart, so I was quick to coo, "Because I can't go out with a patient."

"Oh," he breathed as his cheeks began glowing once more. He became a little flustered when he muttered, "Is that uhm… something you're considering?"

With a smug grin spread over my cheeks I suggested, "Why don't you call me tomorrow to find out?" 

He reciprocated my smile and promised, "I definitely will."

After handing him a note with my private phone number he disappeared from my office but his face never vanished from my mind. I couldn't quite grasp what it was about him that intrigued me so much but I knew I needed to see him again. 

Spencer didn't even wait 24 hours to call me and I couldn't have been happier. 

We were both eager to see each other again, so we agreed to have dinner the next day. When he picked me up from my place to drive us to the restaurant he seemed a lot more confident than the first time I'd seen him. Only when he spoke did I recognize the same awkward and slightly coy man that had become so dear to me in a matter of moments. 

Time flew by when we were together. Never before had a man shown that much interest in the things I was passionate about and he surprised me by sharing some facts about my favorite topic - the heart. The thought of him doing research in preparation for our date let a warmth spread through my chest. 

Spencer really was unlike anyone I had ever met. 

Although the both of us would have liked for our date to continue it had to come to an end eventually. Spencer walked me to my door and kept lingering in front of it for a little while as we looked at each other in comfortable silence. 

"So, how is your heart?" I finally broke the quiet. 

"It was fine all day," he chuckled, "until I saw you."

I took a step towards him, close enough to be able to feel the warmth his body radiated. We locked eyes when I reached out my hand to place it on his chest, just above where his heart sat under layers of fabric, flesh and bones. He didn't even flinch when I touched him, almost as if he had expected me to make this move. 

I felt his heart thumping steadily against my hand and remembered how perfect it looked the other day. 

When I noticed it beating a little faster, I reminded him, "You don't have to be nervous around me."

"I can't help it, you're very attractive."

"Don't worry," I breathed. "I feel the same way about you, too."

To my surprise I suddenly felt his palm pressed against my chest as well. For a moment I thought it was just some bold move to try to feel me up but then I realized what he was doing. 

He wanted to touch my heart as well. 

It answered him by jumping dangerously fast inside my chest, excited to possibly have found its counterpart after years of searching. 

His heart gave away his intention by raising its frequency before his body had even started moving. A split second later Spencer's free hand made contact with my cheek and his sight dropped to my mouth. His breath felt hot against my face when he leaned down to capture my lips in a kiss. 

Tentatively his lips ghosted over mine before I pulled him closer with my hand in the back of his neck. The sensation of his lips against mine sent sparks through my entire body. When he deepened the kiss and let his tongue meet mine, both of our hearts became erratic. 

My hand wandered from his chest to his shoulder in a desperate attempt to find something to hold onto. Spencer smiled into our kiss as he let his palm glide to my back, pulling me against his body. There was no distance to be found between us as we melted into one another in our kiss. 

Our hearts tried to touch as well as they thumped fast against our chests. When the urge to let more oxygen float into my lungs overcame me, I pulled back slightly and looked at the man before me. He wore the most beautiful smile I had ever seen, so I decided I had not yet had enough of him. 

"Do you want to come inside? Maybe have a cup of coffee?" I asked and added, "Decaf, of course."

"I would love nothing more."

If you enjoyed reading this story you should check out the other fluff fics in my SFW Masterlist!

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @spookydrreid @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luna-novae @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @s4r4hsblog @sebs-oxygen @reidsmilf @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @conniesanchor @jordierama @ellamaianderson @cynbx @feltonswifesworld87 @sweetannanas @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @l-e-n-a @bitchassbecky691 @iameternallylonely @hotchandspencearedilfs @amititties @lover-of-books-and-tea @castiels-majestic-wings @highl1lac

Join my taglist here

[sirfrogsworth]

Adventures in Cardiology

Went to my heart doctor appointment today.

It reminded me how frustrating and inefficient medical appointments are.

They tell you to get there 20 minutes early. But then they call you in 10 minutes late. Then I have a nurse weigh me, check my vitals, listen to my heart, and she asks why I am there.

I tell her any time I exert myself I get sweaty, dizzy, feel like I am going to faint, and then I sleep for 4 hours. And the most worrying factor is my heart rate goes above 140 or 150.

She does a heart test with the little stickers and the line squiggles on the screen. And then rips off the stickers from my hairy chest with reckless abandon. Except her "rip it off like a band-aid" technique was more like, "fail to rip it off and attempt to rip it off 3 more times."

I then go back to the waiting room.

Then a physician assistant calls me back to her office. She looks at my squiggly lines for a minute, listens to my heart (again), and asks why I am there (again). You would think all of the information I gave to the nurse would be relayed or in my chart. But I have to redo my entire spiel about the sweating and the fainting and the fast heart rate.

But this time she types everything I say into the computer. So surely it is all documented and I will not have to tell my story again.

(I probably need to work on making my foreshadowing less obvious.)

Oh, and she was typing with two fingers. I haven't seen that in a while. She was pretty fast for a hunt-and-peck typist. But the confusing part was she was younger than me. How did she survive university typing that slow? I'm curious if maybe she has a finger condition or some kind of repetitive stress injury.

She then leaves the office and I am left to wait again. I sat there for another 10 minutes playing with my fidget spinner keychain that looks like Thor's hammer.

Finally, an hour after my appointment time and 80 minutes after my arrival, the doctor arrived. He listens to my heart a third time and then I have to tell my entire story. Again. Then the physician assistant tells my story but with slightly more medical sounding terms. And the whole time the doctor had a look on his face like, "He just told me all this. Adding the word 'palpitations' does not give me new information."

The doctor shrugs and says I need to wear a monitor while exerting myself.

He'll see me in a "few weeks."

And after about 5 minutes he disappears into the ether.

THIS COULD HAVE BEEN AN EMAIL.

Or a phone call.

Like, they could have done a pre-interview on the phone and determined this would most likely require I wear a heart monitor and have that ready to go for my in-person appointment. But instead, I waited nearly a month to get this appointment. Now I have to wait a month to get my monitor attached. And then I will need a third appointment to go over the results.

And I'm willing to bet I will need to tell my story several more times before this is over.

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Nora: *Aura Breaks* Fuck!

Glynda: Ms. Valkyrie loses by Aura Level!

Jaune: Nora! Are you okay!

Nora: *Struggles to stand* I'm- I'll be fine I just- I'm just gonna lay down for a bit

Glynda: Miss Valkyrie, is there a problem?

Nora: No- No! I just need a minute to get some aura back.

Jaune: Nora, Your Heartbeat is going crazy!

Nora: It's .... Nothing.

Nora: ... Just let me rest ...

Glynda: *Checking Nora's heart beat* Ms Valkyrie, does this happen oft- Don NOT lifter Mr Arc!

Nora: Only when ... My aura Breaks. I gotta keep my heart normal with m' semblance. It's all electrical stuff, Yeah?

Glynda: ... Everyone, you are dismissed while I take Nora to the infirmary! Mr Arc, follow me.

Nora: No- No. I'll be fine I swear-

Glynda: *lifting Nora with Telekinesis* How long has this been occuring, Nora?

Nora: Whole life? I think? My Mama couldn't get me into school b'cause of it.

Jaune: That's horrible Nora! Why didn't you see a doctor?

Nora: ... no money ... It's- It'll

Glynda: Ms. Valkyrie, if you say some variation of "It Will Be Fine" one more time, I will give you detention.

Nora: ...

Jaune: Nora, this is far from Fine. I know, I of all people know What it's like to feel like you can't ask for help. We, JNPR, RWBY, The staff here at Beacon? We all want to help you. Please. Please let us Help you.

Nora: ... okay ...

Nurse: Good even-

Glynda: Miss Valkyrie here is suffering from Heart Arrhythmia, as well as heart palpitations, and it sounds as though she has been for most of her life. I will contact Vale General Hospital, please ensure her condition doesn't become worse.

Nurse: Uh! Oh, yes right away! How did we not catch that?!?

Glynda: Her semblance. She was Manually Controlling her heart beat.

Jaune: Why did you have me Follow?

Glynda: Emotional Support Mr. Arc.

Glynda: ... And some paperwork about why a teammate needs to visit the Nurse's office, and later the hospital. if you need help I will be able to assist after school today. For now I need to write an Incident Report about this.

Nora: ... Sorry.

Glynda: I certainly hope that apology is for hiding your affliction from us. One more thing to write is nothing when it comes to the health of my students.

I was thinking about how the Heart works, and I realized Nora would likely be able to start/stop her heart at her leisure, and then that Idea turned into this. Originally she was gonna fake a heart attack to get out of paying for food.

I also think Glynda deserves to be shown with a little more heart than she's given. She's a hardass, rules-enforcing, direct and short-tempered person. But she's also a teacher, and does, in her heart of hearts, care about her students.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The Widow - Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Summary: Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: "Family Don't End with Blood," takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her, is what happens when she falls in love again?   

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader (past) | Dean Winchester x F!Reader (eventual)

Warning: angst, grief, panic attacks, language, fluff if you squint

Words: 2,327

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Dean had been right. The few weeks you’d been back at work had done you the world of good. There are still nights you can’t sleep, and you still have good and bad days, but mostly you’re doing okay now. You’re back into somewhat of a routine, and once the staring and whispering stopped at the office, you fell back into the swing of things, quickly making it feel like you’d never been away. And for the first time since you’d been back, work has been so busy that you’re glad it’s the weekend.

Parking up in the driveway, you grab your purse from the passenger seat and get the groceries from the trunk. As you stand outside the door looking for your keys, you can hear the landline start to ring, prompting you to quickly grab your keys and unlock the door. Finally making it in, you haphazardly push the door closed with your foot and stumble towards the phone. Your fingers just manage to close around the device, ready to pull it off its cradle, when the ringing stops and your heart drops.

“Hey, it’s Sam!” The tinny sound of your husband’s voice comes out of the small speaker. “And Y/N!” You can hear the smile in your voice clear as day and it makes you feel nauseous. “We can’t get to the phone right now, so you know what to do!”

Sam’s parting words are the last thing you hear before your heart starts to race, and you feel yourself getting hotter and hotter. There’s a whooshing in your ears and your throat feels like it’s closing over. You struggle to breathe with the heart palpitations and the crushing weight on your chest. You can’t hear at all now that the whooshing has changed to a deafening ringing. Your vision blurs with the tears that are falling, and the more you fight to breathe, the darker your surroundings get.

You hear the phone start to ring again – though this time it sounds higher and more musical in tone – and the thought of hearing your husband’s voice again panics you into taking a deep, gasping breath. The air you release from your lungs comes out in a sob and you force yourself to your hands and knees and crawl over to the corner.

When the wall stops you from moving any further, you curl your knees into your chest, wrap your arms around them and begin to rock, trying to provide yourself with the comfort you’re in desperate need of. Your slowly healing heart begins to shatter again in a symphony of tears, shallow breaths, and a painfully pounding heart.

