#last donation was four months ago

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Update on Mom!

Things are getting better, abet slowly and I don't know what the next few weeks holds because her current therapy program is ending and she may have to wait a long while to get re-certified. She's made a lot of improvement though, it's just one of those things that takes time.

With that said, she may be coming home soon and continuing physical therapy from home. This would be great for us both, but she does in in-home help from an additional person to aid in general care taking. I don't know how much, if any therapy or caretaking will be covered by her insurance. She's pretty determined to be out of the nursing home though. I'm gonna update ya'll soon on that

I would humbly ask for you guys to re-visit my gofundme OR commission me so I can help mom in this process... My ko-fi is MistressOfFear and I have lots of shop items and commission options. I also have paypal and cashapp All links in pinned post.

[reiderwriter]

☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.

A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!

Masterlist

If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman. 

You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either. 

Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart. 

Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie. 

“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-” 

“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!” 

It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels. 

“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-” 

“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?” 

“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-” 

“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.” 

“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls. 

“Like what?”

“Like a bitch!” 

The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him. 

No such apology came. 

“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.” 

“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-” 

“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.” 

You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered. 

The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell. 

From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi. 

Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing. 

Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.

Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there  but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up. 

“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-” 

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away. 

Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book. 

“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused. 

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment. 

“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?” 

“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door. 

“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible  despite now feeling incredibly plussed.

“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?” 

You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche. 

“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.

A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat. 

“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip. 

“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.” 

“Right… right…” 

The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch. 

Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours. 

“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth. 

“So?”  he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away. 

“Why are you really here, YN?” 

You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second. 

“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.” 

You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh… Y/N, I-” 

A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name. 

“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out. 

“He's just going to try it again.”

“Let him.” 

You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions. 

“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.

“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.” 

“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-” 

“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick. 

“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all. 

Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before. 

“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-” 

Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you. 

“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now. 

“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close. 

“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position. 

“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal. 

“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?” 

You shrugged and looked away  almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night. 

“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.” 

Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in. 

“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.

“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.” 

“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”

Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.” 

“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?” 

You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well. 

But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips. 

You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again. 

“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret. 

“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.” 

“So you did yourself?” 

The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off. 

“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?” 

It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head. 

“He didn't want me to.” 

You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead. 

You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world. 

Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken. 

You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter. 

“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down. 

“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear. 

You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that. 

A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend. 

“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch. 

You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically. 

He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.

“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly. 

But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket. 

“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access. 

“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.” 

You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass. 

“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive. 

“Probably not.”

“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”

“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.” 

You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you. 

Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra. 

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh. 

It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh,  still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants. 

It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you. 

Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for. 

He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time. 

“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”

“N-no, S-s-” 

“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap. 

“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure. 

“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-” 

With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.

Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss. 

“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you. 

Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk. 

“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax. 

Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face. 

The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure. 

Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure. 

Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him. 

He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high. 

“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close. 

You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue. 

“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear. 

“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.” 

His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist. 

“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss  a sweet, soft one. 

“Yes.” He kissed you again  and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again. 

“H-He-” 

“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.” 

You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot. 

You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.

He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock. 

You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could. 

“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again. 

When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release. 

“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time. 

“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last. 

“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access. 

You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated. 

“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.” 

“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time. 

“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.” 

“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.” 

“One more time?” He asked.

“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.” 

You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position. 

You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more. 

“Where should I cum  Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again. 

“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too. 

“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?” 

“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already. 

“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away. 

“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him. 

“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further. 

“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore. 

“On your face?”

“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed. 

“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.” 

“Of course. Good job.”

He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you. 

“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.” 

“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.” 

His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh. 

You didn't say anything  but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum. 

“You're on birth control, right?” 

“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.

Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well. 

“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him. 

“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently. 

“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.” 

He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again. 

“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again. 

“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away. 

You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply  and you lost your breath again. 

“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.” 

The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other. 

[pinkfey]

vetted palestinian gfm in need of urgent support (10/03/24)

Ahmed's family's campaign has raised €976/€20,000. Ahmed is displaced in southern Gaza caring for his father and brothers while his wife is alone in the north with their fifteen-month-old daughter, Najah, under constant bombardment. They have lost a child before and live in anxiety and fear of never seeing one another again. Just a few days ago, Ahmed's encampment was bombed, and last night he received news their home in the north was destroyed. Any donations help support safe passage so the family can reunite. This campaign has been vetted and promoted by @/gaza-evacuation funds here. (contacted by @najah-meshal)

Eman's family's campaign has raised $1,305/$5,000. Eman is a science teacher and mother of five children; Nada (11), Rahaf (8), Sarah (5), Sham (3), and Zeina (9 months). They are struggling to find clean drinking water, survive the harsh climate, endure sickness, and are surviving on canned food. All donations are used to support their basic survival. This campaign has been vetted by association through Eman's sister Eslam here. (contacted by @emanfamily3)

Shaima's family's campaign has raised $2,179/$30,000. Shaima is a mother of four (Magdy, Walid, Abdel Rahim, and Amal) currently separated from her husband, who was across the border at the time of Israel's attack on Gaza. They have been displaced six times and are in desperate need to evacuate to Egypt to reunite and escape the genocide. Any funds will help secure their safety. This campaign has been vetted by association; information here. (contacted by @familygazaamal)

Mahmoud's family's campaign has raised $4,035/$40,000. While Mahmoud was able to evacuate to Egypt, his sister, Soha, her husband, Hassan, and their four children (Ahed, Mohammed, Majd, and Karim) are still in Gaza. They have been displaced seven times and now reside in a refugee camp, where conditions continue to worsen. Donations, through Mahmoud, support the family as they struggle to find stability. This campaign has been vetted by @/90-ghost here. (contacted by @ahed-family2)

Lama and Mohammed's campaign has raised $4,115/$10,000. Lama and Mohammed were forcibly displaced from Khan Younis to Rafah along with Mohammed's family of twelve; their house was destroyed in the winter. Lama is now pregnant and in need of care. All funds aid in securing their evacuation. This campaign has been vetted and promoted by @/gaza-evacuation-funds and vetted by association; information here. (contacted by @lamahourani7)

[chuluoyi]

heartbreak hotel

- gojo satoru x reader

so you're going on a three-day-two-night getaway trip with the one and only Gojo Satoru. the catch? you two have just broken up.

genre/warnings: crack, jealousy, a dose of pettiness, hurt/comfort, fluff, zero angst i promise, suguru being a good buddy to his boyfriend best friend

notes: inspired by a very real life story :))) anyways, it takes place in an au where suguru never left and all is well with our little meow meow catoru the wonderful colored manga panel by the talented @redbluenight! this was so much fun to write (that it turned into a whopping 3k+ word, so sorry) and i even made a playlist while on it ;)

general masterlist

"He's intolerable!"

There were many things that led to the end of your relationship with Gojo Satoru, but if asked one word to sum it, then that was it.

When you started this thing with him, obviously you had never planned on how it would end―who started a relationship with that sort of mindset anyway? But if you could choose, you definitely wouldn't want it to end with dramatic shouting match that left you in tears.

Anyways, some things were just not meant to be. You refused to spend your whole life crying over that smug bastard, and so you moved on.

However, if there's one thing you've learned about plans, it is that whenever you already make a foolproof one, the world always has some funny way to mess it up.

Like this time.

"I... I remembered saving for months," you stammered dumbly, staring blankly at Shoko in front of you. The realization felt like a spiritual ascent. "I paid for that damn plane ticket and hotel with my whole saving. I can't just throw them away."

How could you possibly forget about this? This graduation trip that had been planned between your group of Satoru, Suguru, Shoko and yourself for months now. It was meant to be a getaway, a celebration of your most significant achievement after four years of barely getting by on exorcising curses and not dying in the process. This was supposed to be the ultimate milestone celebration in your life.

"Then don't," Shoko replied simply, twisting the cigarette in her mouth. "I'm still going though. No way I'm wasting that money."

"But!" you vehemently hissed. "He will be there. It means I have to see him for three days straight!"

Your cringeworthy breakup happened just barely a week ago. You had sworn in front of Gojo Satoru that you didn't want to see his face again, and yet in less than a week from now, you and him would literally share the same space―again?

"Can't I get a refund?"

"This late? Nah, it's like yay or nay at this point."

You slumped in frustration. Were the gods making you swallow your own words now? You were left with no other choice. Your frugality and tendency to get broke often compelled you to make the decision.

You were going on this trip whether he was there or not.

Meanwhile, on his end, the said smug bastard was brooding, groaning and pacing over the same predicament. Satoru had two options and had weighed them all, and somehow he still arrived at the more seemingly no-good decision.

"I'm going, duh!"

"You are?" Suguru asked with a hint of surprise in his voice. "Well, might be the first time I've seen someone agree to go on an overnight trip with his ex..."

"Hmph. I just don't like squandering money."

Suguru snorted, unimpressed. “Satoru, you have an entire fortune. The airfare is just an amount you'd donate to charity. Besides, you have wasted more than that.”

“Well, I want to enjoy my youth too! I’m going—who cares if she’ll be there!”

He was still miffed, recalling the day your argument spiraling out of control. How could you say those hurtful things to him?

“You never take things seriously—heck, I’m not even sure if you’re ever taking me seriously at all! Satoru, you’re always acting all high and mighty, but you’re just a selfish little twat!”

No way. The last time, he was left in the dust, not being able to say anything in his defense. So now, he would use this chance to be the one who had the last laugh. He was going, because he was 70% sure that you wouldn’t let your hard-earned money go to waste.

And he was right when two days later, he found you at the airport with a bitter scoff upon seeing him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he moistened his lower lip in that obnoxious way. “Missed me?”

You walked past him, tone lacing with disdain. “Get lost, Gojo.”

He couldn’t help the prickling sensation in his chest when you dismissed him just like that. And the use of his last name—whereas you used to call him with all sort of available pet names? Now that was just low.

“Nah, you can’t get away from me that easily, Y/N,” Satoru sniggered. “You’re going to see me for the next three days, so suck it up and enjoy the sight,” and then the idiot proceeded to pump his fist in the air. “Wooo! Kyushu, here I go!”

Suguru and Shoko merely observed your icy interactions in silence, occasionally exchanging glances from time to time.

ITINERARY ::: DAY 1 — BEACH DAY @ SEASIDE HOTEL

After the three-hour flight, the four of you arrived at Karatsu, one of the main highlights in your trip—or back then, one you and Satoru handpicked yourselves.

You swore you still had your heart frozen for him, so you didn’t know what stirred it when you saw him giggling and doubling over in carefree delight, surrounded by those beach girls in skimpy bikinis.

“Hey, handsome~ is this even okay?” one of the girls in pink thong scooted closer to him, asking him with this cheap seductive grin. “Won’t your girlfriend be mad?”

At that moment, you could’ve sworn Satoru threw you a glance from the corner of his eye before replying with a triumphant bark. “What girlfriend? I’m wholly and happily single!”

The hell?

A rush of squeals grated your nerves as they swarmed your ex-boyfriend, prompting you to stalk away in irritation.

Absolutely not. You wouldn’t let this fine establishment be your heartbreak hotel any longer.

Gojo Satoru knew fully that he was petty. He let you see that on purpose just to rile you up, because frankly, he still felt like he didn’t deserve your messy breakup at all.

But when you were no longer in his eyesight, suddenly the urge to entertain these strangers dissipated, and what remained was this hollow sensation in his chest. You not paying him attention somehow made him crave it all the more.

He recalled how you pointed out that playing in the clear waters would be your ideal graduation gift. He specifically recommended this place himself and you had agreed. He remembered planning all of this, dragging Suguru and Shoko too just to make it merrier. To keep that cute smile on your face.

You were supposed to fool around with him in the clear waters of Matsubara Beach, splashing and pulling him underwater.

And yet in reality, he was toying with these questionable women and in your eyes, he was nothing but an irritable twat.

He didn’t see you again until evening, during dinner time. And the sight before him made him want to pull Suguru to the side and trap him inside his unlimited void.

"Really?" Your clear voice rang in his ears, every bit the same as when you would energetically question him with those doe eyes of yours, as you peered at Suguru. "We should go together tomorrow then!"

His eyes twitched.

What has his life come to? Reduced into seeing his ex-girlfriend possibly going on a date with his best friend?

He almost hoped that you'd stage up your pettiness level. It was worse because unlike him, you didn't make this up just to gauge his reaction.

That night, in their shared hotel room, he ignored Suguru completely, as well as silently waiting for him to divulge where he and you were going tomorrow.

"Hey Satoru—"

"Shut up, I'm trying to sleep."

It was obviously a wrong move, because Suguru apparently caught the hint and stayed quiet as a mouse throughout the night.

ITINERARY ::: DAY 2 — HOT SPRING @ KUMAMOTO

Or at least, last he remembered, that was the agenda.

Until he saw that only Shoko who was there, idling around at the hot spring area.

"Where are the others? Why is it only you here?"

She shrugged. "Geto said he's going to try the local specialties. Dunno where. As for me, I'm going to enjoy this onsen to the fullest."

Shoko noticed his irritated scowl, and a sly grin crept across her face.

"Heh, jealous much now, Gojo?"

Meanwhile, you and Suguru went to various dessert shops in town as per his invitation. Perhaps he took pity on you because you really seemed not to be having any fun at all after you stormed off from the beach area yesterday.

"Mmm! This is tasty!" you remarked, munching away the three-colored dango happily. You were so engrossed in eating today that you no longer had any room to think about anything else, which was a good thing.

Suguru smiled. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself now." However, he appeared to have something on his mind, prompting you to hum and tilt your head in curiosity.

"No, it's just... so it's really over between you and Satoru?"

You let out a snort. "Yeah. Totally. He's an ass."

"He really is miserable, you know..."

"Nah, he doesn't look like it."

Your friend sighed. "Honestly, what was the argument even about? Both of you usually didn't take it this far."

You didn't want to go back to that topic, really. But Suguru was always the one with cooler head, and after his kindness today, maybe you could spare him a detail or two.

"It's a lot of little things that have piled up, you know," you mumbled. "It's probably just how he is, and I know. But I finally reached my boiling point. Why can't he try to see things from my perspective? Everything that's important to me doesn't seem to matter to him, and relationships need two people, not just one who resigns and the other who does anything he pleases."

And until now, you doubted if Satoru even realized what he did wrong. That was what hurt you the most. Like you were so small in his eyes, like he could toy with you and get away with it.

As you expected, Suguru would understand your point. "So that's how you feel... Yeah, I think I get it."

You thought he would end it at that, but then he went on. "I'm not defending him, Y/N. I think some time away from you would do him good, but later, maybe you can talk this to him? See if he will understand?"

"I already did, so many times." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Not to offend you, but it awfully seems like you're defending him, Suguru, despite you saying otherwise."

"I'm saying this because sometimes we can forget that Satoru is different," he explained sympathetically, and to be honest, you were surprised by his statement. "He is born exalted. He has a hard time comprehending things that come to us naturally. I just think it's a pity if... you can actually fix this, but just because bad communication, you lose the chance to."

Have you properly communicated this to him? Now that you thought about it, most of the times you would just get mad and point at the little things he missed, but never actually told him how it made you feel.

Your mind was still muddled with the fact Suguru had shed light on even after you got back to ryokan where you were staying for the night. The two of you were in for a surprise though as apparently there was a festival happening there.

Everything seemed to spark with glitters. The bamboo lanterns, lights, the gentle breeze. It created an undeniably romantic ambiance, to be honest.

You didn't know when Suguru slipped away, but suddenly, you found yourself alone amidst the visitors and dim lights.

And you found yourself to be immensely lonely.

Satoru spotted you in all your solitary glory amidst the sea of people in this godforsaken place.

No, actually it was a pretty great inn and attraction, but this trip had been horrible so far, and so he just felt everything was bad.

But at that moment, bitterness no longer clouded his mind, because you were so beautiful, bathed in the glow of the lights that Shoko had forcibly dragged him to see. If it were up to him, he'd spend the last night sleeping his heartbreak away, but now that he was here, he was thankful to see the dazzling sight of you that reminded him once again just what made him hopelessly in love with you.

And why he didn't get his sorry ass back into your good graces faster.

He retraced everything had brought both of you to this point. Your last fight was about what again? Him not telling you any news when he would be back from a mission?

No matter how he thought about it, it was a trivial matter. So what made you mad? He kept thinking, and then he imagined switching places with you. What if you didn't text him at all for three days straight? How would he feel? Oh, he would be despondent, of course.

Now he was starting to understand. He had done that so many times he could no longer keep count. Granted, you would be angry.

Satoru suddenly know how to rectify this. He can make things right. He would be damned if he didn't. He just had to pull you aside, and he was going to when he lost sight you in the crowd.

Okay, now he was frantic, as the longer he didn't see you, the more his opportunity to make amends slipped away. He moved through the crowd, pushing people in the process, earning ire and questionable glares and yet he cared none for it.

He nearly cursed at how his phone kept vibrating incessantly inside his pocket. Begrudgingly, he took it out and almost gasped.

You are calling him.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

It was so incredibly stupid. You just went to pee for a bit and then somehow got yourself locked in the toilet. It might have been fine, but then the lights unexpectedly went out, scaring the shit out of you.

How could such a upscale inn experience a sudden power outage and have doors that wouldn't budge? It was worse when no matter how many times you punched the switch or banged the door, it refused to turn on or open.

You were trapped. Honestly, it took everything you had not to cry.

And so you did the next best thing aside from forcing your way out. You called your friends. First, Shoko, and then Suguru, but both of them somehow didn't pick up the call even after you had called them three times each.

That left you with one possible person left. In your frenzied mind, it didn't even register in your mind what you were doing as the line connected and the last person you'd call on the other side answered.

"Satoru," you shakily breathed out, almost crying—or were you already? You didn't know as you focused on his sharp intake of breath, most likely surprised at how rattled you sound.

"Y/N? What? What is it?"

"I—" you wheezed, hating how helpless you sounded, yet still forced the words out. "I'm locked, it's dark—and it's just so—help! Help me please! I tried getting Shoko but she didn't—"

"Okay, sweetheart, calm down. Calm down, okay?" Satoru's voice brought you some comfort and it helped to reduce your tears, missing how he slipped up by calling you with his usual pet name for you. "Tell me. Where are you?"

"The women's restroom… I think it’s in the east wing."

"I'm coming, okay? Don't panic. I'll be there. Just stay on the line."

You heard his ragged breaths as he muttered several "coming through!" and "excuse me!" from where he was. It made your heart lurch. Despite the spiteful breakup, he rushed to your aid as soon as he realized you were in some kind of trouble.

Was this okay, to let your relationship end just like that?

"I'm outside." And then you heard his voice, much to your relief. "Y/N? Are you there?"

"Yes!" you shouted over the steel door.

You then heard how he rummaged to get the door open, and faintly hear him cursing it. "It won't open."

You wanted to sob, but then Satoru told you with an absolute tone, sounding so sure and demanding that compelled you to comply. "Get away from the door. As far as possible. Take cover."

Oh God, was he going to do what you thought he might do?

...he did. The next thing you knew, the door—and much more than that—was destroyed, and a rush of cursed energy was everywhere. After the blast subsided, you instinctively made a run for it, and you didn't know how, but you ended up stumbling into him.

Satoru caught you in his firm embrace.

"It's okay. You're okay," he cooed, whispering in your ear gently, urging your shivering body to calm down. "You're safe now, Y/N... I'm here. You're safe."

