#like???? what???? was the point????? of asking us to come to you????

[chase-prairie]

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2025/01/27/white-house-pauses-federal-grants/

So, the facts are, most universities in the US are kept in business by grants. Professors and researchers apply for grants, grants pay their salaries, their equipment, their space, their travel, and their students. This includes Teaching Assistants, Research Assistants, Project Assistants etc. this is true across pretty much all academic disciplines. Often what this means is, the professor does their thing, their TA teaches the bulk of classes, students get taught, all while the university makes a profit.

If you kill grants, you kill all of this. This will give universities the excuse to cut tenured faculty, because the university can't afford them directly. This will cut grad students, because this is the only way grad students are paid for. With no grad students, many classes will suddenly not have teachers. Classes will be cut, teachers fired, and the universities will likely have to increase tuition to make up the difference. Knowing universities, they will not cut the number of incoming students coming in (that's their money!) so now classrooms will be packed to the gills and taught by professors that are both overworked and underpaid.

This is just one segment of the people being impacted by this week of horseshit, but believe me, colleges will be permanently altered.

But isn't this just temporary, you ask? Possibly. Much of this is likely to be permanent, definitely in my field. This is coming from the executive order that includes

So anything that can be argued as "woke", "Marxist equity, transgenderism, and green new deal social engineering policies" will not be funded. You can tell those words are squishy to the point of meaningless, but that's the point. Anything can be squished into those categories. Certainly my ecology work is toast.

Anyway if you see a scientist or an academic or a doctor or museum person or what have you, please be kind to us. This is... unprecedentedly bad

[ms-demeanor]

Hey friend! So while I'm incredibly skeptical, I'm not strictly against alternative medicine, like you are. I saw you mention reiki, and thought you might geek out on this article like I did:

https://web.archive.org/web/20200308195914/https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/04/reiki-cant-possibly-work-so-why-does-it/606808/

It's called "Reiki Can't Possibly Work. So Why Does It?" and I highly encourage reading the whole thing. It first of all thoroughly debunks a lot of the claims reiki practitioners make but it also details all of the studies that have proven its effectiveness and provides what I find a pretty compelling explanation: that much of modern western medicine is stressful and traumatizing. Of course laying in a quiet room with the lights dimmed while a kind person sits with you and wishes for you to be well is effective. It reduces stress and all of the negative biological processes it triggers, which promotes healing.

The article mentions that for years we didn't understand the mechanism by which acetaminophen worked - we just knew it did. I knew a man who was really into "chakra therapy" in the 90s where he had a set of colored sunglasses that, supposedly, would rebalance one's out-of-whack chakras through light therapy. He found that attending to his throat chakra, yellow, helped him sleep better. Years later, formal studies found that yellow lenses filter blue light and can help regulate circadian rhythms.

When I was really little, my uncle sold magnet therapy products (which claimed to promote circulation?? I think??). I had a huge meltdown at a family reunion and no one could get me to calm down. My uncle put a blanket full of magnets on top of me, and I immediately relaxed. Imagine my surprise hearing that story for the first time as an adult who now uses a weighted blanket for stress.

I agree that people need to be really careful about these practices, about getting scammed, and especially about herbal supplements that can have dangerous interactions. I also think there's an extent to which you can analyze the risks and benefits and say, "Okay, I have no idea why this works but it does and there's no major downsides."

Hey so I get a bit heated in this response but I want you to know that I approached this ask in good faith because I know you and I know that we have a lot of the same values and interests and this touched a nerve that was not at all your fault and once I get past the direct response to the article I think I come off a little less. Um. Like the aggression there is not directed at you, it's directed at the article and at one person mentioned in the article specifically who is part of why my reaction to the article is so not good. But I promise after the last bullet point I come off as less reactive, I think. (I'm also publishing this publicly because I think it may be helpful for people to see how CAM stuff often gets away with a veneer of skepticism-that-isn't-actually-skepticism - the article claims to be skeptical but then makes a ton of assumptions and cites some truly mind-bogglingly bad sources that a lot of people won't recognize as bad if they don't have a hair trigger trained by far too much time on the bad CAM parts of the internet).

I've actually read that article a few time times, and would like to do a quick rundown on why I find it unconvincing:

She doesn't cite any decent studies on reiki; one that she does cite is just a self-reported questionnaire response from 23 people in 2002.

While we don't know the exact mechanism of action for acetaminophen, we do know that it does work - it measurably reduces fever and in double blinded RCTs produces reproduceable results in reducing certain kinds of pain. The Science Based Medicine authors cited in the article who called for an end to studies on reiki did so both because there is no plausible mechanism of action for reiki (specifically as energy work, not as 'being in a room with a patient person who listens to you') and because there is no good evidence that it works. (And they wrote a follow-up to the Atlantic article; I like SBM but it's quite sneery, as are most of their write-ups of reiki). When Kisner asks "why should this be different?" when comparing reiki and acetaminophen, the answer is: because there is not only no plausible way that reiki *could* work, there is not any good evidence we have that it works better than placebo.

"Various non-Western practices have become popular complements to conventional medicine in the past few decades, chief among them yoga, meditation, and acupuncture, all of which have been the subject of rigorous scientific studies that have established and explained their effectiveness." This one sentence needs probably twenty or so links in response, suffice it to say that western medicine has emphatically not established and explained the effectiveness of AT LEAST acupuncture and the casually credulous way Kisner accepts that acupuncture is effective (effective FOR WHAT?) throws some serious doubt on her ability to assess these kinds of things.

The title of the article is "Reiki can't possibly work, so why does it?" and that's probably the Atlantic's fault more than Jordan Kisner's fault, but she doesn't ever demonstrate that it works. She says she got a buzzy feeling after her training, she says that patients at the VA were asking for reiki as treatment for pain and sleep disorders, she says that people remembered "healing touches" from parents and loved ones and that the same mechanism might be what makes reiki 'work.' She says that reiki "has been shown by various studies that pass evidentiary muster to help patients in a variety of ways when used as a complementary practice" and the two studies that she includes that weren't just a questionnaire were 1) a non-blinded study of heart rate variability post heart attack where the reiki arm involved continuous interaction with a trained nurse and the other two arms involved resting quietly or classical music (so relaxation as a result of additional focused attention by attentive medical professionals could account for this? Why was the control for this study not having a med student sit and hold the patient's hand?) and 2) a study of patients who sought out reiki who were surveyed after treatment and noted improvement on one of twenty mental or physical markers (this study is like, GOLD for an example of a bad study; no control, self-selected participants who believe in the efficacy of the intervention, exceptionally broad criteria for a positive result - I find it really really really challenging to grant any credence to someone who confidently cited this as an example of reiki "working")

Near the end of the article she says "At the same time, this recalled the most cutting-edge, Harvard-stamped science I’d read in my research: Ted Kaptchuk’s finding that the placebo effect is a real, measurable, biological healing response to “an act of caring.” - if she read any of Ted Kaptchuk's research she didn't link to it; what she did link to was a 2018 New York Times profile of him and Kathryn Hall, researchers at Harvard's Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter program. Being any flavor of journalist and citing Ted Kaptchuk as your source for cutting-edge, institutionally-backed science is disqualifying.

I now need to do some yelling about Ted Kaptchuk.

For clarity: I have as much medical training as Kathryn Hall and Ted Kaptchuk, which is to say: None.

Hall is a microbiologist with a PhD in Public Health, so she at least a background in science. Kaptchuk is an acupuncturist with a BA in East Asian studies and a doctorate in Chinese medicine - notably NOT a medical degree; he was forced to stop calling himself a doctor and had papers retracted after enough people questioned whether the school he claimed he attended even existed and the documents he presented to claim that he was an "OMD" were conclusively translated and did not have any indication that the granted a medical degree of any kind - Science Based Medicine was involved in investigating this because they've been comprehensively anti-quack forever and Ted Kaptchuk has been a quack forever (after recieving confirmation from the government of Macau that Kaptchuk's alma mater was not a medical degree granting institution SBM STILL gave him the benefit of the doubt and had people translate his documentation for final confirmation).

He is also an author on of one of my most beloathed ever studies, which showed that sham acupuncture, placebo, and albuterol all produced the same effect on patient-reported well-being, coming to the conclusion that patient reports can be unreliable and that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma." That fucking line, that stupid goddamned line, gets cited in every piece of woo bullshit about how acupuncture or chiropractic or some scam-ass diet all work, I've run into this study while looking through at least twenty bibliographies and it is one of the biggest, reddest flags that whoever is writing the paper you're reading is full up on some bullshit. Because, see, the paper found that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma" in terms of *patient-reported* markers, but the fucking study found that only albuterol produced an actual effect in lung function. Here's the sentence BEFORE the one that gets cited all the time: "Although albuterol, but not the two placebo interventions, improved FEV1 [forced expiratory volume in one second - the measure for lung function used in the study and used to diagnose asthma] in these patients with asthma, albuterol provided no incremental benefit with respect to the self-reported outcomes." It doesn't matter if the patient *feels* better if they can't actually breathe! It doesn't fucking matter - feeling better but still having poor breathing leaves you more vulnerable to dying of a fucking asthma attack! I hate this goddamned study so fucking much and it's used all the time to claim that placebo can be just as effective as medicine for making people FEEL better but, like, they're still sick even if they feel better! I HAVE HAD PEOPLE CITE THIS STUPID FUCKING STUDY TO ME AS EVIDENCE THAT I DON'T CARE ENOUGH ABOUT TREATING MY FUCKING ASTHMA BECAUSE I DON'T GET ACUPUNCTURE TO TREAT MY FUCKING ASTHMA. If sham acupuncture makes you feel better when you've got the flu but doesn't lower your fever or make you less contagious, you shouldn't act like you don't have a fever or aren't contagious this study makes me INSANE.

Okay done yelling.

I think this look at placebo in the midst of her article about reiki is really interesting because it's very common for CAM practitioners to claim that it's as effective as placebo - which just means that it's not effective. This is a great explanation from The Skeptic on why placebo isn't and can't be what Kaptchuk, Hall, and the like claim. It's also interesting to me that Kisner didn't choose to link to a 2011 New Yorker profile of Kaptchuk that is somewhat less rosy about his placebo studies and includes this absolutely crushing statement: "the placebo effect doesn’t appear to work with Alzheimer’s patients. Trivers suggests that this is because most people who have Alzheimer’s disease are unable to anticipate the future and are therefore unable to prepare for it."

But to the actual point of the ask: I honestly think it's fascinating how much CAM success probably rides on "well did you listen to the patient and pay attention to what was wrong with them and sympathize with them and help them lay out plan that made them feel like they had some agency in this exceptionally frustrating situation (chronic illness, newly diagnosed issue, totally undiagnosed issue) that they're dealing with?"

I know part of why people with chronic illnesses turn to CAM is because they're ignored and dismissed by allopathic practitioners who are largely looking for horses, not zebras - this is one of the reasons that I'm really big on reminding people that (at least in the US) DOs are fully licensed physicians who use a holistic and patient-centered approach so if you are someone with a chronic illness who has had trouble getting diagnosed or had trouble getting doctors to believe you, swapping your MD for a DO as a primary care physician might be really, really helpful to you.

But the flip side of that is that is that I worry deeply about the question of where harm starts; the example with your uncle is really great because you do have a solid instance of something working but for totally the wrong reason (pressure being the mechanism that actually helped, versus magnets being the reason given by the person who did the treatment). Some of this stuff has very little likelihood of causing direct harm, but has the distinct possibility of having indirect harms, which people in the anti-CAM space generally divide into two categories, treatment delay and unnecessary costs (opportunity costs, monetary costs, wasted effort, etc.)

I'm going to step outside of your specific example and look at magnet therapy generally, which really is a spectacular thing to focus on because it honestly doesn't have any direct harms; nobody is allergic to magnets, the kinds of magnets used aren't strong enough to interfere with medical devices, it's even safer than the whole "well herbalism is sometimes just a cup of tea" thing because there are "safe" teas that can do real harm to large populations! But simply being around magnets is not going to hurt anyone (unless they're swallowed; nobody swallow magnets please).

One of the things that I think goes under-discussed when talking about placebo and CAM is that the people trying the alternative solutions desperately WANT the alternative medicine to work (I suspect that this is why the self-selected study of reiki patients has such a significant finding). They are pulling for it; they may be looking at it as a last resort, or they may be hoping that it will work to avoid a treatment that is more frightening, expensive, or inaccessible. I think this actually contributes a lot to the delay of care that we see with CAM.

The absolute worst case harm I can imagine from magnetic therapy is delaying treatment. Let's suppose we've got a diabetic patient with gradually increasing peripheral neuropathy; they have reacted poorly to gabapentin in the past and are looking for something more natural, and they hear from their chiropractor that magnet therapy can be used to treat neuropathy. They buy some compression socks with "magnetic and earthing properties" and sleep in the socks. Whether through the compression controlling some edema or through the simple desire for the socks to work, they feel some relief from the nerve pain they were experiencing and decide that this is a success. The socks work! They continue wearing the socks with occasional pain, but less than before. However, because they are focused on the lack of pain, they don't notice that it's accompanied by increasing numbness. The numbness significantly increases their risk of injury to their feet, which significantly increases their risk of amputation.

It probably sounds like catastrophizing to say "using magnets could lead to amputation" but honestly I don't think it's that far out of the realm of possibility (every time I post on this topic I get flooded with the saddest stories in the world about people whose loved ones died because of delayed treatment for cancer or heart disease).

The second category of harm is cost, which is honestly pretty minimal with magnet therapy, as long as you aren't spending $1049 on a magnetic mat

or paying a chiropractor to give you magnetic treatments. For some other medically harmless treatments like reiki, cost is the thing that I worry about - while I was looking up information related to the article I found that people are charging anywhere from $60 to $225 a session, and selling multi-session packages for thousands of dollars - and if someone thinks that something works, even if it only works by being in a soothing space where someone cares about you - they'll pay for it.

I'm aware that all of this is also extra complicated because of the cost and lack of access to allopathic medicine - a chiropractor broke my spine because I could pay her $60 per appointment but I couldn't pay $125 to see an MD when I didn't have insurance. People who are sick are going to look for treatment; people who have been denied treatment or dismissed by doctors are going to look for alternative treatments.

But man, I really wish I'd spent that sixty bucks on half of a doctor's appointment because the chiropractor didn't know about the benign tumor that I had that weakened the structure of that particular bone when she did her adjustment; it also didn't make the pain go away, it made a different pain start and get worse because it turns out I was having debilitating muscle spasms that then had a bone injury added in on top.

(Chiropractic, for the record, goes with chelation therapy and many many many many cases of herbalism where it's NOT just cost or delay; people claim these treatments are harmless and they are not. They can do tremendous harm).

But yeah I'm not going to deny at all that all of this would be a hell of a lot better if people (especially marginalized people) didn't have to jump through hoops to prove to a doctor that something is wrong with them, and didn't have to do so in an appointment that attempts to cram whole person care down into fifteen minutes, and didn't have the possibility of bankrupting you. Interacting with allopathic medicine is a nightmare and I totally understand why people want to look outside of it for treatment.

I've just heard too many horror stories and seen too much predatory CAM to cut much of it any slack.

At the end of the SBM response to the Atlantic article, the author (I can't remember if it's Gorski or Novella) makes the point that reiki is a spiritual practice, and that we've known for a long time that spiritual practices can improve a person's well-being in a number of ways; they can reduce anxiety, they can provide community, they can give people a space to feel and express emotions that they certainly aren't going to be able to process in a doctor's office. Spiritual practices can be wonderful, and we know there are a lot of people who they can help. But they aren't medicine, and attempting to replace medicine with them (which I don't think that most reiki practitioners are trying to do, to be fair, but which Ted Kaptchuk DEFINITELY is in trying to 'harness the power of placebo') is a disservice to people who need an inhaler instead of acupuncture.

Also, and I know this was not your point but I have to bring it up because people ask about it whenever discussions of placebo come up:

The placebo effect is not treatment. The placebo effect, whether achieved through deception or when someone says loud and clear "this is a sugar pill" does not improve an illness, but it may improve how a patient *feels* about an illness. In some cases, this may as well be the same thing - if you're dealing with muscle pain because you're stressed and no matter what you do it doesn't go away because your shoulders are always up around your ears and you're grinding your teeth and you're sleeping poorly, then literally just talking to someone who is in an office and says "this is a sugar pill, go ahead and take it" may make your muscle pain feel better, but it isn't going to reduce your stress and it isn't going to last, and if your muscle pain is because you're feeling angina as a result of a partially blocked artery then it SURE AS FUCK is not going to make you better and may mask symptoms that were a warning sign of a much more serious problem. People who are sick deserve actual treatment, and placebo is not treatment, which is part of why Ted Kaptchuk makes me want to tear my hair out.

