#shit man he can use me not just as bait

[sacreblugh]

idk what miss Lucy was complaining about because if it was me getting a rope tied around my neck by mister smartass brooding cowboy ghoul and being led around by him?????

[trans-leek-cookie]

ur comment on that post abt dunmeshi mischaracterization is so real. the white ppl have got to go i have seen the most egregious takes on certain characters particularly the ones who are clearly not white and its like hmmm i wonder why these white ppl r so quick to demonize the characters that arent white 🤔

TRULY. It's so scary out here. Can anyone hear me

[ittybittyfanblog]

Only You, Darling (Only You, Babe)

Summary: There were orders for your abduction. You were made to be the bait by a rival gang to get to the elusive head of Onychinus. Sylus doesn’t take it too well. Word Count: 4.8k Tags: mc x sylus, fem!reader x sylus (use of she/her pronouns), depictions of violence (it gets a little graphic), reader gets abducted and injured, strong language, protective!sylus, he’s a little unhinged here, self-indulgent! A/N: I can’t believe this game pulled me out of a three-year creative rut LMAO. I’ve been doing fanarts, now I’m writing again?? The power these pixelated men hold over me, man.  Anyway, enjoy!  This version of Sylus is probably a little OOC idk idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It was close to midnight, and you're being followed.

On your six, a stocky man in an unassuming dark suit has been tailing you since you left the dingy bodega a little over a mile away from your apartment for about, three? five minutes– no, maybe even longer.

Shit, you mouth silently. Sloppy. You should’ve noticed him sooner, and the two other lackeys now closing in from up ahead. They’re armed too, if the hands hidden inside their jackets were any indication.

As if things aren't looking bad enough, you’ve decided tonight would be the perfect night to go weaponless, deciding against bringing your handgun with you since it was supposed to just be a quick run to the store for supplies. Namely, the late-night cravings sort of supply.

You clutch the wrinkled paper bag containing your coveted jalapeño Cheetos tightly.

This is what greed does to you, a mocking voice echoes in your head. Since when did your inner voice of reason sound masculine and oh-so-familiar? 

Exhaling quietly, you try to calm the rising beat of your heart and appear to be clueless of your surroundings. Walk at a normal pace. Look unaware of the men with the intention to… What even was this? An ambush? Good, old, regular robbery? No, it doesn’t seem like they were in it for something that insignificant. They wouldn’t even bother to be this cautious if it were. 

But then, what were they here for? The dangers you were more familiar with are of the monstrous kind in the literal sense of the word; entities that you face on a daily basis as a Deepspace hunter. Not the regular threats posed by mankind – which in this particular situation, suddenly feels more foreboding.

While racking your brain for ideas on how to slip away from their sight without escalating the situation, you fail to notice a fourth person hidden behind the dumpster inside the narrow alleyway on your left until you feel the cold, hard edge of a pistol gun hit your temple.  

With a shout, your hand shoots up in an attempt to yank the gun away from the hand holding it but the sudden burst of pain from the impact has left you feeling dizzy and off-kilter. The moment you throw your fists up to block your face, heavy fists strike you directly in a flurry of hits, colliding with your forearm and your unguarded ribs.

You let out a pained grunt as you stagger backwards, trying your hardest to keep yourself from falling back on your ass and ward off the next incoming attack. 

A sinister laugh alerts you of the others, now surrounding you in a circle. Shit!

You hastily shift your legs into a crouching position, bracing yourself as you attempt to sidestep the one in front of you before making a run for it. You spring into action, but before you can even take another step, an arm shoots out and coils tightly around your neck like a noose. A cloth that reeks of something distinct is slapped over your mouth and nose, rendering you unable to do anything but struggle. 

“Now, now– the boss wants her in one piece, John,” The stocky man, who’s apparently larger and more jacked up-close, pipes up. John tightens the limb circling your throat, preventing you from breathing, before slightly loosening his grip. 

 “I’d advise you from struggling too much, sweetheart. But if you insist on making this harder for yourself,” the man talking suddenly grins, revealing rows of crooked, silver teeth. “He ain’t said nothin’ about a couple of bruises.” 

You give him your dirtiest glare, trying to pull away from the death grip the burly man called John had on you, but you feel your muscles slowly becoming heavier and your vision starting to blur. 

Ch-chloroform?

You make a muffled shout, a scurry that earns you a heavy hit on the stomach, one last futile move to free yourself, but the inevitable effect of the potent substance starts to overpower you. 

“After all, we need to make sure that the big bad boss of Onychinus actually comes for his bitch, don’t we?”

Rendered completely useless, the men start to make quick work to restrain your arms and legs in a hogtie before carrying you down the street, to a shaded corner where a large, gray van is parked.

The barn doors open, and you’re tossed in carelessly to the back, landing painfully on the cold, hard floor. An involuntary whimper escapes your lips, feeling like one big bruise; splotches of red and blue start to form like a violent watercolor on your skin. 

The engine revs. Before completely losing consciousness, you think you hear a faint caw.