There was always something about your trembling form that made him want to tear down everything and anything in his path just to make you feel secure. And there was always this sense of rightness whenever you snuggled in his arms. Both desires clashed in a contrasting need and want and Satoru could do nothing but keep you close to him, torn between the two.

He kept his hand on your spine, and you clung on him, burying your face in his broad, sturdy chest.

Nevermind the fact that you technically broke up with him. Nevermind that ever since this botched trip started, it was the first occasion in which the two of you held a proper conversation without spewing bravado or sarcasm.

Afterwards, he led you away from the site, and he figured it would be best to go somewhere quieter rather than the festival, and so here you were, at the deserted lounge.

You had calmed down for the most part, and slowly you felt heat in your cheeks. In hindsight, you could've tried using cursed energy to blast the door too, why didn't you think of that earlier?

And yet, unaware of your internal musings, Satoru's thoughts were occupied with another matter entirely, and blame it on his insensitivity—he chose this moment to drop it without hesitation.

"I want you back," he declared, void of any hesitation. "I'll be better, I promise. Those things you hate—tell me, and I'll make sure not to repeat them again."

He wasn't the sharpest when it came to picking up on your feelings, but Satoru vowed that if it bothered you that much, then he would do his best to avoid doing it.

But you... you were still trying your best to grasp the situation. Amidst the plot twist you just experienced tonight, his blatant proclamation was the last thing you expected so you only managed a "What?"

He held your gaze, eerily serious. “I don’t want to break up. It’s hell. We can—I can still fix this.”

He looked sincere, unlike the usual empty promises he’d give you after you went off on him. And suddenly, you understood.

“…really?”

“Yeah. Just give me another chance. I’ll prove it to you,” Satoru said, visibly impatient now. “I won’t give you up. This literally is the fight of my life right now.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite yourself. If there was anything that you had learned tonight, it was that apparently you and him were still salvageable.

“And how will you prove it?”

“Just so you wait and see, sweets. I’m gonna relight your feelings!”

It was beyond corny that he took a line from your favorite song. And both of you burst into a laughter at the sheer silliness of it.

You sighed, but this time of relief, in stark contrast to your earlier sighs that afternoon. You were giddy as a smile perched on your lips. “Fine. Let’s give this another shot.”

Satoru felt the tension in his shoulder melt with your answer. A genuine, wide smile emerged from the bottom of his heart and lit up his face.

“Now, this whole trip has been kind of terrible so far, don’t you think?” He made a brief pouty face for a moment before reverting to his mischievous grin His remarkable expressiveness—reminiscent of a child's, in your opinion—never ceased to fascinate you. “I have a pretty good idea where we should go next.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “What do you mean? Tomorrow’s our last day.”

“No freaking way!” he exclaimed, whipping out his phone to launch the travel agency app. “We are going to redo our graduation trip. This time just the two of us!”

There were many things that led to the end of your relationship with your dork of a boyfriend, but as you reflected on it, you realized that there were also many reasons for you to stay together, especially when he reached for your hand and held it firmly in his grasp.

You were unable to contain your excitement and bubbling with melodious giggles that he adored so much as he whisked you away from Kumamoto in favor of the last bullet train to Kyoto, where your long-awaited true vacation would begin.

Epilogue

“I told you this was a horrible idea. I fucking told you.”

"Can you blame me? Dude was about to throttle me in my sleep."

"Geto," Shoko scowled, her disbelief at his simple answer evident as she gestured wildly with both hands towards the wrecked lavatory, emphasizing her point. "Look—now that he had gone and done it, we're the ones footing the bill for the destruction of property!"

Gojo had blasted the washroom with a freaking Red. And the innkeeper promptly held both Shoko and Suguru responsible since their roommates were captured on CCTV and had vanished without a trace.

Suguru rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I genuinely thought it was a good idea. I didn't expect Satoru to go overboard though," then he threw her a stink eye. "And hey, you were complicit in this too!"

Shoko mumbled a string of curses as she pulled out her phone, snapping some pictures of the undeniable evidence of Gojo’s doing, and then made a call. Suguru frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm reporting him to the headquarters!"

[northgazaupdates]

Eman’s family managed to evacuate Gaza through Rafah crossing a few months ago. However, their resettlement in Egypt has been extremely difficult. Eman’s husband has been treating his chronic heart condition, and her youngest child was sick with a virus of the liver. Eman is now trying to get funds together so that her two oldest children can attend university, and her two youngest can attend school. They have received only a single donation in the last four weeks, and are nowhere near their goal.

Please help this Palestinian family build a better future

Verified by the campaign host and by @moatazart

[dyspunktional-leviathan]

Gazan fundraisers I’ve found while looking for info on another fundraiser. Most of them are very badly stagnating.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/37i128z6u0 — €43,249 out of €109,5K; last donation was 15 days ago

https://www.gofundme.com/f/amal-family-evacuation-from-gaza-fund — $15,089 USD out of $40,000 USD; last donation was 5 days ago, only two donations in 10 days

https://www.gofundme.com/f/nspxr-help-my-dad — €884 out of €20,000; last donation was two days ago

https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-remas-yazans-family-in-gaza — $8,167 USD out of $30,000; last donation was 9 hours (as of writing) ago.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-remas-and-her-baby-survive-gaza-crisis — $2,834 USD out of $15,000 USD

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-reimas-and-tulanes-family-escape-war — $2,975 USD out of $55,000 USD; last donation was 22 days ago.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-reunite-remas-and-lina-with-their-ailing-mother — $1,314 USD out of $14,000 USD; last donation was 15 days ago.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/reemas-with-medical-bills-food-tent — $4,597 USD out of $7,5K USD; no donations for four months.

And the one I was looking info for is https://www.tumblr.com/remasalimarouf/767581797869551616 (€110 out of €70,000, no donations for a month). Reverse image search would not be reliable for it, because the photos are cropped. It's especially clear with one that is both in the gfm's header and the gfm itself, both have areas that are cropped out on the other. There has been an instance of a proven impersonator campaign that had cropped images to evade RIS.

Photos in the campaign number 5 here also seem to be cropped to me, but I am not as certain about that.

If anyone has any info on any of these campaigns, it would be very greatly appreciated.

Tags for reach under the cut

@selkiebrides @streakoflavender @keepinitwrd

@bloodandgutsyippee @wherethatoldtraingoes2

@butchniqabi @appsa @frigidwife

@vetted-gaza-funds @gazagfmboost @heliopixels

@neechees @beserkerjewel @brutaliakhoa

@deepspaceboytoy @kibumkim @rhubarbspring

@lesbiansagainsttheatre @malcriada @applejupiter

@sxpph0 @rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @neptunerings

@dykesbat @halalgirlmeg @userpeggycarter

@brokenbackmountain @minosbull @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness-blog

@buttercuparry @captainsaltymuyfancy @timetravellingkitty

@socalgal @xinakwans @kahin

@arsonistbunny @cloudster-clown

@diddykong-racer @teaviary @typhra

@daxdraggon @skittybot @lesbiannova

@fleshdyk3 @irangp @bitegore

@lesbianmaxevans @frustrated-froglet @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

@1stuffedtiger @boosting-donations @politicalblade

@its-feminism-not-terfism @rainy-fog @officialpenisenvy

@opencommunion @pannaginip @postanagramgenerator

@redbuddi @retvolution @riding-with-the-wild-hunt

@sar-soor @sawasawako @sayruq

@shartreuse1312 @sissa-arrows @sivavakkiyar

@sliceofdyke @soon-palestine @stuckinapril

@t4tails @tadpoledyke @tamamita

@thatdiabolicalfeminist @think-queer @timetravellingkitty

@timogsilangan @trans-girl-nausicaa @transingthebourgeoisie

@transjjester @turian @ubernegro

@vague-humanoid @vakarians-babe @victoriawhimsey

@womenintheirwebs @yurischolar @2spirit-0spoons

[lenasai]

‼️ URGENT, NO DONATIONS IN OVER A WEEK, PLEASE HELP ‼️

[pt: urgent, no donations in over a week, please help]

this is one of the campaigns i spotlighted a while back. ghazi's campaign is progressing, but very slowly - too slowly for the circumstances he and his family are living through. €500-€1000 short term goals are taking an excruciatingly long amount of time to reach.

his situation, in his own words (emphasis mine):

When the war on Gaza began on October 7, 2023, my relatives and uncles took refuge in our house, thinking that it was the safe house, and 5 days after their displacement to us, the occupation carried out a brutal and violent bombardment on the neighborhood next to us. On the morning of Friday, 10/13/2023, the Zionist occupation called my older brother, asking him to escape, evacuate all the buildings of the entire neighborhood, and head to the south of the Gaza Strip. It was very suspicious and scary and we didn't know where to turn. We had to evacuate. I had to flee with my family to a safe area, leaving behind my neighborhood, my home, my shops, my work, my memories, literally everything. We took refuge with our relatives in Al-Maghazi camp, and 12 days after we were displaced, on 10/25/2023, the occupation bombed the bakery opposite the house in which we were displaced, and I was injured in my foot. On the left side and an injury, my brother suffered minor burns to her face, and the house became partially destroyed, but it is the only shelter we have, so we restored what we could to live in the house as much as possible. On November 4, 2023, warplanes targeted the bakery after it was destroyed again. Thank God, none of us were injured, and nothing was done here. We were able to restore, but we cleaned and sat down because there was no other place, and on the morning of Wednesday, January 3, 2024, the occupation made a sudden ground entry into Al-Maghazi camp, and here we were surrounded and we could not leave the house. There was no water, food or any other necessities of life. We just sat and heard the sounds of shelling, bullets and missiles. We are waiting for our turn to come. Until Sunday morning, January 7, 2024, we miraculously managed to leave Al-Maghazi under bombardment and took refuge in Rafah. I had no one or relatives there, and we built a tent to shelter me and my family. On May 28, 2024, we were displaced for the sixth time after nights and days of violent bombing on tents in Rafah’s Mawasi. They were displaced and we did not know where to run. I cannot describe the situation adequately; I think you've seen enough on the Internet. I lost my home, my shops, my family's source of income, and I was left with nothing. I have lost many friends over the past four months. However, I feel nothing but complete helplessness and inability to help my family. The feeling of helplessness is humiliating and painful, as negative thoughts dominate your thoughts, such as thinking about suicide or wishing for death to escape this feeling. But here I am breathing again and thinking of positive solutions in the face of crushing death. I'm trying to cling to life.

this campaign has been featured on the @gazafunds website and i trust its legitimacy.

€13,363 / €50,000

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Now I'm Yours | Feel It In Your Soul

↳ Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader ⤜ A/B/O, Established Relationship/Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 6,697 ⚠️ Vulgar language, fingering, knotting, creampie, discussion of violent acts, fighting/physical altercation, alpha challenge, knife violence/attack, blood, injury, bond sex, dick licking/oral, slick eating, biting/marking, blood/wound licking, surprise pregnancy

A/N: Read Make You Mine, the first installment of this series, here!

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

When you meet Jungkook’s family in the garage the next morning, the sun isn't even up yet. His parents are waiting next to the large SUV that’s idling by the open door when you enter through the side entrance from the laundry room.

After a hasty shower, you threw on jeans and a t-shirt and are now helping Junghyun load the back of the vehicle with a few boxes from the storage room. The tops of the boxes are labeled with various things, mostly boasting medical supplies or nonperishable foodstuffs.

“Did Jungkook say why he wanted us to bring all of this stuff?"

Junghyun looks up at you from under his brow as he bends over to retrieve the next box, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “Donations. We’re going to be close to The Sanctuary, and we try to donate once a quarter if we’re able.”

This is the first you’ve heard of the Jeons donating to The Sanctuary. You’re intimately familiar with the place. It’s exactly what it sounds like: a sanctuary for abused or neglected omegas and their children. Mari was one such omega, cast aside by her original pack when she didn’t match with any of the alphas within it. It wasn’t until Roland, having just taken over as pack Alpha of your old pack, started up his own annual donations to The Sanctuary that he met Mari. Your old pack made at least a donation every six months after that, helping as many omegas and children as possible.

It’s not that you wouldn’t think the Jeons are a pack that would help those less fortunate; you’d just not given it much thought, considering you grew up thinking they were run by power-hunger alphaholes. Not that Jungkook isn’t an alphahole, he’s just…maybe not as bad as you once thought—even without the rose-tinged view you have of him now from being your mate.

The duel is taking place on neutral territory, which happens to be an old warehouse that’s been converted into a performance theatre in the entertainment district of the central city. The warehouse was renovated a few decades ago by the council when enough of the surrounding packs hounded them for a space to meet en masse.

It’s about three hour's drive, the view filled with the sun peeking over the mountains and trees with their leaves changing in preparation for winter. You sit in the passenger seat, head resting against the window while you try not to stress too much over the events of the next twenty-four hours.

“Come on, dear,” the soft voice of Jungkook’s mother drags you from your rumination. She’s leaning through the gap between the front seats, her hand lightly squeezing your shoulder. “We’re here.”

You hadn’t even realized the vehicle had stopped and that Junghyun and Jungkook’s father had gotten out already. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, popping open the door and sliding out.

She meets you along the side of the SUV, a concerned look pinching her brow. “Are you feeling okay?”

Now that she mentions it, you are feeling a bit off-kilter. Though, it’s probably just the nerves. “Just worried, that’s all,” you explain, pressing a hand against your stomach.

“Did you skip breakfast?” she asks, hooking her arm around your other one and slowly leading you to where Junghyun and his father stand near the elevator of the parking garage.

Breakfast was the last thing on your mind this morning. “Yeah. I’ll be okay, though.”

“Nonsense,” she tuts, producing a whole-grain protein bar from the bag slung over her other shoulder. “You’ll feel better with something in your stomach. Now, let’s go find my son. Being near your alpha will do you a dose of good, as well.”

You nibble on the protein bar, looking to simply placate her, but find yourself suddenly ravenous and consume the whole thing in three bites. It sits like lead in your belly, and you immediately regret wolfing it down so quickly.

“This foolish display will start at precisely noon, not long now,” Jungkook’s father states, the clip of his cane hitting the linoleum flooring of the elevator echoing the disapproval that’s evident in his voice.

Junghyun presses the button that’s labeled ‘theatre hall’ on the control panel and the cabled car begins a swift ascent up to the fifth floor. You caught sight of Jungkook's motorcycle in the parking garage, sitting next to Jimin’s red sports car. A few other familiar vehicles lined the rows, but there were dozens more you didn’t recognize.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you feel a familiar humming warmth bloom in the center of your chest. It’s the same feeling you’ve learned to associate with being nearer to Jungkook. Peeking at your phone, you see it’s a message from the alpha, letting you know he’s waiting for you just on the other side of the elevator doors.

“There you are,” Jungkook exhales, not even waiting for you to get off the elevator before he’s gathering you into his arms. His scent engulfs you, immediately putting you at ease. Jungkook is all alpha, and as much as you hate to admit it, he’s exactly what you need; your stomach and nerves are instantly soothed.

Jungkook’s father clears his throat, drawing Jungkook’s attention. “What news do you have?”

Jungkook sighs, releasing most of his hold on you, but keeps an arm over your shoulders and ushers you out of the elevator and into the hall. “Most all the other families have arrived. Jimin is with Daehyun now. I haven’t managed to lay my eyes on either Raiden or Demetrius. According to the council, they’re supposed to be in the eastern dressing rooms. I have seen Kiel skulking around the halls, though, creepy bastard.”

“Have you seen Hyunsoo?” Jungkook nods in answer to his father’s question. “I’d like to have a word with him.”

“Last I saw him, he was inside speaking with the council.”

“Perfect, I could do with a word for them, too,” Jungkook’s father grumbles before starting toward the entrance to the performance hall proper. Junghyun follows closely behind, after dipping his chin at Jungkook. You’ve never seen Jungkook get bent out of shape over designation deference, as some alphas do. He doesn’t force those below him to bow and scrape; he just asks for as much respect as he affords them in exchange. It’s just another tick you’ve had to add to your ‘Jungkook isn’t as bad as I once thought’ list.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jungkook asks softly, his eyes flicking between yours.

You do feel much better now that you’re with him, which would normally grate on you, but you can’t seem to muster up the typical ire for some reason. “I’ll be fine,” you assure him. “Just nerves.” That seems to satisfy him.

“Come on, let’s go before Dad causes too much of a scene.”

“Umm, I’ll be right there. I’m just going to go to the restroom real quick.”

He continues to stare at you for a moment longer before slowly nodding. “Okay. Mom, we’ll be right back—”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t have to come with—”

“Jungkook,” his mom interrupts you both, giving her son an amused smile. “She might be your omega, but I promise she doesn’t need you to hold her hand while she uses the restroom. I’ll wait here for her. You go on ahead with your father and Junghyun.”

Pink creeps up Jungkook’s neck and kisses his ears. “Right. Okay. I’ll see you inside,” he mumbles, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before reluctantly taking his arm from across your shoulders and heading toward the door his father and brother disappeared through.

“Thank you,” you say to his mom. “I’ll be right back.”

You’ve only been here a handful of times over the years for various events, but you’re able to follow the signs well enough to the restrooms located on this side of the venue. However, when you get there, the door is locked, and there is a janitorial wet-floor sign posted right outside.

It’s just your luck, right as you’re starting to feel a light wave of nausea wash over you. Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your inner omega, who isn’t helping the situation at all, you turn to retreat back to where Jungkook’s mom is waiting for you a few halls over. Maybe she’ll have something that can calm your warring stomach and nerves.

“I can break the lock if you need to get in there,” a voice calls out from further down the hall just as you take a step to go back. “You look like you need it.”

You swivel toward the voice but can only make out the silhouette of someone standing in a darkened doorway a few doors down. They pull out a phone, and the blue light illuminates the ceiling for a moment before it’s plunged back into darkness. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You don’t look fine to me.” The words come with a chuckle that slithers over your senses and sets you on high alert. You’ve heard that voice before. “If fact, you look like a helpless little omega that’s about to sick up all over the floor.”

That’s a thought. You might just do that, considering who steps out from that doorway, the face fitting with the name screaming inside your head. Kiel Barton. He’s every inch the viperous bastard he’s known to be. Despite being not much taller than you, he’s thicker through each arm and leg than both of yours combined. His bald head glints in the overhead light, and the jagged scar on his right cheek is bright white against his red-flushed face. He swaggers into the hallway, just a few feet away, twirling a switchblade through his thick fingers.

“I’m not helpless,” you seethe through your teeth. You don’t necessarily mean for the words to come out so aggressively, but they do. Years of not taking shit from anyone don’t seem to have worn off too much from your time of being mated with Jungkook. And if it’s one thing you’ve always hated, it’s how everyone thinks omegas are weak and soft—helpless without an alpha.

Kiel grins, and it reminds you of something you might see in a horror film right before the psycho killer attacks. “Oh, sweet, sweet omega,” he crows before sucking in a deep lungful of air, “I don’t think you realize just how helpless you are right now.”

You’re about to turn on your heel and run when he leaps. It’s like a strike of lightning; he moves so fast—faster than your reflexes can keep up with. Pain thunders through you as his burly form knocks into you and sends you hurtling a few feet down the hall to land in a heap on the floor.

He’s back on you in an instant, cold steel pressed against your neck. “Get off me!” you scream, trying your best to buck him off despite the disorienting feeling still reeling inside your head.