[mephisto-reporting]

The Engineer's Gravity - Yandere! Caleb

Plot: You're a biomechanical engineer in Caleb's fleet, incharge of repairs of prosthetic parts. What happens when you become the subject of the Colonel's obsession? Based on this request. Pairing: Non MC Mechanic! Reader x Yandere! Caleb Note: This story is with slightly darker themes. I do not want people to come at me saying Caleb isn't like this. Yes, I know. This is a Yandere! version of Caleb. Please keep that in mind. If you want to be a part of my taglist, please let me know in the comments, DMs or inbox. Content warning: Yandere male, implied deaths, mutilation, mentions of blood, possessiveness, gaslighting, voilence

CALEB'S POV

The faint hum of the Farspace fleet’s engines was a constant background noise, a rhythm that Caleb had grown accustomed to. It filled the silence as he walked down the dimly lit corridor toward the engineering bay, his gloved left hand flexing instinctively while his right hand remained eerily still. It wasn’t the arm itself that unnerved him anymore. No, he’d gotten used to the weight, the cool touch of the synthetic skin against his chest when he rested his hand there. What grated on him was the maintenance—the vulnerability of needing someone else to keep it functional.

The first time he’d come to the mechanic for maintenance, he had been indifferent, as he was to most things in his life. The arm was a tool, no more. Just another part of the machine that was Caleb, the Colonel. She was just another cog in the vast machine of the fleet, a means to an end. He barely remembered their first meeting beyond her clinical efficiency and soft voice, far removed from the barked commands of his officers or the detached drone of his superiors. She’d introduced herself simply, a name he didn’t bother committing to memory at the time, and had begun her work without wasting a second.

He’d sat in silence, his arm stretched out on the diagnostic table, his gaze fixed on the wall as she meticulously checked the connections and replaced worn components. She’d asked him questions—about the arm’s performance, any discomfort he’d noticed—but he’d only answered in monosyllables. He wasn’t trying to be rude; he just didn’t see the point.

She had been… different.

No. She spoke with compassion, with a voice that held an undercurrent of something human. When she’d first touched his arm to inspect it, there was no clinical detachment in her touch—no cold professionalism. Instead, there was a softness, a care.

But she kept showing up, week after week, her presence a constant thread in his routine. She didn’t just maintain his arm; she paid attention. She noticed when he was tense and adjusted her tone accordingly. When she worked, she hummed under her breath—a tune he couldn’t place but found oddly soothing. And unlike the professor who saw him as little more than a prototype for their next experiment, she treated him like a person.

Caleb first noticed it when she spoke to the other fleet members. The soldiers and officers with Toring chips embedded in their bodies, their minds augmented for efficiency but stripped of their individuality, were often treated as tools. Most of the crew barely acknowledged them, but she… she smiled at them. Asked about their day. Made sure they were comfortable during her examinations and modifications.

It wasn’t long before Caleb began to see her differently.

Their interactions changed subtly over time. He found himself lingering in the engineering bay longer than necessary, watching her work under the sharp white lights. She was focused, hands deft as they manipulated wires and micro-tools, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“You’re due for recalibration next week, Colonel.” she said during one session, not looking up from the neural interface she was fine-tuning.

“I’ll be here,” he replied. Then, after a pause, “You’re good at this.”

She glanced at him, surprised. “I’ve had a lot of practice.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not just the work. The way you… treat people. You’re good at that, too.”

Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he thought she might dismiss the comment. But instead, she smiled—a soft, genuine thing that made something unfamiliar stir in his chest. “Everyone deserves to be treated like they matter.” she said simply, turning back to his arm.

He didn’t respond, but those words stayed with him long after he left the bay. Caleb watched her closely, taking note of every smile, every laugh, every time she showed kindness to someone else. It made something dark curl in his chest.

The first time Caleb intervened on her behalf, it was almost instinctual.

He was passing through the mess hall when he heard the sharp edge of Lieutenant Varro’s voice. “You know, for all your compassion, you take forever with repairs. Maybe stop coddling the freaks and do your job faster.”

Caleb froze, his blood turning cold. He rounded the corner to see Varro towering over her, his expression smug. She was holding a tray of food, her shoulders tense but her expression calm as she replied, “I do my job thoroughly, Lieutenant. If you’re unhappy with my work, you can file a complaint.”

Caleb’s steps faltered, his jaw tightening. A cold, simmering rage filled him as he turned to look at the man. He wanted to snap his neck right then and there, but he couldn’t let her see this side of him. Not yet.

So he smiled instead. A cold, calculating smile that sent a chill down Varro’s spine.

“Lieutenant,” Caleb said, his tone deceptively calm. “A word.”

Later that night, Varro didn’t return to his quarters. Whispers spread through the fleet about an "incident" during a routine maintenance check. Caleb made sure it looked like an accident—a malfunction in Varro's own bionic enhancements. No one questioned it, least of all her.

She remained blissfully unaware of the lengths Caleb went to for her.

As the days turned into weeks, Caleb’s obsession deepened. He found himself lingering in her workshop longer than necessary, watching her every move. She would smile at him, her eyes warm and kind, and Caleb would feel something he hadn’t felt since he left home for the DAA. A strange, aching need to keep her close.

“You know,” she said one day, her voice light, “you don’t always have to come here for repairs. You can just... visit, if you want.”

Caleb froze, his gaze locking onto hers. Did she know? Had she figured out how much he craved her presence? But her smile was so genuine, so innocent, that he realized she didn’t suspect a thing.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice steady.

He told her about his family one evening, when the workshop was quiet and the rest of the fleet was asleep. He spoke of the girl he had grown up with, her fiery spirit, and the way she had  carved a place for herself in Linkon.

“She is strong…” Caleb said, his voice low. “Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”

She listened intently, her expression soft. “You must miss her.” she said gently.

Caleb hesitated. Did he? The memory of that girl felt distant, overshadowed by the woman sitting in front of him.

“I don’t think about her much anymore.” he admitted. “There are... other things on my mind.”

He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press.

But Caleb couldn’t stop thinking about her. He thought about the way her hands moved over his arm, the way her laughter echoed in the workshop, the way she seemed to light up the cold, sterile corridors of the fleet.

And when he saw other officers talking to her, laughing with her, something in him snapped. He didn’t like the way they looked at her. He didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting close to her.

Caleb began to manipulate things behind the scenes, ensuring that no one spent too much time with her. He assigned officers to tasks that kept them far away from her workshop. He spread subtle rumors, casting doubt on the intentions of anyone who showed too much interest in her.

She never noticed. She never questioned why the workshop seemed quieter, why fewer people came to her for help.

And Caleb made sure it stayed that way. In the privacy of his quarters, Caleb would sit in the dim light, his bionic hand flexing involuntarily as he thought about her. She was his. She didn’t know it yet, but she belonged to him.

And he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. To keep her close.

Even if it meant destroying anyone who stood in his way.

YOUR POV

Lately, you’d noticed something strange.

The crew didn’t treat you the way they used to. At first, it was subtle—an officer averting his gaze when you greeted him in the corridor, a technician hurriedly ending a conversation when you approached. Then it became more blatant. People gave you a wide berth in the cafeteria, whispers died the moment you entered a room, and the occasional sidelong glances you caught were laced with something unspoken.

Fear.

It didn’t make sense. You’d always prided yourself on being approachable, on treating everyone with the respect they deserved. Sure, your work was demanding, and your position as the fleet’s biomechanical engineer meant you often had to be firm when it came to protocols, but you weren’t cruel. Far from it. You treated the crew like people, not machines.

But now? It was as though you carried some invisible aura that screamed danger.

And then there were the... incidents.

The first time, you brushed it off as coincidence. Lieutenant Gregor had been reassigned to another fleet without warning, just days after he’d mocked you during a team briefing. You’d chalked it up to bad luck or his own poor behavior catching up to him.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Officers and fleet members who dismissed your concerns, who snapped at you during high-stress missions, who made snide comments about your methods—they all disappeared. Some were reassigned to far-off posts, others were suddenly discharged for disciplinary reasons, and a few even suffered freak accidents that left them unfit for duty.

The pattern was impossible to ignore.

The only constant in all of this was the Colonel.

Or just Caleb, as he’d asked you to call him when it was just the two of you.

“Colonel” felt too formal, too distant, he’d said one evening as you adjusted the fine motor controls on his bionic hand. He’d leaned back in the chair, watching you with an intensity that made you feel both self-conscious and oddly comforted.

“Just Caleb,” he’d said, his voice softer than usual. “When we’re alone.”

You hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Over the past few months, he’d become a steady presence in your life, someone you found yourself looking forward to seeing.

And lately, he seemed to be around you more than ever.

It wasn’t just during maintenance sessions anymore. He’d stop by your workshop for no apparent reason, lingering by your workbench as you tinkered with your tools. He’d accompany you on supply runs, his tall frame a protective shadow at your side. When the fleet docked at Skyhaven for shore leave, he invited you to join him for coffee or walks through the market district. He’d cook for you and bring you meals to your residence in Skyhaven, unprompted.

It felt... nice.

You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed his company. Caleb had a dry sense of humor that never failed to catch you off guard, and there was a steadiness to him that you found grounding. Still, there was something about him—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

The way he always seemed to know when someone had upset you. The way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, as if he were memorizing every detail. The way his voice dropped when he said your name, like it was a secret only he was allowed to keep.

You tried to push the thoughts aside. Caleb was your superior, your colonel. He’d never given you any reason to distrust him. And yet...

One evening, as you recalibrated the sensory feedback in his arm, you decided to bring it up.

“Have you noticed how people have been acting lately?” you asked, keeping your tone light as you adjusted a tiny screw. “It’s like they think I’m some kind of... I don’t know, threat or something.”

You glanced up at Caleb, expecting him to shrug it off with one of his usual dry remarks. Instead, his body tensed, just for a moment. If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you might have missed it.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“It’s just a feeling.” you said, turning back to his arm. “People avoiding me, whispering when they think I can’t hear. And then there are the reassignment orders. It’s like anyone who crosses me is... gone.”

There was a long pause.

“It’s nothing.” Caleb said finally. “Tensions have been high since the last Deepspace tunnel exploration. People are on edge.”

You frowned but didn’t press the issue. Maybe he was right. The fleet had been through a lot recently, and stress had a way of making people act strangely. Still, something about his explanation didn’t sit right with you.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “That makes sense.”

But it didn’t. Not entirely.

Still, you knew better than to poke your nose where it didn’t belong. You’d learned long ago that asking too many questions could lead to trouble, and trouble was the last thing you needed.

So you stayed in your lane, focusing on your work and pretending not to notice the way Caleb’s presence seemed to permeate every aspect of your life. You told yourself it was fine, that his increased attention was nothing to worry about. After all, you trusted Caleb. He’d always been kind to you, always treated you with respect. And if his gaze lingered a little too long, if his touch was a little too gentle when he handed you a tool, if his smile held a hint of something darker—you ignored it.

Because Caleb was the only person who hadn’t changed. The only person who still treated you like... you.

The ship was silent at night, the hum of its engines a low, constant thrum beneath your feet as you walked through the dimly lit corridors. You’d been restless, the bitter taste of Lieutenant Reese’s words still fresh in your mind. The new Lieutenant had been transferred to Caleb’s fleet three weeks ago and was already causing tensions within the hierarchy of how things ran in the fleet.

“Guess even engineers need quotas filled, huh? They really let anyone take up space on this ship these days,” he had sneered during a systems check earlier. “Bet you’ve only kept this position because someone up high likes the way you look.”

His smirk had twisted into something crueler as he leaned closer. “Face it. You’re not here because you’re good—you’re here because you’re convenient.”

The humiliation burned as much now as it had then. You clenched your fists at the memory, your footsteps echoing softly against the metal floor. You’d worked too hard, poured too much of yourself into your work, to have it dismissed so callously. And yet, his words lingered like a stain, refusing to be scrubbed away.

You were so lost in thought that you almost didn’t hear the sound.

A muffled grunt. A crash.

And then—a sickening crunch.

You froze. Every instinct screamed at you to turn back, to return to your quarters and pretend you hadn’t heard anything. But your curiosity—or perhaps some misplaced sense of duty—compelled you forward. Quietly, you padded down the corridor, following the noise until you reached a maintenance bay.

What you saw made your breath catch in your throat.

Caleb stood over Lieutenant Reese, who was slumped against the wall, blood smeared across his face. The lieutenant’s arm hung at an unnatural angle, his body trembling as he let out a pained whimper. Caleb’s hand was clamped tightly around Reese’s throat, his grip firm but not enough to choke.

Not yet.

“You thought you could get away with it?” Caleb said, his voice low and steady, each word laced with venom. “Insulting her. Undermining her. Disrespecting her.”

Reese tried to stammer out a response, but Caleb’s hand tightened, silencing him.

“You signed your life away the moment you opened your mouth.” Caleb continued, his tone almost conversational, as if he were discussing something as mundane as a supply requisition. “She’s worth more than you’ll ever be. Do you even understand that?”

Reese’s legs kicked weakly, his breaths ragged. Caleb tilted his head, his expression shifting from cold fury to mild disappointment.

“Pathetic!” he muttered, releasing the lieutenant’s throat. Reese crumpled to the ground, wheezing and coughing. Caleb watched him for a moment, then raised his foot and brought it down sharply on Reese’s hand. The sound of bones breaking echoed in the bay.

The lieutenant went limp, his body a lifeless heap. Caleb crouched beside him, his expression one of disdain. “Weak,” he said, his voice barely audible.

And then he turned his head, his gaze locking onto you.

The moment seemed to stretch, the air thick with tension. Caleb’s expression shifted from cold to shocked in the blink of an eye, but his eyes—the ones that had always been so warm towards you—now seemed empty, calculating.

He stood still for a moment, then took a step toward you, his movements slow, deliberate. His voice was a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade.

“Don’t be scared,” Caleb said softly, though there was an edge to his words. “I’m just protecting you. I would never let anyone hurt you, never.”

Your mind raced, your pulse quickening. You’d seen this side of Caleb before—quiet, intense, protective—but this? This was something else. He was different.

“Protected me?” you repeated, your heart pounding. “From what?”

“From him,” Caleb replied, gesturing to Reese’s motionless form. “He disrespected you. He questioned your worth. He hurt you.”

His gaze softened, and he took another step closer. “I won’t allow that. Not from him. Not from anyone.”

“This—this isn’t right,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” Caleb interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “And I will. You may not see it now, but this is what’s necessary.”

You stared at him, searching for any hint of remorse, but there was none. Only conviction.

“I’ll always protect you.” he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Even when you think you don’t need it. Even when you don’t understand why.”

You took a step back, your mind racing. But even as you tried to process what you’d seen and heard, a cold realization settled over you.

He closed the distance between you, his steps soft but purposeful, until he was standing right in front of you. His face was close, too close, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve been through so much,” he continued, his voice soothing, almost affectionate. “You don’t need to worry about the people who don’t understand you. I’ll always protect you.” He repeats. “Even when you don’t ask for it.”

You swallowed; your throat dry. You should have been afraid, terrified even. But you weren’t. A part of you was frozen, caught in the web of his words, of his gaze. He was so sure of himself, so confident, and it was hard not to believe him when he looked at you like that.

His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“You’re mine,” Caleb whispered, his words not a command but a promise. “No one will ever take you from me. Not ever.”

You should have questioned it, should have asked him what he meant, why he was doing this. But you didn’t. Because in that moment, you realized you couldn’t escape.

Not really.

You knew who Caleb was. You knew what he was capable of. And you knew that the resources of the Farspace Fleet, the professor, and Caleb’s power meant there was no running, no hiding from him. You’d seen what happened to those who crossed you. And now, you didn’t doubt for a second that Caleb was behind it.

But what unnerved you most was the way he looked at you now. Not with malice, not with cruelty, but with something softer. Something almost tender.

“Stay.” he said, his voice coaxing. “I’ll keep you safe. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”

You swallowed hard, your mind screaming at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there. And yet... you nodded.

Because deep down, you knew he was right about one thing.

Caleb would never hurt you.

As long as you stayed.

He would never let anyone touch you. He would never let anyone harm you.

You were his, and he was yours.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you stood there, the weight of his gaze heavy on you.

And as Caleb stepped back, his eyes softening, a reassuring smile tugging at his lips, you knew one thing for certain: you were far past the point of no return.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

[rafesangelita]

♡ babydaddy!rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader go to her first prenatal appointment

warnings: super sweet fluff, pregnancy, descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, reader is emotional (she can’t help it, okay?!!), crying, reassurance, comfort, some brief medical terminology

a/n: creating an official au introduction for this little universe of mine <3 just a reminder that pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this pairing unless stated otherwise in the author’s note!

wc: 1.9k

“ray, i can’t hold it!” you shrieked, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks, “you’re going to make me pee, i’m not kidding!” rafe was currently tickling your sides, your once hysterical laughter soon turning into breathless pants as he continued ignoring your pleas for him to stop. “aw, come on..” it wasn’t until the smile dropped from your face that he took the hint and got off of you, quickly helping you up to your feet so you could run to the bathroom.

you found yourself doing that a lot more now, your ability to ‘hold it in’ was long gone by this point. that, along with crying over the smallest things like rafe rubbing your tummy despite you not really showing yet, his attentiveness and care never failing to make you sob in his arms. thankfully, your morning sickness wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. now that you were approximately eight weeks, sailing was becoming more smooth, both you and rafe finally catching a small break from the wrath of your raging hormones.

you never got angry in the first few weeks, but annoyed and irritated? definitely. a few times you had to flash rafe a warning smile before he could take the hint that you didn’t want any of the food he was trying to feed you— the smell of certain meats making you feel queasy. “do you want me to projectile vomit into your lap?” you’d ask sweetly, your eyes slightly wide as rafe frantically shook his head before taking the forkful of steak away from your lips.

he’d been a good sport about absolutely everything. even now as he helped you out of his truck, rafe was quick to sling your purse over his shoulder, his hands staying glued to your hips until your pretty pedicured feet softly landed on the ground. you wasted no time in scheduling your doctor’s appointment the same fated day you and rafe looked down at that positive pregnancy test. you couldn’t believe a whole month had already flown by that quick.