The car drives off the beaten path, into the night, leaving not a trace of evidence of what transpired mere minutes ago aside from a discarded brown paper bag and a deflated bag of chips. 

-

-

-

From a distance, flying towards the hazy skyline, a mechanical bird crows a bad omen. 

_____

In the dead of the night, the head of Onychinus sits as a spectator; a towering presence at the head of a table inside a private room, obscured in plain sight, in an unremarkable establishment far east of Linkon City. 

Unassuming as it may be, the room’s occupants are men of great renown, both in influence and notoriety. The CEO of a chain business in Azure Square, a regional manager of a well-known bank in Linkon, the head of a weapons trade representing a faction in the N109 zone… All held significant power, all held ulterior motives.

A meeting of minds; the type held only in the secrecy of the night, gone in the break of dawn. 

Sylus has half the mind to listen in on the droning exchange of fake pleasantries and plastic smiles as the men deal trades in nature that of weapons and favors. A number of hungry, beady eyes cast him furtive glances, fearful yet devout. Some cautious in the hope of earning his approval. 

“–the package will be en route to the agreed-upon address by the end of the week,” a stout man in spectacles finishes off, clearing his throat. Beads of sweat start to form at the back of his neck as red eyes bore into his, assessing. Deliberating. “O-or if Richard’s able to give me the go-ahead in advance, I’ll make sure it arrives by Friday,” a gulp–then, “sir.” 

All in reverence. 

He hums, his switchblade dancing idly in his hand, deliberately stretching the tension that hangs heavy in the air. He delights in this power to unsettle, savoring the authority that his mere presence commands—a demand for absolute deference. 

“Make it half that time, will you, Raymond?” Sylus responds amicably, not as a question. The man, Raymond, sputters. 

“That won’t be pos–” Sylus tilts his head, eyes shifting into something more dangerous. “Please, I’ll try to cut the time shorter but there won’t be any assurances.” 

The pale-haired man sighs in acquiescence. “I guess that will have to do.” Raymond lets out an exhale of relief, but catches his breath as Sylus continues, “Any later than Wednesday, and I’ll come to claim it personally.” 

Raymond, more nerves than man, starts to blabber something in response–but stops when something black suddenly appears in a blaze of dark energy, near the shoulder of the intimidating man he’s trying to appeal to. 

Sylus raises a hand, and a large crow lands on his pointer finger. 

He caws, once. Twice. And shows a projection. 

The inhospitably cold room suddenly went glacial. 

All conversation halts to a stop as an overwhelmingly suffocating aura starts to emanate from the man–no, the being at the head of the table, making all that are in the vicinity freeze in fear. 

The devil posing as the leader of Onychinus abruptly stands up, and Raymond thinks, Oh I’m going to die here.

Without a word, the man disappears in a Stygian haze.

_

Five minutes later, only after they felt like death was no longer looming over their heads, did anyone dare to move a muscle.

_____

Your head hurts, and your mouth tastes of rust. 

Having been awake for longer than your captors were aware of – two (?) of which bickering near a barred slate of metal that you assume is the door after taking a quick peek from beneath the mess of hair concealing your face – you try to get your bearings together without arousing the suspicion of your present audience. 

“–bet it’s gonna take a while ‘fore that guy arrives. You think she’s enough to get him to show his face?” 

“Damned if I know. In any case, we got a pretty, li’l plaything on our hands,” a snort. “Make her worth the effort.” 

Where were you? From what it looks like, you’ve been transported into a nondescript underground bunker of sorts, dank with a hint of mildew and rot in the air; a rumbling air vent on your left masking any noise that escaped your mouth when you woke up. The area is poorly lit, save for the flickering bulb hanging precariously above your head as your main source of light – good for casting shadows to hide your bruised face, bad for the pounding headache you’re pretty sure is a concussion. And with your back seemingly close to a wall, you arrive at the conclusion that there are no other entryways, no way to leave, but the guarded door in front of you. 

In short, you have no idea where you are. 

Fuck–this is bad, you swear to yourself internally, trying to control the rising panic swelling up your chest. You never thought your nightcap would lead to this mess. Nobody knows about your current predicament, and it’ll take more than a day before your absence raises any alarms, so right now, you’re on your own. 

Think, think! What can you do?

What can you do? You have nothing on you, nothing you can use as a makeshift weapon to defend yourself with, and your hands are tightly bound behind your back by a thick, heavily twined rope with no give. The situation is slowly turning bleaker by the second, and it isn’t even your fault that you’re here in the first place! You were made a pawn, a mere bait in this messed-up dick-measuring contest between a crazy, sadistic, self-proclaimed head honcho and Onychinus’s own crazy, sadistic–

Wait a minute. Sylus. 

You send a strong prayer to anyone above that’s listening, and an angry telepathic shout for good measure to the one who’s unaware of his involvement – but nonetheless the source of your ruined night – in this attempt at kidnapping a perfectly law-abiding citizen of Linkon.