You don’t know how long you’ve been crouched in the corner of your living room, but it’s completely dark now which tells you it’s way past sunset. You’re startled out of the daze you’ve been trapped in by a car door slamming outside. You take an experimental deep breath, and though your chest still feels tight and it still hurts a little, you manage okay. Trying to get up is another matter entirely. Your body is just too tired, and everything aches. All of your energy has been depleted by the panic attack that had hit with none of the usual warning signs – you don’t even have the energy to lift your head when you hear the front door open.

“Y/N?” 

Dean’s voice makes your heart jump, but your emotions are all over the place and you can’t tell if it’s relief that he’s here and will comfort you, or fear that he’s going to read you the riot act for not calling him.

“Sweetheart, you here?” The light flickers on and you don’t even flinch at the sudden brightness. “Shit!” He mumbles as he takes in the mess of the floor; groceries scattered all over the place, their brown paper bag burst open, your purse lying abandoned next to your keys and the cordless handset of the phone.

Dean spins around searching for you, the look of panic clear on his face. You can see he’s ready to move into another room when he stops short, eyes trained on you curled into a ball in the corner of the room. 

“Y/N, thank god! You scared me! I’ve been calling and texting you all night. What happened?” His brow is furrowed in concern, and you curse yourself that he looks like he’s aged five years since you saw him yesterday and you know that–once again–it’s because of you. Everything you’ve done for the past three months seems to be ageing either John or Dean. Or both.

“Hey,” he says, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” 

You try to open your mouth to say something–anything–but all that comes out is another sob. Dean is quick to wrap you in his arms and pull you into his chest, letting you cry it out on his shoulder.

When you finally stop crying, you feel your bone-tired body sag against his, grateful that he’s holding you so tightly or you’re sure you’d have collapsed in a heap at his feet. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed, sweetheart. Maybe you’ll feel better after some sleep and we can talk about this in the morning, huh?” Dean whispers into your ear.

He slides one arm under your legs and the other around your waist and lifts you into his arms. He walks towards the door, stopping short as you squirm in his embrace and reach your hand out. Grabbing hold of the phone cable, you pull it as hard as you can, yanking its connection out of the wall socket.

Dean doesn’t say anything other than a quiet, “you good?” before continuing to carry you up to your bedroom when you nod and rest your head on his shoulder. He makes you feel calm and safe, and you can already feel your body lose some of its tension and your eyes become heavy with sleep.

“Alright, sweetheart, I’m gonna get you a little more comfortable, alright?” Dean holds your gaze to make sure you hear and understand him. “So, I’m gonna take off your boots and your pants, okay? Then we’ll get you under those covers, what d’ya say, huh?” You don’t remember doing it, but you must nod because Dean gives you a wink and mutters, “that’s my girl,” as he pulls one of your boots off.

Dean settles you in bed and strokes your cheek with the pad of his thumb, smiling softly at you. 

“Try and get some sleep, yeah?” he whispers and starts to stand up from the bed. Your hand grips his wrist and squeezes gently, stopping his movement and making him look back at you.

“Please stay.”

Dean’s POV

“Please stay,” Dean hears her begging him, and damn, if he isn’t a sucker for a damsel in distress at the best of times, never mind that damsel being Y/N. He’d give a kidney to that girl. Hell, he’d give her his last breath.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Dean smiles at her as he stands from the bed and moves to the opposite side. 

Taking his shoes off, he slides under the duvet and opens his arms, inviting his sister-in-law into him in an effort to provide her with the comfort she no doubt needs after the emotional turmoil of the evening.

Y/N shuffles over and rests her head on his shoulder, releases a heavy sigh and thankfully, falls asleep almost immediately. Dean was worried she’d lay awake for hours thinking about whatever it was that had set her off earlier. She’d been doing so well recently, but he’d had this feeling of dread deep in his gut all day and when she didn’t answer any of his calls or texts, he knew something was really wrong. He just hadn’t expected to walk into her house and see her curled into a corner.

Wrapping his arms around her, Dean lets out a sigh of his own before he places a kiss on the crown of her head and strokes her hair. Something made her have a panic attack and he’s certain he knows what it was. He just wants to make sure she’s sound asleep before he finds out if he’s right.

Once her breathing evens out and Dean’s sure Y/N’s in a deep sleep, he carefully picks up his cell phone and calls her and Sam’s landline number. It’s the only thing he can think of that set her off–the phone lying on the floor, her yanking the phone line from the wall–there’s nothing else that could have done it except…

“Hey, it’s Sam!” Dean’s heart drops to his stomach.

“And Y/N!” And then it breaks.

He ends the call and puts his phone on the bedside table and his eyes catch the wedding photo of Sam and Y/N bathed in the moonlight. He’s never seen two people as happy as they were that day and it kills him that his baby brother was taken from this world far too soon and that he left a beautiful, young woman who was perfect for him, behind.

Dean’s never been one for emotions, always burying them and trying to hide them, but lying next to his brother’s grieving widow, he lets his emotions find him and the tears fall silently. And finally, when he has none left, he settles himself down for what’s sure to be a long, sleepless night.

He wakes with a start. It’s still dark outside, but he can see from the open curtains that dawn isn’t far away. He hears a dull thud coming from downstairs and quickly looks to the other side of the bed to check if Y/N is still asleep next to him. Seeing her side of the bed empty he sighs in relief before frowning and turning to check the time.

5:58am

Dean pulls the covers from his body and gets out of bed. Following the soft thuds, he finds Y/N sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the sideboard in the kitchen, pulling out papers and various bits and pieces. 

“Y/N? What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” she states like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be doing before the sun is up.

“It’s 6am, sweetheart,” he replies, even more confused about what’s going on.

“There’s coffee in the pot. Help yourself,” again said like it’s normal to be shredding paperwork at 6am.

“How long have you been doing… whatever it is you’re doing?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Like 3:30, 4am?” She looks at him for the first time and giggles. “Your hair is adorable when you wake up! You look like a hedgehog!” 

He can’t help but laugh at her obvious joy having seen so little of it lately. Still chuckling, Dean walks over to the cabinet to get a mug of coffee.

“So,” he says as he sits on the floor across from her, “what exactly are we doing here?” Dean takes some time to look over the piles of stuff she’s making and sees that everything had belonged to Sam and she continues sorting things into piles before glancing up at him. 

“It’s time. I need to let him go,” her eyes begin to water. “And to do that, I need to start getting rid of things.” Dean nods at her solemnly.

“Are you sure about this?” he questions softly. “Sure you’re ready?”

“I’m never going to be ready, Dean. But what happened last night… I can’t go through that again. I haven’t been that bad since the funeral, and I’m tired of being scared of what I’ll find when I open a cupboard, or what happens when I don’t get to the phone on time,” she explains as she bravely fights more tears. Dean nods again and takes her hands in his.

“Okay. Then let me help. And when it’s a less ungodly hour,” he playfully scowls at her. “I’ll call dad and Jody. You shouldn’t do this alone and without the support of family around you. Alright?” He checks, and when she nods, he smiles at her.

“Alright,” he rubs his hands together and picks up a pile of papers. “Wanna tell me what I’m supposed to do with these?”

Y/N’s POV

Sighing, you look around the room and smile softly at Dean and Jody laughing and joking over a beer in the kitchen. Your house is almost empty of all of your husband’s belongings now, and yet, somehow, it looks exactly the same. You’d let John and Dean take what they wanted and there were two boxes to go up to the attic. You’ve kept a closer hold on his wedding ring and your wedding album, his Stanford mug, t-shirt and hoodie, and some of his other most prized possessions, by putting them in a box in your closet. Everything else is either going to goodwill or in the trash.

“You doing okay, honey?” Jody asks, placing her arm around your waist.

“Yeah, m’okay.” You’re not really, but you don’t have it in you to talk about how you feel right now.

“Liar!” Jody chuckles but thankfully leaves it at that. “How about we go for dinner at the Roadhouse? We’ve earned a decent meal and should have a drink to reflect and remember. It’s not necessarily a celebration, but I think we need to mark this occasion somehow, Y/N.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I could do with a decent home-cooked meal and the biggest glass of wine they have!” You smile sadly.

“Darlin’,” John says as he comes back in from a trip to the recycling centre. “You deserve a damn bottle! C’mere,” he opens his arms and invites you into his embrace.

“I did the right thing, right?” You mumble into his chest.

“It was time, Y/N,” John reassures you. “Ain’t no doubt about that.”

Next Chapter>>

@deans-spinster-witch @muchamusedaboutnothing @kazsrm67 @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @leigh70 @waynes-multiverse @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @chriszgirl92 @stoneyggirl2 @marilynnlew @ilovedean-spn2 @deans-baby-momma @acitygrownwillow @xxsovereignsarayaxx

[mariacallous]

In Washington DC, I measure out my life in polls and heart palpitations. The polls are relentless, nail-biting, maddeningly contradictory. There are national polls, swing state polls, polls from tiny counties that predict a whole election, partisan polls designed to demoralise the other side.

There are polls on whether a candidate inspires confidence, compassion, leadership. I’ve noticed how, after a bad poll, I start looking for another that tells me numbers I like. I’ve also noticed how, after a good one, I will look for a bad poll to bring me down, as if I’m trying to prick the balloon of self-confidence and remind myself of “reality”.

But the polls never do quite take you to reality. Instead, they shape it. It’s not just what the polls are saying, or even how they were put together, that’s the great problem here – it’s how the obsessive focus on polls is symptomatic of how we view politics.

Polls make politics feel like a race, a game, a sport of feuding personalities. Who’s up? Who’s down? What tactics have they used to get one over on each other? What does it say about their personality? Words are seen as weapons with which politicians show off their ability to subvert or scare the opposition – not as substantive statements about what they intend to do.

And what sort of politician will thrive in this world where political speech is just a game? A candidate such as Donald Trump.

It was the communications professors Kathleen Hall Jamieson and Joseph Cappella who first noticed the connection between describing politics as a series of strategies and a growing cynicism among voters.

This was back in the mid-1990s, when the media was constantly analysing the rivalry between US president Bill Clinton and speaker of the house Newt Gingrich, the early iteration of today’s identity-based partisanship. Jamieson and Cappella found the media was focusing less on the issues the two were debating – often around health reform – and more on how they were competing.

The coverage fixated on who was winning, utilised the language of games and war, emphasised the performance and perception of politicians, put a new weight on polls.

This sort of coverage activated people’s cynicism about politics – the sense that it’s just a game between self-serving schemers – and then made them more cynical about the media.

Decades later, this “spiral of cynicism” is all around us: from the exploding popcorn of polls to the headlines. After Trump’s former chief of staff John Kelly compared him to a fascist last week, the Wall Street Journal wrote: “Harris uses ex-Trump chief of staff’s remarks to paint him as unfit for office”.

The question of whether Trump is a fascist or not was reduced to highlighting a rhetorical tactic. The idea that all politics is just a cynical game, and that the “mainstream media” is not really looking out for the cares of the voter, has become so pervasive it has helped pave the way for politicians who stand on sweeping away the whole edifice of democracy as we know it.

It’s no coincidence that this turn began in the 1990s, when the cold war had finished and the big philosophical debates about policy seemed to be over. Instead, politics became about entertaining performance – the era of Blair, Clinton, Zhirinovsky, Yeltsin. And the media began overgenerating coverage that replaced ideological debate with personality and tactics.