“i’m a little nervous..” your whispered, taking rafe’s arm with your own, the height difference easily making you feel comforted as he held your hand. “ah, don’t be, i read that they’re just gonna run a few tests and ask you some questions, that’s all, sweetheart.” oh, you could cry right now. scratch that, you were crying right now. “you looked up how my first appointment would go?” rafe’s head shot down as soon as he heard your crying voice, both of you stopping just right outside of the doctor’s office.

“hey..” he turned, cupping your cheeks, “baby, i didn’t mean to make you sad.” he stroked the side of your face, thumbing away any stray tears that managed to roll down your cheeks. “no, you didn’t make me sad, it’s just— you’ve been so good to me, even before all of this, i just feel so lucky to have you. you’re so sweet, and you’re so helpful, and you even put up with me when i have an attitude sometimes, and—” rafe stopped your rambling when another couple came walking up to the entrance.

flashing awkward smiles at each other, rafe scooted you over before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “what did i tell you when you were panicking, flipping through that calendar book of yours?” you laughed at the memory. you were so scared that day. “you said you were going to take care of us.. of me.” rafe nodded, lifting your chin so you could look up at him. “i meant that, y/n. there’s nothing to be scared of, alright? everything that i’m doing for you isn’t even the tip of the iceberg for what you deserve, you understand that?” you blinked, wrapping your arms around his waist as you two stood there in silence for a few moments.

rafe held you until you were ready to go inside, your boyfriend holding the door open for you as you were hit with chilly air and the smell of antiseptic. “i’ll get the sign-in sheet, just go ahead and sit down, baby.” you listened, clasping your hands together in your lap as you took a look around the other women in the waiting room. everyone seemed so calm, like there really wasn’t anything to worry about. you figured you’d just been overthinking on your way over here, worrying yourself to death for no reason.

rafe came back with a clipboard, quickly filling out your information and handing it over to you when there was a section he didn’t know the information to. “hey, how about we get something to eat after this? we could get those subs you like down at the sandwich shop.” it was as if rafe read your mind, a small smile forming on your lips before you pecked his cheek. “with those spicy kettle cooked chips?” rafe hummed, taking the clipboard back from your hands. “yeah, whatever you want.”

you two waited for your name to be called out for no longer than fifteen minutes, your heart dropping to your stomach once a woman in pink scrubs smiled at you brightly. rafe could tell by the slight shake of your hands that you were back at square one. “look, everything is alright, let’s go check on this little one, yeah?” you swallowed nervously, allowing rafe to guide you inside the double doors, his large palm resting in the small of your back as you two followed the nurse to your room. the walls were painted with all kinds of animals, the woman who was going to do your ultrasound welcoming both of you in.

“hello! how are we feeling today?” she helped you up on top of the chair. “i’m on edge a little bit..” you told her truthfully, your eyes finding the probe for your ultrasound. “aw, that’s completely normal, i promise you you’re in great hands. is this dad?” she glanced over at rafe, the poor man turning red at the name. "yes, that's me.. dad.." the nurse laughed, grabbing a hospital gown from one of the cabinets. "still really new, huh? is this your first?" both you and rafe nodded. "oh, how exciting!" she squealed.

"are you aware of what we're going to do for this first visit?" rafe grabbed the chair from the corner of the room, moving it up to where he could sit next to you. "not really." you shook your head, letting rafe's hand envelope your own. "so even though the pregnancy tests you've taken are positive, we're still going to draw blood and run a few tests just to be sure," she started, "i'm going to be asking you a few medical history questions, checking your vitals to make sure everything with you is okay, and we should also be finding out your due date today!"

you took everything in, your tummy fluttering in excitement at the prospect of getting to find out when you were having your baby. "does that sound okay?" she began typing something on her computer as you hummed. "alrighty, first and foremost; when was the date of your last missed menstrual cycle?" you wracked your brain for an answer, trying your best to remember what your calendar book said. "uhm.. i don't know the exact day but i wanna say it's been five weeks since i found out i was pregnant, and before that i was late three weeks." she typed quickly as you spoke.

the questions continued as she took your vitals, along with recording your height and weight. “are you taking any prenatal vitamins?” you were about to say yes before rafe blurted out. “she’s taking the best ones on the market.” he smiled, both you and the nurse laughing as he took the bottle out of your purse. “yeah, those work wonders,” she agreed, “remember a healthy diet is also key to keep both you and the baby healthy. plenty of water, too.” rafe made a mental note to start bringing your stanley everywhere.

the nurse took your blood, instructing you to change into the hospital gown before she left with the viles to take them for testing. “i think she’s gonna put that thing inside of me.” you pointed at the probe on the side of the ultrasound machine, a shiver running down your spine as you sat back down on the chair. rafe couldn’t help but snap some pictures of you, his smile reaching ear to ear as you posed for him. “i hope she doesn’t take long, i’m hungry.” you pouted. just then, the nurse came back in with a some papers in her arms.

“so just as we expected already, your bloodwork came back positive, and everything else looks really good. all we have to do now is your pelvic exam and your ultrasound to get that due date!” you settled into your chair, stirring uncomfortably as she placed your feet onto the stirrups. rafe was watching everything intently, making sure you weren’t in pain or anything as she began your exam. thankfully, she was making small talk with both you and rafe, asking you two questions as well as giving you advice since you were first time parents.

“y’all are going to be just perfect, i promise you that. loving parents create happy households, and by the looks of you two, your home will be overflowing with happiness and love.” she smiled, finishing up your appointment with a satisfied hum. “everything looks good! although your blood pressure is a little bit up, that comes from the nerves you felt earlier, so we definitely want to be more careful with that, but everything else, baby included, looks healthy.” you sighed in relief, your shoulders relaxing as rafe nodded in understanding.

“when will we be able to actually see an ultrasound?” you asked, kind of sad that you didn’t get to see the little bean today. the nurse took her gloves off before checking something off on her clipboard. “i was actually hoping you’d be able to come in two weeks from now? we should be able to see the contraction of a heartbeat since you’ll be ten weeks by then.” you gasped softly. “oh, i would love that!” you nodded frantically, looking up at rafe just to confirm. “yeah, that sounds amazing.” he smiled, stroking your arm before the nurse adjusted the glasses on her nose.

you couldn’t help but feel antsy because of how excited you were, everything hitting you all at once. you were really going to have a baby. with rafe especially, you couldn’t imagine anyone else in his position. “well, i’m going to go set that up then and print out your overview for the appointment. you could go ahead and change back into your clothes and once your done the receptionist will have your paperwork to take home.” you and rafe thanked her and bid her goodbye before she stepped out.

you took everything in once it was just you and rafe, both of you sitting in silence as you gathered your thoughts. now that all you wanted to do was see that sonogram, you knew these next couple of weeks were going to get here agonizingly slow. “let’s get your clothes on.” you let rafe dress you back up, the two of you making your way up front and getting the papers. you were jumping excitedly on your way out once you saw the due date, rafe taking his camera out and getting what felt like the hundredth photo of you today.

“i can’t wait to find out the gender, we’re going to have the cutest nursery!” you squealed excitedly nearly tripping over your feet before rafe rushed over and got you in the truck. “so how about those sandwiches?”

[slvttyplum]

being roomies with a guy wasn’t what you had in mind, but what could you do when he was the only one offering the deal you wanted?

a bright smile on his face as he folds his arms over his chest, leaning against the marble counter, his eyes trailing your body.

“of course i can do that for you; don’t worry about paying a deposit; i got you.”

and with that, you were eight months deep into rooming with suguru, only catching each other for a couple of minutes every other day.

“what’s up? you hungry?” his hair tied in a messy bun with his shirt off and his pajama pants hanging low.

ugh… put some clothes on.

offering you dinner every time you came into the kitchen, his eyes dropping to your ass when you passed through to get to the pantry.

he didn’t know why, but he just couldn’t stop looking at you every time he got the chance; you were his type to a T.

suguru thought that was all it was ever going to be, just looking at you and exchanging a few words before you left the apartment or went into your room.

until he heard something, something he was never meant to hear.

when you did your “activities,” you made sure to be respectful; sometimes it even felt weird to do it when someone else was in the house, but you had needs. keeping it quiet, not risking a peep slipping through.

this time you got a little bit too carried away, but you just couldn’t stop. one hand working in between your thighs, your fingers pumping in and out of you at a good steady rhythm, while the other rubbed over your body, and suguru was there to hear it all.

suguru slowly walked to your bedroom door, leaning against the wall by it with his arms folded, red smeared all over his face as his heart raced, the sound pounding in his ears.

the walls were thin, the only downside of this place, but suguru found himself smiling at the fact he could hear you.

trying to imagine what position you were in, if you were using your fingers or a toy, the lewd faces you were doing, if you were building a sweat at this point, questions flying through his head.

he felt like a creep listening in just a few feet away, which he totally was, but your voice was keeping him there.

suguru loves your voice; it sent tingles down his spine every time you would speak, even if it was just a single "no, thank you." when asking you if you wanted dinner.

it was so soothing, so soothing, in fact, that he would purposely prolong the small talk just to hear your voice bounce off the walls of the apartment, his mouth salivating while he listened to you.

keep going, please.

your moans weren’t loud, but they could be heard; they were very distinct, but he could still make out your sweet voice, and that turned him on more than it should have.

unfolding his arms and grabbing for your door handle, if he had to listen to your moans for another minute, he was going to combust; he was going to go fucking insane.

sliding his hand off the handle and putting a knuckle to the door, calling your name as he knocked lightly, loud enough for you to hear.

“… i cooked; did you want anything?”

his eyes slowly looking over to the kitchen that was lightly lit, closing his eyes trying to come up with another excuse, while you quickly scattered, licking your fingers and throwing on the shorts beside your bed.

fast walking to your door and opening it, a bright smile on your face, trying to act normal.

"im fine, suguru; i already ate." your eyes sliding from his beautiful face to his body, once again shirtless with pajama pants hanging low, showing his v-line, but something else caught your eye.

suguru mirrored you, sliding his eyes over your figure and your disheveled look, feeling his dick growing more, his cheeks flushing as he slowly puts his hand over his bulge, making eye contact with you.

a lump was caught in his throat, his chest rising and falling so fast like he just came back from a run.

he needed you, or he was going to go fucking insane.

"do you want to fuck?"

[bunny-jpeg]

the customer is always right

simon 'ghost' riley

tags: smut/pwp, plug!reader, biker!simon, rough sex, semi-public sex, rough wall sex, mean!simon, mentions & use of recreational drugs, dub-con (!!!), breeding kink, dark themes

a/n: wow that was something!

simon knew when the trust his gut. it was what kept him alive for so long. good things didn't come to those who tried to over-think things and just like emotion take over. problem was, sometimes the gut wasn't right and simon may go a little overboard.

moments like that were also what had kept him alive for this long. but maybe he was overacting when he got in your face, little plastic baggie in his hand (damn thing had hearts printed on it for christ sake). he may have been a touch too mean.

"ya fuckin' bitch." he snapped, "tryin' to over-charge me. is that what they teach ya nowadays?"

"what the fuck are you talking about?" you snapped back, "you asked and you received. all of them are there. the weed, the xanax, it's all there." you pointed to the baggie, "and if you don't like it then take a hike." and turned away, but you didn't get far before simon grabbed you by the shoulder and hit you up against the wall.

"nah, nah. not very good customer service are ya. jeez, i remember i at least had the decency to please and thank you when i sold." he towered over you, much stronger than you could ever. your forehead hit against the brick wall and you felt tears in your eyes.

"simon... c'mon." you said, "i'm not fucking around here." and yelped when you felt his hands go up your skirt. his large, rough hand grasped your ass and gave it a firm squeeze.

"c'mon, what? that you're a cheat and a liar. thinkin' that you can pout that fat bottom lip and no one would be counting what you shaved off? i hope you know there are worse men out there than me. fuck with them and you'll be found in pieces." he pressed into you, his hard on in his jeans rubbed against you behind.

"please, simon." you said.

"shh, shh. i'm tryin' to right a wrong here. the customer is always right, right? ya only give the best to those who are payin' and since you tried to scam me out. only fair that i get a little return on what i paid for. and if it isn't drugs, well, i'll have to find somethin' else." he pulled your panties down and kept you against the wall by the back of your neck.

he got his cock out of his jeans and rubbed his cock up against your ass. he exhaled deeply, "love the smell of good pussy before i light up for the evenin'." he chuckled, "ah, that's is. mmm, should be selling this. but, actually, maybe i should keep it to myself. yeah?"

you didn't know what yo say. you had to keep quiet. you were currently in the alleyway between the biker bar that simon owned and a convenience store that got a fair bit of foot traffic.

"yeah, keep ya on my arm at the bar. better yet, get ya off this dealer shit and back into the kitchen. measure flour and sugar rather than weed and cocaine." he groaned as he kept his cock throb as he held it against you behind. slow up and down movements against you. he still kept you pinned.

"simon."

"ah, ya want it, doll." he chuckled, "ya want me. i can smell it on ya." he sniffed for dramatic effect as he rubbed up against you further, "mmm. ya like that." his voice was dangerous as he sank into your cunt.

easy fit, maybe a little bruising. but, simon would kiss it all better with the tip of his cock. maybe rub some of his cum against the bruises for good measure. you moaned against the wall and your short nails dragged across the brick wall.

he moved against you quickly. his pace was bruising and it made you pant heavily against the wall. he slapped your ass and then struck his fingers in your mouth when he felt you got too loud.

"keep ya home, keep ya with the brats. better than this. i can handle it all, you just stay home." he moved against you, "mama don't gotta think, she just gotta handle the home, right?" he felt your cunt squeeze around his cock and he chuckled to himself as he moved against you faster.

you moaned around his fingers and he only pushed into you further. you choked out a noise as he held you jaw, still keeping you quiet. his cock hit against all the right spots and it made you have spots in your vision. the feeling was so strong that it made you unable to fully process what was going on. how it felt to be fucked this way, with a man so much larger and so much more terrifying.

"that's it. won't sell ya for a quick buck. only i'll keep this greedy pussy filled right?" his pace continued and you were on another planet. rationality died in your head and replaced with the wet feeling between your legs.

being manhandled like this, subjected to his brutal paces. there was little affection, but simon would make it up to you. it's not going to all take in one night. he'd need to work his achy cock into you a few more times. he felt the heat in his body as he fucked you.

you moaned around his fingers and let him use you as he pleased. your legs were shaky but he kept you upright. you moaned around his digits.

"that's it beautiful. wow, this is the customer service i like to see." he purred into your ear as he continued to rut against you. he knew you weren't paying attention to a damn thing he was saying. but, still you felt good. nice cunt for him to fuck.

"simon." you tried to say around his fingers. but he kept fucking you like a man on a mission. your eyes rolled back when you felt the climax hit you like a train. your cunt clamped down on his cock and you finished around him.

you slumped further against the grimy brick wall and you cursed when he took his fingers out of your mouth. he slapped your ass and looked out of the alley as he fucked you with a heavier pace. his hips slammed against your ass.

"fuck, baby. look at ya." he groaned as his pace kept up. he moved against you, fucked you up against he wall like he owned you. he kept his pace steady as he felt the climax in his gut. he kept fucking you eagerly and felt the throb in his core.

a few more heavy thrusts and he shoved he took his cock out to the tip, but still came inside of you. like spurts of cum hit against the deepest parts of you. he gripped your ass and said, "did ya a favour and pulled you a little. still got my boys in ya though." his accent heavy due to the lust, "keep 'em safe will ya."

you were barely focused on the roughness of the brick under your cheek.

he pulled out and got his sticky cock into his jeans. he zipped them up and you nervously got your panties back over your ass. globs on his cum stained the front of your panties.

you were on shaky legs as he took you by the arm. you looked up at him and felt meek. you felt conflicted, your core still shivering. your bottom lip wobbled as he rubbed your eyes.

"ah, i'm here, doll." he said softly, "why don't we get in your car and remeasure everythin'. seems like baby girl doesn't know how to do her measurments." he patted your behind and gave a smile under his mask.

you had no words, you just got fucked in an alley way and your mind was still a tangled knot of yarn. you leaned on him further for support.

"don't worry, i'm here now. and we'll get them just right." he yanked you a little harder then you hopes as he said, "no time to waste beautiful. you better not have messed up too many of the measurements, or else we'll have to right those wrongs all over again. because why, doll?"

you whimpered, "the customer's always right?"