Sylus, as much as I hate your unfortunate tendency to stalk me through means that, honestly? Eludes the hell out of me, I really, REALLY hope that you’ve been keeping tabs toni–

“Hey, boss! I think this one’s awake!”

Fuck. No use pretending anymore. 

You hear heavy footsteps from outside the room before the corroded metal door swings open to reveal a large man, easily standing above six feet, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and an unsettling smile. His arms are covered in tattoos– overlapping, almost undecipherable. A gnarly scar runs from the side of his mouth to just above his brow bone; his right eye a cloudy gray, most likely a morbid souvenir from the sustained injury.

His functional eye zeroes in on your pitiful form, and his smile widens into a hostile grin. 

“Well, well. It seems like our esteemed guest is finally ready to join in the fun,” His voice sounds like gravel, with a mocking intonation. “I hope my men weren't too rough with you on the way here.” 

You let out a breath through your teeth, blinking a few times to try and rid the blurring in your vision. You have to bide your time– “Why am I here? What do you want from me?” 

The man cocks his head to the side, smile still in place. “I assume you already know. But I’ll indulge you your little questions, why not?”

He crosses the space separating the two of you with just a few, languid steps before he’s in front of you. He leans forward, brushing the messy locks of hair – dried with blood – away from your face in a deceptively calm manner. “The devil needs to pay his dues, but it’s been rather difficult to get a hold of him, you see,” he sighs in exaggerated disappointment. ”I intend to collect, so I waited patiently for the right moment, for an opening. For an opportunity. 

And here, the opportunity presents herself.” 

You sneer, moving your head back to let your hair fall from his creepy hold. “I’ve no clue what you’re talking about, mister, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong idea.”

He barks out a laugh before gripping your chin tightly between his fingers. “You’ve got a smart mouth on you. Maybe we can find a better use for it.” 

You feel it before you hear it. 

“Perhaps not.” 

Something vicious saturates the air, something intense and terrifying and wrong. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and some sort of primordial response deep within your brain is telling you to get away from it.

But then, the paralyzing fear melts away to something akin to hope when you realize the source of this new disturbance.

Relief washes over you when familiar ink-and-red tendrils materialize behind the man in front of you. The dark wisps dissipate like smoke as soon as it comes and in place, your savior – sporting an expression that could only be described as downright murderous – stands before you, all six feet of unadulterated rage.

Several things happened so fast, it was almost simultaneous.

A cacophony of shouts came loudest from the two men who had been on guard duty but screams also echoed from outside the room. You saw flashes of red, twin laughter, and blood spurting from the necks of the now headless guards, and then a symphony of bullets and a lot of things breaking rang across the room. 

Suddenly– 

Deafening silence. As if something has put an abrupt stop to the noise. 

Amidst all the chaos, the scarred man in front of you had no time to make a move before savage whips of crackling energy engulfed him, leaving only his head free from the smothering darkness. 

His expression betrays something wild and manic as he tries twisting around to look at the figure behind him. “You–”

Sylus pays no mind to the breathing, dead fool – lower than dirt on his feet, with the nerve to harm what is most precious to him – as he keeps his gaze solely on you; his eyes darting up and down as if taking inventory of all the bruises and scrapes you sustained from the abduction. 

You meet his eyes. “You came.” 

An indecipherable look passes his face, gone as quickly as it came. “A little too late. I apologize.” 

You weakly huff out a chuckle, wanting to shake your head but decide against it lest it aggravates your concussion. A prickling sensation, then the rope around your wrists falls off with a quiet thud. 

“Luke. Kieran.” 

“Everything’s all accounted for, boss,” Kieran announces, suddenly appearing beside your right, along with Luke who’s on your left. Both look no worse for wear.

 The latter gives you a sympathetic look. “Oh, man. They got you good, little crow.” 

“Caught me off-guard, s’all,” you insist half-heartedly. 

A sigh. “Transport her directly back to base. Attend to her critical injuries once you arrive, and keep her awake. I’ll handle the rest once I get back,” Sylus instructs the twins in a tone that brooks no argument.

They nod in sync and start making a move to carry you out, but you protest.

“Wait, you’re staying behind?” For some reason, the thought of being separated from him, even for a short amount of time, makes you feel ill. Well, worse than your current state at least. 

Sanguine eyes soften when he hears the tremble in your voice. The offending man in front of you, reduced into something less threatening than a cowering dog in comparison to your rescuer, is forcibly pushed aside to make room for Sylus as he steps closer. 

He crouches low so that you’re looking down on him instead of up. One large hand covers both of yours, mindfully avoiding the fresh rope burns on your wrists, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the unmarred part of your skin. 

“This will be quick, sweetie. I’ll be back by your side before you know it,” he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. “I swear to you.”

You swallow, but nodded reluctantly. “Come home soon.” 

“I will.”

With that, you let yourself be carried out of the claustrophobic space you were confined to, into a larger room littered with unmoving bodies that you're frankly too tired to care about at the moment, up three (rickety) flights of stairs where you exit into what looks like the inside of an empty shipping container, before finally, finally getting out. 