“I promised my brother as long as he did his part, I would do mine,” Kiel sing-songs in a demented tone, his words trailing off into another one of those spine-chilling chuckles. 

“Fuck you!” You struggle under his weight, your knees and elbows trying to get any purchase along his thick-muscled body that they can. You manage to catch him along the neck with your hand, nails scoring bloody lines through the devil tattoo he has there.

An ear-splitting roar, the sound of loud banging, and running feet sound from somewhere down the hall, making Kiel’s laughter trail off. “Looks like my time to play is—” A small, sneakered foot meets the side of his ribs, turning his words into a grunt. The hit barely rocks him, but you can’t be sure of who it is, though, around his bulk.

“Get off of her, you snake!” snarls a familiar feminine voice, only it’s dripping with far more acid than you’ve ever heard before.

“FUCK! I don’t have time for this!” Kiel thunders, rearing back and bringing a fist around right into your temple, sending you careening into hazy darkness.

There is so much noise and movement that when you first come to, you think you’re dreaming. But then the very real pain lights up along your side, and you’re reminded that this is very much not a dream. You’re laying on the floor in the hallway outside the bathroom, side smarting hard from the impact of hitting the floor and the memory of a meaty fist stark in your mind.

You go to sit up, only to have your hand slip through a puddle of warm, sticky liquid. The scent hits you a second later, thick and metallic. “Oh gods,” you whimper softly. Your hand is bright red when you bring it up in front of your face.

“Please,” comes an even more pitiful whimper from beside you. Adrenaline kicks in, and you flip onto your hands and knees, letting your eyes swing over the scene around you.

A dozen bodies are packed in the hall, fists flying and mouths opened in concussive bellows. It’s pandemonium. Everyone is fighting, familiar faces and those of strangers alike. All the sounds combined make you want to crawl into a corner and cover your ears, but the form lying beside you keeps you right where you are.

Jungkook’s mom lies on the floor. Her body turned at an odd angle, with her hips going one way and her torso the other as if she was flung around like a ragdoll. You realize the whimpering is coming from her. She lifts a trembling hand toward you, and you grab onto it, crawling closer to kneel beside her.

The blood covering your hand, now seeping through the knees of your jeans, is coming from her. A familiar-looking switchblade is protruding from the upper right area of her chest, between her clavicle and shoulder, and there is a cut over her left eyebrow that blood is steadily oozing from.

“No, no, no!” You quickly rip off a strip from the bottom of your t-shirt and press it around the blade, trying to staunch the wound. The cut above her brow doesn’t look deep; all the blood is a bit alarming, but you know headwounds are the worst in being deceptive; they bleed so much. You’re also scared to take your hands away from her chest. “What did you do?”

Her eyes flicker open, rolling wide until they land on you. “Had to”—she pauses, whimpering in pain as someone stumbles backward and knocks into her splayed legs—”pr-protect the baby.”

“Protect the–protect the wh—”

“NO!” The alpha roar echoes through the hall, as loud as a thunderclap.

In the same instant that your hands are moved aside and replaced by the older, more gnarled ones of her mate, arms come around you from behind and you’re lifted up off the floor. Fear grips your throat, and you flail, aiming your elbow backward at whoever grabbed you.

“Stop, calm down!” Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of your fight instinct, and you sag in his arms. The fighting around you has turned into pockets of isolated struggle.

You blink a few times, clearing the panicked haze from your eyes, finally able to piece everything together. There are a few busted lips and some already swelling eyes, but there are at least a handful of familiar faces around you. Each one is executing some form of hold over individuals with less familiar faces; headlocks, arm bars, and others that look just as effective, if maybe more painful.

Then there is the scene at your feet, right out of a horror movie. Jungkook’s dad and brother are kneeling beside his mom, the knife still sticking out of her chest. It looks like the blood has stopped pooling around the blade, but you can’t seem to remember if that’s a good or a bad sign.

“Jungkook! Your mom, we need a medic!” you urge, struggling in his arms again.

A sinister, wet, cackling laugh cuts through the hushed din of the hallway before it turns into a hacking cough. You can hear the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh and pained grunts.

”Shut up, you sick bastard!” The ragged cry comes from further down the hallway, where you see Seokjin with his arms wrapped around Kiel’s upper torso and Yoongi throwing fists into his stomach. “How dare you!?”

“Yoongi.” Jungkook doesn’t have to raise his voice at all. The other alpha stops, fist poised mid-punch, his shoulders heaving. “That’s enough.” The coldness in Jungkook’s tone has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. You’ve never heard him sound so utterly emotionless. “For now.”

Pounding footsteps sound from the other end of the hall, and a few betas come skidding into view, medical bags in hand. “Out of the way!” one of the betas shouts, shouldering his way down the hall before dropping down beside Junghyun and beginning to work. “I need to get her stabilized before we can move her.”

Everything is still a bit cloudy for you; all you have are flits and flashes of memory, but it’s not hard to piece it together. Kiel came after you outside the bathroom, and then Jungkook’s mom tried to interfere. “Is she, is she going to be okay?” you ask, voice soft, your lips trembling around the question.

Jungkook hooks an arm under the backs of your legs and hoists you up against his chest, and you get your first good look at his face. There is a dribble of blood coming from the corner of his mouth and mild swelling coming up around his left eye.

He’s about to open his mouth to say something when a group of grey-haired alphas cut around the corner at the end of the hall, and the one in the front gasps dramatically, “Good gods! What has happened?” You groan at the loud sound, burying your face into Jungkook’s chest.

“This is what happens when you entertain absurd demands from a known trouble-making pack,” Jungkook’s father states with barely veiled malice.

“This is your mess,” Jungkook says, directing attention to the elders shuffling their feet at the end of the hall. His words are acerbic despite him speaking at a normal volume. It’s an alpha statement, carrying the cutting edge of an unspoken command. The entire hallway stills, the air thick with tension.

“Our mess?”

“If you had listened to me from the start about how utterly ridiculous this whole duel bullshit was, this”—he nods down at his mother, who is still being worked on by the betas—”wouldn’t have happened. I’ll have all of you off the council before the week is over, mark my words,” he seethes. “And, if she doesn’t recover fully, I’ll have more than just your titles. Yoongi, Seokjin, you know what to do.” With that, Jungkook turns and stalks down the hall, carrying you with him.

🌙🌙🌙

Jungkook

There is so much rage simmering beneath Jungkook’s skin that he thinks he might explode if he doesn’t let it out somehow. However, the only outlet he wants right now is you—to get lost in your body and your soul—but you’re in no state to take the brunt of his emotions.

“Jungkook.” Your soft voice draws his gaze down to your face. Seeing the swelling around your eye makes him want to turn around and finish what Yoongi was starting. Jungkook isn’t violent, but he could level the entire city right now if he weren’t so focused on getting you checked out. You bring a hand up and lightly trace the break in his lip. “What happened?”

“Raiden and Demetrius. I think this was their plan all along. One minute, Father and I were talking to the council while we waited, and the next, Raiden and Demetrius, along with a half dozen of their pack, came bursting into the theatre and attacked us.” Jungkook sighs, shaking his head. “I felt you, I felt the…” the trails off, not wanting to voice those feelings aloud. The pure terror he felt through his mate connection to you. The tie between the two of you has never really been an open street, he’s never been able to feel your emotions so viscerally before. It was almost enough to take him to his knees. If he didn’t need to fight off a pack of rabid alphas, it nearly might have. “I’m sorry,” Jungkook rasps.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. We knew they were up to no good. I should have been more vigilant or, at least, taken you up on your offer to escort me to the restroom.” You try to laugh, but it turns into a groan as your head pounds.

“Let’s get you to the hospital so they can check you over.”

No amount of protests from you will deter Jungkook from getting you to a doctor. Junghyun texts him shortly after he places you in the backseat of the SUV, letting Jungkook know that everyone else is on their way to the hospital and an ambulance is en route to get their mother but that the betas are hopeful.

Several hours later, you’ve been released from the hospital with confirmation of no lasting damage, just a recommendation to get some rest. Jungkook’s lip is patched with a butterfly stitch, per your insistence, and it itches as he sits on the edge of the bed in the hotel room he booked before leaving the hospital. Even though you aren’t concussed or anything, Jungkook didn’t want to risk taking you all the way back to pack lands.

Besides, his mother was admitted and is still there for observation, and he doesn’t feel comfortable being too far away while she’s in recovery. She went in for surgery immediately upon arrival and woke up not too long ago. Junghyun and their father are staying at the hospital with her until she’s cleared to go home, which will hopefully not be more than a few days. Apparently, her wounds looked worse than they were, and she was fortunate Kiel didn’t get her an inch further to either side. Otherwise, it might be a very different outcome.

Jimin texted him a bit ago, letting him know the entire Barton pack is being detained at the local precinct, and the authorities are awaiting word from Jungkook about charges. The council sequestered themselves behind closed doors, but the duel was considered null due to the circumstances. Jimin feels bad about being part of the ruse, even if he was just being used as a means to get close to the Jeon pack.

It’s come to light that the Bartons decided to use their feud with the Parks because they knew the Jeons wouldn’t sit idly by. One big, elaborate plan, all to get close to Jungkook’s Luna and try to tear down the hierarchy. If Jungkook lost his Soulmate, he’d lose his foundation of power as well. Or so, that’s what the buzz was when some of the Barton betas were interrogated, according to Jimin.

Jungkook knows everything is going to be okay, that you’re going to be okay; the doctor told him as much. But, despite that assurance, he can’t seem to relax. You’re curled up in the bed, facing him, and you look so peaceful, even with the swelling on the side of your face, but all he can feel is rage when he sees that…rage and so much guilt.

He never should have let you go to the restroom on your own. If he has his way, he’s never going to let you out of his sight again. It’s such an alarming realization, going from one polar sensation to the next. The fact he could give two shits less about you just a few months ago, and now here he is wanting to murder someone for touching you, is hard to wrap his head around.

Yet, here he is, fisting the edge of one of the blankets as he battles this feeling inside himself. The fact his alpha has been mostly silent since Jungkook laid eyes on you in that hallway is just as alarming. It’s almost like his alpha is giving him space. For the first time since coming into his designation, he feels like a giant void separates him from his alpha; he doesn’t like it.

There’s also the pile of papers sitting on the desk, a few feet away, that hold another key bit of information that won’t let him relax. It was standard testing, just something to help rule other things out and see what kinds of tests they could and could not perform to assess your head.

You’re pregnant.

Now that he knows, Jungkook can tell. There is a distinct, underlying change to your scent. It’s sweeter somehow, more alluring in the sense that you now smell partly like him. He should have known before. He knows that if he hadn’t spent so much time away from you, he would have realized it sooner.

You were surprised, but your shock seemed more subdued. When questioned, you told Jungkook what his mother had said to you. Somehow, even his mother knew before he did. Jungkook feels like a failure, like he’s done nothing right by you. It had to have happened the night of your designation celebration. Neither of you had bothered with any preventative measures that night, too lost in the touch and feel of each other to care.

And now, here you are, pregnant without a bite on your neck and a knot on the side of your head. If anything were to have happened to the baby…Jungkook isn’t sure he can even think about that right now. Not without wanting to put his fist through the wall.

He’s spent weeks worried about staying away from you when all along, he was clearly concerned about all the wrong things. The doctor assured him that even the most attentive of alphas take several weeks before they can smell their own child in the womb. But that doesn’t make Jungkook feel any better.

He thinks back on all the curt and what he thought were nagging messages he had gotten from his mother the last few weeks and can see them in a different light now. She wasn’t just trying to chastise him about his duty; she was trying to coax him home so he could be there for his mate in a way he should have from the start.

Jungkook knows what he needs to do now. There is no question about it. Though, it’s not because he feels obligated…no, he truly wants to solidify that bond with you. As soon as you’re ready, he’s going to offer himself to you, finally and fully.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” your sweet voice breaks him out of his thoughts and makes him release his tight hold on the sheets.

Your eyes look so big and bright even in the dim light of the hotel room as you sleepily blink up at him. How he never wanted to give himself over to you so completely before now marks him as a sure fool.

He sighs, exhaling a slow breath. “Yeah. How are you feeling?”

You stretch, wincing only slightly as your arm brushes along the side of your face. “Better, I think.”

“Can we talk?” he asks after a pause of silence.

You give him a guarded look as you slowly sit up and gather some of the blankets in your lap. The doctor told him you might start feeling the need to nest and gather comfort items, so he had specifically requested the Omega suite, which comes with complimentary brand-new fuzzy blankets and extra pillows that guests are allowed to take home when checking out.

“Sure,” you finally say.

Jungkook watches as emotions cross your face, echoing the pulse he can feel emanating from his chest. His alpha perks up, rousing for the first time in hours it feels like.

“Okay.” Now that he’s been given the go-ahead to talk, he’s suddenly feeling very self-conscious and uncertain. “I know you told me I don’t need to apologize, but I’m going to anyway.” Your lips form a thin line when he says that, so he hurries to continue, “Not for”—he gestures vaguely in your direction—”but for everything else. I want to apologize for everything before this. The way I’ve treated you and how I’ve acted. You’ve deserved better than what I’ve offered you these last few weeks—for being an asshole and a fucking dick,” Jungkook uses your own choice of words for him, and that earns him a small smile from you.

“I want to apologize, too, then. And before you can protest”—Jungkook was 100% about to—”just let me finish. Sure, you’ve not been the greatest the last few weeks, but I know I haven’t either. I should have tried harder, fought you on you being gone all the time, stood up for what I wan–er, needed, and been honest with how it was making me feel.”

Jungkook shakes his head, unable to believe how you’ve yet again turned the tables on him. “I, uh, there’s something that…there’s something I want to do,” Jungkook barely manages to get the words out as anxiety spikes at the prospect of you refusing.

“What is it?”

The look of intrigue on your face turns into pure shock as Jungkook prostrates himself on the bed in front of you, deliberately turning his head to expose the side of his neck to you, an act of submission. “I’m giving myself to you, wholly and completely. All those weeks ago, I claimed you and made you mine, and…now I’m yours.”

🌙🌙🌙

You stare at Jungkook, not sure what to say. “I-I don’t need,” you begin, reaching for Jungkook and encouraging him to sit up, “you to do that. You don’t have to bend to me…as long as you promise never to make me bend to you either.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll never force you to be something that you’re not ever again. I’m sorry I didn’t realize this sooner, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you asked to come with me to Jimin’s. From now on, I’ll listen to you, and I’ll not dismiss your concerns or voice. I don’t want you to feel like you’re beneath me simply because you’re my mate. I want you as my equal instead.”

The truth behind Jungkook’s words is evident in the fervent way he delivers them but also in the way your omega mews in satisfaction. A bite for a bite, an equal. Even though you wouldn’t be leaving a permanent mark on his neck like he will on yours, it’s still the intention, and it’s completely unheard of in your world. There are stories, myths, really…but nothing wholly substantial.

You shift on the bed, gathering your knees underneath you. Your jeans went into the trash, and all the hospital had was a thin pair of shorts and a t-shirt for you to wear. You fluff out the blankets absently as you mull over his words. “Your equal?”

“Yes,” Jungkook resolutely declares.

“I think I would like that,” you whisper, eyeing Jungkook’s mouth with a quickly burning hunger.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks, swallowing hard as you lean in closer to him. “If you need more time to think, that’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” you counter, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Jungkook responds by kissing you hard on the mouth, wrapping his arms around you, and dragging you against his chest. He tastes like home; his tongue is warm and wet against yours, and you’re certain you could drown in the sensation if he let you. But, he comes up for air, breaking the kiss for a moment before pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw.

Even with the aches in your face and body, you respond to him. With every teasing nip of his mouth, you feel yourself growing wet. The fragrant cream of your slick blooms in the air, melding with his masculine and spicy scent to create the perfect, heady bouquet.

“I’ve never been more sure about something,” Jungkook whispers the affirmation between kisses until his warm breath ghosts over the scent mark on your neck. “You smell so damn good,” he groans.

You can feel his lips part over the skin there; his tongue laves out and swipes up the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. With trembling hands, you help each other discard your clothing, finally coming back together skin to skin. Jungkook pulls you into his lap, his thick cock sitting snugly against your ass. You can feel the bulge of his knot already as if his body is automatically responding to just your closeness.

“You can say stop at any time,” you tell him, earning a surprised grunt when you shove him back against the pillows and deliberately slide your ass slowly over his cock as you move backward.

There is a challenge in his eyes as you meet them. You move until you’re kneeling between his knees, cock sitting prettily before you. “Where, ah,” Jungkook sucks in a stilted breath when you take the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, “did you want to?” Pink tinges Jungkook’s ears as he looks down at you, mouth full of him. You tap the inside of his thigh and raise your brows in silent question. “O-okay, just…just be gentle.”

That makes you chuckle, the vibration coming up your throat, and you can tell it sends a shock through Jungkook; his head drops back, and his mouth opens with a loud moan. “Gentle says the man about to put a permanent bite on my neck. An act that is none too gentle, I might add,” you say, letting his cock slip out from between your lips.

“Okay, that’s fair,” he relents, his words breathy as you trace along the underside of his dick with your tongue. “Be as aggressive as you want, then.”

Feeling egged on just a little by that declaration, you plant your teeth firmly into the meat of his inner thigh and bite as hard as you dare. Your teeth pinprick his skin, and the metallic tang of blood leeches onto your tongue. Jungkook grunts; his whole body shivers against your mouth.

“Was that okay?” you ask tentatively once you’ve pulled back to admire the twin crescent impressions you left behind. There isn’t that much blood. The two small wounds from your teeth are already clotted.

Jungkook lets out a heavy exhale as his body finally relaxes back against the bed. His cock twitches beside your face, producing a thick string of pre-cum that has your mouth watering for a taste.

“That was,” he pants, “hot as fuck.”

Pride fills you, and your body kindly reminds you with an intense throb in your clit, how much it turns you on when Jungkook talks like that. “Your turn,” you urge, desperate to get his teeth on your skin and his cock in your pussy.

Jungkook growls his approval, letting his alpha strength take over, and maneuvers you easily into a kneeling position in front of him. Using a gentle hand in your hair, he pulls you up until your back is pressed against his chest, giving him unfettered access to the front of your body while being able to tease your clit with the tip of his length.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, using the hand in your hair to angle your head sideways so he can lick along the side of your neck. “Let’s see.” His other hand slides down the front of your body, tweaking your nipples on the way, until his middle finger grazes over your swollen, aching clit.

“Don’t tease me,” you say between clenched teeth. Your omega adds her indignation to your own, making your words come out laced with additional grit.

“I just want a little taste,” Jungkook whispers as he hooks his finger lower and massages it along your slit, collecting a generous amount of slick as he does so. You watch as his finger comes up and disappears beside your face.

The wet laving sound of Jungkook sucking his finger sends a shudder through you. You reach down with your hands, cupping Jungkook’s cock in one and using the other to part the lips of your pussy so you can fit him against your entrance. “Fuuuck,” you drawl out as the broad head of his cock slides in.

“I love the way your pussy tastes,” Jungkook moans, dropping his hand to your hip and using it to guide your ass back against him, forcing him deeper. “It’s almost as good as how it feels.”

His fingers prod along your hip, sliding until his palm rests over your lower belly. You whimper, rocking your hips the best you can, and place your hand over his. “How do I look?” you ask. “You once told me I’d look so pretty once I was pregnant with your pup. Do you still think that?”