"yes he is."

[saintclay]

1) the first thing that you find strange (other than this whole dimension hopping thing) is that your chat isn't actually visible. they're not audible either (except for when someone sends a TTS message. those are audible inside your head). instead it feels like you're just... aware of everything that your chat is doing and saying.

its a strange sensation, but you get used to it.

2) from what your chat tells you, you surmise that your stream is still being broadcast. you're not entirely sure what would happen if the stream went down, but you're not super eager to find out. your gut tells you that the answer is 'nothing good'

you're not fully sure exactly where the stream is actually being broadcast from. you're also not sure if you want to know the answer to that question.

3) before you dimension-hopped your streams tended to average around 20 viewers. from what you've gathered, that number seems to have stayed the same. from what your chat says, you've deduced that they see you from a fixed point about a foot behind your head (diagonally). 4) people tend to think you're a lot more observant than you are. you don't notice shit half the time, you just have the advantage of a few dozen extra eyes on everything you're doing.

after the first few times you got sick enough of explaining it to people that you bought some costume jewellery and started telling people that it was a family heirloom, attuned to you by blood, that let you run multiple streams of thought at once. anyone who cares enough to ask normally buys that.

5) chat convinced you to join a low-level adventuring group. your cousin used to do archery professionally, so you bought a crossbow and agreed.

turns out, you were NOT cut out for adventure. like, at all. at least, not when you started. but you could cook a decent meal (thanks to chat's help), so the group let you stay until you actually got decent with your crossbow.

you still didn't like it very much. you parted ways with your group after the tavernkeeper who hired them found out that the reason his barmaid wasn't coming into work was because she got mugged. they stop by every now and then and it keeps re-affirming your decision to bow out of that whole 'adventure' thing. last you heard they were going off to fight a dragon.

6) it isn't uncommon for you to wake up and have your chat inform you that they researched things while you were asleep. it is, however, rare that you can actually do anything with that research.

you keep telling chat that it doesn't matter if they know how penicillin was made if you're not sure if penicillin can grow here. you've made trying to figure that out into a side project to get them to stop hassling you

7) your stream had (and still has) three people who have mod status; BlueLuna, Devilsound, and taiLwhip (yes, spelled like that). they're the only ones where you can tell that they're talking. the rest of chat feels almost like a single entity to you.

(you chose your mods for a reason, Luna and taiL because they're your friends, and Devil because they've been in your chat since day one. from what you can tell, they've been keeping your chat in order)

8) you want to go home you want to go home you want to go home you want to go home you want to go home you want to go home

as far as you can tell, there is no way to get home

9) someone in your chat apparently brews alcohol as a 'hobby'. they seem intent on teaching you, with the reasoning that, at the very least, fermentation can't be too different here.

you'd rather not know if there is a different way of making wine here, honestly.

10) you keep waiting for it to get better. for the homesickness to fade

it doesn't.

[littleslaywrites]

Can you write about reader giving hotch the silent treatment, but it turns into a smut

silent treatment | aaron hotchner x bau!reader

nsfw, mdni 

summary: when aaron yells at you after a case, you give him the silent treatment, but he’s determined to get you to talk.

word count: 1.9k

cw: smut, dom!hotch, brat!reader, spanking, unprotected sex, p in v, hair pulling, use of "good girl", slight size kink

You knew Aaron hadn’t yelled at you because he was mad. He was scared, worried about your safety when you took what he called an “unnecessary risk”. You disagreed completely, justifying the risk with the fact it saved the victim from further harm. Besides, you weren’t hurt beyond a mild concussion, not even having to go to the hospital.

Even though you knew he was just upset over the thought of losing you, you were still embarrassed about the public scolding. It’s not a great feeling to have your boyfriend reprimand you in front of your coworkers.

Rather than arguing back, you stayed silent. You knew you’d lose if you tried to defend yourself. So you simply stared at him, watching him tire himself out on his tirade. 

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” he said when he was done chewing you out.

You only shook your head in response, turning around to get in the car. The whole team was tense, knowing your silence does nothing to calm Hotch down. You caught Emily and Morgan exchanging a look, signaling the awkwardness the upcoming jet ride would bring.

Hotch got into the driver’s seat, meeting your silence. He wasn’t going to chase you, not in front of his team. You two were locked in a battle. Even on the plane, you opted to read a book, putting on your headphones when you thought he might try to talk to you.

Upon landing, you cut in front of him, getting into your shared car. You almost got in the driver’s seat, knowing it’d make him even madder, but you knew you could only bother him so much before he snapped.

“How long are you going to keep this up?” he asks when you pull into your driveway. Instead of answering, you walk into the house, not waiting for him behind you. Usually you’d enter together, falling into your usual routine of unpacking and relaxing. He immediately notices this change, and storms in behind you. You had a time advantage, as he had to close the garage door and grab his bag. By the time he’s inside, he can hear the shower running. Trying the bathroom door, he realizes you’ve locked it. You never lock the door.

While you’re trying to cool off in the shower, Aaron is sitting on the bed, not even bothering to change, only taking off his jacket and throwing it over the dresser. He’s simply fuming waiting for you to emerge. He’d make you talk, no matter what it takes. 

When you come out, you’re wrapped only in a towel. You intend on walking past him to get to the closet, but he grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks. 

“You better start talking before I have to make you.”

You know his threat is empty, and tear your arm away to move past him. 

“Y/N,” he says, in that commanding voice you like a little too much. 

Before you can get the closet door open, he comes behind you, pressing himself against you. Your breath hitches, both from surprise and the feeling of how much larger he is physically. He’s pulling out all the stops, knowing just what’ll make you comply. 

“This little stunt you’re pulling stops now.” His words are spoken in your ear as he leans against the door, trapping you between his arms. 

You almost decide not to be mad at him in that moment, but remembering the lecture he gave you earlier makes you think he needs a little more teasing. You slide down the wall, crouching down to escape him.

Hotch knows he must be beet red at this point. You’re defying him in a way you’ve never done before. You hadn’t disobeyed him before or after you started dating, always respecting his authority as your boss. Your stubbornness was endearing when it wasn’t targeted toward him, but now he was clenching his jaw in anger. 

You don’t make it far before he grabs you, turning you around to face him. His hands are on your waist, gripping you tightly. Leaning his forehead against yours, you can feel his heavy breathing. His clear anger brings a smile to your face. He may have physical power over you, but you have control over all his emotions in the moment. 

He doesn’t speak for a second. You can see his brain working to figure out an interrogation method that’ll get you to talk. Running out of ideas, he pulls the towel off of your body, letting it drop to the floor. He reaches around, grabbing your ass and bringing you closer to him. You can feel his breath on your eyelashes. 

Even standing completely exposed in front of him, you’re still not satisfied, staying silent to urge him on. His hands are all over you, groping shamelessly. You refuse to give him even a whimper. You’re not even looking at him, staring straight ahead. Taking a hand away from your body, he grabs your hair and pulls it so you make eye contact with him. Meeting his eyes, you feel his pupils burning into yours. His anger is visible in his gaze, studying you for any sign of remorse. Seeing none, he turns you around, pushing you so your face down on the bed with your feet planted on the ground. For the first time since you started your silent treatment, you let him control you, not moving from the position he pushed you down into.

He presses his hips into the back of yours, and you can feel his hardness. Another smirk comes across your face. You love the effect you have on him. He grinds into you a few times, before reaching around your waist and pulling you back up. 

“Is this what it’ll take to make you talk?” he says, hands moving to play with one of your breasts. “Are you going to make me fuck the attitude out of you?”

Getting no response, he manhandles you onto the bed so you’re on your knees and he’s behind you. Aaron gently wraps a hand around your neck, nipping at your shoulder. He’s biting, marking you up in the places he knows your shirt will cover. 

His hands leave you, and you hear the sound of his belt coming off. You don’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him, but you can assume from the pause that he’s taking his pants off. When he wraps his arms back around you, you realize it’s not just his pants, but all of his clothes. Teasingly, you move your hips back, grinding on his now unclothed crotch. 

He holds back a groan, not wanting to give in to your games. Drawing his hand back, he spanks you— once, twice, three times. 

You’re also fighting your own sounds, biting your lip to choke back a whimper. Your face is pressed into the mattress now, arms weak from the impact. If this is your punishment, you might never speak willingly again. You try not to wiggle your hips too much, still trying to hide your pleasure. 

Aaron isn’t fooled, thumbing at your slit, feeling the wetness that’s gathered. The mattress mutes your heavy breathing, but the way you clench around nothing at the simple touch is sign enough of the effect he’s having on you. 

“You can’t hide from me, baby,” he says, the only warning before he pushes into you fully. 

A shiver running through your body, you moan, the first noise you’ve given him all night. He chuckles, knowing you’re defeated. The full feeling has you forgetting any reason to be mad at him. Your arms are near useless now, weak as he slowly drags in and out of you.

He’s thrusting slow and deep, at a pace he knows will keep you right on the edge. Gripping your hips, he pulls you so close that your back arches mindlessly. 

Leaning down so his chest is pressed against your back, you can feel his form. You imagine how he must look, panting above you. Your breath quivers, focusing on the way you can feel every detail of his cock at his measured pace.

Still too proud to beg, you begin pushing your hips back into him, searching for more stimulation. He knows you too well, remembering just the speed that’ll leave you wanting more.

Sensing your need for release, he grabs ahold of your hair, pulling you up to whisper in your ear. “Tell me what you want.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you consider your options. You’re still mad at him, not over the shame of his biting words. But with one hand tangled in your hair and the other squeezing your hip, you let go of your dignity.

“Aaron,” you whine out, still gathering words.

He tugs on your hair, a signal that it’s not enough. 

“Please, I can’t–” You’re trying to form full sentences, but the way he impales your sweet spot has your brain nearly blank.

“Use your words, y’n,” he says, punctuating your name with a sharp thrust. 

“I need to cum.” If not for his hands supporting you, you’d be flat on the bed. “Please let me, Aaron.”

“Only good girls get to cum,” he grunts into your ear, stopping his thrusts to simply grind against you, “and you’ve been bad today.”

You cry out as he stills. “Please, I’ll be good. I’ll be your good girl,” you beg.

He starts to thrust into you again, content with being back in control. He removes a hand from your hair, pushing you down by the back of your head so your knees aren’t even supporting you anymore. Your whole body is flat, hips pushing back into him as he speeds up. 

You can hear every groan and grunt as he presses his body on top of yours. You’re too focused on the warmth in your stomach to care about the moans you’re producing. Again, you have no words to say, but this time it’s not by choice. Aaron’s cock feels too good for you to have any thoughts other than him.

When you start fluttering around him, he knows you’re close. Determining that you’ve had enough punishment, he keeps the pace, reaching around to grab a breast that’s been pressed into the bed. 

Closing your eyes, you let your release overtake you. One of your hands grabs at the sheets, searching for an anchor as you get lost in your orgasm. You don’t realize it in your haze, but you’re calling out Aaron’s name. The sound of your voice and the feeling of your walls grasping for him brings him to his own orgasm, stilling as he fills you up. 

He collapses on top of you for a second, comforting you with his weight. Even as he rolls off of you, you stay face down, still recovering. He has to turn you over himself and pull you into a tight embrace for you to come back to reality.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he says, reminding you of the reason he yelled at you in the first place. Just annoyed enough to not say anything, you simply curl in closer to his chest. 

“Are you sorry for your behavior?” he asks.

Sensing an opportunity, you grin into his chest and shake your head.

Sighing, he turns you over so he’s on top of you again. Both of you are more than aware you’ll keep this up for as long as you need. As Aaron captures you in a deep kiss, you prepare yourself for a long night.

[lostinlovingrevery]

"You know how animals have displays to attract mates? Logan is no different. When hes in the mood, hell puff himself out to you, do things he thinks youll like. I mean, i suppose avg males do this too but logan gets repetitive over it until you notice. "

This is too cute 🥹 Could I maybe request a drabble based off this? (Sorry if you already got a message similar to this, my wifi is being weird and I can't tell if it actually sent lol)

A/N: Thank you for this ask!! Aren't drabbles supposed to be 100 words? IDK, but this is more of cute fanfic with 1400+ word count! I hope this is what you wanted!

I imagined a F!Reader but I didn't use any pronouns or describe readers body so it could be GN!

I pictured trilogy! Logan too bc I felt like he was the one most likely to act like this honestly LOL. I tried to use the 4 things you'd see when it comes to mating displays - Looks, Strength, Food, and Gifts. (I just kept picturing him like those birds from birds of paradise video)

Courtship Rituals

Warnings: Just Logan being needy ;), Suggestive ending ;) ;)

It’s been an extremely busy day. 

Aside from the meetings, the classes, chores, and various other activities that had taken up the schedule, it left little time for you to be with Logan. 

Which he was totally fine with by the way. He knew you were busy. 

Still, he’d stop by your study. “You done yet bub?” he’d ask, as he put his palms on your desk, seemingly puffing out his chest, the muscles of his arms bulging out as if he were flexing them. It was hard for you to not get distracted by him, especially since he was wearing a white t-shirt that fit very tightly around his torso; You swore you could make out his pecs through them. He actually looked really good since you’ve seen him early this morning- still asleep in bed. His hair looked especially good today, and he trimmed his beard to look a little neater. Not to mention he had on those jeans that fit his ass snuggly - the ones that you can never stop staring at. 

God he’s so hot

You couldn’t allow yourself to be distracted though- Charles absolutely needed you to finish some research by tonight, so you couldn’t stop. 

“Sorry baby,” You said sympathetically, “It’s gonna be a bit. I’m busy today y’know?” 

You felt so guilty the way he visibly deflated, you reached out to grab his hand. “Later, ok?” You kissed the space between his knuckles, and he forced a smile, before leaving you alone to do your work. 

Later you were in your classroom, getting things set up and preparing for your next class as you write your lesson plan on the chalkboard, you happened to turn your head to the window- where Logan was conveniently outside your classroom window in the yard, working out with nothing but his sweatpants on and his shirt off. You could see the sweat glistening off his skin, once again- you felt an incredible urge to go be with him, but you couldn’t- since your next class is in 20 minutes. 

You went to the window and watched him, where he spotted you eventually after he finished doing a set of pushups- you lost count at 50. He greeted you with a small wave of his hand, a smirk plastered on his face. You gave him a polite wave back, and blew a kiss to him. He waved for you to come out, but you shook your head- tapping your wrists and pointing to the classroom with your thumb. He shrugged, and nodded understandingly- but deflated once again. 

During lunch, you stopped into the kitchen to grab something to eat, finding Logan in there already. He looked up at the sound of you entering, and smiled. 

“Was just about to get you. Made you lunch.” He says, turning around and presenting the plate- one of your favorite lunches. Grilled cheese (Extra cheesy of course with 3 different types of cheeses) Homemade fries with sea salt, and a small cup of tomato soup. Your stomach growled loudly.

“Lo!” You smiled taking the plate, “That’s so sweet, thank you-” You reached down to take a bite of a fry, your eyes rolled back and groaned dramatically. “Oh that’s SO good.” You reached up to peck him on the lips, as he smiled proudly down at you. He figured, if his impressive muscles and body weren’t enough to sway you away from your work - then this would.

The way to anyone's heart - food. 

“You done for the day? Maybe we could spend some time-”

“Professor!” 

The sound of Rogues voice came into the room, distracting you and Logan. “Hi, sorry- you said you would help me out with my science project?” She asks you, you swallowed your fry and nodded. 

“I did, just give me a moment-” You inform her, turning back to Logan who’s deadpan expression made you want to laugh. “Sorry sweetheart, later?” You ask, pecking his lips again with a loud smooch.

“Yeah, sure.” He nods, his very best to not show his disappointment, watching you walk away with Rogue- and the plate of food in your hands. 

You were talking to Jean in the hall, complaining about all the work you had to do. Some of it your fault- stuff you had been procrastinating, but some of it just piled on suddenly. Not to mention it was your turn on the roster to cook everyone dinner, and you had tons of laundry to do- another thing you put off. 

Logan came around the corner, his arm sliding across your waist as he kissed your cheek. “Hey sweetheart.” He says lowly to you in that deep timber voice that drives you crazy- and he knows it too. He gave a courteous nod to Jean. 

“What you got there Logan?” Jean asks, noticing he was holding something behind his back. He pulled his arm from his back, revealing to you a bouquet of wildflowers. You gasped.

“Lo, these are beautiful!” You smiled taking them. Jean chuckled, 

“I’ll leave you lovebirds alone.” She teased, turning and walking away, leaving you and Logan alone. He braced an elbow against the wall looking down at you as you admired and sniffed the wildflowers. 

“Thought you’d like them.” He says. You beamed up at him, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I was thinking…” His other hand went to your hip, as he straightened his back out- practically towering over you. “If you got some free time now we should-”

“Hey! You busy?” Scott interrupted, pointing at you, then noticing the flowers, and Logans demeanor over you. Not to mention the absolute scowl Logan was giving him. “Uh, nevermind-”

You laughed, playfully hitting Logans arm. “What do you need Scott?” 