A gust of salty wind hits you and you ask, “Are we near the docks?” 

“Yeah,” Kieran answers, carefully putting you down on the backseat of Sylus’ car. “Mephisto trailed after the van they stuffed you in before reporting back to the boss. We followed soon after.” 

Luke frowns as he inserts the key in the ignition. “We weren’t aware that they had eyes on you for a while now. An oversight on our part, won’t happen again,” he assures you. “Gotta give them props for that, at least.” 

Kieran, now getting in the passenger side of the vehicle, shoots him a look. 

“Anyway, we’re glad we got to you before they did anything… worse,” Kieran continues, then winces in a show of mock sympathy. “Can’t say the same to that fucker back inside. Haven’t felt Sylus’ bloodlust this strong in a long while.” 

You try to focus on their words, but you feel yourself nodding off as the remaining adrenaline slowly leaves your body. You know you should feel more worried about what the two were insinuating, but your mouth still tastes like you swallowed a bunch of coins and you just want a soft bed to sleep in for an entire day. Or three. 

“Oi, no sleeping. Doctor’s orders,” A snapping finger in front of your face forces you awake. 

You blink your tired eyes open in an attempt to stay lucid, the pulsing pain in your head becoming more prominent as soon as the threat of danger has passed. 

“This is gonna be a long night,” you sigh, wishing that Sylus will keep his word and be quick about… whatever he’s planning to do with your abductor. 

–––––

There hasn’t been much left of the man who proclaims to be the new head of an arms syndicate Sylus had dealt with in the past. He recalls the history of his relationship with the cartel being less than cordial, but nothing that would warrant his ire. Except for tonight.

He usually doesn’t leave a trace when doling out punishments; no, not anymore. Not in recent years. He prefers to be efficient about his killings, dissipating any evidence in thin air after reducing them into fine paste, rather than make a big show out of it. Quick and precise.

Except today… Someone had the arrogance, the absolute audacity to steal directly from the dragon’s nest.

The contents of which have always been kept in strict confidentiality. What is known, only chosen individuals bound to secrecy are privy to, and a lot of people would kill for. 

But unbeknownst to anyone else but its owner, only one thing in this hoard of secrets truly matters to the dragon. One solitary treasure alone he would burn planets for – and someone has tried to steal it.

Harm. the treasure. To get to him. 

It seems as if the new bloods needed a reminder of who, exactly, they’re stealing from. 

One who dwells deep within the underbelly of the cities both monster and men inhabit, that even the most heinous of sinners seeking solace in the dark, are afraid of. 

And what retribution tastes like to those who are foolish enough to bite more than what they can chew.

The poor soul unfortunate enough to be the first one to discover the carnage will witness that what was left of the man that had wronged the Onychinus kingpin is stuck on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling of a basement where the treasure was held captive. They will find that the man’s innards are deliberately hung in a haphazard fashion, in all corners of the room like bloody, sinewy tinsel. 

And the centerpiece of this bloodbath is none other than the man’s decapitated head, forcibly attached to the hanging light in the middle of the room. A bulb crudely drilled past his cranium, while blood dripped down the floor in slow, ominous rivulets. 

They will understand in dawning horror that the one responsible for this... gross butchery, has left the head swinging. That the man’s mouth will forever remain agape in an eternal scream to immortalize the exact moment he realizes the gravity of his sin.   

Yes, Sylus is more than glad to remind them. 

_____

You arrive a quarter past four AM. 

Barely taking a step past the foyer, the twins immediately whisk you inside to perform an ‘emergency patch-up.’ Luke’s words, not yours.

“We’re your personal CNA while waiting for the head nurse to take over,” he explains cheerfully, wrapping another layer of gauze around your wrist. You hiss when Kieran dabs a cotton ball on the gash on your temple, peroxide fizzing as it comes in contact with the dried-up blood. Muttering out a “sorry!” Kieran does quick work in cleaning the injury and covering the affected area.

In no time at all, all visible wounds are bandaged and disinfected. The worst of your head wound had to be stitched up, but other than that, nothing seems to require immediate medical attention. There’s nothing left for you to do but to bear the aches that came along with the bruises – especially on your tender midriff – and to pop a tylenol for your throbbing headache.

You offer them a sincere, “Thanks. No, really.” before they leave you in Sylus’ room, after multiple reminders to “not sleep before the attending nurse arrives for the final diagnosis.” 

(You think they might have enjoyed playing caretaker a little too much.) 

With a lot more effort than you care to admit, you painstakingly remove your bloodstained clothes until you're down to your underwear, before draping yourself in a large, red, silk robe. A hot shower sounds heavenly to your sore muscles, but the soft mattress is calling to you more so you head straight to bed. 

With nothing else to occupy yourself with, you prop your head on a mountain of pillows – to keep yourself relatively upright – and let out a sigh. 