The 1990s were also when the reality show emerged as the dominant entertainment format. It initially grew out of observational documentaries seeking to understand society better by ceaselessly filming ordinary people in their homes in such a way that they would forget about the cameras and be more themselves.

It quickly became the opposite: a circus where all behaviour was for the cameras. Contestants learned to say and do the most vile things just to engineer scandal and generate attention for themselves.

American political TV debates started to imitate the same logic. In a busy primary debate, candidates only get a little sliver of airtime. The way to get more is to attack another candidate in the meanest and most personal way possible, and thus provoke them to attack you back. If you are attacked, then you are allowed more time to respond.

So you quickly got debates where supremely clever candidates sling personal abuse at each other to get more attention. The debate stage was set for reality show host Trump.

The design of most social media has followed the same incentives: rewarding taking the most extreme and often nasty statements to generate attention. And Trump has flourished on that as well.

The 1990s is when World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) boomed, with its cabaret wrestlers pulling obviously fake fighting moves, where violence is theatre. Trump was always an aficionado of WWE, even taking part in mock fights, and a member of its hall of fame.

This year the 1990s wrestling star Hulk Hogan spoke at the Republican National Convention; Trump enters his own rallies to the theme tune of the Undertaker, who, at the height of WWE, was the “evil” foil to Hogan’s all-American “goodie”. Many of Trump’s followers apply the cultural logic of WWE to his statements. Sure, the argument goes, Trump might say some very authoritarian-sounding things – but it’s just a game.

So can we ever find a way back to reality? To issues rather than strategies? We can, and we can even use polling to do so. When pollsters recently gave voters a choice of policies, rather than personalities, to choose from in this election, the majority, including Trump supporters, preferred Kamala Harris’s.

Partisan polarisation dissolves when we change how we cover politics. We can also develop different TV political debates, which preserve the excitement of competition but repurpose them to reward collaboration instead of abuse.

Imagine a debate format where candidates had to solve a real policy problem, and show how they would work with each other and with the opposition party to achieve it. We could also scale social media platforms that algorithmically detect the commonalities in political disagreements to generate common policy solutions. Such platforms are already being used in Taiwan.

Of course, there’s appeal in fleeing from reality to the grotesque circus of politics. But if we can’t face facts, others will force us. This month, at the Wilson Center in DC, Jack Watling of the Royal United Services Institute and Sam Cranny-Evans of the Open Source Centre presented a chilling analysis of Russian weapons manufacturing and supply chains.

The slideshow featured satellite photos of munitions factories where freshly cleared tracts of land are being readied to produce more weapons. Vladimir Putin is preparing for a vast war. China’s arms production is on a wartime footing. They are not playing.

[plasticfangtastic]

Cozy Corner Kinktober Day 21-- (3 for me)

Behind the Scenes

A Homelander X Tek Knight fanfic, and Maeve is here.

Cozy corner kinktober– prompts: 18. Voyeurism, 10. orgasm denial, alt. Kink of choice– Exhibitionism.

A/N: Tek is gonna be OOC a bit bcuz honestly he’s only been in 1 ep and god knows what he's gonna be like in S4, so am inspiring him heavily on Bruce Wayne just to help myself here (used to write superbat fics back in HS), so sorry ‘bout that… I also set this in s2 so I don’t think Tek Knight’s tumor would be as advanced as it is in gen V so his hole fetish has been toned down, as I imagined it would’ve been something that slowly progressed over time… from kink to straight up fetish.

TW: masturbation, whatever the fuck is up with Tek Knight Hole fetish, angst, both men are being pervs, Bisexual Homelander, cum swap.

word count: 5.2K

Nothing beats an ex-lover when you need the strongest distraction after being utterly humiliated.

Edgar said no lies as he equated him to a manchild. His verbal lashing stabbing deeply into every insecurity, even threatening with terminating his contract had barely raised his blood pressure. He hadn’t cared… ignoring him and educating him in what he really was… what Vought really was and how meaningless he was in return… more than condescending… it hurt… it made him want to fly to his apartment and burn it down.

Instead he was at Tek-Knight’s afterparty, mingling with lesser A-listers and wondering what had gone wrong in his life that he had to smell the foot fungus on people’s mouths.

He turned to look around after escaping another pitch for his next film, Homelander couldn’t think of doing another film when he was feeling so terribly down, his sinuses burning as he tried to not drown himself in self-pity and crying… wanting so dearly to speak to his brother in private, just to hear his words of affirmation and encouragement.

His sole consolation came in the shape of other members of the Seven being subjected to the same meandering– not that they seem to be suffering too much.

Homelander eyes Maeve as some above average publicist chatted her up.

“Want me to get that for you?”

Homelander turned to spot a sharply dressed man, their shoulders rubbing at the same height as he offered a glass of bubbly.

“Sparkling White Grape Juice. Had to go all the way down to the kitchen to find a single bottle for you.”

“I don’t need it.” Homelander said just as sharply as this Italian suit made him look.

“Your tongue is looking 15% paler than usual. You’re parched.” he replied pushing the glass closer to him– "She's aroused.”

“You fucke–

“The publicist. She is being extra flirty… If I had to guess, she its already planning on how to get Maeve to fuck her in the parking lot.”

Robert turned to face him as a red glove delicately ripped the glass off his hand, he gave it a sniff to make sure it was clean, pleasantly surprised that was the case– even the juice smelled clean.

“I know you think I have a death wish but please…”

“Stop analyzing me.”

“So who ticked you off? Couldn’t be Maeve because you wouldn’t leave her alone if that was the case? Was it Matt Damon over there– he’s so snobby? Or was it in the office?” He stared at him trying not to chuckle, seeing that slight squeeze of his jaw– Is it that new cute little thing? Or a wHole other thing?

“Stormfront doesn’t bother me.”

“Bzzz.” He chuckles while taking a sip of his champagne– lie to all those cocsuckers but you can’t lie to me John.”

“Don’t call me that.” The glass made a slight crack but it kept its shape.

“Thought you reinstated my privileges after so long.” He looks down at the rim of his glass, happy he took a sip, and the mark his lips left behind– have some pity on me. I'm going through some health issues.”

Homelander turns to stare at him, undressing him from toe to head, looking at the density of his bones, his heart for any blockages, abnormal palpitation or growing tissue, his lungs for unusual growths then as his sight sets on Robert’s head he freezes, squinting at the mass.

“Going to try some medications. Just a scare but the Doctors aren't sure how they are gonna crack this titanium skull of mine– oh the irony of an indestructible body being the reason behind my demise.” He chuckles dryly hiding the slight tremor on his voice expertly.

“Chemo?”

“And go bald!? Jesus John… I know you’re mad at me but don’t pray for my downfall. You think people would see my movies if I became ugly?”

“I don’t think it matters, nobody who comes to see your crap has any taste… or eyes.” 

That earned a smile on the other man, as he saw his tongue lick his lip, Homelander had finally found a distraction.

“This party it's so boring– want to play a game, Tek?”

Tek Knight blushes before a snide smile crossed his face, leaning even more closer towards Homelander knowing there was no reason to whisper into his ear, he just wanted to see the hairs of his neck raise as his silvery voice susurrated, Homelander couldn’t help but to choke back a moan, as the tip of his nose rubbed his ear.

“I’ll play anything you want, John. Just to help you smile again– so heads or tails?”

He was so smooth with his words, no wonder he was so popular, always around Homelander’s sphere when it came to those important women focused rankings.

Homelander knew the rules like the back of his hand, just as he knew how this man would never leave the house without that stupid casino chip on his breast pocket, if he knew Homelander was going to be in the vicinity… neither liked letting go.

It had been a torrid and sudden affair– the first time they’ve met had been like a smack across the face, Madelyn had wanted a team-up to help boost Homelander’s image, to have the world’s greatest detective and up and coming TV name staple teaming up with the world’s greatest superhero– It was the stuff of legends.

There was a maturity to Tek Knight that other supes didn’t have, the way he handled the masses was smooth, the way he poise himself and dressed was the definition of suave, he was born for the camera and it loved him, his little warming exercises even had a charm to them while Homelander still struggled to control his secret stutter… deep down he believed they wanted him to study the weaker supe, to copy him, to spend time with him and discover how to be better… he never expected to find himself drawn to him, Tek read him with ease learning how to handle him more than anybody else… he didn't use tricks to mess with him just used his gifts to learn how to speak to him, Tek hated deceith just as much as he did– quick to call bullshit even from Homelander.

He didn’t like the boy’s scout persona either… It was being able to speak freely to set the fire inside Homelander… There was this unspoken rule amongst all supes… Some clung to the belief they were too moral to fall trap to the factoid, while others just kept their mouth shut knowing the consequences would be too great if the lesser flock heard them… but here… Tek didn’t care, he had no desire to care.

Maybe that’s how Homelander found himself on top of him, maybe that’s why he didn’t flinch at the taste of bourbon on his lips, maybe that’s why that stupid green chip bothered him so much, he could’ve ripped it off his hand easily. Catch it mid-air as he flicked it. Turn around and ignore him for the rest of the party or simply leave.

But Tek knew he was too transfixed now watching the gold sparkle under the low light as the chip dropped back into his hand and hid under the heel of his palm.

“Heads.” Homelander said looking at the compound fracture at the base of his glass.

Robert grinned, lifting it to reveal the faceless side, Homelander groaned.

Rules were simple… 1 hour… don’t get caught… each round progressively gets more and more dangerous… they could not go where the others couldn’t see, no flying out of state or running underground, they had to stay where they could see or hear each other no matter what, or it was an instant disqualification. 

“What’s the prize this time?” Homelander began to walk towards the balcony of this venue, not wanting any of the people who caught the coin flip to pry any further– or…?”

“The usual.” He smiles as he follows him.

Close enough that he doesn’t need super senses to smell him, to feel his presence rubbing against him, hithering closer as they close glass doors behind, he can’t never fully forget the feeling, just how Tek made him feel, the way he knew how to touch him and where to touch him, how delicate his touch was for how deadly it could be, he swallowed.

Looking down and thinking of jumping into the pool several floors below, anything to maybe get away from him… feeling like a deer caught in the crosshair of a pack of wolves.

Homelander watches the heads below, minding their business knowing the party was just a couple steps behind, crossing his hands in front of him as Tek takes out his phone, leaning closer until he’s resting his entire weight against him, his thumb presses play– it didn’t matter what his screen was playing, just a decoy… for any lucky passerby to simply see two men hanging out having a laugh at some stupid video.

“Want to play for 1 hour, this time?” Tek said softly, hiding his excitement.

“Jesus, you think my time it’s worth pennies?”

“It's my party.” he laughed lightly.

“Fine. You're so gonna regret this when it’s my turn.” That was the childish glee that Tek liked so much… this softer and playful side that only he could be privileged to.

It really should’ve never happened, the mission was over and the room was covered in soot and guts, watching each other heave, sharing few words, staring at each other for too long, jumping throats before the bodies grew cold. They had no idea why… not after… only that he liked him… he liked John… he liked knowing this secret half that so few could be privy to, it was a rush to be the bearer of such secrets, to see that soft look on his face of bliss as they held each other's arms… but they could’ve never been together, even if Tek Knight’s demographic could’ve been more forgiving… nobody would allowed them to be together… so it was nothing but a fantasy– nothing but a dream within a dream.