“You are,” he starts, “the single most”—he emphasizes the words with long, rolling strokes of his cock that have his knot kissing your lower lips with every forward motion—”beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. Even before I fucked you raw and knocked you up.” The beautiful, endearing words contrast so wildly with the dirty confession he tacks on at the end. Proving once again that Jungkook knows exactly how to wind you up and have you begging for more.

“Prove it,” you goade, intentionally dipping your head to the side to expose your neck further to him.

The moment his teeth touch your skin, you both freeze. It lasts only a second, the time it takes for them to sink into the tender expanse of your scent gland. It’s like a double punch to the gut; you can feel it all the way in your soul. The bond snaps into place the same instant Jungkook fits his knot inside you, and you explode, disintegrating into a million tiny little points of pleasure.

Your body opens for him, both physically and mentally. What was once a small trickle of feeling now becomes a deluge of intensity. You’re vaguely aware of Jungkook groaning as he meets his own release, throbbing heavily within your walls. You can feel him beneath your skin, feel the way your own body is wrapped so tightly around his knot, and the infinite pleasure that’s flooding through both of your systems.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jungkook mumbles against your neck, his teeth finally pulling free from your skin. “I can feel everything.”

It’s hard to tell where he begins, and you end. There is a sense of middling permanence, the perfect balance between alpha and omega. You once feared that submitting to him completely would change you in some cataclysmic way. And, it has…only, you don’t feel damned. In fact, it’s far more empowering than you ever thought possible.

Jungkook brushes his tongue along the fresh bite, tending to your wound in a tender way that has you slumping over. He follows you down, gently rutting his hips, which forces his knot to rub and grate inside of you, flooding you with another luscious rush of dopamine, like a second orgasm.

“Jungkook?” you ask, trying not to fall asleep as he continues to nuzzle your neck, and his knot keeps you secured so close to his warm body.

“Hmm?” he hums. Jungkook settles you both on your side, holding you against his chest with one hand and stroking and petting with soft, sensual strokes along every inch of your body that he can reach with the other.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I promise never to make you doubt me ever again. You are my soulmate, my Luna…the mother of my child. You are my everything.”

And just as Jungkook said, he made you his, and now he’s yours. Forever.

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

◅ Back to Master List ©️    2024-02-14    ColorMePurplex2  

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k words

warnings: explicit language, nothing else really?

summary: your life goes back to normal— how things were before you knew steve— and it’s fine (or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN | ❝𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆❞

Spring Semester 2017

“This is how villain origin stories are born,” Robin said with a loud sigh as she closed her laptop for the time being. “Apartment hunting. Why does this suck so much?”

“Because everything’s severely out of our price range,” You responded, looking up from your own laptop. “Also, there are barely any three-bedroom options.”

“And the ones that are available and in our budget are very shitty,” Vickie added and you nodded in agreement.

The three of you were sitting on the carpeted floor in your dorm room. Living together for the next school year had been jokingly and playfully talked about in the very early stages of your friendship with Robin, but then as the months passed, it settled into an idea that actually became serious; mainly because of how much sense it made. And then Robin introduced you to Vickie and another friendship, and roommate, was born. 

Eddie was also set as a fourth roommate for a bit, but then he told you that he and Chrissy decided to live together for junior year, so it became settled that it would only be you, Robin, and Vickie. Which sounded great, and you were already excited about it since you hated living alone, but the apartment-hunting part quickly proved to be a lot more of a nuisance than any of you had expected.

“Fuck it, let’s just do a four-bedroom, then,” Robin said, shrugging. “There are a bunch more options for those, anyway. Like, the one I showed you guys yesterday. That place was perfect.”

“Did I miss the moment when our fourth roommate magically appeared?” Vickie asked, a playful smile on her face. 

“We can easily find someone else in one of those, like, Facebook group things.”

“That’s honestly not a bad idea,” You responded, already going to pull up Facebook on your laptop. 

Robin smiled. “Thank you. I always have great ideas.”

Vickie gave her a look. “Do I need to mention the ‘donating blood to get concert ticket money’ idea you had a week ago?” 

“No, that’s okay. We don’t need to discuss that low point.” 

You were the one who showed them Talia’s posting on one of the “searching for roommates” groups. She seemed nice and interesting and both Robin and Vickie thought so too. The three of you put together a quick message— briefly introducing yourselves and that you were looking for a fourth roommate— and sent it.

“Okay, fourth roommate, check,” Robin said once you pressed send. “Now, we have to get the place that I showed you guys yesterday.”

You laughed a little. “Let’s wait until she actually says something, Rob.”  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

Initially, it felt equivalent to a family meeting. Well, more so what you imagined a family meeting would be like because the four of you never actually had to have one before. 

But then, it actually felt like you were giving some sort of speech or presentation because of the setup. Robin, Vickie, and Talia were on the couch and you were standing in front of the TV and explaining everything to them. 

You kept in most of the details— you and Steve agreeing to fake date, your feelings for Eddie being the reason behind it all, and how it was only meant to go until Spring Break. 

Aside from the fact that they all seemed shocked to learn that you had feelings for Eddie, their collective thought was that the entire relationship between you and Steve had seemed so real.

“We were just really good at faking,” Was your response to Vickie specifically saying how cute you two had looked together; especially during the one reality TV night where Steve came over and picked the show.

You remembered that night pretty well, but you didn’t remember any specific moments where you had felt as if you and he had to “play up” the relationship or lay the PDA on thick since Eddie wasn’t around that night, so you weren’t sure how that moment was considered a definingly cute one for the two of you. 

“Were you good at faking or was it not really fake?” Robin asked, giving you a certain look. 

“Definitely fake,” You didn’t hesitate to answer because you deliberately didn’t want to think about her question too deeply. “We’re not even really friends, and he just went on a date last night. Hence the Eddie punch.”

Eddie was still sleeping in your bed. When you got back from Steve’s place, you weren’t in the mood to wake him up or tell him to shift over and make room for you, so you spent the night on the couch. 

“Damn, it kinda sucks that we’re never gonna see him again. He was the only one that liked when I made the pumpkin cheesecake cookies,” Talia said.

Vickie laughed a bit. “The only reason we don’t like it is because that's clearly a Fall cookie, Tal, and it's Spring right now.” She then looked as if she thought of something. “Hey, but at least you won’t have to get stuck on a team with Eddie for game night anymore. We’re back to individual stuff or you being the referee.”

Talia smiled. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“Wait, that just made me remember something,” Robin started. “Guys, I need you to please hear me out on this one,” She paused for what seemed like dramatic effect. “I think it's time to bring back Monopoly.”

There was a collective groan that immediately filled the air upon hearing her suggestion. Monopoly was a near friendship-ending game for you all, and it was only meant to be played on the rarest of occasions; which actually meant never. 

You sat down on the small loveseat then, glad that the subject had been shifted and that your speech, mixed with a Q&A, was over. “Robin, why do you wanna ruin all of our friendships?”

She quickly shook her head. “Come on, it’s been months. We’re all much more mature and reasonable adults, and I doubt we’ll have any arguments like last time.” 

Before any of you could respond with any sort of rebuttal, your bedroom door opened and out walked a tired looking Eddie. 

“Somehow, I heard the mention of Monopoly and I’m here to immediately veto that suggestion.” 

Robin rolled her eyes at him. “Go back to sleep, Munson.”

The game night conversation continued, and from there, things were normal. And you didn’t mind the normalcy that your life settled back into over the next few days and then weeks— even though, at one point, the thought of it bothered you and you had missed a lot of the things that came along with fake dating Steve. Now you knew there was no point in missing any of it; in fact, it felt kind of dumb to. 

Your classes got more and more intense during the entire month of April, so there wasn’t that much time to think about Steve or wonder what he was up to. However, the moments you did think of him surprisingly hit hard. 

When you all ended up playing Monopoly at game night, after Robin’s many begs and pleads, you thought about Steve and how different things would’ve been if he was there. You imagined him as a pretty competitive Monopoly player, and felt almost certain that he would’ve either had the biggest rivalry with Robin or formed some sort of alliance with her; she was the one that actually ended up winning after an intense and exhausting seven hours of playing that night. You wished that he could’ve been there. 

And then there were the reminders of him that were left around— his t-shirt that you’d never gotten around to giving back to him, his sunglasses that you didn’t realize you’d stolen until you were finally finishing unpacking your stuff from the Mexico trip, and the bear that he got you for Valentine’s Day that you refused to ever get rid of, but you eventually stuffed Hartford away in your closet instead of leaving him on your desk to make things feel easier. 

Anytime one of those moments happened where you randomly thought about him, you immediately reminded yourself of the rule and simply buried yourself further in whatever school assignment you needed to focus on, or made abrupt plans with Eddie, Robin, Vickie, or Talia. 

It was late in the month when Talia wanted to set you up with a guy from one of her classes, who she claimed would be “perfect for you.” Initially, you were hesitant— more so leaning toward no than yes— but he had the Talia stamp of approval, so you let it happen. She gave him your number and there were a handful of text messages shared between you two that led to a museum date a week later. 

It wasn’t terrible. But, your heart wasn’t in it at all, and neither was your head most of the time. And by the end of it, more specifically as you were in the elevator headed back up to your apartment, you realized that you probably wouldn’t see him again. 

When you walked into the apartment, you spotted Talia in the kitchen and the entire apartment smelled amazing; which, of course, didn’t surprise you at all.

“Hey, what are you making?” You asked as you pulled off your jacket and hung it on one of the empty hooks next to the door. 

“I got bored, so I decided to do a quick roasted chicken. It’s in the oven now,” She said, shrugging as if that was entirely normal. It would never not amuse you how her boredom would always spur on elaborate meals. “So, how was the date?”

“It was fine. Good, actually,” You answered after the briefest moment of hesitation. “He was pretty cool and we had a lot in common and stuff. But, I don’t know… It just didn’t feel right, I guess. My head was in a different place a lot of the time. Thinking about other stuff.”

“About Steve?”

Hearing her say that, surprised you. “What? No. I haven’t talked to him in like a month.” 

She gave you a quick shrug. “That doesn’t mean that you can’t think about him.” 

“I guess that’s true, but I haven’t really thought about him,” You said. It was a small lie that you were okay with telling because you didn’t want to admit or even ponder what it meant that you did think about and were so easily reminded of him sometimes. 

“I’m kind of surprised that you two aren’t friends or something,” She told you as she went to grab something from the fridge. “I don’t think I could do a whole fake dating thing with someone and not, at least, be friends with them after it.”

You leaned back against the counter. “We came up with a bunch of rules when we started it, and that was one of them.”

“To not be friends after?”

“Not exactly that, but pretty much, yeah. The rule was to go our separate ways once the fake dating was done,” You shrugged. “Becoming friends was the last thing on both of our minds when we came up with that since we were basically strangers at the beginning of this. And when we were ending things, we both knew that it would be impossible to be friends after because of all of the lies that started this.” 

She looked at you then. “But we all know the truth now, though. So you two could be friends and none of us would question it.” 

Talia’s words made complete sense and they were something that you should’ve realized and thought about a lot earlier than this moment. You were quiet for what felt like forever because you didn’t know what to say in response. Your immediate reaction was to still say no, you couldn’t be friends with him, but if she followed up and asked why, you knew that you wouldn’t have an answer. 

When the oven started beeping, it felt like a very “saved by the bell” kind of moment. Talia pulled out the chicken from the oven and let the conversation shift from there. “You got back from your date just in time, by the way. You wanna try this?” 

“Of course, I’ll never turn down anything you make.”

You went to your room first to change out of your date outfit and put on some pajamas instead and then you joined Talia back in the kitchen. The chicken was quite literally perfect, which didn’t surprise you, and you retreated to your room for the night after you finished eating, while Talia put on a documentary that she had to watch for one of her psychology classes. 

As much as you tried to focus on anything else as you lay in your bed, you inadvertently spent the rest of the night thinking about Steve— it was too hard not to. 

You thought about every moment that you had been reminded of him over the past month— how it hadn’t felt like much at first, but when you thought about it all at once, it was a lot. You also thought about what Talia said and why you and he weren’t friends even though it was pretty obvious that you should be— what else could explain why you both had prolonged and dragged out the conversation in his car the night you two “broke up”? Neither of you had wanted to let the inevitable happen. 

All of this was about more than just following the rule to you. Of course, it was about more than just that. 

Deep down you knew exactly why you couldn’t listen to what Talia said— why you couldn’t text him, go to his place, or do anything else to lean into that short-lived friendship you two had that you actually had a feeling was still there— but right then you refused to admit it. 

Instead, you grabbed your phone and put on a random podcast just so you could use the noise to drown out your thoughts and force yourself to fall asleep.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It wasn’t until a few days before finals that you thought about Steve again. It was kind of hard not to because you ran right into him— or more so tripped over him. 

The campus library during the week before finals week was probably one of the worst places to be, but you were in a last-second search for a book that you needed to do an essay on and you refused to buy it online because, for some reason, it was way too expensive.

Your eyes were trained solely on the spines of books as you searched for the one in particular when you tripped over something in the middle of the aisle. It wasn’t a full-on fall, just a very awkward stumble, but it somehow felt just as embarrassing. 

You let out an abrupt yelp in the middle of your stumble and heard a voice before you even got to see what caused you to trip. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.” 

You recognized Steve’s voice immediately and it sent a surprised jolt through you as you turned to look at him. He was leaned back against the long bookshelf with his legs stretched out and there was a textbook opened in his lap. He must’ve just been sleeping because you saw him rub his eyes and let out a quick yawn.

He looked up at you as he crossed his legs under him instead of having them stretched out in the aisle. He seemed as if he was surprised to see you too, but from the look on his face, you could tell that he saw it as a good surprise; you weren’t sure if you could say the same just yet. “Shit, now I feel worse knowing that I just did that to you.”

That got the smallest smile out of you. “Yes, you should feel a thousand times worse for almost ending my life.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sleeping here?” You asked. Both of you were keeping your voices low because you were on one of the quieter floors of the library. 

He shook his head. “I’m not sleeping. I was taking a break from studying for a test and just resting my eyes for a second.” 

“So sleeping?”

“A very brief nap,” He corrected.

“Ah, okay, got it,” You nodded, words coming out completely sarcastic. “Sorry for interrupting your very brief nap then.”

“Sorry for almost killing you.”

“Thank you.”

You knew that you should’ve let the brief conversation end there. You should’ve looked away from him then and continued searching for the book you needed to find. But, you didn’t. 

Instead, after the briefest moment of lingering silence between you two, you sat down across from Steve. The book and the essay that you needed to work on became the farthest things from your mind for the time being.

You didn’t have the strongest grasp on what you were doing right then and why you were doing any of it, but you decided not to question it. Instead, you simply did what felt good in the moment. 

You leaned back against the bookshelf opposite Steve and crossed your legs as well. “Hi.” 

He gave you a questioning look at first— maybe he was also expecting the conversation to end in that previous spot; like it would’ve with any other two people who weren’t really friends that had just randomly bumped into each other. 

But then, he was smiling, a genuine Steve Harrington smile that felt really nice to see. “Hey.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

a/n: ….. i'm sorry for the cliffhanger !!!!

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual , @munsonburn3r , @negomi123 , @khena , @facexthexsunshine , @seatbacksandtraytables , @suckerfordylansstuff

(if your user is crossed out it means i can’t tag you</3)

[venusrising91]

Cam-Boy

Pairing: Wonho x Male reader

Genre: Smut 18+ (sprinkle of plot)

Summary: Bunny_hunk_lee is the top OF performer in your state—he’s also the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. You’ve been subscribed to his channel for months, and when a rare opportunity to breathe the same air as him presents itself, you leap at it.

Word count: 1,960 (about 2 pgs)

T/W: Forced urination, para-social relationship and power imbalance

“Bi_sexiboi93! Thanks for that generous donation. Much appreciated babe.”

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face at the sound of your username leaving Bunny_hunk_lee’s lips. You never missed a stream and tonight’s was spectacular. You shared an orgasm—through the screen of course.

Bunny_hunk_lee toweled the cum off his abs with a smirk and the sight alone was enough to push you over the edge once more. But you controlled yourself, and instead sent him another donation—double the amount of the last one. “Whoa, thanks again Bi_sexiboi93. You really love me don’t you baby?”

He spoke like this to all of his subscribers—it was nothing special, you knew well. But that didn’t stop the heat from spreading through you at the mention—at the acknowledgement.

After flexing his triceps and giving his cum-slick cock a few more pulls, Bunny_hunk_lee ended the stream. You sighed and cleaned yourself up, then slipped in bed, pulling out your phone for one last doom scroll before resting.

A new post from Bunny_hunk_lee appeared on your feed. He was wearing the same clothes he had on during the stream, except it was daytime. He must have snapped it beforehand. It was a shot of him face down on his bed, in a hoodie and shorts—plump muscular ass taking up most of the frame. You commented: wish i was under you👅

Already drowsy from the orgasm, sleep came as easily as breathing, and you drifted.

The next morning, you woke twenty minutes after your alarm had gone off, and that meant that you had to rush through your shower and breakfast to avoid being late for work. Thankfully you made it there in time for the weekly meeting. When it was done, you caught up on some emails and before long, your lunch hour rolled around. You took it at your desk and whipped out your phone while you ate.

You nearly choked as the notifications filled your screen. Bunny_hunk_lee replied to your comment: oh yeah? What state you live in babe?

He had liked all six of the photos on your profile grid. Most were selfies you’d taken at the gym and a few blurry food pics. Your heart began pumping faster when you saw the icon indicating two unread messages from him in your inbox.

ur hot.

wanna bottom for me on OF?

You stared at the words with your mouth hanging open. You typed out four replies, deleting each one. Your initial reactions were too cringey to send. As you tried for a fifth time, a green dot appeared next to his profile pic. Then:

typing…

Fuck. Why was your heart beating so fast? Before you could steel yourself, another message popped up.

forgot to add, it’s for pre-recorded content, not a stream so can blur ur face

Anonymity and a chance to be with him? Who could ask for anything more? You took a deep breath and wrote:

I’m down. When and where?

Your hands were shaking as you exchanged messages back and forth, arranging the time and place for the shoot. He sent you his health details and a clean STD panel. You did the same, luckily having just gotten your results back from your last physical a few days ago. The timing was perfect. And you even lived near his address. All this time, he was just a twenty minute drive from your apartment. 

The rest of the day was a blur. Hell, the rest of the week. You were riding on a high—one you didn’t want to come down from. The man you’ve been jacking off to every night not only thinks you’re hot, but he wants to fuck you too. You could hardly believe it. 

Later, he went live and you tried watching the stream but found that it made you jitter with nerves and so for the first time in two years, you skipped it.

When the day of the scheduled hook-up finally arrived, you could hardly take steady breaths. You wished the drive up to his place took longer so you could gather yourself. But you were there in a flash.

Once you showed up, he stood on the other side of the door, smiling down at you. He was taller than you by more than just a few inches. You hadn’t expected that. In person his muscles were more defined—his complexion even richer. 

“Don’t look so nervous—I won’t bite until you ask me to, come on in.”

He opened the door wide and you slipped past him with a shy chuckle, catching a whiff of his cologne. Tom Ford, expensive stuff.

“Nice place,” you said, taking inventory of his spacious, luxury condo.

“Thanks. Bedroom’s just through there. Need anything before we get going. Water? Bathroom?”

You shook your head and made for the room. It was three times the size of yours. A camera was pointed at the bed. He came in and stood behind it, fiddling with the settings before peeling off his shirt.

“Should I take mine off too?” you asked.