Tonight had been a shitshow. All you wanted was something to snack on while you binge through the last season of the show you were watching back at your apartment; you never thought a late-night run to the store just a few blocks away would result in… this. If not for Sylus’ intervention, you’re sure you'd be leaving with a lot more than a couple of scrapes. If not worse.

You're lost in your own thoughts when short, successive raps on the door catch your attention. It swings open before you have the chance to pipe out a, “come in!”

Speak of the devil.

Sylus enters the room, not a hair out of place. You notice that he’s changed into a casual, brown sweater and a pair of dark-washed jeans. His eyes meet yours, tightly-controlled expression relaxing as he crosses the room towards the side of your bed, wasting no time. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Still pretty sore, but Luke and Kieran already handled the worst of my injuries,” you answer, making a move to sit up. Sylus tuts disapprovingly, gentle as he puts a hand on your chest to prevent you from moving any further. He sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle you. Once fully settled, he let out a deep sigh.

“You had me worried for a moment there, kitten.” He admits, a slightly rough edge to his voice as emotion seeps into it. He regards you intently, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re here, safe. 

Your hand reaches out towards his face. Without missing a beat, he leans in to nuzzle your palm, eyes closing shut. He reminds you of a big wolf, unbridled fire simmering beneath the surface, yet tame in the presence of his handler. 

“I’m fine now, thanks to you,” you assure him with a lopsided smile. “Give my thanks to Mephisto, as well. Tell him he gets a pass on the stalking this time.” 

Sylus opens his eyes, a hint of amusement and something else you can’t identify flickering through. “Oh, sweetie. You’ll be lucky if that bird gives you the privacy to bathe alone after tonight,” he jokes. 

He’s joking. Right?

You eye him for a moment before deciding to let it go. You're too tired to argue.

Instead, you cautiously ask a question you aren’t sure you even want the answer to. “What happened after we left?” 

Sylus expression doesn’t change except for the upward tick on the corner of his mouth; the same peculiar glint in his eyes coming across a little stronger. “They won’t be bothering you anymore. You don’t need to worry about anyone coming for you.”

“That’s not what I asked.” 

He hums. “Do you really want to know?”

You stare at him, and he stares back at you placidly. 

You purse your lips and look away. “Maybe not.” 

Sylus breathes out a laugh. He gently grasps your chin between his forefinger and thumb, guiding your head to meet his gaze once more. A softer look on his face, inching closer to yours.

Your heartbeat slightly picks up. In your vulnerable state, you feel a welling desire to bare your feelings to the man in front of you. You want to tell him how relieved you felt when you saw him in that cursed basement, how he was able to quell your fears with just his presence alone the moment he appeared in a familiar haze of black and red. Like your own, personal, vindictive guardian. 

Instead, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his. 

Sylus groans quietly, a hand cupping your face as he leans closer to deepen the kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, savoring the feeling of contentment from being this close to him. You feel, more than you see, how his taut body loses the remaining tension from the events that transpired just mere hours ago, how he finally relaxes as he loses himself in you.

Very carefully, he eases you further down, cradling your head with one hand until it rests on a pillow. His lips drift to the corner of your mouth, trailing soft kisses up to the apples of your cheeks, your forehead, then to your nose. 

He pulls back slightly, chuckling when you make a sound of discontent. When you open your eyes, you see him looking at you– half-lidded and tender. 

In a low voice, he instructs, “Rest. You need it.”

The feeling of exhaustion pulls you in, but before you surrender to it, you remind Sylus, “I’m not that fragile, you know. You don’t have to worry too much.” You poke his cheek and he catches the offending digit to bite it affectionately. “I’ll be up and running in no time.”

He doesn't speak for a minute, considering your words. His mouth sets into a thin line before letting out a sigh.

“And if you get hurt again? What then?" He whispers so quietly, seeming as if he's talking to himself.

"I'll get hurt again, that's for sure," You tell him, matter-of-factly. "But really, that’s just an occupational hazard. I’m sure you realize."

“Love — what a terrible, little thing,” he muses, half-forlornly, half in jest. "I’d rip this cold heart out and throw it in flames if I could.”

While speaking, his hand finds its way into the tangles of your hair, gently running his fingers through the strands in a lulling manner. His lips landing on the crown of your head softly. Reverently.

You hum sleepily.

“Of course you would, Sy.”

_____

“You’ll be glad to know that the artifact you had your eye on back at the auction will be arriving this Wednesday.” 

“Huh? But I thought it was already sold to someone else?”

Sylus shrugs. “I made a counteroffer.” 

“You didn’t have to. I told you it was fine.” 

“I know. But I also recall a certain someone telling me how much they wished they had placed a bid on it on our way back,” he pinches your cheek fondly. “Don’t worry about it, kitten. It’s yours.”

“Oh. Well– thank you,” you yawn in response, leaning your head to rest against his palm.

His thumb strokes your cheek. “Anything for you.”

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

55 / 1.2k / first time meeting Ghost for medic reader

...