Logan let out an exasperated sigh. He loved you, but boy do you always jump at the chance to help someone out… Guess that’s why he loved you. You were always great at lending a hand. You, however, have been terrible at picking up signals. He dropped his arm from the wall, stepping back to give you space. Tuning Scotts annoying voice out and looking down at you with adoration. It wasn’t just the sex that he was wanting- he was just feeling needy for you today, but you were too busy and had a lot on your plate.

He took the bouquet from you, telling you he’ll put them in a vase while Scott stole you away from him. Rejected twice, and stolen away from him twice. It did not boost his ego. 

Finally, the evening came, and you were in bed, relaxing with a book. You had changed out of your clothes and into Logan's shirt, while Logan was in the shower, the steam and scent of soap wafting through the bathroom door of your shared bedroom. You heard the tap turn off, and you closed your book, setting it on your bedside table- next to the vase of flowers he got you- as you waited for him. 

He came out, towel wrapped low on his hips, droplets of water dripping down his hairy chest and torso, and he looked surprised to see you in bed. “Oh, hey.” He greets. “Didn’t know you when you’d be back.” He mutters under his breath.

“Came in just as you got in the shower.” You smiled, tilting your head and crossing your arms, noticing his slight attitude. He nodded, turning to pull out some clothes. “Logan.” You called out, and he turned his head. You brought your hand up and beckoned him with your finger. 

His grumpy face disappeared and he smiled, turning back to you and walking to the bed, dropping the towel to the floor as he kneeled onto the bed and climbed between your legs, his arms wrapping around your waist and upper back. 

You brought your hands up into his hair, intertwining your fingers through the wet locks and you giggled. “You were missing me today weren’t you?” You smiled. His expression went soft, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his lips upturned to a small smile. 

“Yeah. I was.” He says softly. 

“You were like a peacock. You were totally strutting your stuff around me.” You teased. He rolled his eyes. 

“Didn’t work clearly.” He mutters. 

“So you admit it!” You laughed. “Cause since when did you work out outside my classroom window?”

A deep blush came across his face as he became embarrassed, looking away, before looking up at you with big pleading eyes. You hummed, leaning forward and giving him a soft kiss that he quickly deepened, pressing himself deeper against your body.

Parting with a gasp, you ran your thumb across his cheek. “For the record, I missed you too.”

[covenofagatha]

The Mile High Club

Jennifer Barkley x reader

When flying back to Washington, DC with your boss, Jennifer Barkley, she comes up with an interesting way to relax when there's some turbulence

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: fingering, semi-public sex

“Ugh, why are there so many people here?” your boss, Jennifer Barkley, scoffs when the driver drops you off at the Indianapolis airport. 

After spending the last six weeks in Pawnee, Indiana on Bobby Newport’s campaign for city counsel, you and her are finally getting to go home back to Washington, DC. It’s been the first time in her career that she’s lost a campaign, but even she has to admit that Leslie Knope and Ben Wyatt did a really good job. 

It was the most engaged in a campaign you’ve ever seen Jen, the most challenged, and you’ve been working with her for about a year now. It was exciting to watch her strategize like this, hot even. You’ve always had a thing for powerful, older women, and that was the definition of Jen Barkley. She oozes confidence and she’s not afraid of how good at her job she is. 

The two of you have a pretty good relationship — you’re actually the longest assistant she’s ever had, so clearly you’re doing something right. The easy banter between you is one of your favorite parts of the job. 

You glance at her as you take her suitcase out of the trunk and then yours, putting them on the ground and groaning with the effort. She’s wearing a navy blue blazer over a striped pink and gray button-down, with a gray pencil skirt, her signature string of pearls around her neck. Her brown hair is perfectly fluffed and curly, with makeup accentuating her lips and eyes. She looks good. 

“Well, I offered for us to fly out of the Pawnee airport, but you said, and I quote, ‘I don’t trust Pawnee to have planes that aren’t just tiny steel death in the sky—’”

“‘— that will fall apart if you breathe too loudly,’” Jen finishes with a chuckle at her own joke at the small town’s expense. She’s been making a lot of them the entire trip. “Yeah, I remember. I just still can’t believe the private jet had routine maintenance scheduled for today and now we have to fly with them. God, if only Knope and Wyatt hadn’t insisted on that recount.” 

By “them,” you know she means normal people who don’t run congressional campaigns for some of the most powerful people in the country and don’t just have access to private transportation whenever they want it. 

And without the recount, Jen and you would’ve been done a few days earlier. You still remember her little meltdown where she collapsed on the table, whining about wanting to leave, and it brings a smile to your lips. 

You roll your eyes fondly and grab both of the handles of the suitcase. “Well, we’re still in first class, so you won’t have to sit with all the peasants,” you tease. 

Jen points at you and moves her finger back and forth for emphasis. “That…that was a good one,” she decides and you can’t help but feel warm with her approval. And then she swats at your hand that is holding onto her bag. “I can wheel my own suitcase, sweetheart.” 

You mutter a half-hearted apology and follow her through the doors of the airport and go to the counter to check your luggage. Jen starts digging through her purse and you raise an eyebrow and wait for her to ask you for something. 

It’s always fun to watch your boss go as long as she can without willingly asking for help, even if you have exactly what she needs. Her tenacity and stubbornness often go hand-in-hand. 

She huffs exasperatedly before looking up and giving you a prize-winning smile. “Honey, do you happen to know where I put my—”

You reach into your pocket and pull out her boarding pass, reaching it out with a smirk. 

“Thanks, doll,” she says and snatches it from you before examining it like you may have given her the wrong one. You always keep an extra copy of all her documents on you at all times, just in case situations like this ever arise. “God, I cannot wait to be home and not sleep in sheets that smell like mothballs.” 

Giggling despite yourself, you think back to the small motel rooms the two of you had to sleep in. “It wasn’t all bad. JJ’s Diner was pretty cute.” 

“Yeah, after I bought them that cappuccino maker,” she retorts. “Everyone there was a moron. Did you know one of them told me they voted for Leslie because I said she was a dog murderer? Another thought I was Bobby’s sister. As if he and I could possibly share any of the same genes. Did you see him try to sound out ‘Connecticut’?”

It makes you snort. People in Pawnee were surely not the brightest. 

“I almost pity Leslie,” she sighs as the two of you move up in line. “You could not pay me enough money to trade places with her. I love my life way too much.” 

You laugh. “That’s good to hear, because I need someone to boss me around.” It’s meant to be a light quip, but there’s no mistaking the innuendo and Jen smirks before looking you up and down. You’re wearing leggings and an oversized T-shirt — nothing special, especially compared to her. But you’d rather be comfortable for the flight, rather than look as professional as you usually do. 

“Don’t worry, hon. I’d bring you with me,” she reassures with a wink and your cheeks heat up, breath catching in your throat. She’s just being nice, you think. You are a good assistant. 

After you check your bags, you walk to the gate with Jen next to you, typing something one-handed on her phone and occasionally bumping into you. Boarding is in about thirty minutes, so you tell Jen you’re going to get something to eat. You end up choosing a soft-serve stand and get her a cup too. 

When you get back to her, she’s now reading a newspaper that she must have bought, and doesn’t look up at you until your arm starts to get tired holding out her ice cream. 

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” she purrs and takes it from you, ignoring the spoon and just licking a stripe straight through the swirl. Your eyes widen — you feel a tug in your stomach and you rush to sit down next to her and think about anything else. 

You busy yourself by scrolling on your phone until it’s time to board, and then you settle into your seat in first class next to Jen. You’ve only flown first class a few times, but you’re not sure you could ever go back to sitting in economy. Your seats are spacious and luxurious, with fancy screens in the backs of the chairs in front of you. There’s an armrest between you and your boss, with a piece that could slide up to separate you, but you make no moves toward it and neither does Jen. 

The flight attendant comes around and gets your drink orders, a coffee for Jen and a hot chocolate for you. She snorts when your drink comes back with a mound of whipped cream and you take a long sip, appreciatively humming when the warmth spreads through your body. 

“Oh, honey, you’ve got a little—” Jen says when you turn to look at her, and you scrunch your eyebrows before she cups your chin and swipes her thumb across your upper lip. 

You freeze and your heart rate spikes. 

When she pulls her hand back, there’s a smear of whipped cream on her thumb. She smirks before sucking it into her mouth, never breaking eye contact. You feel your body get warm and you shiver. 

“Are you cold?” she asks. Before you can tell her that you’re fine, she’s waved the flight attendant over and asked for a blanket. It’s touching to have this badass woman you’re always chasing after trying to take care of you. 

The stewardess brings a heated blanket over and Jen helps you tuck it around yourself despite you muttering that you’re really okay. 

And then the safety video plays on the screen and the plane takes off. You’ve never been great with flying and you try to distract your anxious mind with a movie. 

It works until the plane starts to shake. Your hands fly to the armrests and dig your fingers into them as if that will steady it. It doesn’t; if anything, it just gets worse and a small whimper escapes your lips. 

Jen, who is reading a different newspaper now, glances over at you and must see the panic evident on your face, because she lays a hand on top of yours. “Are you okay?” There’s an uncharacteristic gentleness to her voice and you wonder if she’s going soft from the exhaustion of having been in Pawnee for six weeks.  

“Yeah,” you say through clenched teeth. There’s another rough patch and the plane dips and you sharply inhale. You expect her to laugh, maybe make fun of you, but her eyes are understanding and she starts to stroke her fingers up and down your forearm. 

Is she trying to comfort you? You swallow roughly as her warmth seeps through your skin. “It’s okay,” she coos. “It’s going to be fine.” 

You nod and try to repeat the words to yourself until you believe them, but the plane shakes again and you shudder. “Oh, god,” you whisper, feeling a little sick. Jen is frowning next to you and closes the little cabin door on the aisle, essentially hiding the two of you from view of anyone else. 

“Just breathe. Try to relax, honey,” she says soothingly, and then apparently decides she’s being too nice, because she tosses her hair over her shoulder and huffs haughtily. “Don’t let a bit of wind scare you. There’s so many other things to be more afraid of. Like me, if you don’t relax.” 

It makes you smile a little and your muscles loosen ever so slightly. The turbulence stops and you’re able to breathe normally. 

Seemingly satisfied, Jen turns back to her newspaper and removes her hand off your arm. You miss her touch, but brush it off and start scrolling through the screen to find a movie to watch. 

The plane starts to shake violently and a terrified gasp slips out of your lips, hands scrambling for purchase and your legs tensing against the seat in front of you. This is it. 

You can practically hear Jen roll her eyes and she gives you a pointed look. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, breathing heavily. “How are you so calm?” 

Jen shrugs. “I’m exceptional,” she states matter-of-factly. Her fingers reach over to lay on your forearm again and you’re able to feel yourself relax. Just slightly, but she feels it too. “Is that helping?” she murmurs. 

“Yeah,” you rasp and she smirks. 

Her fingers trail up your arm and then back down, and slide into your lap and ghost over your thigh. All the air leaves your lungs. “Do you want some more help?” 

Surely she can’t be offering what you think she is. But there’s not a single hint of jest on her face with her eyebrow arched and her pupils blown out. “Jen—” you swallow, your mouth suddenly so dry. 

“You can say no,” she reminds you. She lifts her hand off the blanket and hovers over it, showing that she’ll accept whatever you say. 

But you couldn’t even dream of rejecting her. “Please,” you say, voice suddenly full of heat, and your boss looks absolutely overjoyed. 

She drags part of the bunched up blanket covering the lower half of your body over herself, so if anyone were to look over the top of the cabin when she sneaks a hand under the cover and rests it on your leg, they wouldn’t be able to see. 

The plane rocks and dips, but you couldn’t care less because Jen has just dipped into the waistband of your leggings, her cold hands making you hiss. 

“Why don’t you put on a movie?” she suggests, her hand moving lower and cupping you over your underwear. You can feel yourself starting to get wet and you nod, tapping on the screen and clicking on the first thing it opens to. The film starts, but Jen’s fingers have found your clit and you can think of very little else. 

She rubs around it for a bit, teasing and feeling the crotch of your panties grow wetter while you squirm and try to get more stimulation. 

“You got to stop being so obvious, honey,” she whispers, ducking her head down to scrape her teeth against the top of your ear before nibbling on your lobe. You can’t stop the small moan that escapes you and she presses down on your clit. “Do you want the flight attendants to come over and see what a slut you’re being?” 

Heat tears through your body and you clench around nothing. You’d like to point out that this was all her idea, but you don’t want to risk her pulling away to teach you a lesson for talking back, which is exactly what Jennifer Barkley would do. 

So you shake your head and try to act like you’re watching the movie, but your eyes keep straying down to the blanket. 

She tuts lowly in your ear before sliding your underwear to the side and you jump when her fingers trace through your folds. “God, you like this a lot, don’t you,” she observes, amusement leaking into her voice. You blush and nod, softly whimpering when she teases your clit without touching it. 

“Jen, please, I need you,” you whine, and she chuckles humorlessly before pushing a finger inside you. She’s met with absolutely no resistance, and your walls bear down around her immediately, drawing a small gasp from her mouth. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of the drink cart coming down the aisle. 

She doesn’t move at first, just enjoying the feeling of you being around her, and it isn’t until you choke out another plea that she starts to slowly withdraw and then thrust back in. 

The flight attendant comes into view over the cabin walls and by the looks of it, she’s about two rows ahead of you. Your head tilts toward Jen, who is already watching you, a wicked glint in her eye. Her thumb expertly rubs at your clit while her one finger fucks you at a leisurely pace. It’s not enough to get you there, but the possibility of being caught and the way Jen’s eyes are burning into your face, watching every little twitch, are helping build the tension in your stomach. 

The stewardess stops at the row in front of yours and if she looked to her right just a little, she would see your knuckles straining as your fingers grip the armrests to try and stop yourself from reacting. 

“Better behave, honey,” Jen whispers dangerously, tongue flicking out against your earlobe. It makes you shiver and clench around her finger. “Don’t want her to know how naughty you’re being right now.” 

She smirks at your muffled whimper and finally gives your clit the direct stimulation you’ve been looking for and you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to stop any other noises from crawling out. 

The flight attendant pushes the cart forward and pauses, looking at you and Jen over the cabin door with a warm smile. Jen pulls her finger out of you and you bite your lip at the sudden emptiness. 

“Hi ladies, can I get you anything else?” she asks, looking at Jen first. 

“Oh, I’m perfect, thank you,” Jen gushes, and then turns to you. You can feel both Jen and the flight attendant’s eyes on you. 

You nod in agreement and open your mouth to answer, but Jen chooses that exact moment to shove two fingers inside you, and you’ve never heard the sound that comes out of you before. You see her stifle a laugh in your peripheral vision and you plaster what you hope is a convincing smile onto your face, but probably looks more like a grimace. “I’m good,” you squeak. 

Jen’s fingers curl roughly and your hips jolt. 

The flight attendant looks like she wants to say something, but purses her lips tightly and moves on. The second she’s out of earshot, Jen laughs cruelly in your ear. “That was close, honey,” she mocks and scissors her fingers to stretch you out and you hiss. “Do you think she knows that you’re taking my fingers like such a good slut? That this was the only way I could get you to relax?” 

She presses her thumb against your clit and starts to thrust into you fast and you have to bite down on your hand to keep from crying out. The pleasure starts to spread from your pussy to your stomach to all over and you feel your orgasm building. 

“Jen, I — please, fuck,” you groan when she twists her fingers. Your hands are scrambling for purchase on the armrests, hips rolling as much as they can, and you can feel your head start to spin. 

“God, hon, your cunt feels so good around me,” she says conversationally and your head falls back against the seat, clenching violently. “So warm, so wet. Think I might have you ride my fingers while I have to sit in all those boring meetings.” 

Your whimper is one of a wounded animal and she grins, flashing her perfect teeth at you. It turns you on even more, how perfectly composed she is, while you’re a fucking mess in the chair next to her, a few miles above the ground, in a plane where you could get caught at any moment. 

“Please, I’m so close,” you beg quietly, one of your hands clasping onto hers over the blanket. You can feel her muscles move as she thrusts into you and you gasp, heat searing through you. 

Jen leans over and nudges your head to the side with her own before sucking on your neck. You keen softly and your chest rises and falls rapidly, your orgasm steadily approaching. 

You slouch down even further in your seat so that her fingers can reach deeper inside you and it makes your eyes roll back in your head. “So good,” you whisper and Jen huffs in agreement. 

Her thumb speeds up on your clit and her fingers hits the spot that makes sparks erupt in your cunt each time and you’re so fucking close —

“Cum for me, honey,” she rasps, and it’s strangely what makes you finally cum isn’t the way her fingers curl particularly deliciously when your hips meet her thrust perfectly, it’s not the way her thumb presses harder on your clit when she circles it again, it’s not the way her tongue draws a hot stripe up your throat — it’s the flustered, pink tint in her cheeks and her slightly uneven breathing and the way her eyes dart from yours down to your lips and then back up. 