“Whatever makes you comfortable, baby. Speaking of comfort, got any boundaries? Anything off limits?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” you blurted out in excitement before thinking. He chuckled.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

He stepped from behind the camera and began palming your cock over your jeans, breathing minty breath over you all the while. He had you out of your clothes in seconds. 

“You gonna be a good bottom and stay hard for me the whole time?” he whispered as he gripped you, sliding his hand from base to tip and back again. You nodded, unable to find the words to form a reply. A small, helpless whimper escaped you as he tipped your head to the side and kissed the length of your neck. He made his way to your mouth. His tongue swirled around yours, warm and soft between your lips. The embrace was so intense that you had to pull away to catch your breath. As you panted, he put a hand on your shoulder, urging you onto your knees. He reached inside his pants and his thick cock sprang free. Quickly he took hold of it, slapping it against your face.

“Open your mouth for me,” he cooed, bottom lip caught between his teeth while he stared down at you. His head fell back as you swallowed him. “Just like that,” he added, groaning and fisting your hair. He let you give him head for as long as you wanted, praising you the whole time. The taste of his clean skin had you leaking onto the hardwood floors. He noticed the growing micro pool of it as he pulled you to your feet. “Crawl on the bed, all fours, ass to the camera. Gonna spread that hole and get you dripping even more.”

Once you assumed the position he’d asked of you, he struck an open palm across both of your ass cheeks. You gasped at the sting, then moaned long and hard as his tongue circled your entrance. He ate you for what felt like ages, teasing you here and there with tugs and strokes. You almost came as he pumped your rock hard cock from behind. Suddenly you jerked with the beginning of what would have been the most intense release of your life, but he abruptly drew back, sensing your orgasm and robbing you of it.

“Not yet, baby. Haven’t even given you my pipe. You want it don’t you?” You nodded, then he chuckled and slapped your ass cheeks again, driving away the sensation of your building orgasm and somehow, making you even harder than you had been. 

He took a break from spanking you to adjust the camera angle, leaving you feeling bare and exposed without the warmth of his body near yours. When he returned, you looked over your shoulder at him and caught a glimpse of his sculpted body. He was like an Adonis carving as he hovered over you. He winked before depositing a generous stream of lube onto your hole, spreading it around with his finger. He pushed one inside and you arched as it slid in.

“You’re tighter than I’m used to. I’ll take it slow,” he said.

He was true to his word, and took his time entering you. The stretch was like nothing you’d ever felt before. He had you fisting the sheets, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as he gave you deep strokes. 

Over and over again, he buried his length inside you. Sounds of him pounding you echoed throughout the space. It went on for long, glorious moments. Soon, he slowed his pace, and the tip of his cock curved against your prostate as his balls hit your ass. He lingered there, grinding. The motion made your eyes roll back while he pressed himself deeper, rubbing his engorged head against your spot and making you leak all over his clean sheets. It took you a moment to realize he was getting close. He emptied a hot burst of cum inside you the next instant, prompting your release. It swept over you like a storm—you weathered it beneath him, ass stuffed full of his cock. 

The ropes came one after another, followed by sharp cries. You shuddered there under all his weight, until he wrapped his arms around your waist and chest, then lifted you off the bed. You hadn’t realized how much stronger he was than you. It was like you weighed nothing to him, despite being pretty stocky and muscular yourself.

“What are you doing?” you asked through heavy breaths as he lowered you onto his lap, both of you were at the edge of the bed now, facing the camera.

“Buying time,” he whispered into your ear, “No one’s ever made me cum that fast.”

Before you could beg him to give you a minute or two to recover from your high, his hand was around your softening, sensitive cock. He pumped hard. You shrieked, bucking and jerking against his firm body. He stilled you with even harder strokes and you stopped fighting as a strange sensation overtook you. 

Before long something began building up—a sharp pressure, not unlike the feeling of almost pissing your pants.

“Please s-stop,” you begged between shivers and breaths. “Feels like I’m gonna—gonna—”

“Piss all over yourself and my floor?” he asked, pumping you even harder, “I know—that’s what I’m betting on. It'll look great on camera.”

Your eyes rolled back for the second time in one night as he pinned you tighter against him, one hand stroking you, the other cupping your balls—which were empty. It was your bladder that wasn’t.

“B-but—”

“Shhhh, it’ll feel good. Even better than the orgasm I just gave you, and you'll probably cum a little more beforehand too. I Promise. Just relax, let it happen. You’ll see, there’s nothing like it.”

You were too overstimulated to protest—to speak—to do anything outside of let your body be led by his influence. He guided you along the path of your second high. You didn’t think it was possible to feel anything as intense as the orgasm you just had. You were wrong. You came again somehow, just like he said you would.

Then, without warning, he slipped a finger inside you. You clenched around it uncontrollably and braced yourself against him as the contents of your bladder came gushing out, hard and fast like a fountain. He milked you for every drop as you squealed and writhed in his lap with your back against his chest, panting and on the verge of collapse.

“That’s it sexy. Let it all out for me like a good bottom.”

More tight-fisted strokes sent you arching and spraying. You had never felt anything like this. The floor beneath you was soaked. Both of you were drenched now. He didn’t seem to mind, and pressed kisses into your neck. The wetter you made the place, the more he praised you. You poured like a water hose for a full thirty seconds (you watched the recording once it was posted and timed it).

When at last he drained you of everything, you lay sprawled on the bed, limp and tender as a noodle. He helped you clean yourself, then lay beside you.

“Fuck that was good,” he said, tucking both hands behind his head. “You down for another round. Maybe later this week?”

You rolled onto your side and rested your head on his chest. He stroked your back. 

“Yeah,” you said, “I’d love that.”

[satorusugurugurl]

The Leisure Streamer is a Hottie! (Chapter Five)

Summary: Rumor had it the top donor of the-strongest-streamers chats get to see him naked! Now that you're the top donor, will you get to see the goods, or was it just a rumor? Time will tell.

Pairing: Streamer!Gojo x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: language, suggestiveness, social media drama, hate comments, cyber bullying,

A/N: One more part remaining of this series!! Thanks for you patience I really appreciate you all!! 💚💚💚

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

“Yo, wait—” Gojo flushed, shifting in his gaming chair. “This man is—oh! Ooh!” his computer screen was reflected in the lenses of his dark blue glasses as comments came flooding in from his chat. “Why is he lifting me!? Where is he taking me?” several comments came flooding in, talking about how Sylus was Gojo‘s kryptonite to others, begging for him to read his lines, including the little sounds he made. All of which he ignored his eyes, focusing on his phone that was propped up on his desk. A message from you flashed across the screen.

Sweetheart💚: I can’t believe you’re two-timing whore! 😩

He swirled side-side in his chair as he picked his phone up, smiling like an idiot. Everything else didn’t seem to matter as he ignored his stream for a second to send you a quick reply, which didn’t go unnoticed by his fans asking what he was doing.

Gojo: How could you? If anyone’s a two-timer, it’s you. And what’s his face—Rafayel? I distinctly remember you telling me to play this.

Sweetheart💚: don’t bring my fictional husband into this! 😤You’re the one fawning over Sylus on the livestream over the “shower scene”

Gojo: jealous? 😏

Sweetheart💚: Me jealous? No never.

Gojo: if you want to shower with me that bad, all you have to do is ask, sweetie! 😮‍💨

Sweetheart💚: I want to shower with you and be at the shop in 10 minutes! 😚

His heart swelled, and his cheeks hurt from how wide he was smiling. It had been close to a month since you both had met each other. A month that had been filled with laughter, dates, and joy. Gojo couldn’t remember the last time he had been this happy!

The only real hiccup the two of you had experienced was the leaked photo of you at the Love Hotel. That has been stressful and nerve-racking, but things to his mad, amazing PR manager. This situation had been diffused before it could spread like wildfire. Gojo made a statement to his fans, asking them to respect his personal life, which was respected. The prodding questions had stopped, but of course, he still had the occasional question that brought up the mystery girl from the hotel. Whenever something like that was asked, he had his statement memorized, which he would recite to not come off as an asshole. A majority of the time, his fans were sweet and understanding.

Gojo honestly had some of the best fans in the world. But you were the best thing that he’d ever had happen to him when it came to his fans. The more he got to know you, the more he became your biggest fan. You being his top donor a month ago changed his life for the better, and now that he was thinking about that, he needed to get the money back to you somehow subtly.

“Bro is staring at his phone like a teenage girl!” a robotic voice sounded in his headphones as someone donated to have their comment read out loud.

The chat was going wild now, asking what he was doing or who he was talking to. Was he smiling like a teenage girl? He didn’t even finish processing through his brain as a meme popped up in the chat on his. Damn, his followers move fast, as several means seem to follow suit.

The text on them varied from "the strongest streamer when Sylus talks!" to "me when Gojo streams," all the way to "me when the pizza rolls are done." Anything that could be added to the goofy someone took of him was added, which was both impressive and slightly embarrassing. From now on, he should refrain from texting you when he is streaming, or he will continue to be turned into a meme.

“Oh, you guys are hilarious,” his voice was thick with sarcasm as he turned his attention back to the screen. “A real bunch of comedians. I have here in the chat.” several laughing face emojis flooded the log, thankfully, making those god-awful memes fade from his view. “All jokes aside, I’m going to play for a little bit longer before I sign off. But I’ll be streaming again tonight. We’ll be perfecting my island on Animal Crossing!” but he could care less about his island. He was much more looking forward to watching you sketch while he played.

Well, Gojo continued streaming. The door to The Rainbow Dragon Café chimed as you walked in. “Hey!” Geto grinned, waving at you from the counter he was leaning over. “Satoru, it’s still streaming.”

“Oh, I know that’s fine, though I wanted to talk to you anyway.” You sat on one of the barstools, pulling your iPad out. “I finished some rough sketches for your logo. I need you to let me know what you think. You could tell me or if you want me to change anything.”

“Oh, cool, I’m eager to see what you designed.”

For the first time in a long time, your hand started shaking as your boss took the iPad, turning it around to look at your very rough sketches. Your nerves were shot to shit, and you weren’t all that happy with the sketches you had produced, which was not normal for you. Every other client you have had in the past always left you bouncing with excitement, eager to see the reaction to the hard work and dedication you had put in. But this lack of confidence was some strange new emotion you hadn’t felt in years.

This all started because some of your boyfriend's followers found your art account.

Satoru wasn’t kidding when he told you some of the fanbase was toxic. They sent you nasty messages telling you that Gojo deserves better. They criticized your artwork over your choice of colors, line art, and handwriting. Anything they saw on your account, they ripped it apart, shredding your confidence into ragged pieces.

The comments didn’t bother you at first. They were so minuscule, and you figured if you gave it a few days, they would give up when you didn’t react or feed into their negativity. That didn’t stop the comments; they continued and grew progressively worse daily.

You were confident in your work. But people were constantly telling you how much you sucked, how you lacked the talent; those words stuck to you like glue, and it didn’t matter how many times you blocked the spam; the word still felt like a hot brand in your mind. You hated to admit it, but those words produced an art block for you made out of fear and self-doubt.

“Oh,” Suguru hummed, pulling you out of the void you were trapped in, “wow.”

“T-They’re rough!” You jumped in your hands, reaching for your tablet. “If you don’t like them, I can fix—”

“Whoa, whoa, hey now, I didn’t say that.” Geto probably pulled your iPad out of your reach. “Nothing even remotely close to that.”

You swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in your throat. “T-Then what--uhm,” Geto’s dark eyes filled with concern as you cracked your knuckles anxiously. ���What do you think?” The feature of his face softened, but the problem remained.

“I was saying, wow, this is amazing.” his gaze finally dropped back down to your iPad, where he stared fondly at the dragon you had designed. The head was focused towards the audience while the body and tail curled into a circle where the name of the logo had been written. Rough colors of white, teal, and green had been scribbled in. You also had drawn some Chibi versions of Rainbow Dragon for the website or other social media. Geto might like to use it in the future.

“These are just sketches; I can see how amazing the final product will look.” Wheels seem to be turning in your boss's head with the different possibilities of how he could market with the fantastic logos you had designed. “There’s a lot we can do with this. We could make mugs and T-shirts. I could commission a new neon sign to be made.” the way he listed different possibilities, some of the fear on your shoulders. “This is awesome. Do you think you could draw some versions of a Rainbow Dragon?”

“Y-Yeah, of course! I can start working on the final logo too after—” Some comments from your account flashed like a warning sign at the forefront of your mind. “Some more adjustments.”

“Adjustments? But these are great. You can finalize this logo right here. I absolutely love it.” Your chin quivered, and as hard as you tried to hide it, Geto saw through your facade. “Hey, " he said, putting your tablet down, reaching across the counter, and gently taking your hand. What’s wrong? You can talk to me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Please, I have two teenage girls. I know ‘nothing’ definitely means something is going on.”

With a sigh, you focused on the rings on Suguru's hand. “I-I’ve been getting some feedback on my art account.” Calling the cruel, hateful words ‘feedback’ was like sugarcoating the whole situation. “So I haven’t been feeling like my work is the best right now.” there was a flash in Suguru’s eyes as you glanced back up at him, which you could only describe as a protective rage. Like a big brother would give to a younger sibling when he found out that they were being bullied. “But I'm okay for the most part. I'm trying to work through it.”

“I’m going to take a while guess and say that it’s Satoru’s wild fan, girls?” your silence told him everything he needed to know. “It is. Those girls are the worst.” He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Have you told him or Nanami what’s going on?”

“No, I haven't.”

“You need to tell him.”

“No, no,” you shook your head, “it's not like there’s much he can do.”

“Satoru would move mountains for you because you’re his girlfriend. He won’t put up with this shit.”

Technically speaking, you were his girlfriend to him and your friends and family, but nobody else knew that. Both of you agreed that since the last fiasco, lying low had been the best thing for you to do. It really didn’t seem like the best time to stir up drama again.

Plus, they were just comments. It wasn’t like anyone was physically trying to harm you. They were just being rude about your artwork, saying things that obviously weren’t true, but they still hurt. But your relationship was meant to be private until Satoru publicly announced that the two of you were dating; people wouldn’t just be mean about your artwork. You could only imagine what people would say about you. You knew if they hated your artwork this much. You were afraid to see what they would say about pictures of you both together.

You needed to grow some thicker skin to continue your relationship with Satoru and God; you wanted it to continue.

You liked him so much. Never once in your life have you been happier in a relationship. Gojo spoiled rotten, treated you like royalty, and you fell harder for him each passing day. You wanted a strong relationship with him, so you should tell him what was happening. It shouldn't even be a question of whether you should or shouldn't. Good communication is the key to a solid and stable relationship. But you were so hesitant to tell him about it.

Maybe it was because you didn’t want him to think you couldn’t handle being in the limelight. But being in the public eye happened when people being in a relationship with someone as famous as Gojo, as popular as he was, meant that their life would be out in the open, even if he tried to keep his personal life separate from streaming. This was just what came with the territory of being a popular streamer. Today, anybody can find out who people are through their secrets. With time, you will be able to ignore the comments. They would be something that didn’t bother you anymore, plus you didn’t want Satoru worrying about you.

You were strong, and you didn’t need him to protect you.

Inhale deeply through your nose and exhale through your mouth before meeting Suguru’s concerned gaze. So much came out of that one Q&A opportunity with Gojo. One thirty-minute question session turned masturbation session, leading you to some of the best moments of your life. You had a boyfriend girls dreamed of having. You made lots of new friends, and life was good! With more passing time, you would slowly get back into the drawing flow. Ultimately, all the good things that had happened outweighed the bad.

“You need to tell him,” Suguru said again, glancing at his phone screen as he scrolled, anger increasing as he stared at it.

“I’ll tell him soon, " you confessed, sighing heavily.

“Tell him what?” warm hands squeezed your shoulders.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden contact, but the second soft lips thrust against your cheek relaxed. “Toru! You scared the shit out of me.” smooth, white-haired tickled your cheek, his chin pressed against your shoulder.”I told Suguru I would show you the rough draft for the new logo I designed.”

“Oh?” Gojo peeked over your shoulder, staring at the screen. “Is that so?” You gave your boss a pleading look, a silent request that he not tell your boyfriend what was going on. He sighed before he tapped on his phone.

“Yeah, she was.” Gojo beamed, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “Do you wanna see?”

“I want to see my girlfriend's amazing work!”

“Here.”

You shut your eyes, humming softly as you leaned into the warmth that radiated off of Satoru’s body. The smell of clean linen and musk relaxed every muscle in your body as you felt your boyfriend shift to take the iPad from Suguru. For a split second, Gojo was confused to see an Instagram account on the screen of Suguru’s phone instead of a sketch, but he didn’t question it once he saw the cute mochi avatar he knew belonged to you.

“Oh, cool!” he clicked on the first post, which was a logo design you had made for a local arcade. The cute Chibi pinball machine was colored in vibrant shades, and your line art made everything stand out. “That’s my girl! Look at the talent! The lime art, the shading!”

Shading? Line art? You just drew a sketch for Suguru. Your eyes went wide as you straightened. You turned to look at your boss, finding his face transfixed on Gojo. He wasn’t looking at your iPad but Suguru’s cellphone. His thumbs moved over the screen, scrolling towards the comment section. Every muscle in his arm tensed as he read what people were saying.

‘This is so sloppy!’

‘Ppl paid 4 this shit? I would ask 4 a refund ☠️’

‘u should get a real job 😂’

“Satoru,” you tried reaching for the phone, only to have Gojo pull away, stepping away from the counter as he read more.

‘eew her did they draw their avatar as a chibi mochi because that’s the-strongest-streamers favorite food? 🤢 desperate much?’

‘Slut’

‘Whore!’

‘Gojo deserves better than your talentless ass 🙃’

The further he scrolled, the nastier the comments became. The muscles in his forearm twitched, and it was the first time you saw an expression on his features that you had never seen before. It was rage.

“How long?” He asked, a voice as cold as a winter storm.

“What?”

“How long has this been going on for?” Satoru gestured his chin towards the phone, which was still in his hand. “How long.”

You wanted to shrink into yourself so you could feel the heat radiating off of him as he fumed with anger. Hesitation held onto your tongue, preventing you from speaking. How would he react if you were to tell him, to be honest, about what was happening? Would he be angry with you for not telling him sooner? Or would he go on his livestream and call his fans out? It was those uncertainties that prevented you from speaking.

The chill of cold metal brushed over the back of your hand as Geto gently squeezed your trembling hand. With a glance in his direction, you felt some of the air you had been holding inside your lungs escape as he nodded, dark bangs swaying with his movements. He was right—he had been right since the start.

You needed to be honest.

“The comments started after our trip to Sendai,” you confessed, chewing on the inside of your cheek to the nearly painful point.

You waited for him to explode and ask what you were thinking. But that never came. Because your boyfriend was brilliant despite his smugness and ego, the second he read those comments, his mind began racing with different options and outcomes if he did certain things. His mind was working at one hundred twenty percent, and finally, he devised the perfect plan.

“We need Nanami.” He stated bluntly, as if he’d been telling you what he had planned as he dialed a number on his phone. It rang once before the other line was answered. “Heya Nanamin! So I need you to do me a huge favor.” muffled voices came out from the other line. “Why do you assume I'm always in trouble?” More muffled voices, sounding slightly annoyed. “Okay—yes, there was the Sendai incident, and the slime on the trai—okay! Shit, don't list them off. That's not even what I’m calling for.” Gojo dropped his arm over you, pulling you flush against his side. “I need you to tell Tokyo Comic-Con I'll be there with a plus-one with me. Uh-huh yeah, thanks a bunch.”