"Don't expect to be treated special," the skull-faced man tells you. " if someone needs patching, which is unlikely, don’t expect them to be a grateful patient." Ghost leads you through the halls, your medical bag slung over his shoulder. "And we don't care for small talk. Nor do we care how you do your job. Just do it. We don't care if you like us or not. Actually, I prefer you don't get any funny ideas about befriending me."

Is that all. Twenty minutes ago you arrived and already the Simon Riley so graciously rolls out the welcome wagon. You take it by the way he hefts your bag down that he's finished with his talk and you can get to work.

"That's perfectly fine," you tell him. Mildly, as if he didn't just tell you to mind your own fucking business in so many words. "Thank you. If you'll excuse me."

"I won't," he says. "The Captain tasked me with keeping an eye on you. Can't really do that if you walk away."

You halt and turn to peer at him. "I'm sorry?"

He doesn't even look at you. Instead, he begins casually cleaning an already shining knife. "Price told me to make sure you get nice and settled in. So I'm keeping watch."

Your jaw flexes. "Tell Captain Price I don't need a babysitter. You're dismissed."

He pauses The stare he gives you from behind that mask is halting. "You should really learn to be a bit more polite to your superiors. I don't take orders from you. If Price says you need supervision, I'm supervising."

"You're not my superior," you tell him. "And I'm not your recruit. I'm a contractor."

"Let me make one thing clear, medic," he growls. "Everyone on this base follows a chain of command, and that includes you. You might have a contract, you might not be a recruit, but on this team, you answer to the boss. And right now, he said I'm keeping an eye on you. So if you want to have words with me..."

He takes a step closer, leaning down to your eye level.

"I'd suggest you swallow them."

Even without the height difference, his gaze is like a physical weight. You stare back for a long moment. There's a challenge in those dark eyes, daring you to push him. He's looking for an excuse to put you in your place, and you know it.

You refuse to take the bait. Without saying a word, You turn your back and walk away, making your way toward the medical offices. He follows you, humming a tune and flipping the knife tip-first between his fingers.

If he wants to babysit, fine. It won't stop you from doing your goddamn job.

Days later, you're hard at work. It's near midnight. You've been on your feet for around 30 hours.

The door to the medical office slides open and Ghost walks in. It's clear from one look at him that he hadn't gotten any sleep either. He's been on a series of missions back to back for two days straight. With a deep sigh, he leans against the counter, arms folded over his chest.

"You're still awake?" he asks.

You glance at him. "You look like hell."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." His eyes sweep over you. He takes note of the dark circles under your eyes, the exhaustion clear on your face. It's obvious that you're just as tired as he is. "You've been at this too long. How long since you took a break?"

You look back down at your work. "Doesn't matter. There's still work to do."

He pushes himself off the counter and walks over to you. His footsteps are heavy on the floor. "This how you take care of yourself? Work until you pass out?"

"What's it to you? I do my job."

"You work yourself to exhaustion, you won't be able to do jack shit." He's now standing directly behind you. He looks down to see you're doing inventory of the medical supplies. He glances at how fast your fingers move, how you never stop. It's obvious that you're pushing yourself.

"I know what I'm doing."

"You're going to goddamn kill someone."

As you scan the list, you notice the tremors in your hands. Damn it.

"You have no room to talk." You turn around to stare him down so you don't have to keep seeing your own hands shake. Up close, he looks even worse. Christ, is that blood?

"Sit down," you command. "You're bleeding. You need a checkover."

He gives a deep sigh, tired. "S'not necessary."

He's downplaying the situation. Typical. But he does as he's told, sitting down on the exam table in front of you. There's no use trying to hide injuries from a medic.

You lift up the underside of his t-shirt to find the long cut stretching across his chest underneath. It was bandaged--though not well, and it's bleeding through. It isn't a life-threatening situation, but it'll need stitches, and it's definitely not the nothing he made it out to be.

"Hold this," you tell him, putting his shirt hem in his hand. "Keep still."

He winces. Despite his best efforts to hide the pain and discomfort, it's clear that it's more than a minor injury. He takes the shirt as instructed, holding it out of the way. He watches you in silence as you work, studying your focused expression and the methodical way you tend to his wound. You're not gentle by any means. But you're efficient. Even if it is annoying to have you fussing over him.

Though your work is hampered by your shaking hands and you're obviously frustrated about it. Your movements aren't as deft as they should be--not as quick as your eyes.

"Stay still," you snap.

"I'm not moving," he responds through gritted teeth.

Despite his best efforts to stay stoic, he frowns under his mask. Being patched up, sitting still and letting himself be tended to isn't something he's used to. Still, you're clearly in worse shape than he is. Somehow. His eyes dart from the sutures in his chest to your face.

You finish as quickly as you can. You know you've caused him unnecessary pain with this repair. But he shouldn't have gotten himself hurt in the first place. The cure should be more bitter than the cut, as far as you're concerned.

When you've snipped away the excess thread, you take a deep, slow breath, and it feels like whatever energy you had left escapes with it. You touch the stitches stretching across his pectoral muscle lightly. It jumps with the sudden tenderness. Then you apply a new bandage.