It’s knowing that she’s affected by you falling apart for her: that's the final nail in the coffin, and your pussy walls spasm around her fingers, pleasure erupting through your trembling body while you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out. 

She fucks you through your orgasm, whispering what a good girl you are, and you finally slump back into your chair, feeling ruined and much more relaxed. 

“Did that help?” Jen asks, wearing a playful smirk. 

You laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of her question. Of course it fucking helped. “Yeah, I’d say so.” And you’d like nothing more than to kiss the smug look right off her face. 

The pilot comes on the intercom and announces that you’ll soon be starting your departure into DC and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” you say, for getting you through your anxiety and fear about the turbulence, and for fucking you. Something you’ve been wanting since you started working for her. 

Jen knows exactly what you mean and she presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “Anytime.” 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly

[wilted-wizard]

True, I have pretty thick curly strawberry blonde hair and I always wanted it short. Firstly I am a trans man and it caused massive dysphoria but also it was impossible to take care of and strangers and extended family kept trying to stroke it and then I would always get in trouble for telling them not to. And I would always get comments from strangers to never dye or cut it like they were entitled to it. And whenever I asked to get it cut short I was always told no since I already dressed masculine and my parents didn’t want me to look “like a boy” until I just did it in college

I had a good experience with my hairdresser and I kept it a somewhat feminine hairstyle despite not wanting to since I can’t really come out as a man right now and want some plausible deniability. Plus I couldn’t even deny and just say I’m butch since my mom loves using butch and masculine as an insult.

But I keep getting these little comments from my mom now about “you looked so pretty with a bob” “I liked you so much with long hair” like sorry but I don’t really care, I am doing what makes me happy and if I had it my way it would be much shorter and I’d be on T so take what you can get

Sorry not to rant, the intent here was to add on and prove ur point, not to distract

the thing about having long hair especially if you are a girl/perceived as one is people act like they will be personally offended if you cut it. INCLUDING! hair stylists who you are paying to cut it. double it if you have blonde/red/ginger/curly/etc hair. like the lack of autonomy ive been allowed to feel about my hair, even when its subtle still has me afraid to go to the stylist and ask for the haircut im paying to get.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Love Sweet Love

Hi guys!

Happy Steph's day ♥

I'm sorry, I haven't posted for a very long time but I'm working on it. I hope you will love this new Chapter of my Steph's series. You don't have to read the first two, but it's a plus I think.

You can find them here : Lightning Love | Struck By Love

Please enjoy ♥

And Happy Birthday to Steffy ♥

TW : None

When you come back from the USA, after your injury against Colombia, Steph makes you live in her house. Officially to help you with your injury and because she doesn’t have any stairs in her new house. Which is really a good point, because almost all of the other people who could have offered their help actually have stairs in their home.

Steph and you have been friends since you were teenagers, so no one asks any questions when you mention that you are living with Steph for now.

With time, your things found a specific place in Steph’s house, and she even made some more space in her closet for your clothes. Your Tottenham jerseys are washed with her Arsenal ones, you share the vegemite pots that your grandmother sends you and you sometimes wear Steph’s shirt to sleep.

You love the intimacy between you and how everything is so easy with Steph. She is the most easy-going person in the world, and you are falling in love even harder with her every day.

You’re a little afraid of when it will be time for you to go back to your own apartment. It will probably be soon, because your cast has been removed two weeks ago, and you now have an ankle splint to help you walk. You are supposed to still use your crutches, even if you don’t when you are home. You prefer jumping around on one foot.

It drives Steph crazy.

Steph isn’t home for two days now, she had a game in Liverpool and left with the Arsenal squad. You weren’t able to go to watch her because you had to go to your rehab. So, you went to watch Tottenham playing at home instead, cheering for your teammates. Charli and her fiancé came with you to walk Calvin those two days and for the others walk you just stayed around Steph’s house or went in the garden with him.

When you come back home after the game, a look at the clock tells you that your girlfriend will be home in one hour.

You are so grateful for Steph, her patience while you were injured and all the little attentions she had for you during this time. So, you decided to thank her with a real good meal tonight, with all the romanticism you have in you.

You set the table with a red tablecloth, a vase with some roses in the middle of the table and some candles. You listened to the florist talking about the number of flowers for the bunch of flowers, not even knowing before that the number had a meaning. Coming back home, you thought a little bit about your ex-girlfriends and wonder what they would think about your behavior.

You kind of explained to Leila what happened with Steph, without giving her the name of your girlfriend. But you needed to explain to her the reality of your feelings and why things didn’t work between you two.

For dinner, you chose Steph’s favourite meal, and you ordered the ingredients needed to be delivered to you here. It’s way easier for you like this, doing your shopping in crutches would have been way too complicated.

Steph’s car wheels squeak on the gravel in front of the house several minutes after. You jump between the fridge and the table with the starters when Steph opens the door.

A cream and red flash passes next to you when Calvin runs to great Steph, making you smile softly. You distinctly hear Steph cooing and greeting Calvin back, before coming in your direction.

“No! Don’t come here! Close your eyes!”

“Why? What have you done?”

You jump on one foot in her direction, seeing that Steph had in fact closed her eyes. She looks so cute with her low bun, her scarf and her training clothes that you can’t help yourself but steal her a kiss.

You feel her smile against your lips and then kiss her cheek when she talks.

“Is it to distract me about the fact that you are walking without your crutches?”

“No” you giggle. “Can you walk without opening your eyes please?”

You take her bag from her hand and put your hands on her shoulder to walk easier towards the table. You make her stop and move to be able to watch her reaction.

“Ok, now you can open your eyes” you say when you are in the right place.

You totally ignore the table you settled a little bit before, your eyes only looking at her. Steph’s eyes go wild for a moment while she takes everything in sight. You are suddenly nervous, wondering if it’s maybe too much. Or stupid? You never talked about it finally, but isn’t a girl supposed to like being surprised?

Maybe it’s not a good idea finally, after being away Steph maybe just wants to take a shower and go to bed.

“Did you do all of it yourself?” she asks finally, turning to face you.

“Yeah” you nod, fidgeting with your fingers. “I wanted to thank you properly for the way you took so good care of me while I was just like a burden hurt teenager. I am really thankful for you and your patience and your kindness”

You are totally rambling now, talking a little too fast and almost breathless. You weren’t looking at her while talking, looking at the flowers in the middle of the table. But when you feel her grab your hand, you look at your girlfriend again.

“You have nothing to thank me for, I did it because I wanted it. Even if you are terrible to look after, you little troublemaker”

You smile shyly and let yourself relax when she hugs you. You pass your hands around her neck, taking advantage of your position to breathe her scent. You really missed her.

“Do you mind if I go take a shower quickly before we eat, though?”

“No, it’s a great idea. You stink” you smirk.

You giggle when she smacks you behind your head, clinging against her when she pretends to push you away.

“You’re so mean”

“Yes, but I made diner”

She rolls her eyes and smiles before you let her go. She doesn’t smell at all, but you totally understand the need to take a shower and refresh herself after a long travel day.

You lean on the furniture behind you, looking at her leaving to go to the bathroom.

“Steph?” you call her just before she closes the door.

“Yeah?”

You look at her curious face exceeding the port frame two seconds before smiling softly.

“I really missed you”

Her eyes go soft, and you would literally die for the smile coming on her face right now. There is a tenderness in her eyes, and you sometimes are still surprised when you realise that it is destined to you.

“I missed you too” she says softly. “I’ll be quick, okay?”

“Yeah” you smile back.

You look at her going inside the room again, before jumping back towards the kitchen.

“Use your crutches!” you hear her shout from the bathroom.

You roll your eyes again before deciding to oblige and go to look for them. You don’t really know where you left them, and you finally spot them next to the door of Steph’s bedroom. Then you go back to the kitchen and start to warm up a little what you will eat after the starters.

A little lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear Steph coming back. She takes you by surprise, passing her arms around your waist and kissing your cheek at the same time. You almost jump off your skin, which she seems to find very funny.

“You’re so annoying” you grumble, even if you are smiling.

You just can’t resist her laugh.

“I’m sorry. What can I do to help you?”

“Just put your ass on that chair, Catley”

“As you wish”

You weren’t expecting her to take you in her arms, carrying you like a bride, to the table. She then puts you in your chair before sitting in front of you. That wasn’t exactly how you were picturing things, but it’s maybe better like this. At least you aren’t scowled one more time because of those damn crutches.

You have to admit that you are pretty satisfied about how you were able to cook everything. You like cooking, you sometimes don’t have the time or even the energy to do it. But today you really liked cooking for your girlfriend.

After the diner, you went for a quick walk with Calvin and then to the living room. Arsenal men are playing, and it probably will be a good game. You take advantage to snuggle against Steph, happy to find her arms back. She absently strokes your back under your shirt while watching the game, talking sometimes about something that comes into your minds.

“Dean wrote to me earlier today” Steph says casually.

You feel your heart missing a beat and a strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach. All the fun you had after sharing Calvin's last mischief in the park is now very far away.

“What did he want?”

Your tone is flat, probably giving Steph a hint that you may not be handling this information as easily as you should.

“He wanted to see Calvin”

You can feel her eyes on you, but you look straight in front of you, looking at the TV screen without really looking at it.

“I thought Calvin was your dog only, not his?” you frown.

“He’s mine only, but he still wants to see him again”

You just hum for any answer. You don’t believe it for a single second, in your opinion it’s just an excuse to be able to see Steph again. You know that your girlfriend is the one who ended the things between them. Now that some time has passed, maybe he wants to see if they maybe could get closer again.

You don’t like the strange feeling, now not only in your stomach, but in all your body. You maybe are with Steph for several weeks even months now, but you still don’t take your relationship for granted. You are fully aware that you can lose Steph at any time. Few people know about your relationship after all, it would probably not mean much in the eyes of the world. To yours, however, it would be worse than anything.

On another hand, you can’t tell her that you don’t want her to see him. You won’t take that right.

You raise your eyes on Steph when she pokes at your ribs, to see that she’s still looking at you.

“You know that if I ended things and cancelled my engagement with him, it’s for a good thing, right?”

“Of course” you mumble, looking at the screen again.

She already told you that he might have a thing with a girl he was talking to while they were still together. But other than that, you never really asked about him. Steph never mentioned him either, to be fair.

“Are you still talking to him regularly?” you ask finally, raising your eyes on her again.

“Nope. It was the first time he wrote to me since Christmas. You’re the one being friend with your ex”

She’s right here. Since the confessions you made to Leila, you and her are friends again. She started throwing teasing comments on your Instagram’s post again and you call each other from time to time.

“If it bothers you…” you begin while sitting.

“Not at all” she smiles “It was just to point out that you are still in contact with one of your exes too. But I trust you.”

“I trust you too. But Leila knows we are together. Your ex doesn’t even know that you aren’t single anymore.”

“I’ll let him know, okay?”

She’s looking at you with so much affection that you can only smile back at her. You feel your body relax again and you cuddle closer to her again.

“Okay” you say, burying your face in her hoodie.

********

Several days later, you are finally able to walk without any crutches, having received the green light from the physio team. You don’t feel any discomfort in your foot anymore and it’s a really good point.

In fact, you were even able to train with the rest of the team today and that makes you happier than ever. You probably won’t be able to play that weekend, but it’s obvious that it will be okay for next week.

You are practically hopping when you come home that day, parking your car next to Steph’s one in the driveway. You frown when you see that there is another car too, not recognizing it like Beth’s car or even one of her teammates. In your memories, no one is driving a Skoda.

Like usual, Calvin comes to greet you when you arrive, this time silently stroking himself around your legs. You pet him, before hearing voices coming from the living room.

“I just… It doesn't make any sense to me. I thought you were friend with her, nothing else”

Dean. What the hell is he doing here? You frown again, taking two steps to be able to hear better what is happening in that living room. None of them heard you coming in.

“Nothing ever happened while we were together, Dean” you hear Steph sigh.

“Still. She just waited for us to be over to shoot her shot?”

“Not at all. She doesn’t even say anything, I kind of pushed her to know about her breakup at Emily’s wedding and… Well, you don’t have to know everything, but I was the one figuring out alone her feelings for me. Then all clicks and it was like evidence”

There is a beam of silence, only broken by Calvin chewing with application one of Dean’s shoes. You let him do it with a cold satisfaction. You don’t like the way that man tries to make you pass for the one corrupting Steph in the wrong way.

In contrast, you love the way Steph doesn’t share everything with him. It belongs to you and her, not him.

“And just for the record, you were the one getting over it very quickly with that girl from your medical team”

“It wasn’t serious. She was just a rebound”

“You were talking with her when we were still together.”

You can easily picture Steph, her eyebrow arched, and her arms crossed on her chest.

“It was a mistake” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have done that. If I knew it would push you to end things between us, I wouldn’t even have looked at her.”

“She wasn’t the reason for our breakup. I mean maybe a small part of it, but it wasn’t the big deal. What I said at this point was valid and still is. I just don’t have any love feeling for you anymore”

Must be painful to hear, but at least you have to give credit to Steph for standing her ground and being clear with him. You empathise a little bit with him though, you will be destroyed if Steph ended things between you. Even if you never will talk to someone else like he did.

“Okay but what will you do when you will want to start a family? You won’t even be able to do it together”

Okay, we are now finished with empathy. Maybe now is the best time to make your appearance. You go for the door again, opening it without any discretion.

“Love, I'm home!” you shout happily while almost slamming the door.

You take off your shoes quickly without even untie the laces, petting Calvin’s head.

“Living room” you hear her answer.

Deciding to put it more in the show, you start to talk while you are still outside the room.

“Did you know that Hayl… Oh. Hi.”

Dean and Steph are both standing in the room, separated by at least two meters from each other. You look at the both of them, taking the situation. He seems upset and doesn’t answer anything, and you drag your gaze away from him when Steph talks.

“Hi Sweets. How was training?”

“Great”

You smile at her and hesitate to go for her, but when she raises her arm to invite you to hug her, you don’t hesitate. You pass your arms around her waist, kissing her cheek softly. You don’t want to push things too far either, you know she won’t like it.

You cringe a little at the silence coming after that, exchanging a glance with Steph. You want to know what the hell is this guy doing here, but you don’t really know how to ask that question.

“Dean informed me that he found some of my things in his boxes and wanted to give them back” Steph informs you.

You probably will be forever grateful at how much Steph knows you and seems to read into you. You just nod before turning your eyes toward him. He was already looking at you and you know that look perfectly. He seems to be jealous of your proximity, but you won’t move.

Maybe it’s a stupid thing to want to mark territory, but you don’t want him to pop randomly at Steph’s door, now that he knows where she lives. Anyway, you don’t take your hand off of your girlfriend’s back.

“Lucky you were home” you finally answer.

“I didn’t realise I needed to ask for approval to see my ex-fiancée” he growls.

“She lives here too, actually” Steph intervenes before you even can open your mouth “She has her words to say”

You use your better poker face at this, because you totally aren’t living here officially. Now that you are able to walk correctly you could probably go back to your home, but you never really left. Steph never asked you to do and never made you feel like you were too much here.

“I have to go” Dean finally says. “I have training”

You don’t move but Steph nods, saying goodbye too. You can’t hide the smile creeping on your face when you hear him grumbling when he finds his chewed shoe, Calvin now sleeping peacefully on his bed next to the couch.

You love that dog.

When the door is closed, you feel Steph take a deep breath and lean a little more against you. You realised how tense she was, but you are surprised by such a relief.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly, kissing her temple.

“It was the first time I saw him since I left our home” she explains to you. “I told him I was seeing someone without saying your name, but he didn’t want to leave before knowing how you are. I’m sorry, I don’t think we will be able to hide our relationship for any longer”

“It’s not a problem for me” you shrug. “People have known that I love women since my teenage era. What about you, though?”

“I don’t know” she begins slowly. “I haven’t any problem with Kyra knowing it to be honest. But maybe I’ll need to talk about it to my family first”

“Okay. If you need me, just tell me, yeah?”

Stephs smile softly at you, and you kiss her for good this time. The kiss is soft and slow, and you feel her thumb stroking your cheek softly.

“So, what did Hayley do?”

********

Later that day, you are looking at the ceiling, lost in your thoughts. Even if you tried all the rest of the day to forget about Dean and what he said, some things are dancing in your mind.

Did Steph and him talked about starting a family? And if it was the case, why does it bother you so much? They planned to get married; you shouldn’t be so disturbed with that. You know you are lucky to finally be with the girl of your dreams, but that strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach won’t go away.

You tried to distract yourself by cooking with Steph, playing some video games with her and telling her about your first training back since your injury, and it went pretty great to be honest.

But now with Steph under the shower and Calvin sleeping, you are alone with your thoughts.

“I was waiting for you to come with me”

Steph’s teasing voice makes you smile softly. You turn on your side to look at her when she enters the room, wearing a big shirt and probably panties, even if you can’t see them given the size of that shirt.

“You are the most beautiful girl in the world” you mumble.

Your smile grows wider when she rolls her eyes and makes one grimace of her own. You love her with her hair down.

“That’s true!”

“It’s not” she giggles while coming with you under the cover.