“What was that all about?” You asked, watching as Gojo quickly typed something on his phone. Your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the screen, jaw-dropping. “Toru! Why the hell did you send me eight hundred dollars?!”

“Oh, I'm giving you back the money you donated to my stream the night we started talking.” He sighed, rubbing his neck. “Well, more like—”

“More like what?” You did not like the look on his face as he smirked.

“More like hiring you to redesign my merch and channel.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

LSIAH Tag List (AGE MUST BE IN BIO):

@witchbybirth @zoeyflower @missmuffinr @kalulakunundrum @matchalatte06 @aussiemeerkat @gojoful @ilovebattison @getoloverr @dottedhalfnotes @sonicsolos @manyno @candy-s72 @smolbeanzzz @ya9amicide @strychnynegirl @jaeminaur

[lets-steal-an-archive]

I doubt this'll get far enough to reach anyone who might have anything kicking around but yelling into the void has worked before (e.g. Supernatural, The X-Files, bonus X-Files):

Back in June 2024 TV Writing added a nice little set of 12 Xena: Warrior Princess scripts.

I made the four scripts Cousin Liz shared many years ago into pdfs and sent them to TV Writing, they were added in October 2024.

In December I stumbled on a new upload of the 2008 Photobucket images of "The God You Know" shared by LadyKate63 and made the draft where all of the page numbers were visible into a pdf. I sent that along with the first and last of season one to TV Writing:

Xena Warrior Princess 1x01 - Sins of the Past (READ NOW)

Xena Warrior Princess 1x24 - Is There a Doctor in the House (READ NOW)

Xena Warrior Princess 6x12 - The God You Know (READ NOW)

Finally, my question:

In celebration of the pilot first airing on 13 March 1995, is there anyone out there who still has any of the Creation Entertainment scripts from Xena: Warrior Princess kicking around that they'd be willing to email* to TV Writing, XenaGabrielle, and/or me?

—

Update 02/23/2025:

We're up to 42 Xena scripts, 6 Hercules (crossover episode) scripts, and 3 Xena outlines/beat sheets!

Beat Sheets, Outlines, Misc. Unproduced:

Xena: Warrior Princess 2x00 - The Last Days of Socrates (Unproduced Episode Outline)

Xena: Warrior Princess 4x07 - Locked Up and Tied Down (Outline)

Xena: Warrior Princess 6x11 - Dangerous Prey (Beat Sheet)

Xena: Warrior Princess 6x00 - Fallen (Unproduced Episode)

—

*If you send any you'd be willing to share directly to TV Writing he won't tell who donated what (e.g. less than a month after he added almost all of the remaining the latest drafts of the Supernatural collection, someone scanned and emailed Supernatural 6x01 and he hasn't shared who donated it to me, one of the original lunatics who started building that collection in 2019 and retired the project in 2024).

**The owner of XenaGabrielle will also change the contributor info to me, when I cold email fan collectors working on a public script collection I use the old project account.

[thetriumphantpanda]

I'll Crawl Home To Her | Marcus Pike

Fic Summary | Marcus Pike had been the man of your dreams until a promotion tore your away from him. Four years later, a wedding brings you back together, but it the bubble you've built over this one weekend going to crash and burn just like it did before?

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Bridesmaid F!Reader

Fic Warnings | Explicit. Exes to Lovers, themes of second chance love, references to food and alcohol, descriptions of a wedding, Marcus Pike being a dirty talking menace, talk of contraception, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, semi-public sex, oral sex (F), overstimulation if you squint, allusions to oral sex (M) and mentions of a facial cumshot, mutual pining, flirting, two idiots in love, a touch of angst, basically two idiots who never got over each other have a lot of sex over a weekend.

Word Count | 7.9K (I can only apologise lmfao)

Authors Note | So, two weekends ago I was a bridesmaid and spent the entire time messaging @undercoverpena about how I wished Marcus Pike would whisk me away to the bathroom, tell me how pretty I was and give me a good time.... and this is what's come of this. Entirely self-indulgent but we love that for me sometimes. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting or reblogging - I'd love to know what you think of it! And if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only - reader is a blank slate. Although if you're interested in the dress I chose for her - it's this.

Divider by the amazing @saradika

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Marcus is still out of breath as he clutches the champagne flute in his hand, chest heaving as his sucks in air to his lungs, “I didn’t mean to be so late.”

“Marcus, buddy, it’s fine,” His friend puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he knows Marcus gets anxious when things outside of his control happen, like the delay to his flight from D.C. to London, and then the delay in getting from London to the wedding venue, “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

Marcus nods, chugging down half the champagne in one go, hoping it’ll calm his anxiety a little. He had cursed Mike and Cassie for choosing to have their wedding in England, but Mike’s family, most of them ageing now and unable to make the long trip to D.C. had insisted on it. As he looks around the large reception room, he muses internally to himself that it was beautiful. A huge room, semi-decorated for tomorrow’s reception and dinner. It’s a smaller affair tonight, immediate family and friends for the rehearsal dinner, but he can imagine that tomorrow, once all is said and done, it’ll be the perfect backdrop for their wedding.

“Where’s Cassie?” Marcus asks, looking around the room, finding a distinct lack of the bride and the bridal party Mike hadn’t shut up about over the last few months.

“She’s just sorting the last of the decorations for the ceremony room,” Mike explains, waving a hand to the waitress currently doing the round with a refilled tray of champagne, “She’ll be here soon.” He finished with a wink, which, although is odd, Marcus doesn’t question, just picks up another glass of champagne and stands talking to his friend and whoever is milling around offering their congratulations.

There’s a flurry of conversation that has Marcus turning around a few minutes later, he can see Cassie and her mother, who are pulled to the side by someone from the venue holding up two different types of ribbon, asking which one they want to drape around the columns and which one to tie around the chair backs. It’s not Cassie that Marcus is interested in though, it’s the bridesmaid that follows behind her.

He can feel his throat constrict, a small pit opening in his stomach that’s somewhere between the feeling of dread and excitement. He can feel the palms of his hands starting to get clammy, so he drains his glass and sets it down on the nearest table to avoid an accident. Then, he thinks he might actually pass out when you finally look at him, eyes searching his face and then the glimmer of recognition that you know exactly who he is, remember exactly the last time you’d seen him, and exactly what had happened when you had.

Your leg is bouncing underneath the dining table, food somewhat eaten regardless of the fact that it’s your favourite. You’ve dug half-moon shapes into the palms of your hands and bitten the inside of your mouth enough to taste blood.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” It’s Marcus, sitting across from you, plate cleared, completely oblivious as to what’s about to come.

“I got offered a promotion.” You tell him simply, running one hand up and down your opposite arm in an attempt to soothe yourself.

“Darling!” He exclaims, “That’s amazing!” He doesn’t move to get up, but reaches his hand out, palm up for you to take, which you do, letting his hand softly clasp yours in his own, “Why are you so upset then?”

Taking a deep breath in, biting your bottom lip, you decide it’s best to rip the band-aid off sooner rather than later, “It’s not here, Marcus,” You sigh, “The job is in D.C.”

The smile, the light of his eyes, everything on his face that had just seconds ago been showing joy, had faltered. Much like you imagine your face would have when you’d been offered the job. A significant pay rise, governmental opportunities, bigger clients, a shot at being a proper lawyer for once, but with the caveat that you had to uproot your comfortable Austin life for D.C. and with it, Marcus Pike.

“I don’t have to go,” You follow up with, “I haven’t accepted yet, I’ve got some time to think.”

You feel him squeeze your hand, his other palm coming out to rest on your wrist, slowly tracing the blue veins he can see there, “Look at me,” He asks softly, which you do, the tears that had been forming in your own eyes starting to spill down your cheeks when you find Marcus’ eyes glassed over too, “Baby, this is such an amazing opportunity, you can’t say no because of me.”

Because that’s what you would be doing. Marcus, brilliant, funny, intelligent Marcus, wouldn’t be able to follow you to D.C. There had been some talk about his work in the Art Crimes team with the higher ups, people who were impressed at his success rate, people who wanted to keep him here, send him off to California even. He was at too much of a crossroads to be able to follow you to D.C.

“I don’t want to lose you though,” You sniff, free hand coming to wipe away some of the tears that are falling from your eyes, “I love you.”

Marcus hums, finally pushes himself off his chair, letting the legs scrape across his kitchen floor, until he’s sat right in front of you, knees touching, his palms on the tops of your thighs, warm and soothing, “I love you too,” He says, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, making sure you’re looking at him, “But this is what you’ve wanted, you’ve been working so hard baby and I’m not going to let you stay here just because of me.”

It’s killing you inside, because you want so badly to ask him to follow you. To drop everything and come to D.C. You’ve been together two years, you’re comfortable together, he makes you so happy, you’ve talked about moving in together, starting a life together, but you know deep down you’re asking him to do something unfair.

“So, I guess your stance on long-distance relationships hasn’t changed?” You ask, tone soft and sad, tears falling down your cheeks.

You watch him as his own tears fall, his hands clutching your own so tightly as he gives you a soft smile, “Baby, I wish I could say yes, I wish I could drop it all and follow you, or promise you we’d talk on the phone every day and see each other every weekend, but you know we can’t do it.”

Biting at your lip, you nod, because you know he’s right. You’re a lawyer, you barely have free time as it is - weekends more often than not spent sat on the couch with him, tapping away at your laptop whilst he looks over case files. It would never work.

Marcus leans forward, presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into a hug. You clutch your hands to his back, inhaling the smell of him on his shirt , watching the light blue turn darker as it catches your tears.

“When do you go?” He asks quietly into the crook of your neck, soft kiss placed to the skin right after.

“A few weeks, probably.”

“Well, let’s enjoy them while we still can, hey?” You nod silently, “And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

“And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

Those words still echo in your ears four year later, like they have at various different points since you last saw Marcus Pike. Leaving had been hard. He’d helped you pack everything up, driven you to the airport, kissed you before security and promised he wouldn’t forget you. You’d text a for a few weeks before life dragged you in one direction and him in another. No-one had quite been able to live up to him either. Sure, you’d tried dating, seen people for a few months before deciding they weren’t quite the man who had almost been able to give you everything you ever wanted.

And now here he is, standing in front of you, pale as a ghost as if he’s about to keel over and have a heart attack. You want to run to him, to fling yourself into his arms and make sure he’s real. You want to press your lips to his, let him kiss you like he always used to, to clutch you to his body and whisper sweet things into your ear, but you have no idea what he’s been doing these past four years - for all you know, you could get closer and find a wedding band across his left finger.

It’s a blessing when Cassie’s hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you over to the side.

“Do you prefer the dusky rose or the blush pink?” She asks, holding up two ribbons that look identical to your eye.

You want to tell her does it really matter, they both look exactly the same. You want to tear your wrist away from her and go to Marcus, but instead you settle for a warm smile and “It’s your wedding Cass, you choose what you want.”

And when you turn around, looking back over to Mike, Marcus Pike is nowhere to be found. Like he was a mirage. A figment of your hopeful imagination. Something conjured up after your mother had set you down at the airport and said, “Bridesmaid’s always get lucky at weddings, you might find your own husband.”

When everyone is called to sit down for the rehearsal dinner, you jump at the opportunity to let Cassie sit down and eat, whilst you get pulled away by the staff to advise on which candles to use for the ceremony room and where exactly to place the flower arch for the best photos tomorrow. When you make it back, everyone is standing, milling around, getting drinks from the bar, which you decide you desperately need.

“A negroni, please.” You ask for after taking a few seconds to peruse the cocktail menu set out. The stronger the better.

“I see your tastes haven’t changed in the last few years.”

You’re pretty sure that if there was a mirror in front of you, the look of shock on your face would be comical, as Marcus Pike sidles up to the bar next to you. Up close, he’s just as handsome as he always had been, except now, he’s got a beard and more fine lines in the corners of his eyes, which means he’s been happy, smiling, whilst you’ve been gone. It makes your heart swell that he’s been happy.

“I wonder if yours have.” You counter, tilting your head towards the bartender who is waiting for him to order.

“Just a beer for now.” He smiles, but at you, not the bartender.

“That’ll be a no then.”

There’s a moment of silence between the both of you as you sip the cocktail given to you, and Marcus takes a swig of his beer. His left hand is wrapped around the bottle, no sign of the wedding ring you were convinced you’d find. You want to say something, anything, but when you go to open your mouth, he beats you to it.

“You look well.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Of all the things he could have chosen to say to you, you hadn't thought it would be that.

“So do you.” You compliment back.

There’s another silence, the two of you just looking at each other. You’re soaking him up, committing him to memory to replace the old Marcus you knew so well.

“Are you here alone?” You ask, playing with the glass in your hand.

You watch as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “Are you?”

“I asked you first, Agent Pike.”

He tilts his head towards his shoulder in a movement that says he’ll give you that one, “I’m here alone.”

You can’t help but smile a little, biting at your bottom lip to try and hide how pleased you are, “So am I.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you notice the exact moment those brown eyes that you’re so used to getting lost in darken, watching you as you sip your drink, tip of your tongue jutting out to catch a drop from your bottom lip.

“Is your room completely over the top?” You ask, watching as he swallows deeply, “Because mine is, I’d love to know what the honeymoon suite must be like.”

“Depends what you mean by completely over the top?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to show you?”

He doesn’t even respond. He sets his half-finished beer down on the bar, takes your almost-empty negroni from your hand and does the same. Then he’s taking hold of your hand, lacing your fingers together like he always did, dragging you out of the room. You turn to find Cassie and Mike, looking at you both as you have to jog to keep up with Marcus’ pace. Both of them are winking, smiling, and Mike even throws a thumbs up your way. You can feel heat rising on your cheeks as you turn your head away from them.

“Which floor?” Marcus asks then you reach the grand staircase in the lobby.

“Second.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand, but takes the stairs two at a time, meaning by the time you reach the second floor, you’re out of breath from running behind him, trying to keep up.

“Which room?”

It’s your turn to lead him now, stepping in front of him to walk down the hallway to room 212. You fish the keycard from the back pocket of your jeans, wasting no time in pushing the door open when the tiny light turns green.

It’s dark inside, but you don’t care. Marcus Pike pins you against the wall, his thigh between your legs, both hands on your waist, and then his lips are on yours. The way he kisses hasn’t changed a bit. His mouth slants over yours, softly at first, but when you open your lips against his, hands clutching at the collar of his shirt, it’s just like you remember from all those years ago. He tastes the same, mint from the gum he always chews, the tang of the beer on his tongue, and that distinct taste that’s just him.

He swallows a groan from you as your pitch your hips down, denim rubbing on denim as he devours your mouth. His hands on your waist trail down just a little, finding the top of your jeans, floating under your shirt just a little to touch the bare skin underneath. His hands are warm and strong as they start guiding you to move against his thigh as his tongue works against yours.

Marcus pulls away from your mouth just as a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth. It makes you both stop. Stand still. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you both realise exactly what’s happening. You know you should stop, talk about what’s clearly about to happen, but when did talking ever help anything.

“Don’t think about it,” Marcus sighs, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw, “We talk after.”

“We talk after.” You say, mainly to the room more than anything else.

Your hands are still clutching at his shirt when his fingers find the button on your jeans. Still as adept at it as he’d always been, he pops the button open and pulls down the zipper, letting his hand trail down, settling across the lace of your underwear, cupping your pussy, letting his fingers trace along skin through lace.

A hiss leaves your mouth as you work your body in time with the slow, teasing movements of Marcus’ hand, “You’ve changed,” You manage to breathe out, your hand coming to the back of his neck to pull his mouth nearer to yours, “When you were desperate for me you’d never tease.”

You can feel his lips smile against the skin of your neck where he’s tracing wet kisses along the skin, hand still feather-light between your legs, “I’ve learnt to be more patient, honey.”

“And if I asked you not to?”

“In all the years I knew you, never once did you beg for it.” He pulls back, your eyes now accustomed to the dark, able to see him better, his voice is low, “Unless you’ve changed, you’ll have to put up with it.”

You grasp his cheeks in your palms, his hand still teasing you, pull his attention to you fully, “Marcus Pike, I swear to all that is holy that if you do not spread me out on my bed and fuck me in the next five minutes, I will die.”

He makes a ‘tsk’ sound, his head shaking in your hands, “That’s not begging for it honey,” He coos, “You gotta ask nicely for it.”

You let out a grumble of frustration, but you have to admit, this new version of the man you knew so well before is enticing. You can feel the way wetness is settling between your thighs, you’re sure if he dipped his fingers down he’d have some smart comment about how soaked you were for him already.

So you swallow your pride, you know it’ll be worth it in the end, “Please.”

“Good girl.”

It all happens in a flurry. One moment you’re against the wall, the next your back is against the mattress, Marcus’ hips pressed to yours as his hands work to push your shirt up and off your body. Your back hits the mattress again and his mouth is on you almost instantly, his lips trailing down your sternum, between the valley of your breasts. Pushing himself back on his knees, he brings his hands to the cups of your bra, pulling them down. Your nipples pebbling against the cold of the air.

His lips are back on you almost immediately, nipple enveloped into the warmth of his mouth, tip of his tongue flicking at it, making your back arch off the bed, pressing further into his mouth. Your hand comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, anchoring him to your body. As his mouth works across your chest, you can’t quite believe what’s happening to you. The man of your dreams, the person you always thought you were destined for, back, right here between your thighs, the bulge in the front of his jeans all too familiar to you.

Head tipped back in pleasure, you breathe out into the air, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He tears off your breast with a wet pop, looking up at you through his lashes, mouth kissing down your body, across the soft of your tummy, he taps at your sides, lifting your hips up to drag your jeans and underwear down your legs, flung behind him and forgotten when you plant the flat of your feet onto the bed and let your knees fall open.

Marcus isn’t a religious man, he never has been, but knelt between your thighs, hands flying to rid himself of his clothes, watching as you gingerly trail your hand between your thighs, eyes on him as you play with your clit, he thinks he might have to start believing. As he stands to take the last of his clothes off, standing at the foot of the bed, naked with his cock in his hand, watching your face, he thanks the Lord for whatever mischief they had to concoct to get you back here with him.

He crawls back up your body, kissing from ankle to thigh, settling himself between your thighs, cock sliding through your slick folds as he lays his body down against yours, one of his hands slipping under your neck, cradling the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek, moving your face to look right into his eyes. He’s so fucking close to you, lips barely a hairs breadth from your own.

“I have to be inside you,” He pants against your mouth, “I promise I'll spend hours between your thighs later baby, but I have to be inside you.”

He doesn’t give you any time to respond, just shifts his hips a little, sinking himself into your aching cunt. You arch up into him, moaning against his mouth as he stills. The hand clutching at your cheek trails down your neck, thumb flicking against your nipple as it travels to rest on your hip.

“Stop squirming,” He pleads, “Please.. Just stay still a minute.”

He feels so right, nestled inside your pussy. The weight of his body pressed against yours takes you right back to all the nights before, locked away in his Austin apartment in the dead of night, making each other feel good, making promises at the height of your combined pleasure to each other that never materialised. You can feel tears settle in your eyes as he starts moving, pulling himself out of you slowly, pushing back in even slower.

Marcus leans down, kissing the salty tears from your cheeks, shushing you, “Don’t cry baby,” He whispers into your ear, “I’ve got you now.”