"There," you mutter. "Don't let it happen again."

"I don't plan on it." He scrutinizes your face again. Exhaustion and fatigue are etched into every feature. You're running on fumes. "You'd better go rest."

"Whatever happened to not caring about how I do my job?"

"Medic," he warns.

"I'm going," you mutter. "Don't you report this to Price again. I'm going."

"That's what I thought." He smooths his shirt down. He hides a smirk and rubs the aching stitches. "Don't let it happen again."

...

more Ghost / masterlist tag

[obsessedwrhys]

Can we have a part 2 Deadpool reader with the boys and maybe soldier boy too❓❓ if you want to of course

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader's origin will be explained underneath, reader is still an asshole lol that comes with the character, mention about killing,death,gore, weed, drugs, Reader is gn!!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the seven, kiss kiss <3

Origin:

Quick summary, when you were born, your parents had agreed with Vought to have you be pumped full of Compound V so you could grow up and be a hero working under them, but the problem was when you were around 7, they changed their mind so Vought ended up sending several people to come to your house to settle the matter.

Your whole family was massacred in the living room during thanksgiving and when they tried to capture you. You were able to run away. Homeless and living on the street, you grew up in a life of crime, depending on nobody but yourself. Make sense? No? Good! Let's start now.

BUTCHER

To him, you were like a fly that won't leave him alone.

How he knew you was through Mallory, she thought you were okay and fit for the job since you hated Vought just as much.

Obviously he didn't like you once you were introduced to him and the two (M.M and Frenchie)

"No way am I lettin' a supe join us"

":("

Though after what happened to Mallory's grandchildren, the gang pretty much dispersed but wherever Butcher went, you followed. Since he was the only person you trusted... and also enjoy annoying the shit out of.

He'd head inside a club, relieved he hadn't seen you for the past few days so he decided to grab a drink by the bar to unwind.

"Whiskey" He said with his eyes looking around, paranoia shown on his face.

Once his drink was served, he would look back to find your eyes smiling at him, you were wearing a bartender disguise over your red suit.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh christ..."

When you heard word that he was gathering back the team, you had to be there. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't?

Undoubtedly he had to admit, there were times where he was grateful to have you on the team but there were also other times he regretted it.

For example, that time when you guys needed to sneak into a lab to get something and the goal was to stay quiet but even that simple rule was hard for you to follow.

"Room's up ahead. (Y/N) I need you to—"

"Heads up!" You said as you threw a bomb at the metal door.

The explosion causing the alarm to turn on and it had the whole lab now on high alert. You shrug innocently when Butcher glared at you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Also, you enjoy constantly pissing him off. You can't die so you don't really care if he'll kill you for it.

"Maybe, if you didn' press the fuckin' button, we wouldn't have to come bac' to save yer ass from the guards"

"OOH GOD SAVE THE QUEEEN!! Please, cry me a fucking river. I got us the target didn't I?"

"He's dead"

"Well you weren't being specific when you said to capture him"

But it's fine, all his frustration will be solved once he uses you as bait. He knows you can't die but hey, it makes him feel slightly better watching you get shot at.

Despite your ups and downs, he appreciates you. When the team would turn against him on his insane journey for revenge, he always found you the only one still standing by his side. You're loyal and he likes that.

Compatibility? 75%

HUGHIE

You treat him like a child.

No seriously you baby talk him sometimes and it annoys him

"Awwwww is little hughie angry?"

"Stop..."

"Does baby want his milky?"

Since he's pretty much the only person who isn't that exposed to crime as the others, he's terrified 100% everytime when he's paired up to do any dirty work with you.

"Now listen buddy, you better start talking or I'm gonna shoot" You said, gun raised at the man who seemed to be begging you to spare his life in a language you didn't speak.

"I don't think he speaks English"

"Ah shit... ENGLISH!! SPEAK!! ABCDEFG??!"

"How is shouting in English gonna make him understand?"

"Eh, you're right"

BANG

"WHY'D YOU SHOOT HIM??!"

"Well did you expect me to pull out Duolingo and start taking classes?!"

You had to admit, it was a pain in the ass each time he starts giving you the cold shoulder whenever he gets mad at you for doing something terrible. It was like his way of guilt tripping you so you always try to apologise in your own ways.

"Hey..." You said, handing him ice cream.

"...I uh... I don’t like Strawberry ice cream... I thought I told you that"

"God you're so ungrateful!!"

Since he was such a scaredy cat, you try to tone down your craziness a bit. For the sake of him not going into cardiac arrest.

"(Y/N) STOP!! She has nothing to do with this!! She was tricked" Hughie grabbed you by the arm to pull your gun away from the innocent woman.

You turn your head to look at him, then at the woman, then at him again, then the woman, then him again.

"Ugh finnnne... you're boring..."

However, he does appreciate you trying to be a better person. Even you had to admit, after you met him and became friends. You noticed yourself being less brutal than you used to be. The thought keeps you awake at night and it scares the shit out of you.