“It’s not fun if you make it easy.”

Homelander sighs and lowered his zipper, hearing the sound of his facial muscles move as Tek looked down. 

Homelander stroke the limp member slightly, getting tutted by his friend, he groaned and stroked harder, looking at the monkeys beneath still unaware of what he was doing, low enough to make sense of what they could see, his blood pressure increase knowing how bad it would be, how bad it would fucking destroy him if they caught him stroking his cock next to a man.

Tek made the game harder, sliding his arm across Homelander’s shoulders, knowing his hand was out of frame enough that he could stroke his ear without being noticed from the party, his nails caressing his chin, he hissed wetly as his touch drew circles on his cheek leaning his head lightly into his digits– some people caught wind of them, seeing exactly nothing, just two friends laughing, something cute at most, a phone camera took a photo from behind catching all the indecency and nothing.

Homelander was so fucking hard as he heard the fan make commentary.

“No cumming, yet… you know the rules.”

“Fuck off.” Pre-cum coating his gloved fingers, he watched his cock twitch against the cold wind, wanting badly to just end it, feeling the burn building under his stomach– my turn!”

He tucked it, leaning down, hiding his face as he tried to breath himself back together, force it if he could, but he couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly, feeling the adrenaline coursing thru his veins, swallowing the intoxicating perfume, Homelander shoots a cautious look behind examining the room and the building for their next spot.

“Anywhere in the hotel grounds… we don’t leave the place…54 minutes left!” Homelander hisses.

“How many casualties allowed?”

“2 per person max.” He begrudgingly said– can’t make a scene… too many big names… journalist… photographers… we make it look like accidents.” Homelander looks him straight into his soul– already got Stan Edgar breathing down my neck.”

It hurt him to deny himself, but Robert didn’t argue, just massaging his neck to help him cool down.

Both men smiled at each other.

Counting every tick.

The game began.

It was a maze to navigate, to find blind spots, to discover empty halls and ignored crevices and staircases, Homelander and Tek Knight chasing each other from a distance, giggling like naughty school girls the closer and closer they got to being caught, watching their displays of debouchery with amusement as they grow increasingly more horny and frustrated, they couldn’t cum until the last set or until one gave up, edging until it was unbearable.

Homelander rubbed his aching hardened member against the pillow of some stranger’s suite who had foolishly left the balcony open... Robert listened to his meandering waltzing around the room, sniffing some girls lace underwear while frothing his cock, being just a pitch louder than he should for the other man’s pleasure before he had settled on the bed and now Robert could feel his own cock about to break, his balls heavy and swollen and the pre-cum stain dampening his suit as it twitched around his hand.

Homelander loudly suckled on his fingers, wetting them until they were covered in a thick layer of drool.

Letting out the most obscene moan as he slapped his own ass, earning a dirty glance from the soon to be loser-- Tek had broken into the suite below drinking in their minibar just hearing the action with eyes closed as he stained the bed with pre-mix… as he tried to calm his cock and definitely to avoid coming from the sounds of Homelander fingering his pussy, choking as the wet squelching sounds grew furiously louder.

“That couple just finished having dinner downstairs… you might want to hurry up… should be here in a couple minutes tops.” He mumbled trying to calm down as Homelander moaned louder calling his name inside desperate whispers– fuck…”

He pressed the right spots, twisting his back as he sped up his rutting, feeling sweat drops down his nose as he got closer and closer to cumming, as his fingers dug deeper enough to bring that pleasurable pressure, gasping as the pain had started to become so unbearable.

“Quit.”

“No!” He stopped throwing the pillow against the wall, turning on his back, breathing heavily.

“John… Come meet me in the bathrooms… now.”

“You giving up?”

“No.”

“Then I am getting a cold shower.”

“John if you don’t come meet me in the bathrooms I’ll go find somebody else to join me.”

He didn’t like that tone… he used it so much on Robert it was no surprise the actor had learned it worked both ways, Homelander sat on the bed, putting his suit on after dousing his groin with cold water, glad the padding hid his half-mast. 

Flying out the balcony and hopping back to their party searching for him amongst the crowd of drunks.

Maeve caught him coming back, caught the fluster in his step and the flush on his cheek under the coloured light.

Biting her lips, knowing what was happening… she should’ve known that when these two knuckleheads got together they would either try to out-bitch each other or play their stupid dirty game… 

She used to wonder if he would make her less miserable if he had been able to be with Robert, if his anger and obsession wasn’t fueled by projection… Neither man could’ve ever been together, and he had taken it out on her, obsessing on the only woman in his eyes (supposedly). 

Maeve knew just how hungry they were… touch starved… letting their hands touch just never for too long just constant light brushes… just bumping shoulders here and there for a second too long… Maeve at least found joy in seeing him suffer even if it was returned to her x10 worse.

She took a glass, a canape and followed him discreetly.

He entered the empty bathroom, tapping on each cubicle as if he was a mere human finding nothing until the last stall.

Sitting on the disabled toilet with his ankle over his knee and two glasses of champagne.

“So romantic.”

Placing the glasses on his sides, he dug into his breast pocket to pull out a flower head, extending his fingers towards him– slightly wilted and small, a once vibrant rose bud… but just as fragrant as the rest.

Showing up at his penthouse always carrying roses, making him know what those pretty women in the movies felt when their hands were filled with a bouquet… Homelander had gotten plenty in his life… given many as well… so the magic should've died out... yet here he was a twenty-two year old sheltered boy swallowing nervously as his cheeks heat up in front of the boy he liked. 

Jittery and bashful from a single rose… just small enough he could hide it in his jacket… no matter where they would go… if he could get away with it… if he knew he could… Robert would make his heart flutter.

He picked him by the collar, scrunching the fine fabric of his suit before risking it all on his lips, Tek Knight took a second to react, entertaining his hands as they leap towards the exposed flesh of his neck, digging into his scalp as their tongues twist.

Slamming themselves on the wall letting the unlocked door rock back and forth, Homelander's lips plump as he suckles and licks every ridge, alcohol and peppermint pungent on his tongue, wanting to savor him, wanting to swallow every drop of drool of Robert’s tongue, wanting so desperately to fill this anguish. 

Kissing him was the cure to a million ailments, it filled him with just as much happiness as it made him die… it was agonizing knowing how much his body wanted Tek… how much it missed him, his breath could’ve been sulfur and he would would’ve choke on it gladly… just agony… if he could be that foolish young man again to try to change time... Homelander still wouldn’t hesitate jumping back into this car wreck, he would hurt himself on this soft silky lips over and over again.

Tek pressed his knee in-between his tights, dropping his hands over his arms, ripping the gloves with force until his naked hands rubbed against each other, his left fingers latch on the zipper pulling it to feel more skin, wanting to feel the buttery feeling of Homelander’s being.

Homelander returned the favor, skillfully opening his shirt, knowing he couldn’t just rip it off– that had been hard to explain before. 

Feeling every hurried heartbeat against his hand, feeling every inch of hardened muscle on his smooth chest.

“Want to call it quits, John?” He sussurated into his neck, suckling on the crumbs of heat he could get– come on, sugar. I want you so fucking bad… I want to die inside you…” tracing his chin the tip of his tongue, Homelandeer shuddered whining as the pain in his pants grew unbearable once more, crying into his hand as Tek Knight licked his ear– I want you to fuck me so fucking hard I’ll need crutches.” 

“Robert!” he hissed, pulling his head wanting to kiss him more, quick pecks laughing quietly into him, panting constellations into his neck– give up and I’ll make you feel like fucking Madonna.”

He parted, taking a pair of steps back stopped by the toilet’s edge, close to coming undone.

“Lower your pants. Game hasn’t ended.”

He undoes his belt letting it flop on his sides, teasing him as he takes his sweet time lowering his zipper… he’s hard, twitching in the warm air. Homelander doesn’t copy him turning towards the exit, brushing close enough to tease the man, hands quickly grab him by the hip pressing himself against him, rubbing his length on America.

“I want to make this more fun, you pervert.”

He pushes the door, leaving him behind, stopping by the basin, a wide grin on his face.

“Fuck that stupid fucking glass. You and your weird hole kink… You know Knight… I find your thing funny so amuse me…why else bring those here– You know I don’t drink.”

“To celebrate my victory of course.”

It had been a gradual thing, to witness his fixation evolve, that naivety inside Homelander had wilted into bitterness and seeing Tek’s humiliating exploits almost comforted him… that he broke without him.

They would never be more than a rendezvou, they clung to each other wanting to make every second longer than before, parted by the wild current they still swummed against it, hoping to meet in the middle, content to just brush their fingertips.

Over the years as time settled on them while their hearts remained inmature, Homelander had noticed this unusual proclivity, it began as simple fascination, pensive stares, fingers caught drawing circles repeatedly, burning his finger as it follows the edge over and over… watching him fuck a tree engrossed him, cackling as he got worse and worse, he had been so good that he can’t find pleasure in people anymore– he thought.

Wishing it was him.

Homelander cocked his head watching the man spill on the floor, bucking his hips, hissing and gasping as the bubbly fizzles around his sensitive head and his hole, tickled by the fizz in a way a tongue could never, it was growing warm and sticky, as he pushed the expensive drink with his girth, the cold made him shudder now the smooth wet glass licked his cock back.

Homelander leaned down whistling to catch his attention.

Robert stops abruptly– Homelander bare it all. 

It was hard to believe there was a time where he was shy and nervous, where he had to teach him what to do, where he was too afraid to bend over for him, now he purred as his fingers teased his entrance, pushing in, stretching himself just a tad– Robert mouth watered, wanting to bury his face in there, the glass no longer as appealing.

With his belt dragging on his ankles, he quickly found himself on his knees.

Homelander gasped– guess he wasn’t the only one allowed to play dirty, he thought. One hand firmly using a glass fleshlight and the other spreading his cheek, Tek squeezed and slapped as his tongue drew circles, as it reached deeper, slobbering into his chin… the taste strong and salty.

Homelander had to hold the base of his cock, leaking pre-cum into the polished floors.

“This is the women’s bathroom.”

Both men flinched, eyes and muscles ready to neutralize the threat yet all Tek Knight could muster was a shrug before returning back to his meal.

Homelander twisted his back, careless fingers vaguely attempting to push him away, stifling a laugh as he stares back at Maeve, she looks at the exit knowing there’s a passerby in the hall cursing at the out of service sign.

“Please tell me you haven’t killed anybody tonight.”

Homelander shook his head biting his lip as Tek sped up his tongue, lowering it until he was suckling on the sensitive perineum, biting it, and kissing it, not stopping as he stared at Maeve briefly, not hiding his annoyance.

Back then she was the one next to him in the magazines… always running after her… she was the one that was the most special, she was the one that understood him the best, who suited him best… horseshit, he told himself.

“Only 1 person, my bad.” Tek Knight kisses his ass standing up, pulling his pants with one hand and carrying the glass with the other– I quit.” He grumbled.