Your hands are clutching at his shoulders, nails digging small, half-moon shapes into his skin there. He feels just as incredible moving inside you as he always did, but there’s something settling in your tummy, the feeling that you knew so well with him, that you’ve only really known with yourself since.

“I can feel you baby,” Marcus groans into your ear as the thrusts of his cock get a little faster, a little harder, “Clenching all perfectly around me,” He takes hold of one of your wrists, dragging it between the both of you, resting it right where you need it, “I won’t last baby,” He admits, “Touch yourself and we’ll do it together?”

So you do, you rub tight, precise circles over your clit as Marcus pushes himself up, takes your thighs in his palms, pushing your legs back as far as he can. The change in angle makes you cry out as he really starts fucking you now. The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin against yours, your whimpers and his groans. You can feel the tightening coil across your abdomen, breath hitching in your throat, you’re so fucking close to coming undone on him.

“Marcus,” You whine, “I’m gonna-” You trail off as he shifts a little more, pressing your legs further back, cock hitting that unholy sweet spot inside you, “Gonna come.”

“Go on baby,” He encourages, “I’ll be right behind you.”

And that’s how it ends. Eyes shut so tightly you can feel tears pooling at the corners, cunt clenching around his cock as you cry out his name. It’s so familiar, the way it feels, the way he sounds, like no time has passed at all and you’re exactly the same as you’d both been four years ago. He’s pounding into you as your body convulses underneath, thighs shaking and toes curling as his hips start to stutter.

“Where?” He manages to choke out, his tone reminiscent of all those times before when he was holding on, teetering on the edge, wanting to know what you wanted.

“I’m s-safe,” You manage to choke out, head reeling from your own orgasm, “The pill.”

He doesn’t need to hear anymore, finally giving in, knowing you’ve fallen apart for him, he’s groaning your name into the dark, you can feel him spilling into you, claiming you, marking you as his own in a way only the two of you could ever understand. He lets go of your thighs, letting your legs drop back into comfort as he slowly drags himself from you, collapsing onto the bed next to you.

There’s a few moments of silence. Your arm is draped across your face, chest rising and falling as you try to suck in enough air to calm your breathing, Marcus doing the same across the bed. You roll over, putting yourself on your side so you can look at him. He’s led on his back, head turned to look at you in the dull light of the room - the moonlight through the window the only thing illuminating the two of you. He reaches out, traces your face with his hand.

“I can't believe you’re real.” He speaks softly, rolling over to face you, pulling your warm body to his.

“I know we said we’d talk after,” You whisper, hand trailing over his waist to rest across his back, “But can we just stay like this for a while?” It’s a soft plead, you don’t want to be reminded that this was probably a bad idea, you want to hold this man in front of you and forget that in a few short days it’ll all be over, he’ll go back to wherever he is now, and you’ll go back to D.C. lonelier than ever.

“I’ll stay here as long as you’ll let me, honey.”

Marcus, against his better judgement, stays with you all night. You don’t talk. You curl up into his side, settle against his body as he wraps his arms around you. It’s inevitable that he casts his mind back to how things used to be. To the history you share with each other. He still, to this day, hasn’t stopped thinking about you, about what would have been if you’d stayed. Would you be married? Probably, he thinks. He’d thought of it often towards the end, before your promotion. Stopped outside jewellery shops, tried to imagine which kind of ring you’d want – he’d even slipped one of your rings onto his own finger, figuring out where it stopped so he could pick the right size when the time came. Would you have children? He isn’t sure, neither of you had ever spoken about it, you’d never expressed a want to have them, but he’s certain if you’d have asked, he’d have given them to you.

He falls asleep, waking up hours later, darkness still pervading. He turns on his side, spooning his front to your back. You’re half-awake when you press yourself back into him, bring your hand up to clutch at his head as he slips inside you once more, his hand holding your thigh up. He breathes into your ear, whispers filth to you as he rocks his hips against you. When you feel his teeth trail over your shoulder, he chuckles when you tell him off.

“I can’t walk down the aisle with bruises on my shoulders, Marcus.”

It’s soft, and he tips you over the edge, feeling you clench around him as his fingers trace circles over your clit, following just behind you, filling you up once more. He doesn’t pull away from you, just settles your thigh back down, resting himself inside of you as you both fall back to sleep.

Then, he’s awake before your alarm. He wakes you with a kiss to your forehead, tells you to go back to sleep when you protest and try and coax him back to the warmth of your sheets. He has to shower he says, has to help Mike get ready, but he’ll be waiting for you, watching you all day. Marcus smiles, really smiles, when you curl over back onto your side, soft breaths and mumbles as you fall back to sleep, and as he walks to his own room and stands waiting for the shower to warm, there’s a feeling of content that spreads through him – should he have fucked you last night? Probably not. Should he have encouraged you to talk more? Probably yes. He knows he’s got his cards hidden, he’s not letting on that this might not have to just exist here, but he’ll keep that to himself for just a little longer.

“So,” Cassie smirks from her place in the make-up chair, artist flitting around her, pressing all number of products into her face, “You and the groomsman?”

“Shut up,” You mutter to her, trying not to scratch at your face, make-up already settling uncomfortably across your skin, “A momentary lapse of judgement.”

She hums, and then moves her focus back to the make-up artist who is tilting her face to put on some blush, “You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” She says to you as you pass her a mimosa, “I know that was Marcus. The Marcus.”

There’s a moment where you feel like a deer in headlights, like you’ve been caught being up to no good, even though you know that’s not the case. Then you turn slowly to her, eyebrow raised, and see her smirking, much to the chagrin of the make-up artist who urgently wants to get her lipstick on her so she can move onto the final bridesmaid.

“He’s Mike’s friend, they went to school together, see each other quite often these days – apparently he always talks about a girl from Austin, no-one could ever compare, he’s tried moving on, done this, done that, but always came back to thinking about the one who got away,” She stops talking to take a drink, “Which sounded oddly familiar to someone else I know.”

She’s not wrong really – Cassie had been a lifeline when you’d moved to D.C. a work colleague turned best friend, who has been the shoulder to cry on whenever dates had gone badly, or even when they’d been good, but you just couldn’t get Marcus Pike off your brain. She told you, like most good friends would, that it would take time, you’d find someone right for you, someone who would take your mind right off Marcus, but it never happened.

“You did this on purpose!” You accuse, but its friendly, because really, her and her soon-to-be husband have only done what you had always wanted to do yourself, pick up the phone, no matter how long it has been and tell the man you still loved him.

“Of course we did,” She chuckles, “Don’t think about it too much,” She adds, “Just enjoy this today and most of all, behave yourself.”

When Cassie walks down the aisle, it’s not her that Marcus is looking at – it’s you. He hadn’t thought it possible for him to find you more beautiful than he had before, but in your dark green dress, slit cut into the fabric to show off one of your legs as you walk, dress cut perfectly to sit on all the curves of your body that he always did love, he can’t deny you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He spends the entire ceremony making eyes at you, smirking when you meet his gaze. He wants to tell you how lovely you look, lean down and plant a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, but he doesn’t get a chance until cocktail hour, once you’ve had your pictures taken and Cassie has insisted on you finally having a drink and enjoying your day instead of flapping about whether she needs anything from you.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?” He asks, hand settling on your waist as you lean against the bar waiting for your drink.

“Funnily enough, it’s not me most people have been looking at.” You quip back, taking the margarita from the bartender when it’s handed to you.

“I’ve been looking at you.”

“I know,” You smirk, “Pretty sure I ruined my panties stood at the top of the aisle.”

“Because the ceremony moved you so much?”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about your face between my thighs, actually.”

He looks exactly like he always used to when you flirt with him like this. Eyes low and dark, mouth slightly ajar like he can’t quite believe you’ve just been so forward. He’s not thinking straight anymore, and much like he had done last night, he grips around your wrist and starts dragging you from the reception room, this time there are considerably more people so you manage to slip out unnoticed.

Instead of heading up the stairs, taking you to your room or his, he turns left down a hallway, tearing open the door to one of the bathrooms. It’s a single stall, lock clicking behind him. You press your back against the wall, setting your drink down on the sink.

Marcus takes three steps towards you, hand slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, lips so close that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Do you know how sinful you’ve looked all day?” He asks, “Walking around looking all innocent, but I know you’ve been begging to get fucked all day, haven’t you?” You whine at him in response, trying to chase his mouth as he pulls back, “Don’t think I didn’t see you rubbing your thighs together during the ceremony.”

“It’s only because you wouldn’t stop looking at me.”

His hand finds the skin of your thigh, the slit of your dress making it easy for him to trail up to the hem of your panties.

“If I put my fingers on you,” He breathes, “Will you be wet?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You cock your head to the side, biting your lip as you look at him, his hand pulling your panties to the side, thick fingers slipping between your folds.

“Baby,” He moans, finally taking your bottom lip between his, nipping your skin with his teeth a little before he pulls away, fingers slipping inside you, pulling a groan from your throat, “Soaked for me?”

“Always, Marcus.”

He drags his fingers from you, spins you around, and reaches down to bring your palms up to rest against the wall in front you. He puts his hands on your hips, dragging your ass backwards until you can feel him through his trousers. His hands shuck your dress up to your waist and instead of tearing your panties off, he pushes them to the side. You look over your shoulder at him, as much as you can, and watch as he undoes his belt, pulls the zipper of his trousers down and reaches in, pulling his cock out. His trousers are pushed down just enough to let him free himself, and you don’t think you’ve seen such a beautiful sight in your life, than Marcus Pike with his fist around his cock, running his hand up and down himself as he moves to nudge the head of his cock at your soaked core.

Unlike last night, he isn’t gentle when he pushes into you. He’s buried inside your cunt in seconds, setting a pace that punches the air from your lungs. You know that even though you’re locked in here, away from the party, there’s still every chance someone is going to walk past, try the door handle, and hear exactly what’s going on in here, so you’re trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum.

“Needed you so badly, baby,” Marcus chokes out behind you, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have his fingerprints embedded onto your skin, “Always so pretty for me, aren’t you?”

He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you, over and over again, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. You feel one of his hands trail up your spine through the material of your dress, coming to rest with a grip around the nape of your neck, his fingers itching to slide up into your hair and grip it.

“You can’t,” You plead, “Don’t mess my hair up.”

“I won’t baby.” He pants out from behind you, trailing his hand down just a little so he’s not tempted to take a fistful of it to pull you back, arch you into him even more.

It’s fast and it’s hard, everything Marcus never really used to be. He liked to take his time, spread you out and have you crying for him before he slipped inside you, slowly, watching every contort of pleasure on your face. You think you like this new version of him, the one so desperate to have you he couldn’t make it up the stairs, couldn’t even pull your panties down your legs.

“Marcus,” You moan out, “Please.”

“What’s that, baby?” He asked, mouth right by your ear, “You begging for something?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“What do you want?”

“Make me come?”

You think maybe he might try and tease you some more, but mercifully he takes the hand he’s got resting on your hip and snakes it down your body, letting his fingers find your clit - he had always been good at that. He drags the gathered slick where he can, cock still moving into you, pulling whimpers and moans whenever you feel his skin slap against yours, circles your clit quickly with the pad of his finger. You can feel your walls tightening around him, your thighs starting to shake as he continues doing exactly what he’s doing.

It’s no secret to either of you that making you come always took time. He’d never shamed you for it, always been more than happy to do whatever it took, for as long as it took, to get you there. But the mix of desperation for him, elation that he’s waltzed right back into your life, and the fact he’s fucking you in a public bathroom, have that coil tightening inside you quicker than ever.

“Can feel you getting tight around me baby,” He groans into your ear, “You gonna let go for me?”

You don’t have time to tell him yes. The tight coil snaps inside you, your eyes closed so tightly you’re sure the make-up around your eyes is dragging down your cheeks on tears. You can keep your voice down now as you flutter around his cock, you cry out his name, feeling his hands holding onto your hips to keep you steady as your legs threaten to fall out from underneath you.

You’re only half aware of him speaking into your ear, telling you he’s close. You can feel him start to pull himself out of you, so you reach behind you quickly, fingernails digging into the part of his thigh you can reach to keep him inside you.

“I swear to god if you get cum on my dress Pike, I’ll kill you.”

He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle behind you, slams himself back into you, “You just want an excuse for me to come inside you, don’t you?” He hisses into your ear, teeth nipping at the skin behind your ear, “You just have to ask nicely for it.”

“Please, Marcus, please.”

Never one to deny you, he does, having held out as long as he could, he thrusts once, twice and then he’s moaning your name into your ear. You can feel him spilling inside of you, filling you up, then you can feel him dripping down your thigh when Marcus starts pulling away from you, not quite quick enough to put your panties back on. He tells you to keep still, fumbling behind him for some paper he can use to clean your thighs up.

He speaks to you as he lets the material of your dress fall back down over your legs, “Walking around full of me for the rest of the night.” He coos as you turn around, reaching out to pull his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss.

You stay like that for a moment, both attempting to fix the others clothes. Marcus brings his thumb to his mouth, letting his tongue jut out to wet it, before he drags it under your eye, getting rid of the worst of the black marks he’s caused.

You reach behind him, unlock the door, but take hold of his hand as you push the door open. Thankfully there’s no-one waiting outside to use the bathroom as you drag him back down towards the party.

It’s late. Or early depending on how you look at it. Marcus had dragged you from the dance floor at midnight, walked you slowly up to his room instead of yours. He’d helped you out of your dress, let you shower and wash yourself clean, then, before you could put your robe on and insist on going to sleep, he’d taken your hand, led you to the chair near the balcony doors and he’d made good on his promise of last night to spend hours with his face between your legs.

“I can’t,” You whine, Marcus hand’s pinning your legs open, his tongue flicking against your clit, “It’s too much.”

He pulls off you just enough to speak, “Believe in yourself baby,” He says, sinking two fingers into you, curling them upwards, “I know you can, just one more for me.”

Your whole body feels like its on fire. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s made you come tonight. There had been a small reprieve when you’d begged to suck his cock, Marcus obliging, painting your face and your tongue, before he settled right back to his knees. It’s almost as if he thinks if he stops you’ll disappear.

Your fingers are tangled in his hair, battling between tugging his face closer and pulling it away as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the added pressure along with the flicking of his tongue setting your skin on fire even more than before. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the back of your neck, rivulets of sweat gathering at various points across your body as Marcus tips you over the edge once more.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, body feeling boneless as your whole body convulses at his touch. Almost like he knows, he pulls himself away from you gently, knowing that any more would be too much, saving you the need to beg him to stop. He presses soft kisses to the skin of your tummy, kissing up your body until he’s sitting up on his knees, kissing into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him.

Marcus clambers to his feet, takes hold of your hand and pulls you to your feet, guiding you over to the bed to settle you under the sheets, the air peppering your sweaty skin with goosebumps. It’s a sad realisation that you have to go home tomorrow, that the bubble you’ve caught yourself up in over the past few days is about to burst. You think this might break your heart even more than the first time around.

“What are we going to do?” You ask against the skin of his chest as he pulls you into him.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, kiss pressed lightly to your forehead.

“With us, after this?” Your fingers are tracing over his skin, trying to map the feeling of him before he leaves.

“Well, I thought maybe we could go for dinner sometime?”

You look up at him, face contorted in confusion, “You’re going to come all the way from Austin to take me for dinner?”

“No baby,” He chuckles a little, “I don’t live in Austin anymore, I live in D.C.”

You push yourself up in bed, one hand on the mattress to keep yourself upright, looking down at Marcus, who reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing soft lines across your skin, “Since when?”

“Two years?” He offers, “I would have-” He trails off a little, “I would have told you but I wasn’t in a great place when I first moved, had no idea what your life would have even looked like either, I didn’t just want to turn up out of the blue if you’d moved on, found someone else.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at the wrist of the arm cradling your face, “I’ve waited so long for you,” You sigh, “I tried, tried to find someone else, but none of them were ever you Marcus.”

“I tried too,” He admits, because Lord knows he did, and for what? “I promise I’ll tell you everything one day, but right now, I want to fall asleep with you right here.”

You settle back down in bed, curling up against his side, arm draped over his waist, “Where in the city do you live?” You ask, sleep starting to make your eyes heavy.

“I’m on 4th street, in Petworth.”

You can’t help but laugh, because of course he fucking does. Marcus Pike has been living four streets over from you for the past two fucking years.

“You’ve been living four streets over from me for two years, Marcus.”

He runs his hands up and down your spine, gently, soothing you, “Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” He asks softly, “I can be at your front door in five minutes.”

“You want to be my booty call, Marcus Pike?”

“If that’s what you want,” He speaks, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“What are you doing Wednesday night?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

“How about you take me on a first date?” You offer, “Let’s learn each other all over again and take things from there?”

Marcus colts your chin up to his face with a finger, leaning down and giving you the softest kiss you think you’ve ever received, “I would love nothing more.”

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As a single dad trying to start dating again, Bradley feels like he's constantly running in circles. Hiring a twenty-four year old student to babysit should have made things easier, but no matter how hard he fights it, you're too irresistible to stay away from. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley cradled his forehead in his hands as he leaned against the bar. He hated being interrogated like this. He knew it was coming eventually, but he really wasn't expecting it today.

"You need a babysitter?" Nat asked with vivid interest. "Who are you going on a date with?"

He groaned. "What makes you think I need a babysitter so I can go on a date? Maybe I just need a couple hours to myself."

Nat rolled her eyes. "Because when you need an hour or two to yourself, you always ask me if I can come over and stay with Noah. And I always oblige, because I am the best person you know. So this must be something else. Who is it?"

"Rebel asked me out," Bradley murmured, looking at his friend out of the corner of his eye.

"Rebel! She's only been at Top Gun for a week!" Nat said, eyes wide as she examined his face. "She literally arrived from Lemoore seven days ago, and she already made a move on you? Damn, some of these pilots are quick."

"She just asked me out for coffee. I only said yes, because you keep telling me I should start dating again!"

"Well, you should start dating again. But I figured you'd download an app, find some cute women and get your rocks off. Not go on a date with a coworker!" Nat said, exasperated. 

Bradley just gaped at her as Penny dropped off two more beers. "I haven't done this in a while. Forgive me for not knowing precisely what you intended for me to do here, Nat," he said with a massive eye roll. 

She turned her nose up at him. "You're forgiven. But you need to give me your phone," she said, holding out her hand. 

"For what?" he asked skeptically.

"Just gimme."

Bradley handed it to her and she entered his passcode from memory. "Just don't order anything on my Amazon account, okay? I like my Hawaiian shirts just fine, and I donated all the shit you charged to my credit card last time."

"I'm not ordering you new clothes," she scoffed, tapping away on his screen. "I'm solving all your problems. Now look at me and smile."

Bradley glared at her instead as she snapped a few photos. "These look terrible," she mumbled under her breath as she switched to her own phone. "I have one where you look halfway decent... oh, here it is."

Then she was back on his phone again, and he just gave up trying to understand half of what she did when she wasn't in the air with him.

"Nat, I just don't know that I'll ever get serious with anyone again. Meredith kind of ruined that for me."

Nat was scrolling along on his phone as she said, "Meredith was a flaming asshat. I never liked her. The best thing she ever did was get pregnant with Noah and then dump you."

Bradley was back to cradling his head in his hand. He did not like thinking about the fact that his ex bailed on him and their son when he was just a few months old. It made him feel sick. And now he was partening alone, which was harder than anything he had ever done. 

"Shit," Bradley said, checking his watch. "I need to pick Noah up from daycare. Give me my phone," he said before finishing the last sip of his beer.