“Yes it is”

You let her have the time to lie on her back before you lay on her, sighing with ease. It’s your favourite spot in the world. You enjoy her stroke in your hair while she scrolls on her phone for several minutes, before starting to draw shapes on her hips with your fingertips.

“I can hear your brain boiling, Sweetheart” Steph finally says. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lips softly, looking for a way to approach things. Because she doesn’t know that you heard a big part of her conversation with Dean, and you don’t want to upset her. Your silence pushes her to try to guess what’s in your mind.

“Is it football related?” she asks first, and you shake your head no. “Is it about us?”

“Kinda” you hesitate. “I just…”

“Is it about something you heard earlier?”

Damn. You look at her, stunned, torn between guilt and amazement. You can see the ghost of a smile on her face and her eyes shining with fun.

“Do you think I really don’t know you?”

You roll your eyes with a smile, accepting the teasing easily. She doesn’t seem mad, and she waited for you to show something to talk about it. You really don’t deserve that girl.

“I didn’t want to intrude. I didn’t know it was him” you shrug.

“I knew it the second you passed the door” she smirks, making you smile too. “Plus, I don’t have anything to hide from you. What part of the discussion is playing with your head?”

Sitting on her hips, you pass a hand in your hair. You don’t know how to express yourself and how to tell her things. Once again, you don’t want to fight with her. But you promised each other early in your relationship that you will always discuss and talk about things, not to drag any misunderstandings along.

Steph waits patiently, looking softly at you while playing with the edge of your shirt. You finally decide to go straight to the point, it will be easier like this.

“When he talked about having a family. Is it something you discussed together?”

You try hard to fight against the pictures coming in your mind, focusing on your girlfriend’s pretty face.

“Not really” she frowns. “We were both into sport and I don’t think it was time for us to have this conversation. He was very traditional you know, first dating then living together, then engagement… One thing at time”

It does make sense actually. You nod softly, trying to process this information.

“But was it something you wanted?”

You watch her looking at you with a little bit of… angst maybe? That doesn’t seem good and just when you were going to tell her that you finally don’t want to know the answer to that question, she starts to talk again.

“No, not really. It’s very selfish but I wanted to finish my career before even thinking about it”

Oh. That wasn’t what you were expecting. It’s probably strange to feel a little relieved about it.

“It’s not selfish” you assure her with a smile, redrawing the features of her face with your fingers. “We, women, have to choose between sport or baby. It’s so stupid”

She nods softly, suddenly lost in her thoughts. It looks like things were exchanged because several minutes before you were the one thoughtful. Now you feel lighter than ever.

“What is it?” you ask, tilting your head on the side.

“What about you?”

“I was never serious enough in my relationships to even talk about it” you roll your eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to have kid one day”

She has a point. You feel your cheek getting redder because to be honest, the idea of you and Steph with a little kiddo running with Calvin in a big garden is something you would love. Maybe even back in Australia, who knows.

“I do want kids, but not carelessly. I want to have time for them, all of that…”

“Okay” Steph smiles softly.

“And a great mummy to raise them with me” you add, winking at her.

“Okay” Steph says again, laughing this time.

“But not now, though”

“Not now”

Steph repeats your sentence before suddenly grabbing you by your hips to change your position, making you lie under her while she straddles you.

“We have something else to discuss first” she says.

“Oh, do we?”

“Yeah. What do I need to do for you to live officially here? Lose your keys? Burn your house?”

“You just have to ask” you laugh.

“In that case… Would you like to live here with me?”

“I’d love to”

She smiles at you with so much tenderness that you feel your heart almost burst with love. Taking her gently by the collar of her shirt, you drag her towards you to kiss her. She doesn’t wait any second to kiss you back, making you smile against her lips.

“You’re such a dork” you giggle shortly after.

“You love me, though” she answers, her head now on your shoulder.

“I do. You don’t know yet how much I do”

“I love you too.”

[janeyseymour]

Accidentally In Love

Summary: sometimes you and melissa joke that you're 'wives'. somewhere along the line, it's not a joke anymore.

WC: 3.35k

If there’s one thing that you love about working at Abbott Elementary, it’s your coworkers. Of course, the children are wonderful no matter where you would’ve ended up, but your coworkers can make or break the work day for you. And this quirky, rundown school, with a ragtag group of teachers that have quickly made their way into your heart, has the best team that you could ask for. While all of the teachers are supportive for the most part, you have found yourself in that exclusive little friend group that has agreed to be part of a documentary on the Philadelphia public school system.

Janine Teagues, Gregory Eddie, Jacob Hill, Barbara Howard, Mr. Johnson (you realize far too late into the friendship that you genuinely don’t have the slightest clue what his first name is), Principal Ava Coleman, and… perhaps your favorite one: Melissa Schemmenti. 

All of your friends are wonderful in their own ways, but the redhead has a special place in your heart. It’s been made known to you that the second grade teacher is usually rough around the edges, but since your appearance she’s softened significantly.

It’s been a couple of years since you’ve joined the second grade team, and at this point, it’s odd to see you or Melissa on your own. It seems that the two of you are always together and close whenever possible at school.

And that… that might be your doing. You’re hopelessly in love with the woman who took you under her wing and helped you succeed in this less affluent community. You soak up any time that you can get with her, and it’s clear to you that she doesn’t mind in the slightest. If you don’t seek her out, she meanders her way down to your classroom to sit with you while you grade. It’s always like the calm amidst the chaos that is always happening at the school.

There’s something warm and comforting about the two of you being in a room together. There are times where the silence that comes over the two of you is more than comfortable- just sitting together in peace while you grade student work. And then there are times where the two of you chat about what’s happening at the Abbott. And then of course, there are the conversations that take place surrounding real life things- like now.

You had just received an email from your landlord that your rent was going up a significant amount- enough that you wouldn’t necessarily be sitting comfortably anymore. You groan quietly and lay your head down on your desk.

“What is it?” Melissa asks you. “A kid fail? Was it Kimiyah?”

You shake your head softly before turning your laptop to face the redhead. “From my landlord.”

The woman looks through her glasses to skim over the email that you had just received. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you sigh quietly. “This- this could break me.”

“So move in with me,” your colleague suggests casually.

You turn to face her, eyes drifting from the papers in front of you to those green eyes. “What?”

“I have an extra room, and I could use a roommate again since Jacob moved out,” the redhead shrugs. When you only continue to look at her strangely, she sighs. “You can move into my nice house with me, or you can go find some slum where you’re paying a ridiculous amount of money to hate your home. Your choice.”

“I-” you smile softly. “I’ll move in with you.”

“Good choice,” Melissa tells you as she sets a gentle hand on your knee. “We can start moving stuff in this weekend.”

You technically still have your apartment for another month, but almost all of your things are out and moved into the Schemmenti household.

“Just move in early,” your coworker tells you at lunch that day. “It’s not like you’re paying rent.”

“I already told you, I’d pay rent,” you argue back.

“You’re not payin’ me nothin, hun,” Melissa tells you sternly.

At the table beside you, Jacob, Janine, and Gregory all smile to themselves. It’s so nice to see the two of you happy and together.

You end up going to Melissa’s house (your house too, you guess) that night.

“You’ve been here before,” the redhead rolls her eyes. “You know the deal with everything.”

You just nod and smile at the kitchen counter while she cooks. And damn, is it a good meal. Of course, because she cooks, that means you clean. She never lingers far from sight though- mostly perching herself at the island with a glass of wine, watching to make sure you do it right. You do. Of course you do.

The two of you settle on the couch with your respective drinks and sigh with content.

“This is nice,” you mumble as you maneuver it so that your legs are tucked under you.

Melissa hums her agreement. “To a new chapter in life.” She raises her glass slightly, and you have to lean over just a little to clink your mug with her glass. 

The weekend passes nicely and calmly. There is one hitch in your morning though. You had never thought that Melissa could look more beautiful than she does at work, but it turns out that she’s incredibly stunning as she comes down the steps from a night’s rest. You find that her natural beauty is something that draws you in much more than you thought it could.

You and your new roommate go grocery shopping together, finding that it’s easier to do such a tedious errand together. You lounge around for the rest of that Saturday, and on Sunday, you help her prep meals for lunch. You find that you’re quite excited to not be resigned to boring sandwiches and salads anymore. 

Come Monday, Melissa insists on driving to work, and she’s bringing you along with her.

“Why would we drive separately?” she raises a brow. “Save gas, and save the planet.”

“I see Jacob influenced you,” you smirk.

“Shut up.” Green eyes are rolled.

“You love me,” you tease her.

“You’re lucky.”

You can only give your coworker and roommate an innocent smile.

“You want coffee?” Melissa tosses over her shoulder as you go to the refrigerator to put your lunches away.

“Please,” you chuckle weakly before sitting in your designated spot.

By the time the redhead is bringing over two mugs of coffee, the staff room has filled up significantly.

Jacob watches as his former roommate sets the cup of coffee down in front of you. And then he watches the way that you look up from the papers that you’re grading to smile warmly at the redhead.

“Thank you.” There’s something about the look in your eyes that makes the social studies teacher’s heart warm.

As the two of you get used to living with each other, life becomes quite domestic. There’s a natural flow and easiness that follows the two of you. There’s rarely a disagreement, and when there is, it’s resolved quickly- the two of you have come to realize that it’s you two against the world.

On work days, the two of you carpool- almost exclusively in her car. She’ll tease you and tell you that you’re her passenger princess. It gets you to roll your eyes each and every time. You eat the lunches that she preps for you, not caring in the slightest that you get teased for taking advantage of her cooking. And when you head home, both of you make dinner before settling on the couch to get some work done as the television drones on softly in the background. It’s not uncommon for one or both of you to doze off on the couch once you’ve given up with grading and preparation for the days to come, curling up into the other’s side with a soft hum.

And on weekends, it’s just as domestic- if not more so. There’s warm mornings with breakfast, joint grocery shopping, lazy days, times at church together, even a few Schemmenti family dinners that you’re invited to.

It’s gotten to a point where the two of you have been living together for quite some time, and at this point, you joke that you’re wives. You really are in all ways- aside from the fact that you aren’t in a relationship. It’s almost like a common law marriage at this point. You’ve been referring to her as your “wife” for a while now, you live together, and neither of you really has the intention to stop living together any time soon. The only thing that doesn’t make your common law marriage official is the fact that you aren’t actually together romantically- at least not on both ends of the relationship.

You’re somehow more in love with the redhead than you were when you first started. And unbeknownst to you, Melissa has only fallen further in love with your than she ever thought possible. But because neither of you want to ruin what you have going for you, you stay quiet. You keep your thoughts on the matter to yourself and mask those emotions through jokes. She does the same. 

Your coworkers know that the two of you are practically inseparable- you’ve even managed to edge your way past Barbara. It’s not that she minds though; now she’s more available to Gerald.

Today though, after work, Melissa is supposed to go out with Barbara. And at lunch, the kindergarten teacher has to tell her colleague that she’s unable to follow through with their plans.

“I’m so sorry dear,” Barbara sighs softly. “It entirely slipped my mind that Gerald has an appointment that I have to pick him up from.”

The second grade teacher shrugs.

“But I’m sure it will give you some more of that quality time with your wife,” the veteran teacher smiles.

“My wife?” Melissa raises her brow. “What do you mean ‘my wife’?”

“Y/N,” Barbara says casually. “Haven’t the two of you been married for like… three years now? Together for five?”

That gets you to pause the conversation that you’re currently participating in with Gregory and Janine and turn to face both older teachers.

“No?” Melissa states, although it sounds much more like a question.

“But you call her your wife!” Jacob cuts in, and he points his finger accusatorially.

Green eyes look to you, and there’s a hint of mischief in them. But then when she turns back to your coworkers, she realizes that they all think the two of you were being serious- Barbara Howard included. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” you echo softly.

“They- they really think we’re together,” Melissa nudges you. “I- Youse are… raise your hand if you thought that we were together romantically.”

Immediately, everyone’s hand goes up. Panic filled eyes look to you. “Oh my god, have we been dating, and I didn’t know it?”

You can’t help the bubble of laughter that erupts out of you as you lay a gentle hand over the redhead’s. “I mean, no, but the way we act sometimes… I see why people think that we are.”

“You two really are so… loving with each other,” Janine sighs dreamily. “It’s honestly relationship goals.”

“What do you-”

“Melissa, you call her your wife!” Barbara exclaims with gusto. “It would make sense for us to assume that the two of you are married!”

“Barb, if I got married while we worked here, you damn well know that you would’ve been invited to the wedding… probably would’ve been my matron of honor,” the redhead deadpans.

The kindergarten teacher takes that information, clearly touched, before nodding. “I suppose that would make sense.”

“So we all lost the bet,” Ava sighs heavily.

“A bet?” you raise a brow at the principal.

Melissa whips around to look at the boss, who looks as uninterested as ever as she files her nails.

“The bet that we all made about how long the two of you have actually been together,” Mr. Johnson states from the corner of the staff room. “No one bet that you weren’t actually together.”

“So what are we supposed to do with the-”

“Barbara,” Melissa admonishes. “You bet on my love life?”

The eldest teacher just shrugs innocently. “I thought it was a slam dunk, as the kids would say.”

“Donate the money to the school,” you roll your eyes as you begin to pack up your lunch. “I have to prep my science lesson, so I’ll see you guys later.” You gently pat Melissa’s shoulder as you thank her for lunch quietly, and head out.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the redhead grumbles as she too begins to pack up her lunch. “I’m gonna go help my wi- my friend.”

“You was gonna say wife, girl!” Ava calls as Melissa leaves the room. “Just admit it so I can win my money!” 

Neither of you say anything in terms of the conversation that had taken place at lunch- not at work, at least. And you both end up throwing yourselves into work- not bothering to look at your phones throughout the afternoon. Had you, the two of you would see an abundance of apologies from your fellow staff members. Well, every staff member aside from your boss. Ava is asking both of you to lie for her to be able to win the bet; apparently she had a lot riding on it. 

The only time that either of you speak of it is once you’re in the comfort of her car. You hazard a glance at your phone, as does Melissa.

“Oh Jesus,” your roommate groans. She sees the face that you’re making as you stare at your phone. “They texted you too?”

You nod. “You got Ava’s text?”

“I’ll yell at her tomorrow,” Melissa rolls her eyes as she sets her phone down and pulls the car out of the lot.

Instinctively, the woman driving the car lays her hand gently over the gear shift, and your hand rests over top of it. And then you sigh softly.

But still, neither of you speak of what’s on your mind in regard to the situation.

Your evening plans go as they usually do. It’s only when you curl up on the couch together, not having any work to catch up on, that you know you have to talk to her about what’s going through your head.

“Lis?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think… I don’t know. I think maybe we should talk about what happened at work today,” you bite the bullet.

“Probably,” the redhead next to you sighs softly.

“What do you think about the situation?”

Your roommate bites her lip as she thinks. “I- I mean, we are practically married anyway.” You just nod silently and urge her to go on. “If we did get married…” You feel your heart flutter. Is this the moment that she’s going to tell you that she is in love with you? 

“… we would get a nice tax break.”

You do everything you can to not let it show how you feel about that proposal. “Uh, yeah. We could do that. We’re essentially in a common law marriage at this point anyway.”

“But I also…” the redhead continues to worry her lip through her teeth. “I guess I have been thinking about what they were saying.”

“What do you mean?” you prompt.

Green eyes turn soft as they look into your own. “I think that maybe… in all of the ebbs and flows of life, jokingly calling you my wife, it- it stopped becoming a joke.”

Your heart begins to beat faster. It’s now or never. “For me too.”

A brow raises. “What?”

“It’s not a joke for me anymore either,” you whisper. “Somewhere along the line, I really did fall for you.”

“Have we been dating for the last five years without knowing it?” Melissa asks you as she gently cups your cheek.

“I think so,” you chuckle.

And then, just like in the movies, the woman of your dreams leans in slowly and her lips meet yours for the first time.

When you pull away, your eyes shimmer with happy tears. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Me too, hun,” Melissa whispers as she pulls you back in again.

It’s later that night, once the two of you have truly spoken about how you want to go about this new relationship that you’ve found yourselves in.

“So, if we’ve been unintentionally dating for the last five years, how would you really feel about getting married? Not just for the tax break,” Melissa asks you. “Although, that would be nice.”

You just roll your eyes. “Melissa Schemmenti, are you proposing to me right now?”

“Do you want me to?”

And so, the next day, the two of you make your way down to City Hall to file for a marriage license before heading into Abbott to work your half day. During your prep period, the two of you search for wedding bands on Amazon to be delivered in time for Saturday when you’ll officially be wed.

On Friday, you and your fiancee request that Barbara come to Melissa’s room at the end of the day. Of course, she complies.

“What’s this about?” the kindergarten teacher asks.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” you ask your coworker.

“Why? What’s happening tomorrow?”

“We were hoping you would come be the witness at our wedding,” Melissa states casually.

Brown eyes are blown as wide as saucers. “I- Oh! Oh my goodness! Are you serious?”

“You know I wouldn’t joke about a nice tax break,” the redhead smirks.