Coming into the champagne glass, looking at his load as it mixed with some bubbly before leaving it on the sink.

He took to the basin after taking a handful of paper towels, washing his hands without care while soaking the towels.

“Hey…” Homelander took his shoulder.

“What?”

“You can’t just quit!?”

“I can’t stand her.” His smile is still so charming as he speaks, looking down as the washes off the sticky champagne stains off his groin– go! be a tattle-tell if you like Maeve… nobody its gonna fucking believe you.”

“Don’t be like that… Maeve isn’t going to do such thing… right, Maeve?”

“Don’t care. You can have him now if you want, Ms. Cockblocker.”

Before Meave could answer back, she was met with an accusatory finger on her face, Tek zipped his pants after doing half the job, just clean enough that he could survive whatever was left ot the afterparty but Homelander wouldn’t let him leave, his hand pulling on his elbow keeping him firmly in his presence.

“Ignore her… we always did love an audience.” He turned to Maeve– you stay right there and keep watch, understand?” He growled, eyes flickering red towards her direction.

“What do you want anyways?” He said still miffed but relaxing around Homelander’s grip.

“Just making sure you two weren’t going to be covered in blood… dunno if you know this Knight but there’s a lot going on right now.”

“Yeah right. You just wanted to ruin my fun… like you always do.”

“You think I want your se–

“Both of you shut up! Maeve learn to mind your own business and you don’t antagonize her… she’s here because she wants to watch that’s why! She has what three bottles in her already!”

“Two and a half… fuck you drink a lot of merlot.” He seemed disgusted at the choice– please tell me you had the moscato, it was simply refreshing!” 

“I don’t like moscato.” she chuckles– and am not drunk, I'm tipsy.” she laughs with a sleepy smile.

“You’re just another pervert who wants to see his ex get fucked in the ass by his other ex... so be quiet and enjoy the show."

She tried to wipe that shit eating grin on her face.

“Forget about her and just think of me… I want you… I won… so my price is you sucking me off…” He took his face stroking his neck, forcing him to look directly at him– Robert…”

“You didn’t win. I quit. That means the price is null…” both looked so needy, Robert's darkened eyes almost pleading him to make him stay where his lips couldn't.– suck me off first… please, baby… I’m upset.”

“No, you sore loser…”

“You’re so cruel.” He moped.

Homelander rolled his eyes taking the glass before skulking the contents, Robert got hard immediately, watching Homelander lick the rim clean before forcing him into a salty sweet kiss.

Cum frothing from the friction. 

They danced their way back into the cubicle, grinning as the toilet lid squeaked under his weight, Homelander threw his boots and his tights off with enviable effortlessness giving Mr. Vernon plenty to take a hold off, he squeezed his thin legs, savoring the velvety texture, his cock hard and leaking, Tek took it giving it a few pumps, licking his taste off lips with anticipation, his mind solely focused on John, Maeve ceased to exist even if the stench of merlot didn’t, he only wanted this.

“Thanks baby.”

“Only because you’re cute, John.”

Throwing his head back as the other man took his manhood, slurping and swallowing, each stroke followed by his mouth, Homelander placing his hand firmly on his neck pushing him further, he could feel him chuckle against his length. 

Homelander came hard and embarassingly quick, whimpering as he buckled his hips.

But Robert was glad regardless.

Tek didn’t stop moving his lips, wanting him to grind his teeth some more, he let it out with a wet pop, gasping with a satisfied smile, kissing his legs and thighs wishing to leave hickeys and burns.

“You swallowed.” He sounded so disappointed it touched the other’s heartstrings with guilt.

“My turn.”

Tek pushed him back, standing up weakly, leaning to his side to take the second glass of champagne he had left on the floor before.

“Lick it.”

Homelander obliged, licking the edge creasing his nose as the fizz got on his nostrils.

Maeve grimace was short lived, Homelander hand tugged on that pesky belt, pulling him out once more, stroking him roughly, as his tongue parted his lover’s needless toy.

Maeve sat not minding if her skirt got damp, biting her lips as she saw the blonde get on his knees.

Transfixed as she watched his head bobbed, clenching her legs as the man sung loudly, they spoke with only looks, whispering to each other, Robert encouraging him, to look past the flavor, Homelander groaned, displeased but he would cooed him, coaxed him to keep going, coaxing gently to take it deeper, playing with his hair as the man flat tongue made him see the runnign waters of the river styx, rutting his hips into his throat as he saw death welcoming him.

Maeve hand stroked her clit, taking short breath as she tried to not make a sound, her pussy soaking her fingers as she traveled a little further, wanting to fill herself with anything but not wanting to make a show for the bastards either.

Maeve had to look away, she had peeked into something forbidden. It seems for Homelander had leaped into his mouth, kissing him, burning him, Tek was seeing stars, the mixture of salt and french sweetness coating his tongue.

Craning his back as the other man’s weight pulled him down– he saw his John from all those years ago, how nervous his hand was, cupping his cheek, searching for cues to deepen their kiss, to know Robert had wanted him just as much as he had.

He always had.

Fame, fortune and the admiration of many didn’t compare to being Homelander’s.

He wished he hadn’t been greedy.

He wished he had been happy to just be the mistress.

He wished he hadn’t been the clever one that turned to that once naive boy and told him that it could never be.

He had to cut him out of him like he was cancer.

No matter how much he wanted him, no matter how much it hurt to see him running after that redhead.

He looked up to catch her, smelling her arousal and regret.

“Come to my loft… John… just for tonite…” he susurrated– I want to be yours…”

Homelander smiled, half lid eyes and bruised lips gave him a soft yes.

Maeve ran out the bathroom wanting to find something to wash away the confused feeling in her stomach, thinking of that cute publicist that had been eyeing her all night.

Robert’s ear followed her heels, as John kissed him while fixing himself doing just enough of a good job that cameras wouldn’t notice how disheveled he was, he had done a good job considering he hadn’t stopped kissing his lover for most of the ordeal.

“I’ll be a good boy and get the bath ready for when you get home, Tek.”

“I’ll get the condoms on my way home then.”

“Why? We are gonna run out of them anyhoo” he growled into him, licking Tek's lower lip, gnawing on him until a scarlet drop fell on his tongue– see ya in a jiffy, Robert.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I’ll go first.”

Homelander rolled his eyes, kissing him goodbye for the time being.

Ignoring the crowds as they both left to attend more pressing matters.

Glad to meet again as if they were just those hopeful stupid kids yet again.

[misdeliria]

misdeliria's romance manhwa rec list

Of course, this is far from the number of manhwas I've read, but here are the highlights. Comment your recs if I don't have it here or my inbox is open!

[MANHWACLAN FAVORITES] This website may produce a lot of ads, so for the best experience, download an ad blocker from the app store {i.e., adguard}

Death Is The Only Ending For The Villainess [ ongoing - currently: 162 chapters ] Penelope Eckart reincarnated as the adopted daughter of Duke Eckart and the villainess of a reverse harem dating sim.

I love this manhwa. FL has to navigate how to capture the hearts of the MLs, who all despise the villainess.

Lee Seob’s love [ ongoing - currently: 56 chapters ] The epic office romance between Tae Lee Seob, who doesn’t want to do anything, and Kang Minkyung, who must somehow succeed!

This super cute office romance has me in a chokehold. The art is beautiful, and the MLs moral dilemma is a personal issue he's trying to work through while chasing the FL.

I Can’t Be This Stupid [ completed - currently: 91 chapters ] Doha takes an active role as Rowoon’s secret love consultant, and a romantic life together begins.

A super cute slice-of-life modern romance between two kids on opposite ends of the wealth class—with a little splash of telepathy.

The Villainess Lives Twice [ ongoing - currently: 217 chapters ] But in return for her devotion, Artizea got betrayed. And the one that reaches out his hand to save her from the verge of death is her righteous enemy, Grand Duke Cedrick.

Another unforgettable historical romance where the FL is transported into the villainess' role. Part of the fan translation is messy towards the 100-chapter milestone, but the plot holds up, and I continuously root for the leads in this one.

I'm Not The Final Boss' Lover [ ongoing - currently: 62 chapters ] Jun is prepared to guide Fabian through the second playthrough to the true ending when… Fabian abandons her. Now Grand Duke Mayer Knox—captain of the Dark Knights and the secret final boss—is determined to have her join his party.

I was a total dork about this one. There's a lot of gamer-talk from the FL with historical/fantasy elements. The romance is also perfect (ML falls first, AND harder)

I Thought It's A Common Possession [ ongoing - currently: 77 chapters ] If I was going to die anyway, according to the original, then let’s give a kiss to my handsome husband!

Another villainess isekai (I have a serious obsession). Something about how the FL gets so angsty because they're forced into a role where everyone hates them, and somehow, she manages to get the ML to fall in love with her. UGH, poetry.

The Redemption of Earl Nottingham [ ongoing - currently: 36 chapters ] Madelyn’s husband Ian was left broken after the war, and in turn, made her life a living hell. Fleeing her doomed marriage, she meets a tragic end.

Reincarnation trope! Ahh, love this one. It says it contains mature content, but I don't remember seeing anything—just keep it in mind before you decide to read this one. With miscommunication and pining, the ML really isn't a bad guy; he's just a traumatized eldest child.

Call Me The Devil [ ongoing - currently: 107 ] A plastic surgeon by day and a devil by night, Hyunshin has the power to seduce anyone with his eyes, but somehow, his irresistible temptation does not work on “Lee Na”, who suddenly appeared one day. 

The ML is a devil in this one. I loved it so much. The supporting characters really make this one, though. The little family, all of them together, makes my heart palpitate.

My God Is A Lustful Man [ ongoing - currently: 50 chapters ] Hye-sal, a timid ethics teacher who has lived her whole life without desires, finds that a neighbor who exudes desire and pleasure has moved in next door.

Dionysus is the ML in this, and this Greek mythology manhwa adaption is peak. I love the pining and mythology references. Initially, I found this comic on Webtoon, but I found a better source to read from.

I Can't Wait To Eat You [ ongoing - currently: 59 chapters ] I swore to resent her all my life when I was a kid, so I’m going to stick around to make her life impossible, I’ll make sure to eat her happiness away.

OOO, the ML in this one starts off as a little shit, but he definitely grows on you once he realizes his feelings and becomes the best boyfriend/boss ever.

Extroversion of an Immortal [ ongoing - currently: 55 chapters ] A fairy ‘Cheon Moran’, who killed a woodcutter for stealing her wings and lived like a celebrity while trapped in the human world, was discovered by ‘Sa Jeha’, a detective in charge of a murder case in which she was involved.

This one took a while for me to get attached to because I was constantly getting cliffhangers. I really like what it is so far. I'm heavy into speculating what the angst will become, but so far, the characters are so pretty, and that's my main argument.

Pure Love Operation [ ongoing - currently: 108 chapters ] I saw my boyfriend kissing my best friend. if that wasn’t enough, I was with a guy whose guts I hate from my class, Go Eun-Hyuk.

I'm sure many people have already seen this one, but if you haven't, you should. This was one of the stories that got me back into reading webcomics. The art is beautiful, the plot is gripping, and the romance is literally to die for (because I will never experience Dohwa falling in love with me and I'm so envious of Soo-Ae).