"I'm not done yet," Nat mumbled, a frightening grin creeping across her face. "Just one more minute."

Bradley thought about texting Rebel and canceling their tentative coffee date. Nat was probably right about dating another aviator. He didn't even know her actual first name, and she only ever called Bradley Rooster. What the hell kind of weird date would that be like? Talking Super Hornet specs? Comparing tales of punching out and parachute deployments?

He listened to a rapid string of alerts from his phone. "Is someone texting me?" he asked, reaching for his phone. "That's a lot of alerts. Is it Noah's daycare?"

But Nat was holding his phone tight and grinning. "Not texts. Women. Women who think you are cute and like your dating profile."

His eyes went wide. "What the fuck did you do?" he asked, his voice deadly calm. 

"Got you about ten dates if you want them. You're welcome," she said, handing his phone back to him. 

He scrolled through all of the profiles on his screen. "What am I looking at exactly?"

"Well, here's your profile. I used the only decent photos of you in existence. And that's your bio."

Bradley squinted at the screen. "All it says is that I'm 36, a naval aviator, and I like working out. And I have golden retriever energy? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you're energetic. They'll take that to mean in the bedroom."

"Jesus, Nat. Shouldn't I disclose important things? Like the fact that I'm a dad?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. That's second date material. They are going to want to size you up and see if you're a daddy before they need to know that you're a dad."

He shoved his phone in his pocket as he stood. "I don't have time for this," he grunted, pulling out his wallet and waving at Penny. "If I don't find a babysitter, none of this is going to make any difference anyway."

Penny took his credit card and then paused. "You need a babysitter for Noah? Mav and I can watch him if you need a break, you know that, right?"

Bradley sighed. "Thanks Pen. Yeah, I know that. I'm just looking for something a little more regular. Gonna try dating again," he said, glaring at Nat out of the corner of his eye. 

"I might know someone who would be interested," Penny said, handing the card back to Bradley. "She's a student in her early twenties, I guess. Really smart and seems sweet. Noah would probably like her. She's in classes during the day, but she was looking to babysit at night."

"How do you know her?" Bradley asked, already hesitant to leave his kid alone with a stranger. 

"She's renting a house on my street. I ran into her a few times, and we got to talking. She fed Luna, watered my plants, and got the mail when I took Amelia sailing."

Nat placed her hand on his arm. "I know this is a big step, but you could meet her first before you offer her the job."

Bradley stroked his mustache. "Any chance she would come over and meet me and Noah? So I can make sure she's not creepy?" he asked Penny.

Penny just laughed. "She's not creepy. How about I give her your number if she says she's interested in watching Noah."

"Sounds good," Bradley replied quickly, barely listening to Penny now. "I need to go pick him up. Bye, Nat."

"Don't forget to swipe through all your matches!" she called after him. 

He just waved and made his way to his Bronco. Bradley always felt like he was running all over the place. As much as it bothered him to take Noah to daycare on a Saturday, he felt like he was losing his grip on his life. His friends rarely ever remembered to invite him to the Hard Deck, correctly assuming he wouldn't be able to go. But it would still be nice to be invited. 

Everything felt impossible on his own. He wasn't getting enough sleep. As soon as Noah went to bed, it was a race to try to get every chore finished. Then he had to wake up an hour earlier to insure he had time to get Noah ready and dropped off at daycare on time. Every day was a damn marathon, and he really wished he could get some help.

He would never ever admit it to Nat, but he was lonely. Just the idea of getting to spend an evening eating dinner with a woman practically had him popping a boner. Having the chance to get to know someone again, get to have sex again? He couldn't think about it too long. He'd been spending so much time with his right hand and his imagination. 

As he pulled into the daycare parking lot, he sighed. This was the reason he had forfeited dating. His son. His adorable, perfect son. 

"Ready to go?" he asked, and Noach climbed up into his arms. 

"Yep, daddy," he said, and Bradley carried him out after thanking the daycare staff. 

"Let's get home and eat dinner," Bradley said, pushing Noah's dark curls away from his forehead and kissing him.

And this was the reason Bradley would only ever consider dating someone who liked kids and didn't mind dating a single dad. In spite of the daycare schedule, and the exhaustion and loneliness, Noah was his top priority. 

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

You were just getting back from class and unloading your books from your car when you saw Penny waving to you from her mailbox. As soon as you waved awkwardly with your arms full, she was heading your way.

"Hey, Penny," you said as she walked up your driveway.

"I wanted to chat for a minute. Is it a bad time?" she asked, eyeing up everything in your arms.

You nodded toward the house. "Come inside so I can set everything down."

She followed you in, already going on about someone named Bradley. "He's sweet, and he has an adorable three year old son named Noah. They are looking for a reliable sitter, and I know you mentioned an interest."

"Oh," you replied, dumping everything onto your couch. "This Bradley guy? He's not creepy or anything, right?"

Penny laughed. "He asked the same about you. He's very hesitant to let a stranger watch Noah, but I told him I'd give you his number if you wanted to contact him. Maybe you could just go meet them one day. He's not creepy. He works with Pete. And I swear Noah is irresistable."

You sighed. You really needed some extra income. And you loved kids. And you'd probably be able to study after Noah went to bed for the night. As long as this Bradley wasn't giving off weird vibes, you'd probably want the job.

"Okay, I'll take his number," you said, and soon you were adding Bradley Bradshaw to your contacts. "Thanks, Penny. Hopefully this will work out."

You got lost in your research for the rest of the day on Saturday, and purposely avoided returning texts from Greyson. He only wanted to see you when you were too busy, and he never wanted to see you when you had time for him.

"He's being a douchebag," you whispered as you scrolled through the idiotic things he was sending you. 

Then you opened a new conversation and typed out a draft to this Bradley guy.

Hi, I got your number from Penny Benjamin. She told me you're looking for a reliable babysitter. Any chance you have some free time so I can meet you and your son?

It was late, so you decided to let it sit in your drafts until the following morning. But apparently it wasn't too late for Greyson, who was now asking if you wanted him to send you a dick pic. 

You switched your phone to do not disturb mode after telling him that you would really appreciate it if he didn't send you one. Then you went to bed and dozed off fantasizing about dating a guy who acted like an adult. 

It was so late when you woke up, you decided to skip breakfast and just make yourself lunch. When you switched your phone back to receive messages, you were flooded with a bunch, mostly from Greyson. Luckily there was no dick pic to speak of, but he'd sent you a bunch of nonsense while he was probably drunk or high. 

Then you noticed the draft to Bradley Bradshaw, so you hit send on that one. You had a reply from him before you were even done making a sandwich.

Bradley Bradshaw: Yes, I am looking for a sitter for my son Noah. Penny highly recommended you. I can make time to meet you whenever you are free. Just to be clear, I want to make sure Noah and I are both comfortable around you before proceeding. 

You rolled your eyes. A grown adult man should not be as concerned about you as you should be about him. But, you could see where he was coming from about the prospect of letting a stranger stay with his son. So you replied and started eating your sandwich.

I could stop by this evening to meet you both if you're free.

He wrote back quickly again.

Bradley Bradshaw: That would be great. Anytime after 4. I'll attach my address.

If this guy was creepy or if his son was weird, Penny was going to be hearing about it for the rest of the year.

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

Bradley was just cooking dinner while Noah sat in his high chair coloring, when he heard his doorbell ring. "That might be your potential babysitter, bub," Bradley told him, kissing the top of his head as he grabbed a dish towel and headed for the front door while drying his hands.

But Bradley almost dropped the towel when he opened the door and got a look at you. As your wide eyes drifted up his body and landed on his face, you smiled up at him. 

"Mr. Bradshaw?"

You were stunning. Beautiful, and so fucking young. He swallowed against the saliva pooling in his mouth. Oh shit. 

"Uh, yeah. Hi," he managed, moving out of the doorway so you could step past him and into the living room. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem," you said with a shrug. "I'm looking forward to meeting Noah." You brushed past Bradley, and he closed his eyes. Your lip gloss was distractingly shiny. You smelled like beach grass or wildflowers. You looked like you were barely old enough to drink. 

"He's in the kitchen," Bradley rasped, trying to pull himself together. "Back this way."

You followed Bradley through the house, and as soon as you saw his son sitting in the high chair, you went right to him.

"Hey, Noah! What are you coloring?"

"Dinosaurs," Noah told you, holding out a pink crayon. 

"Cool. I love pink dinosaurs," you replied, starting to color a pterodactyl on the page next to the one he was working on.

"Me too. I like pink and blue dinosaurs the best," he replied. 

Bradley watched you interacting with Noah. You seemed sweet, coloring each dinosaur the color he requested. When Noah mispronounced your name, you just laughed and told him he could call you that. 

When you bent down to retrieve a yellow crayon as it rolled across the floor, Bradley got an excellent view of the backs of your bare thighs as your sundress rode up. He dropped the spatula into the pan, nearly burning himself. He was also nearly burning his dinner.

"Shit," he mumbled as you turned to smile at him before handing the crayon back to Noah. 

"What else do you like to do? Besides color?" you asked. 

Noah started telling you all about drawing with chalk and playing with bubbles outside. "I like snacks and movies. And hiking."

Bradley laughed. "By hiking he means walking around the block if I make it home from work before it's dark out."

"Oh," you said. "I can take you on a hike one day, Noah. I like hiking around the block, too. Maybe we can collect some things like rocks and leaves." 

Bradley listened to Noah tell you about some particularly good rocks he had found last week, and you somehow responded in just the right way.

"You're in the navy?" you eventually asked Bradley, shrugging out of your denim jacket in the hot kitchen, giving Bradley a view of even more of your flawless skin. "Like Pete?"

He cleared his throat, mixing everything in the pan on the stove. "Yeah, I work with him. I'm an aviator."

"Do you want me to call you by your rank? Instead of Mr. Bradshaw?" 

Bradley had to press his lips together, a little scared to know what hearing you call him Lieutenant Bradshaw would do to him. "You can just call me Bradley."

"Okay, Bradley," you said, and unfortunately that did something to him too. "You've got a cute kid. I think Noah and I could have a lot of fun together."

"How old are you?" The words were out of Bradley's mouth before he could rethink them. He almost sounded accusatory, but really he needed to know how bad it was that he couldn't stop looking at your legs.

"Twenty-four," you replied casually. 

Jesus. He was twelve years older than you. But you looked even younger than that. Sweet. Too innocent. 

"I'm in grad school for nursing," you continued. "I'm certified in CPR, and I can treat injuries. I know how to swim. I'm free every day starting at 4. You can run a background check on me if you want to."

Noah looked up at you and asked if you wanted to build blocks with him, and Bradley knew he already felt comfortable enough to leave his son with you while he went on a date with Rebel. 

He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. He hadn't taken the time to figure out how to use the dating app that Nat installed, and he was being inundated with matches and messages. He also hadn't given Rebel, whose first name was Grace, a solid answer about when he could get coffee with her.

But for some reason, in spite of the laundry list of women from the app who were interested in going on a date with him, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. 

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Bradley asked as you built a block tower with Noah on the high chair tray. 

"Oh, no. That's nice of you to ask, but I don't want to crash your meal," you told him over your shoulder. "Here, put this little block on the top. Let's see if we can make it stay," you told Noah, keeping your hands around the sides of the tower until he successfully set down the last piece. Then you tossed your hands into the air and cheered.

Noah turned and looked at you in surprise and you just laughed. "You're good at coloring and blocks?" He just giggled, and soon you were both knocking down the tower and starting over. 

As Bradley scraped his half burned dinner onto a plate, he felt a little disappointed that you were grabbing your jacket and getting ready to leave. Noah looked a little sad, too. 

"Well," Bradley told you, watching you gracefully shrug into your jacket, "you're hired if you think you can put up with the two of us."

You laughed and took a step closer to him. "Noah? He seems like an angel. You on the other hand?"

Bradley's eyes went wide, and you just laughed harder. 

"Only kidding! I'm sure I'll be able to put up with both of you if you think you can put up with me."

You were young and beautiful, and for some reason Bradley wanted to feed you dinner, even though the food he made looked barely edible. 

"I don't think that will be a problem."

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

I hope you enjoy your Daddy Rooster and babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls !!

PART 2

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[mint-and-authoress]

Slime HRT - Full Core Integration

<<| ⏯️ |>>

[The scene opens to a not before seen living room. Familiar decor can be seen alongside other furnishings. Elise sits on a couch inside a small plastic tub, where only the upper half of her body can be seen. Next to her is a shorter woman, speckled with red scales across her skin and small claws and horns. The timestamp reads ‘5½ Months.’]

“Oh gosh, how does she do these…

“This is Elise’s entry at five and a half months into transition. I’m Pandora, her wife, and I’ll be speaking for her for this entry and hopefully only this entry. I just started my own species replacement therapy like two weeks ago I think? I kept it hidden from her to surprise her but about three days ago Elise’s vocal cords finally dissolved. That’s why I’m speaking for her.

“Normally she wouldn’t have done an update this early but I encouraged her to make something, mainly because I think it’s important to have this documented. Anyone who goes through the same stuff my wifey has should know how things go when you absolutely need help around the house.

[Pandora retrieves a piece of paper from offscreen.]

“We did make a list of things to go over. My love is going to be demonstrating a few things, and it is her documentation series… thing, so she’s gotta be a part of it! First off is the obvious: no more muscles, and no more bones either!

[Elise outstretches an ‘arm’ to show the lack of muscle and bone. The entire limb is transparent and a vibrant green.]

“All she has left is a few organs and her brain. Everything else is just a little goopy puddle.

[Elise nuzzles into Pandora’s shoulder, and is met with a kiss to the forehead.]

“All the affection is just my wife being all cute and loving, like she’s always been. She’s basically been biologically a slime for a few weeks now, and definitely passes as one from the few I’ve been able to see.

“As a matter of fact, we learned that slimes are apparently part of the country’s No Fly List, since they’re made up entirely of fluid. We had to do a whole cross-country road trip, meaning four days full of driving for me. Loved that. But it just meant that my little goop got to be a little passenger princess all the way back to the west coast!

“Back to the ‘my wife’s organs are starting to dissolve’ matter, she’s actually about two and a half months ahead of schedule. Which meant I had to have a very strongly worded talk with Dr. Acosta from Something Else Solutions. 

“Something Else Solutions is not licenced by anyone in Hyper City. We had to hire a private investigator to find that doctor. Turns out, he gave Elise a fake name and the whole office turned out to be some shady black market coven trying to advance their practices. So, my last week and a half has been spent talking to doctors and specialists and actual fucking witches. That last one was actually pleasant, and I would’ve enjoyed it a bit more if it wasn’t my love’s life on the line, possibly.

“The only real reason we’re doing an update now is because Elise is going into surgery tomorrow to get her core formed. Normally, Slime HRT has the patient go through something called C3 surgery: Core Cell Conversion. They’d take all your organs and link them together, and after a few weeks they’ll turn into what’s called a proto-core, which basically just replaces the organs. Eventually that proto-core absorbs the brain after like a month and at that point it’s just a normal slime core.

“Buuuut, now that someone went and fucked up my wife, she’s going into an emergency surgery called FCI: Full Core Integration. What they have to do–and thank the gods that we did this before her organs got dissolved–is take all her organs and her brain and rapidly accelerate that core formation process with donated nuclei from other slimes and a whole bunch of other inpatient hospital stuff. It takes a week, and after that Elise is gonna have a few gaps in her memory.

[Pandora hugs Elise from the side.]

“It’s scary. But we’ve somehow made it through worse.”

[The segment ends. The next segment fades in and shows a still image of a hospital waiting room. An anthropomorphic boar, a human skeleton with glowing green eyes, a well-dressed vampire and two humans are present around the room.]

-captions-

-The waiting room in the Hyper City Interspecies Hospital. Elise’s surgery was 12 hours long. 

[A picture of many specialists and surgeons, human and nonhuman, with a blonde human woman in the centre.]

-Thank you to the care team for everything and an even bigger thank you to Dr. Therkin for walking me through every step of the procedure.

[A picture of Elise in a pressurised tank, connected to a series of tubes, wires, and monitors. A very small, almost invisible mass is at the centre of the slime.]

-This was my wife for nine days. Very glad to report that she pulled through.

[The final picture fades out. The next segment fades in where Elise sits in a long tub in a hospital bed, with an intact emerald green core. A timestamp reads ‘Five Days Post Surgery - 6 Months.’]

“...This is…my entry at 6 months during transition. Or at least that is what I’ve been told.

“I’ve been conscious for five days. In that time I learned how to speak and I was reminded who everyone was. Apparently I was in a…terrible condition. My core was able to save my life, and for that I am very grateful.

“I came out of surgery with near total amnesia, they said. Apparently that is a risk when you undergo such a procedure. It isn’t all bad, though. Relearning you have a wife is incredibly nice, makes the core sing something fierce.

“I’ve watched through those progress reports and learned about the journey I’ve taken to get this far, and to think that all that progress is behind me is incredibly inspiring. I’m going to continue living, all because of the work she did. I get to be happy, have a wife, all thanks to her. 

“I’m not the same person as she was, definitely not. I have her voice, her life, and eventually the memories will come back, or so I’m told. But I don’t have her face, don’t have the same struggle that she had. So, please allow me to introduce myself once more to you all.

“My name is Mint, and I am a slime girl.”

[The scene fades to black as Mint extends herself towards the camera.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SLIEM TIEM IS BACK EVERYGOOP!!!

Plot Twist: Mint is Authoress :3c

I've been meaning to get this out for a while and Solstice hit me with a lead brick of inspiration! Mint is now here to stay, but by no means is her story over!

Shoutouts today go to @ariathelamia whose character Dr. Therkin made an appearance to advise the surgery team! Tbh I do not trust Erian as far as I can throw him (and for therian standards that is not that far), so we got a second opinion and went to her!

Next time on Slime Ball Z: going to the solstice and definitely having a transgender moment[tm] with doubts about what makes oneself a 'real slime'

[muzzlespazm]

PLEASE HELP

EMERGENCY ART COMMISSIONS

hi guys

i really hate having to do this. i really hate having to beg for help. but i’m kinda at my wits end and there’s not much else i can currently do. i lost my job 4 (four) months ago due to medical issues (AKA they fired me because i was so chronically in pain that i could not consistently come to work in person and they refused to let me do work from home even though the job could absolutely be done entirely remotely). over the summer, i was busy trying to get the pain sorted, and though it still sometimes gets bad, by now it’s pretty much under control. i’m sending out job applications every day, attending interviews, etc., unfortunately the job market is really shit where i’m at right now and i haven’t been able to get a new job. i’m trying my fucking best but the money is running out, and i just paid the last phone bill i am able to afford. i do not have access to stable wifi, which i need to access the job applications as well as online interviews, so i have to pay horrid bills to do it with mobile data. i will not be able to afford these bills next month. i’m fortunate enough to have a place to stay for free, but i’m essentially too broke to commute anywhere, too broke for food purchases, and too broke to pay my bills. i need help. i don’t dare to ask for money in return for nothing, so i’m offering art commissions (they’re not super expensive at the base price, but it’s a “pay what you want” situation, - if you can and would like to give more than the base price, it would be IMMENSELY appreciated). i’ve linked my carrd to this post, you can find my commissions through my ko-fi, which is the first link in my carrd. there’s also an option to donate, just 5$, i cannot ask for more.

any and all help is appreciated, if you can’t afford to spend money on a luxury such as art, please reblog this post so it may reach those who can.

thank you.

https://muzzlespazm.carrd.co