“Still don’t like that joke,” you roll your eyes as you lean over, a hand resting on Melissa’s shoulder as you kiss her cheek.

“So the two of you have been together!”

“No,” you laugh. “We only got together Tuesday after we both realized that maybe calling each other our ‘wife’ wasn’t a joke anymore.”

“An’ if we’ve been dating for the last five years, we might as well get married,” Melissa smiles.

“And catch that tax break,” you chuckle.

Your fiancee glares at you playfully. “I thought you hate that joke.”

“Only when you make it,” you reply sweetly before turning back to Barbara. “So, can you come?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” your beloved coworker promises you.

On Monday, you wait for your entire work family to make their way into the staff lounge.

“So,” you sigh as you glance to your boss.

“What the hell could you want on a Monday morning?” Ava groans.

“Not much,” you chuckle, your left hand still stuffed in your Eagles sweatshirt. “Just going to need a sign change.”

“A sign change?”

“The sign outside my door with my name on it. I’m gonna need it changed.”

“To?” the principal rolls her eyes, not yet putting it together.

“Mrs. Schemmenti,” you say innocently as you hold up your left hand. Your now wife does the same.

Both you and Melissa look around the room anticipating your coworkers’ reactions. And they’re exactly what you expect- it’s hilarious. And as the excitement of this news dies down, Jacob raises his hand to ask a question.

“You don’ need to raise your hand, Hill,” the redhead rolls her eyes. “What?”

“So who won the bet?”

“Yeah!” Mr. Johnson exclaims.

“Still no one,” you run a hand over your face.

“There ain’t no way the two of you haven’t been hiding this for years,” Ava tells you.

“We haven’t been,” Melissa tells the group. “Ask Barb.”

All eyes turn to the kindergarten teacher quietly sipping her coffee. “Got married on Saturday. I was there, just like Melissa said I would be.”

“See?”

“But,” Barbara holds a hand up. “While I was incorrect about the amount of time they’ve been married, I am the only one that said they were together for five years.”

“We haven’t been together for five years,” you furrow a brow.

Barb shrugs. “You both told me that the two of you have been essentially dating for the last five years.”

“Barbara.”

Tags (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits @schmentisgf

[russo-woso]

Somethings wrong || Alessia Russo x pregnant!reader

Request | Masterlist

Warning pregnancy, mention of miscarriage, blood

Summary You have your first scare during the pregnancy

“This is nice.” You whispered, your head against Alessia’s chest as you snuggled close on the sofa.

You’d both managed to have a day off. No training, no match, no plans.

Just a relaxing day just the two of you and your bubba.

You spent the day in pyjamas, relaxing on the sofa watching movie after movie.

“It is nice. We won’t get many more moments like this just the two of us once bubba’s born.” Alessia pointed out, her hand rubbing absentmindedly over your bump.

“We won’t.” You agreed as the fifth movie of the day finished.

You yawned, Alessia noticing your tiredness from the way your eyes drooped.

“Would you like me to run you a bath, love?” Alessia asked, rubbing your back gently.

“That would be nice thank you, lessi.”

“Here, let me help you up.” Alessia offered, grabbing ahold of your hand as she pulled you up, knowing you’d struggle otherwise.

You smiled, kissing her cheek, not failing to notice the way her eyes widened as she stared at the sofa.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You asked but when you don’t get a reply, you looked at the sofa yourself, a bright red patch noticeable.

“You go change baby, and get in the car. I’ll pack a bag.” Alessia whispered, her voice shaking as she rested a hand on your back.

“Less…”

“It’s fine, love. It’s probably nothing. The baby’s just giving us a scare.” Alessia tried to lighten up the mood, although not helping due to the panic and fear the two of you were feeling.

You left Alessia soon after, getting changed before quickly going to the toilet.

You couldn’t help but burst out crying.

You were filled with panic, and dread.

What if something was wrong with the baby? Was it your fault? Had you pushed yourself too far in training?

Your sobs were so loud that you didn’t even hear Alessia knock on the bathroom door.

It was only the third knock when you heard Alessia.

“Love? Please let me in.”

You reached over, unlocking the door, letting her in.

“Oh, baby. Please don’t cry. We don’t know anything for definite. They could be perfect. Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

—

“Mrs Russos?” The doctor asked, knocking on the door as he walked in.

You had been at the hospital for a few hours now.

They ran through test after test, trying to get to the bottom of what was wrong.

Alessia held your hand as she rested her elbows on the bed.

“The results are in from your tests.” The doctor announced, quickly looking over the notes on his clipboard. “It looks like your baby is perfectly fine. We’ve come across no problems in the scans or tests which leaves one possible answer as to why the bleeding occurred. I’m presuming you had sex within the last 48 hours.”

Yours and Alessia’s faces blushed a deep red, flashbacks to last night fresh in mind.

“Am I right?”

You nodded shyly, your face even more red.

“That’s why you’re bleeding. It’s very common so there’s nothing to worry about. If you have any questions or concerns, I’ll be right here.”

“Thank you.” Alessia said on the behalf of both of you.

The doctor left, leaving you and Alessia alone.

“I asked if it would hurt the baby.” Alessia told you

“I didn’t think anything like this would happen. They said having sex whilst pregnant was fine.” You explained, changing back into your clothes after having to wear a hospital gown.

“No more sex now. I’m not having our baby come early.”

“No! Lessi, you can’t do that! I’ll be fine, the baby will be fine.”

“Nope!”

“Lessi!”

[cargopocketcottagecore]

Right. Had a new experience along these lines today. Short version, it went well eventually and I got thanked. Still fucking sucked.

There's someone very close to me who is cis and straight. I'm their first and major touchstone on anything queer, especially anything trans^.

I was asked about "it/its" pronouns. I explained as best as I could as someone who has acquaintances with a variety of pronouns but only goes by "she/her". Used some examples. Yes, it's another thing to remember about a person. So is their favorite movie. File the info in the same place.

Things got a little heated. I shouldn't have started laughing, but this person had moved on to being legitimately *upset* at the idea of trans folks with non-standard names, like "November" (hello.) or similar. I've known folks named after deities, after seasons, after damn near anything in nature. And that was just in the cis/het community.

I pointed out the proliferation of (hyperbolically) "Keighleigh" because people wanted to be unique. Just with trans folks they were the ones choosing, not their parents. And did this person actually know anyone who used pronouns besides they, she, and he? Well,... this one person for a few weeks. Alright, so they tried something out. Ever try a style and realize it didn't fit? Me too. Anyone else? No? Alright, so you're upset about something that doesn't actually affect you.

I finished by pointing out that remembering someone's pronouns (whatever they are) is part of their identity, something to remember about them. This person fucking *hates* onions, and I said hey, you know how you feel when someone includes onions in a dish in spite of knowing you hate them? Or when someone mistakes your name for the gender that you aren't and gives you the wrong honorific (a thing that happens damn near weekly)? You know how much it feels like you don't matter to them when they do that?

That's how these folks feel. And it's at a societal level. I've seen you tear into someone for purposefully calling me "he". Those folks deserve the same, even if it's not what you're used to. No, not that it isn't normal please. That it's new. That you aren't used to it. Like when we say STI instead of STD, or call an STI test negative instead of clean. You've been worried in the past about those tests coming back negative, you didn't want to deal with the implication of being "dirty" or the like.

I saw them slowly wilt. I'm not saying this to brag about dunking on them. As I said above, they're very close to me, very important to me. What I mean is I saw the bullshit-fueled fire evacuate all at once. They got it. They saw the unnecessary outrage.

Then they apologized asked for a hug, and thanked me several times for the patience and for taking the time to explain it to me.

I feel like I need a fucking nap, but I might also have done a bit of good. And hopefully this person is able to better explain to others why trans people aren't fucking weird.

^- Do they have other trans/queer friends? Yeah, but this person doesn't really discuss those things much. Speculation on why is a fucking case study into conservativism, desperate poverty, generational trauma, possible denied introspection, and reactionary political parents I have neither time nor patience for.

"The trannies should be able to piss in whatever toilet they want and change their bodies however they want. Why is it my business if some chick has a dick or a guy has a pie? I'm not a trannie or a fag so I don't care, just give 'em the medicine they need."

"This is an LGBT safe space. Of COURSE I fully support individuals who identify as transgender and their right to self-determination! I just think that transitioning is a very serious choice and should be heavily regulated. And there could be a lot of harm in exposing cis children to such topics, so we should be really careful about when it is appropriate to mention trans issues or have too much trans visibility."

One of the above statements is Problematic and the other is slightly annoying. If we disagree on which is which then working together for a better future is going to get really fucking difficult.

[sumbarbietingz]

Part 2 of Onlyfans!Toji, here’s part one

Now it’s either a one shot or a long ass drabble you decide, I had too much inspiration for that one

Warnings: degradation and praise kink, mutual masturbation, masturbation, breeding kink, rough sex, mention of oral; reader receiving and giving

Onlyfans!Toji finally dm you, with a simple message that comes straight to the point. “Hey ma, just discovered you and ngl, I need a collab with you asap.” Toji being the cocky bastard that he is, knows that you’ll reply and accept the offer. You see his message, and at first, you think it might be a catfish or someone using an ai generated pic for the pfp, cause you’ve never seen anyone so hot in your life. You check his profile and ho-ly fuck. 2 million followers on Twitter, a handsome face, a buff body, and the biggest dick you’ve seen in your life? Goddamn now your pussy’s wet, how can someone be- hold on.

While you’re scrolling you see a video of Onlyfans!Toji fucking some other content creator and unconsciously, you start playing with your breast. The way he’s pushing her head down the pillow while his hips are slamming against hers, the way she’s moaning, the way he’s biting his lip and groaning while railing her? Fuck, you need that. You want that, badly. Usually, you don’t crave a content creator that much. Sure, you need to at least like his work to do a collab, but this is the first time you genuinely want another dude on OF to rearrange your insides. So you don’t waste any more time, you reply and accept the offer.

Onlyfans!Toji almost jumps on his phone when he sees the notification, and a big smile spreads on his face. He jumps on his bed and the two of you start texting. There are questions and answers regarding the collab, like the money matters, what the two of you like and dislike, boundaries, ideas for the video, your schedule, and most importantly, updated test results.

Onlyfans!Toji doesn’t know why he’s so excited and why he’s behaving like a 15 yo texting his crush. But he can’t wait to see you. You end up texting for hours, and eventually, you exchange numbers to FaceTime each other which quickly ends up in Toji stroking and hitting his dick on the phone, while you’re rubbing your wet brown pussy for him. You both don’t know what’s going on, and why you’re acting like this, but you can’t wait to finally meet each other

Eventually, it’s getting late and you tell him you’re going to sleep. Since Onlyfans!Toji is not tired yet, his mind is too focused on you, so he decides to make this paid request a fan asked for earlier that day. A $500 video of him jerking off while saying the fan’s name. He’s not the one who sets the price, the fan has money to waste, and who Onlyfans!Toji is to refuse such a good offer after all? The fan already paid, it was time for him to do his part now

Onlyfans!Toji removes his clothes, lays on his bed, grabs his phone, and starts recording. At first, it’s a lil intro to edge the fan, tell her whatever she wanna hear before the camera is now on his cock. He makes it twitch a bit and says how hard it is because of her which is a lie, he imagines the fan is you. He starts stroking himself, and says the name of the fan all while thinking about you, thinking about that FaceTime and the way your fat pussy lip wrapped around your two fingers as you rubbed your clit, the way you moaned his name in despair while begging him to fuck you. He groans and starts going faster “Fuuuuuuck mama… I wanna fuck you so bad shiiit…” As he keeps going, he starts dirty talking, imagining saying all those things to you, imagining doing all those things to you, and it takes everything in him to not say your name. His imagination is running wild now, he grabs his cock a bit too tight and hits the camera a bit too hard, a feral groan leaving his lips “Fuck… suck that fuuuucking dick you fucking bitch… Do you like that? Uh?” God knows what the fuck Onlyfans!Toji is imagining right now but one thing is for sure, he’s gonna do that to you.

After a few minutes Onlyfans!Toji cums all over his abs, groaning like an animal as he pictures your dick sucking lips around his tip, swallowing his semen. He’s panting, he can’t believe he felt so much pleasure from just using his hand “Damn [fan name], see what you made me do? Fuck, I’m dirty now because of you, but it was worth it. Thank you for making me feel good.” This is clearly not for the fan but whatever. He stops recording, sends the video to the girl on Onlyfans then gets cleaned up. You’re gonna be the death of him.

A week later it’s finally time to record this video. For once, Onlyfans!Toji wants his colleague to come to his place. He doesn’t know why, he doesn’t. Usually, he meets the other content creators at some hotel or their place but never at his own. It’s not like he lives in the slums, that Onlyfans money made him rich and he lives in a beautiful penthouse. He just knows how some of these content creators become clingy and/or possessive after getting fucked by him. He doesn’t need stalkers on top of that. But you? He has that weird desire to see you boneless on his bed, HIS. And maybe he’ll be able to keep you around for a few more rounds off camera, or on, who knows.

You finally arrive and Onlyfans!Toji finds you even more breathtaking in real life, and by the look on your face, you probably think the same thing about him. Before he loses it and jumps on you to take you right there and then, he chats a bit with you, he still wanna act like a civilized man and not like a caveman. He asks you if you need anything to eat or drink, if you’re okay if you’re ready, and if you have any safe words. Once it’s settled he brings you to his room, where a whole set next to the bed is ready for you. The tension is high in the room. You didn’t plan a scenario, you both decided to go with the flow. You don’t know why you’re so nervous when you’re used to it, after all, it’s your job, but the dark and hungry look in Onlyfans!Toji’s eyes make your heart race.

You are out of breath, you are overstimulated, and your slicked-back bun is a whole mess. You didn’t know recording a video with Onlyfans!Toji would leave you in that state. Well, you expected it, but still, you can’t believe it. This man is a monster in bed. He praised and degraded you, made you ride his face until you came at least twice. He made you suck his massive dick until you were a crying, drooling mess with a sore throat. He had you in full Nelson, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, backshots, the princess position, and now you can’t count how many times this man made you squirt. And he wasn’t done, cause he didn’t cum yet. This man has the stamina of a goddamn bull on steroids. Right now you’re in missionary again, your wrists pinned, your legs wrapped around his waist, moaning in a way you never thought you would as his cock keeps pocking your cervix.

With the way Onlyfans!Toji is panting and groaning, you can tell he’s getting close to cum “M-ma, fuck I’m close mama… goddamn fuck- your pussy feels so good… such a good girl for me…” he groans in your ear, which makes your clench tighter around him. You bite your lip, and you’re so fucked out that you tell him to cum inside you. “You sure ma? Want me to fill you up and get you pregnant? That’s what you want?” You’re on the pill so it’s safe but you’d lie if you didn’t find the idea fucking hot. You nod desperately “Yes please… cum in my pussy… knock me up baby..” you whimper, your voice almost gone from the way you moaned and screamed earlier. That’s when Onlyfans!Toji snaps. He growls, releases your wrists to wrap his buff arms around your body, and violates your insides as you scream for dear life. You scratch his back so deeply you might draw blood. “Goddamn fucking slut y/n take my cum…!” When he says your name you cry out as you have another orgasm, he follows you quickly after, growling so loudly it gives you goosebumps. You can feel the warm gooey texture filling your womb, the feeling is amazing. You both stay like this for a moment until he pulls out, his cum leaking from your abused hole. He’s tempted to fuck it back into you but you’re already boneless, so he grabs his phone and stops recording.

Onlyfans!Toji looks at you affectionately and caresses your cheek while admiring your state. “You were amazing y/n, such a good girl for me.” You can barely hear him, but his caress gives you some reassurance. Eventually, you doze off and he starts editing the video. After a while, he posts a sneak peek on his Twitter account. A 20-second video of him taking you in different positions while you’re screaming in pleasure. He writes a lil caption: “@Y/N might have been my best collab so far, ‘ma knows how to take a good dick😩😈 full video on OF real soon🍆💦” and then posts it. It doesn’t take long before he gets shitloads of reactions under the tweet, both from his fans and yours.

@mahito’sstankass: holy fuckkkk I wish I was y/n 😩😩

@y/n’sdirtydraws: fucking hot I’m already touching myself rn

@tojiA1dickrider: oh my god she takes it like a champ! Wish Toji fucked me like her🤤🤤

@dcktoobigforyou: goddamn that mf gets all the baddies im jealous right now

@gojo_right_ball: I need my bf to fuck me like toji or I might break up with him idc

@coochiehair: I need the full vid asap the chemistry is insaneeeeee🔥🔥

@y/n’sasscrack: ikr??? They were downright making love! I hope they make more videos

@tojifckmepls: omg I can tell they were both into it I need more!!! My pussy can’t take it!!!🤭🤣

Onlyfans!Toji chuckles and then looks at you, the comments were right, he felt it and he bets you felt it too. This won’t be your last video together, he’s sure of it.

You can tell I was fucking horny while writing some of these lmao hope you liked part 2🫶🏾

taglist: @midnightry @tojicvmslut @getoisinnocent @samoankpoper21 @remithenonbinaryrat