What I Decided To Die For [ completed - currently: 98 chapters ] Cha Gyeol, who met Ji Oh while having all sort of bad thoughts, is completely swoon over by Ji Oh with her dazzling smile. However, the people around Cha Gyeol are somehow dangerous for her to go head over heels with him.

This modern reincarnation romance is so good. I was experiencing turmoil rooting for the ML but it all played out right in the end and I should be so happy for the author LOL

[ WEBTOON FAVORITES ] As some of you may know, Webtoon stories aren't always available on other sites, so... The following links will take you to Webtoon's website.

Eaternal Nocturnal [ completed - currently: 101 chapters ] When Eve is visited one night by a mysterious apparition, she finds that her chronic insomnia is miraculously cured. Meanwhile Dae, the dream eater, finds himself unexpectedly and unwillingly drawn to Eve.

I love the author, instantmiso. She also wrote Where Tangents Meet and Siren's Lament, both are completed and I've read. The pining and Dae's character were so satisfying.

The Mafia Nanny [ ongoing - currently: 45 chapters ] Being an Elite Nanny is simple: protect the charge, obey the principle, and don’t get emotionally attached. Easier said than done when Davina’s first client is a dangerously compelling Venetian underboss who’s determined to get under her skin.

The leads in this one have me BARKING. I love a good mafia romance, and this manhwa adaption has me sat and waiting every week for the update. Davina is a badass, and her Venetian employer is such a good father. Some (his son) might even call him daddy. Hehe

Down To Earth [ ongoing - currently: 203 episodes ] Kade lives his average life alone and undisturbed... until a cute alien girl crashes into his backyard! 

I initially read this one because my friend kept harping me about it. It's a very cute, wholesome romance between a depressed dude and a sweet, gorgeous, lovable alien girl who crashes on Earth.

Of Swamp And Sea [ ongoing - currently: 100 chapters ] When a monster hunt gone wrong sets two strangers on the same path, they discover their relationship may be more than strictly professional.

I'll be honest and say I am not entirely caught up on this one, only because it went on hiatus after I got caught up. The relationship between the FL and ML was a little off to me at first because I really thought the FL was a teenager until it was revealed she was in her twenties. But, overall, the development between them is lovely.

I Love Yoo [ ongoing - currently: 254 episodes ] Dogged by pain and misfortune from the very beginning, Shin-Ae decides she wants nothing to do with people nor anything to do with romance.

Another extremely popular one, which should take first priority if you haven't started yet. A modern romance with modern-day problems, but the anguish that each character individually experiences keeps me hooked. I hope they all work through their issues and become their happiest selves. Also, the dad is a little bitch boy.

Act Like You Love Me [ completed - currently: 150 chapters ] When a mix-up at a temp job has her spending a day as famous actor Doyun Nam’s personal assistant, she takes her anger out on a doll... which turns out to have the magical ability to control him at her every whim.

This one was so, SO good. I really loved the second ML, but of course, the primary ML is still a heartthrob. The FL was such a lucky girl to have two successful hotties after her.

I could add a lot more, but this is a good start! Happy reading! ❤️

[stormyoceans]

Thoughts on mork after knowing his age? Also thoughts on morkday's relationship knowing their gap and how it's close to jimmy and sea's real ages?

EMBARRASSED TO ADMIT THIS GAVE ME HEART PALPITATIONS AND THREW ME INTO A FRENZY BECAUSE I COULDN'T FIND ANYTHING ABOUT IT IN MY USUAL SOURCES MY MASK OF SANITY WAS TRULY ABOUT TO SLIP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OFFICE BUT THANK GOD @puentalay CAME TO MY RESCUE HASHTAG CRISIS AVERTED EVEN IF NOW IM GOING INSANE FOR ENTIRELY DIFFERENT REASONS

so, for anyone who might not know, in today's event sea revealed that day is around 24 and mork around 28/29, which means they have a 5 years difference. the interesting thing is that those are basically jimmysea ages too SO I GUESS P'AOF REALLY WASN'T JOKING WHEN HE SAID THAT THEY WERE MADE TO PLAY MORKDAY

i think those ages fit the characters really well tho!!!!! the 20s are very confusing and complicated years, which aren't made any easier by the insane pressure society puts on them: this is a time where people are expected to create a very specific kind of lifestyle and reach certain goals before they turn 30, like completing their education, getting a stable job, buying a house, marrying, having children..... and if anyone fails to meet these expectations, they are made to believe that there's something wrong with them and that they're now too old. mork being 28/29 makes a lot of sense and explains his attitude towards the future because this is the reality he's facing: society is telling him that he's running out of time to achieve anything, that change is no longer possible for him, that he's too late and that he failed, and at one point he started to really believe that, so what's the point in dreaming of something more if his fate is already sealed? on the other hand, at 24 years old day was exactly on track to accomplish everything society expected of him: after graduating he was working on becoming a famous athlete and already had his whole life planned out, but then the accident happened and suddenly he's finding himself back to square one

of course these aren't struggles that are limited to the 20s, but i think these years are emblematic of this perceived fight against time. this is also not an easy story to portray, so i think it was very smart to make mork and day have a similar age difference as jimmy and sea, because at least they have their natural phi/nong dynamic to help them getting through the hardest parts. of course im not saying there aren't differences, but mork and day's relationship is closer to their natural one compared to puen and talay's. for example, i think sea is comfortable with following and trusting jimmy's lead, while jimmy is already attuned to sea's needs, so it's not surprising to see them just power walking around the room with no hesitation in that one workshop video where they are practicing mork guiding day

i do wonder if there are other parts of their natural dynamic that can be applied to morkday tho!!!! like how they confirmed that jimmy is more shy and not particularly into skinship while sea is an extreme cuddler so most of the time he's the one to take the initiative and go to jimmy for a hug.... i could definitely see that happening with morkday too and actually you know what IM MANIFESTING IM ACTUALIZING IM MAKING IT HAPPEN!!!!!!!

[rebellum]

Ive had a bad day today (due to period and I think overexertion) after 2 good days where I did a couple hours each day of work (hence thr overexertion)(also i totally forgot how to spell that autocorrect saved the day idk if you guys would have gotten "over ex her sion") and so I'm having one of those moments where I'm just Fed Up. It feels like when there's a big snow storm in late March. Like, hey, this isn't rally unexpected, but come ON we are SO CLOSE cant this just be over yet?

And i worry that I'm actually lying to ppl somehow bc I feel like my boyfriend doesn't understand how sick I still am, even tho he definitely knows (and is the one to have to tell me "hey, picking a video game based on which is less likely to cause mass real life death from demons is a mental illness thought, just so you know") and so he definitely knows so I dont know why I feel like I'm lying. Maybe cause my friends don't know the details? But I think they know i have more than just anxiety and depression and trauma. At the psychiatrist office the other day I said i didn't have ptsd and we had a weird miscommunication where he thought I meant I dont have trauma. When obviously I do very much. And he had to be like "someone who wasn't traumatized wouldn't be crying in my office right now" (he said that much kinder than how I'm typing it) and I was so confused and then explained that I don't have nightmares about the trauma and he was like "yeah but you don't need nightmares to have ptsd" but then he immediately moved on , which was weird, like ok are you thinking I could have ptsd and don't know it?? But I dont think i do, it doesn't ruin my life like others, tho I'll admit the people I'm close to who have it have cptsd which has slightly different symptoms, I can see my fingers typing from the mirror that's near my bed and it confused and almost startled me for a quick second lol. Earlier today I experienced some heart palpitations like I haven't for a while, so I guess I have to keep an eye on that, it was bizarre because I was fine and just sitting there and suddenly it felt like my heart was a horse with 11 legs, I would have said a lesser number that would have made slightly more sense (i mean, 11 is too much, it wuldnt be able to go anywhere) but those were potentially numbers that didn't have their place in this post right now (tho I like using them some times, I have nothing against you guys)(sorry @ readers) but I mean my heart was beating so fast and so erratically and it was ODD like uh. Hi. Haven't had you get this bad in a while. It's fine though I'm fine, I have a beh nine heart murmur and tach ee cardia (or is it palpitations? Or both?) But turns out while my heart acts weird its still fine, like when someone puts on tap handles the wrong way. Did you guys know that's a thing? I don't mean like the cold tap says hot, I mean like its supposed to be a tap water runs when you move the handle towards you, but if you mess up it makes it so that to turn the tap on you turn the handle away from you, which can work if there's space, but when my brothers sink randomly exploded a few weeks ago (and started sending up a whole guys-er) my bro and parents went to fix it and put the taps on the wrong way, and it was against a wall so they had to go back to step like 5 of putting a sink together and redo it.

[sugarcherriess]

for your. requests (congrats on 1k 🥹 friend) bff2l with eric please 🥹 can i pick fluff And smut. fluffy smut?? you know me 😭 🐶

Best Friends to Lovers with Office Worker Eric Sohn:

cw - smut, fluff, corruption kink, mc has a fat obvious crush but thinks shes slick, Eric is an opportunist, Virgin reader, GASP… there’s only one bed 😩😩😩😩, breeding is teased.

The story starts off very simple

You work alongside your bestest best friend Eric who means the world to you and you also have a big fat crush on him which everyone knows about but you think they don’t

It’s really the office highlight when you and Eric are roped together in an assignment

That one time was actually an early Christmas when you couldn’t figure out where to find the document that your manager sent you

And Eric, oh so innocently, leaned over your shoulders with one hand on the back of your chair and the other on the keypad to show you how to access it

And you swore your could feel your heart beating in your ears

Your body absorbing his body heat like it was meant to be yours

Just like right now

In a different city, while you’re out for a business trip and are stuck together in one room with Eric

With one bed

That too only a small bed so you know you’d be squeezed in real tight together

“It must be a mistake,” you sputtered

It wasnt. The manager planned this.

And Eric new

“It’ll just be like old times! Remember our sleepovers?”

Ofc you fucking did?

That’s when puberty hit and instead of being excited about watching disney movies with him and dreading the tickle fights which he always started, you began feeling all sweaty and shifty around him every time he came over

And snuggled into your side, with his cock pressing into your thigh

Just like now. Although he’s hard now. And he’s fucking hung

“You smell so nice,” he’d compliment, squeezing your soft hips

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” you’d say after feeling Eric’s lips “accidentally” roll into your side

“Do what?” He’d say, doing it again.

“I can. I can feel y-your…”

“What? You can feel my cock pressing into your soft skin?”

You’d nod at that, although extremely anxiously, eyes failing to meet his face

“What? Is that not enough? Is my baby really asking for my cock inside her?”

You’d whip your face to his around that, eyes finally meeting.

“Tch tch, and to think I assumed my little girl was too shy to blatantly ask for my cock his way,”

“B-but I didn’t-“

“You don’t have to say it. I can feel your pussy scorching my thigh,”

You’d realise then that he shifted on top of you somewhere between your heart palpitating and your mouth watering and you didn’t catch it

Then he’d shift his thigh to rub it against your clothed pussy

But you suppress your inevitable arousal so far to say

“I just feel hot because I’m tired”

He won’t believe such a lame excuse bestie smh

“The whole entire staff in our department knows you have the hots for me my darling, who do you think you’re fooling?”

And then he’d kiss you like he means it

All tongue down your throat and teeth clashing with yours but also leaving short pecks on your lips because he adoreeessss you

He’d worship each and every curve of your body, taking your clothing off one by one with the utmost care

“Such an innocent princess, squirming over a little bit of attention from me,”

Your whimpers would make him throb actually. He never thought rubbing his naked cock over your covered pussy would be so heavenly

And when he uncovers the delicious little thing

His greedy hands would explore all of it’s crevices and folds

He would pay special attention to your swollen nub crying out for him which one hand stays on your tits and plays with your tender nipples

Guess what. Its ovulation hours!!!

And that little shit finds out because of your overly enthusiastic reactions!

Like when you close your thighs over his hands when he tugs a nipple with his teeth at the same time he spanks your clit a little bit.

“I want to be stuffed inside you so fucking desperately you don’t even know,” he’d groan into your neck

And there comes your hesitant confession:

“I’ve never done this before,”

You don’t understand why you feel scared but you do

However your timid voice only makes Eric want to destroy your virgin pussy more!

He wants to stuff his fingers inside you and spread them until he can see your untouched cervix!!!!

He wants to leave your pretty cunt gaping!!!

What he does instead is use the copious amounts of fluids your Eric obsessed pussy is producing for him and spreads them around your entrance

“Don’t worry my love, I’ll take good care of you. You won’t even notice it when I break you open 💘”

He’s all heart eyes and you’re like 🥺🥺🥺🥺

And he wants to split your adorable ass open like meat on a skewer

But he has patience for you

He spends his time carefully inserting one finger after the other inside your gushing hole until it has three inside it

He leaves the fourth one out so that you’ll feel some sort of stretch bc of his girth atleast

And that you do

As soon as his tip breaches your entrance

You’re grabbing his sturdy arms for support

His hand finds its way to your head and strokes your hair for comfort

“Thats it my angel,” he’d praise while inching his cock into you, “Doing perfectly for me,”

The first thrust would have you groaning in discomfort, you’d probably break his skin with your nails

The kinky bitch would only get harder at the burn

Stroke game on 100

He’s a menace actually

He’d roll his hips like he’s done fourteen phd’s on how to make a virgin go cross eyed

Which you do

Successfully

He’s the type of guy to intertwine your fingers and hold your hands above your head while he hits it nice and deep

Finds your gspot in like the second try

You’re HEAVING under him because this. Wow. You’ve tried playing with yourself before but his cock? Ong the best think to ever fit your hole

And he’d ask you to play with your clit until you shudder and release all over him while crying your eyes out at the overwhelming pain and pleasure combined

“I should just cum inside you so we don’t have to clean up,”

And then you’d go doe eyed again

“No i’d get pregnant im ovulating 🥺🥺🥺”

He could just eat u up

But he’d settle on eating your pussy afterwards

While you’re falling asleep

And then he tells you he has a crush on you too

“ I don’t think i can go to the meeting tomorrow. My thighs hurt a lot,”

“There’s no meeting tomorrow. This was an elaborate plan to get you alone for the weekend. The actual trip doesn’t start for the next few days,”

You’re too tired to be shocked by his audacity

So you just let him be

Breakfast in bed the next day will be your first date <3

If he even falls asleep in time to wake up for breakfast

Mans is too preoccupied by your leaking pussy 😩😩😩

[keanureevesisbae]

Hank Voight x fem!reader 

Summary: When your aunt Trudy Platt needs your help at her job, you encounter sergeant Hank Voight.

Wordcount: 1.9k

Warnings: Sex, both male and female orgasms, Hank Voight saying: 'Good girl' (yes, that needs a warning)

When your aunt is Trudy Platt, you bet your ass I was on the receiving end of many many lovely stories. She is absolutely awesome. Because she only recently married into my family, I only now am building a bond with her, but I absolutely love her and I kinda wished I knew her sooner.

So, when aunt Trudy broke her wrist and sprained the fingers of her other hand, she asked me to help her out at the desk of the 21st District and naturally, I said yes. She needed help with the paperwork and because she did not want to be annoyed as hell on top of her unfortunate injuries, she asked me. Besides, I loved the prospect of seeing the Trudy Platt in her natural habitat.

And so far it had not been disappointing.

‘You know,’ she says with a smile, ‘you’re the quickest one in your family. You got that from me.’

I start to laugh, because genetically, that is impossible, since my biological uncle is Mouch, her husband. Though I never called him uncle Mouch, ever since stopping by the Chicago Fire Department when I was a kid, I must admit that Mouch sure does have a nice ring to it. ‘Sure thing,’ I say. ‘My mom always said I was an odd one.’

Trudy scoffs. ‘Yeah, your mother never liked me.’

‘That’s because you’re even wittier than her. She doesn’t like to be overruled like that, you know that.’ I grab a few files and ask: ‘Where do you want these?’

‘Right here.’

The entire day is filled with me handing keys to officers, listening to Trudy being her lovely self to said officers, but the second they are detectives and sergeants, she turns into the sweetest The duality of that lady. 

I write down the reports for her, carefully dictated by her and lo and behold if I do something wrong, she’ll let me know in her own fierce and sarcastic way. But it’s nothing I can handle. 

‘Trudy,’ I hear from behind me and I’m confused, as one of the people here as the guts to call her by her first name. ‘You got those papers for me?’

‘Yes, wait a minute. Bambi, get me the papers with the Intelligence sticky note on it.’

Bambi. It was her nickname for me, because the first time I met her, according to her I appeared like a dear caught in the headlines and once Trudy gives you a nickname, you’re doomed to be stuck with it for the rest of your life.

However, Bambi isn’t the worst nickname you could get. I overheard Doofus, Moron and Mommy’s boy today. Bambi’s kinda cute.

I grab the right files and turn around. Oh dear, is that the infamous Hank Voight? I had heard a lot about him, including the fact his voice was super raspy, but in reality, it hits a whole new different level of raspiness. ‘Hello,’ I say, once I manage to pull myself together, ‘here you go, sir.’

Sergeant Voight smiles tightly. ‘She’s politer than you, Trudy. How did you get her to help you out?’

‘She’s my niece.’

‘By marriage,’ I clarify. ‘I’m Mouch’s niece.’ I quickly introduce myself to him and he shakes my hand. It’s like I expected it to be: a strong grasp, clearly letting you know he is in charge, without over squeezing it (but maybe that’s just because I’m a lady).

‘Nice to meet you,’ he says, a very small smile on his lips. ‘Thanks for the files.’

‘Sure, no problem.’

Thankfully Trudy is busy telling officers off, because I think she’d pick up on me having some serious heart palpitations right away. 

During the entirety of the day, I see officers, detectives, sergeants and what not, come and go. ‘Where does this need to go?’ I ask Trudy, holding seven files up. 

‘Intelligence. You know what, I’ll buzz you up,’ she says. ‘The only thing I’m capable of doing now.’

‘Is that a pity party you’re throwing?’ I ask her, as I walk with the files in hand from behind the desk. ‘It’s not a good look on you, aunt Trudy.’

‘I’m throwing you the finger as we speak,’ she says, holding out her hand with the sprained fingers. ‘Just so you know.’

I stick out my tongue, before I make my way upstairs. The entire Intelligence bullpen is empty, minus the office of the sergeant. He must’ve heard my thick heels approaching, because he looks up. When I hold up the files, he quickly rises to his feet and walks over to me. 

Dammit, even his walk is attractive. I hate how handsome I find him and how this does things to me.

‘Thank you, miss,’ he says, taking the files from my hands. ‘How do you like working at the desk?’

‘The desk is fine, aunt Trudy is a different story.’ When I realize he is on first name basis with her, I quickly add: ‘Don’t tell her I said that.’

He shakes his head. ‘My lips are sealed.’

There is a silence between us and I clear my throat. ‘Well, that’s all I came to do here. Can I help you with something? Bring something downstairs with me or something else?’

‘I could use your help with something,’ he says and with his fingers he ushers me to follow him.

Don’t let your mind wander, don’t let your mind wa—

Too late. I’ve got to live with the image of the sergeant using his fingers in a dirty way. This is entirely my own fault (and maybe a little bit Voight’s fault). 

I follow him to his office and he asks: ‘Could you maybe help me sort this? I’ve got some paperwork to fill in and I don’t have the patience for sorting.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ I chuckle. ‘But you’re in luck. I love sorting. I work in the library, which is basically sorting books.’

‘Lucky me,’ he says.

I quickly go to work and sorting files is quite easy. I find myself slowing down, so I don’t have to leave yet. We don’t talk much, but it’s nice to be around Hank Voight, especially when he’s working. Besides, it’s nice to be in this serene place, especially as it can get pretty hectic at the desk. 

‘Here you go,’ I say, when stalling even more would get really suspicious. ‘It’s all sorted. You’re missing a page though. Page forty seven.’

‘I know, but thanks.’ He looks up with a smile. ‘You helped me out. A lot.’

‘No problem. I’ll be here for quite some times, so if you have more administrative work, please let me now. I have a degree, so you don’t have to worry about me screwing up. I know what I’m doing.’

’I might actually steal you a few times,’ he says with a smile, ‘if Trudy allows it of course.’

‘She will,’ I say. ‘She called me Bambi for a reason, okay? I know my way to her heart.’

He chuckles. ‘I bet you do.’

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

After I saw uncle Mouch picking up Trudy and I waved at them, I make my way to the bus station. I don’t want my aunt and uncle to drive an extra forty five minutes, just to take me home. It’s easier if I use public transportation. 

‘Wait up,’ I hear from behind me and though this could be meant for everybody, I still stop and turn around. It is directed to me, because I see sergeant Voight walking up to me.

‘Sergeant,’ I say with a smile. ‘What’s up?’

‘You got your car parked there?’

I shake my head. ‘No, I was going to catch my bus.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he says, scoffing a bit. ‘Come on, after helping me out, I’ll give you a ride.’

I know how much aunt Trudy trusts him, so I simply nod and say: ‘It appears like you insist, so I’ll spare you the discussion.’

He smirks. ‘You catch on quick. My car is right over there.’

The drive to my place is fairly quick, because he drives pretty reckless and quick. He stops in front of my place and I say: ‘Want some tea at my place? I don’t have alcohol to offer you, but…’

‘Tea is fine,’ he says. ‘Maybe even better than alcohol.’

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

Tea was quickly forgotten, as my lips had met his and we are now involved in a pretty heavy make-out montage. His fingers running through my hair, his lips attached on mine. I straddle his thighs as the kissing does not stop for one single second.

‘This is a bad idea,’ he mumbles, but his hands are telling a totally different story, as they cup my bottom and squeeze the flesh through the jeans.

‘We can stop.’

‘I was just assessing the situation,’ he chuckles, ‘not saying we should stop.’

And he might have accurately assess the current events. It is a bad idea. But I don’t want to stop either and from that smirk on his face, I suspect neither does he. My fingers unbutton his shirt, only to reveal his bare chest. 

We get rid of our clothes, all of them and maybe there is a reason he’s a sergeant, because boy, is he quick to take the lead, to bend me the way he desires, as he fucks me into tomorrow and the day after on the couch.

‘Shit, I’m close,’ I moan, feeling his cock deep inside me every time he bottoms out. I cling on him, when the rush of euphoria washes over me. For years I have been relying on my trustworthy vibrator, but this tops every single one of those experiences. 

After I rode out my high, I’m met with a very sensitive pussy and a sergeant Hank Voight who doesn’t stop. I whine against him, but he shuts me up by kissing me roughly.

‘Faster,’ I mumble against his lips. 

He does not go faster, instead he pulls out.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

‘I’ve got a better idea.’

A better idea involved me bend over the backrest of the couch and Hank having full access from the back. I don’t even care anymore if my neighbors hear me, if they complain, but with the way Hank pounds inside me, I just can’t keep quite anymore. I don’t know how many times he throws me over the edge by rubbing my clit feverishly, but he isn’t slowing down, not even when I sob out of overstimulation.

And then I feel it. Thick robes of cum painting me on the inside and I catch my breath. He pulls out, his semen slowly streaming down my thighs. I try to catch my breath, but I have issues finding it. He pulls me up and holds me closely to his sweaty body. 

‘Such a good girl,’ he whispers, pressing a kiss in my hair. ‘You got anything to do tomorrow?’

I let out a chuckle. ‘I barely recovered from this and you’re already dead set on another round?’

He nods. ‘You’re quite insatiable, miss. Of course I am.’

I kiss his lips, lingering for a little longer. ‘Well, why wait when we can go for round two tonight?’

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

Chicago PD taglist: @acdassenza // @wanniiieeee // @one-sweet-gubler // @sofiebstar

[ultraimaginez]

Return - [Lucifer x MC]

Fandom: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer x MC

Rating: T

A/N: I’m just soft at the idea of Lucifer trying so hard to hold on to one (1) god damn thing in his life that matters to him. Let the boy have some stability jfc. Also I just finished chapter 20 and I had to put my Lucifer feelings somewhere.

~*~

It is a miracle that Lucifer has not already been crushed beneath the weight of all that he has lost: his place of highest esteem in the celestial realm, his father’s favor, Lilith, his autonomy outside of Diavolo, his brother’s trust... the list goes on and on. Most would not manage to escape the self-pity that comes with so much misfortune.

Yet he still manages to stands tall, ever the avatar of Pride. 

To those who do not know him intimately it would appear that despite everything he is unfazed. Nothing gets under his skin. He is always in control of the world around him...

But you get closer than anyone else has outside of his family. In defiance of his valiant attempts to keep his guard up, you see the truth of Lucifer. And as a result you learn to see his need for control for what it truly is-- a vice like grip on all the things he refuses to lose. Not this time...

Perhaps that explains why he does not allow you out of his sight as soon as you return to the Devildom. He grieved your loss once, made peace with the fact that you would return to the human realm, you’d find some stupid human lover unworthy of your time or heart or patience... and he would never have you-- just another in a long list of things he has loved fiercely and lost all the same.

But then you are back. 

You are back, and you choose him.

You are the exception to the rule.

The only lovely thing that didn’t slip through his fingers despite his iron grip and he’ll be damned if he loses you again.

~*~

It takes time to find your rhythm again. You love Lucifer beyond measure-- the kind of heart palpitating adoration that ancient poets wrote whole ass epic poems about... 

But god damn it if he doesn’t test every ounce of patience you have some days.

He seems to be under the impression that the world is going to rip you away again at any moment and he does not trust the universe to allow him even this one ounce of good fortune. As always, he sees himself in a battle against fate itself and, prideful as he is, he thinks he can take it on single handedly.

Like most things about Lucifer’s true nature, this all becomes obvious to you through the little mannerisms that others often overlook: 

When you stand side by side he always positions himself just one step behind you so that the lining of his black coat falls against your back, much like his black wings that would curl around your frame to keep you safe if he were in his demon form. 

When you walk together his hand always finds purchase somewhere on your hip or your shoulder or with his fingers intertwined between your own. Before making your pact Lucifer had always used his physicality to be imposing and try to maintain the barrier between the two of you-- both in a very literal way and as a means to assert authority. Now his body searches you out even in chaste ways to make sure you are still there. 

And when there are others around he makes a subtle show of making sure they recognize that physical proximity. With lesser demons you assume it’s a reminder that hurting you is a one way ticket to getting un-alived. With his brothers you think it’s a reminder that your return, while cause to celebrate for everyone, will be different this time around and he expects them to respect that.

~*~

And, listen, you’re not necessarily complaining about all the touching. It’s nice. Getting shoved up against the desk in his office and being kissed until your breathless? Also nice. The way he looks at you and sends a fire directly to your gut that feels like you’re going to burn up from the inside out if he doesn’t do something about it right now??? I mean... it’s more than nice.

But it does kind of impact your relationship with everyone else in the house and he’s got absolutely zero chill about it.

“Are you sure you’re not the avatar of envy?” You ask one afternoon, trapped with your back against the wall with his hands on either side of your face. You had just attempted to get up and leave his office after already having spent most of the afternoon there.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You made a pact. You said you were mine. And I’m just holding you to your word.” He leans down to kiss you and it’s gentler than you expected. You’ve gotten used to long, lingering, passionate kisses that spark a flame in your gut, but this feels more like a sweet acknowledgement.  Your words may have actual reached him this time.

“I know that.” your hands reach up and he allows you to gently run your fingers over the spot where the fur lining of his jacket meets his neck. “But Levi has been begging me all week to play this new game and he’s starting to get sad. If I don’t play co-op with him soon he’s going to start getting sulky.”

Lucifer seems to consider this for a while and then sighs. He gives a thoughtful nod but does not let you go. “I suppose it’s best for everyone then...” 

“Okay...”

He doesn’t move 

“I’m leaving now...”

He still doesn’t move.

“I will literally see you in bed tonight. Try not to frown so much.” You lean up to give him a sweet kiss and he finally lets you go, watching your retreating form before returning to a mountain of paperwork he no doubt will continue doing until you return.

~*~

And, for once, Lucifer is able to soften his grip-- knowing that no matter what happens you will always come back to him. You are one of the few things in his life he can rely on and one of the only things he can truly allow himself to love.

It’s not always perfect. It takes time, patience, and a whole lot of love-- but you do eventually begin to find your way back into your rhythm in the house. 

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

<3 <3 <3 thank you!!

I am particularly pleased with the final appendix and Joss' letter to Downey. I think it adds a fun spanner to the works that is Amos Downey. Amos out here like, "look, my friend may be a dirty queer but like HELL do you get to arrest him for it. I'm going to punch someone bad over this."

Jocelyn: thank you Amos, though you really didn't need to break the officer's nose so badly it'll never not be crooked for the remainder of his life.

Amos: should have curb stomped him.

Jocelyn:

Jocelyn: uh huh. you do know that you're slightly terrifying, right?

Too bad Amos couldn't extend the same weird, messed up approach to the whole thing to his son. It would have helped oodles.

As mentioned in another post, I have an alt-ending in my head where Amos and Downey do sort-of reconcile and Amos hears about Downey and Sicily's recent run-ins with the Watch and is ready to fight someone. Except he's over 80 and not doing great in the lungs department. Downey finds this endearing, Sicily finds it patronizing and annoying, and Vetinari gets a thousand heart palpitations from it.

Vimes just staring at Amos then he swivels his head to Downey then back to Amos, "This explains so much while, at the same time, leaving me with a hundred new questions."

Vimes: ahh, so that is why you are Like That, your lordship.

Downey: what do you mean by that, commander? Hey-hey-you need to tell me. What do you mean by that??

Annnnnyway

Thank you so much!! I'm glad you enjoyed the ride! <3 <3

Chapters: 44/44 Fandom: Discworld - Terry Pratchett Rating: Explicit Relationships: Lord Downey/Havelock Vetinari, Downey/Others Additional Tags: let your dad die energy drink is a direct inspiration for my restarting this story, everything is a poison, it’s the dose that matters, Family Issues, Period-Typical Homophobia, Classism, AM is an early modern city, and so the values/social norms reflect that, Not Beta Read, We Die Like Men, Downey POV, Significant Age Difference, between downey and one of his past Decisions, like. Significant., it’s very very May-December, typical sex acts you’d expect in this sort of thing:, Anal, Fingering, Blow Jobs, etc. - Freeform, some slurs show up in a sibling fight, there’s potential dub-con - depending on where one’s personal line is drawn Series: Part 3 of coveting desperate things Summary:

It is early days of this thing called a ReLaTiOnShIp(?) between Downey and Vetinari–all very new, Vetinari would like to note that emotions are a bug and not feature. Downey is here to smoke a lot of cigarettes and be dramatic about things. However, the untimely murder of Downey’s brother-in-law puts a bit of a wrench in things, made worse by the announcement that his (estranged) father may or may not be dying soon. All deeply inconvenient for everyone involved. There are parallels of past and present because families are a sticky business, always, and things that happened thirty years ago have a strange ability to cycle back through your life.

— 

When Downey enters the soft, dark space of Vetinari’s bedroom the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork looks at him and then stops being the Patrician. Downey watches him stop being Patrician. For this moment of time, at least. It is like watching a man disrobe. There is this strange, ephemeral, fleeting vulnerability and Downey wonders what must his own face be like to prompt such a response from a man as glacial as Vetinari.

Downey says, ‘I don’t do that.’

‘What is it that you don’t do?’

‘I’m alright.’ Downey stands, still, in the doorway of the secret passage he enters through because they cannot be obvious about anything. They’ll never be able to be obvious about anything. Even in death they’ll keep their secrets, this thing between them being a large one. Amos will be buried in the family plot and when Annette dies, she will be buried next to him. Downey will be buried at the Assassins’ Guild. Vetinari will be buried somewhere. Downey doesn’t know what arrangements he has made.

‘Drink?’ Vetinari asks.

‘Please.’

‘What is it that you don’t do?’

‘Whatever you were preparing for,’ Downey accepts the whiskey. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t weep on you. I won’t sully the sheets or anything.’

Vetinari’s mouth thins but he says nothing on that, only motions to the edge of the bed for Downey to sit on since there is only one chair in the room and it is the desk chair, currently occupied by a stack of books. Vetinari had been reading in a dressing gown, sitting atop of the sheets on account of the heat.

‘Well,’ Downey sighs, sinking against a bedpost. ‘He’s dead.’

Well - it is done. Thus, Always (2.0) is completed. 

Thank you all so much for coming on this incredibly long, sometimes slow, ride! It means a lot and I hope everyone had fun along the way. Everything after this are epilogues and appendixes! Including a letter from Joss telling us who was in that file Downey filched for him.

(gotta say, big shout-out to ahufflepuffhobbit who listened to me talk about Jocelyn and Downey non-stop for like ten months straight.)

(also big shout-out to dellevigne who kindly lets me go !!!!!!!!! about Downey at them from time to time.)

(also also big shout-out to squadron-of-damned who is why I restarted Thus Always in the first place.)

thank you all! <3 <3 <3