But oh well, how could you ever say no to those scared little puppy eyes?

Compatibility? 55%

FRENCHIE

He's like your hype man which is concerning.

Not because you're not afraid to get the job done but also because you always have his back.

"Well... I need some gunpowder but I've run out of them" Frenchie said, telling Butcher that the plan was most likely not gonna happen.

"Hold on" You said with the typical comical ☝🏻 gesture before heading into a different room. Everyone exchanging confused glances at what you could possibly be doing.

After a few minutes you'd return with a bag of gunpowder while struggling to zip up your pants with the other hand.

"Don't tell me how I got it. It almost tore me apart" You said, rubbing your ass.

On stressful nights, you guys would enjoy smoking weed together by the sofa and share stories of your traumatic childhood. It's how you guys bond and it's oddly wholesome.

Also when he needs a shoulder to cry on, you were always there for him. You two shared a type of relationship that even Romeo and Juliet couldn't compete with. To be fair they're dead so they actually can't fight.

"Hey reader!! If you're gonna keep reading then you might as well give the post a like or a repost. C'mon, pleassssseeee pleasepleaseplease"

"Ma cerise, who are you talking to?"

Although he doesn't mind your behaviour sometimes but he won't tolerate it if you ever cross the line on something. He's like the owner who sprays water at his pet cat when they don't listen.

"What are you mad at me for?!?!"

"You damn near tried to get us killed!!"

"Hey! You're the one who said it would be a suicide mission so I made sure it was a suicide mission!!"

"WHAT?"

There's no way he can deny how curious he is about where you get your guns and things. He once went in your room to find boxes of dynamite and a RPG just placed against the wall like furniture.

Like do you have a supplier or are you your own supplier?

Compatibility? 99.9%

M.M

Everybody deserves second chances.

He always tells him that to calm himself down everytime you managed to fuck up a thoroughly planned mission.

"What did I say about pressing buttons (Y/N)?"

"Honestly I stopped paying attention after you said 'Listen here'."

M.M has to be the only person you fear to the fact you try very hard to avoid him, this is because his long ass lectures are such a pain to deal with.

"How many times do I have to remind you? You can't just go around doing shit like that. You gotta consider the amount of danger you'll put everyone in..."

"(Blah blah blah... he's still going... uggggh... make it stop...!)"

Unable to handle the lecture any longer, you ended up shooting yourself in the head.

"(Y/N)!" His tone more disappointed than concern since this wasn't the first time you did this to escape his talks.

You know that russian dollhouse he tries to build in season 2? Well you'd constantly be found standing or sitting near him when he's trying to finish the set.

Since you're aware of his OCD, you like to edge him on by sometimes rearranging the parts or stealing some of it so he ends up searching high and low for the missing parts.

You had to admit it was entertaining to watch him accuse other people for touching his stuff when it was you behind all the schemes.

I'd like to think that after every mission when you happen to die, he'd be the one in charge of collecting your remains so you'd grow back.

That's why it comes naturally that his job is to make sure you don't do anything extreme.

"Where are my bombs??!?!" You'd shout, storming around the place looking for them.

"I sold them. Thought it'd do us more good knowing you won’t accidentally blow us up"

"WHAT?! GOD! It's like the writers of the show couldn't afford another explosion for this season so they had to use this DUMB of an excuse!!"

Though he does see some good in you through the messed up parts, he once saw you give his daughter a cute teddy bear when they've been burned by Vought.

She still has the bear and M.M likes to think that maybe you have a soft spot for kids since you never had a proper childhood. That's why he chooses to understand you rather than just being ignorant about your behaviour.

Compatibility? 80%

KIMIKO

She finds you a little odd but she doesn't mind once she realises how everyone is used to you being like that.

Whenever you're bored, you'd come to see what she was up to. Just imagine you sitting on the sofa like a curious kid as you watch her write alphabets on the book.

She also tries to communicate with you since she thought maybe your fucked up mind would understand her better in a way. Like how in season 2 she was repeatedly writing 'boy' to Frenchie but he didn't understand, so she came to you.

"Woow... watching you try to talk to me is like watching a baby take it's first breath..."

"😐"

"It's beautiful..."

Turns out her theory was wrong, you had a harder time understanding her compared to the rest.

Since you're the only two people in the group with powers, most of the time you two are sent on dangerous missions together. It's a nightmare for her because everybody knows communication is key but one is mute and the other doesn't listen.

"(Be quiet! There's people in the other room!)" She'd sign to you but you were busy humming a song while throwing around the enemies equipment.

"Oooh, what's this?" You held up a Homelander figurine which made you laugh as you show it to her.

"Hey look! 'I'm Homelander, I'm God's favourite. I play golf with Jesus every Sunday."

"(Can you please take this seriously?)"

"You're right, you gotta stop messing around Kimiko! We have a target to kill here" You said and you threw the figurine away which apparently clashes into a stack of boxes that came crashing down. The sound making everyone inside the building grab their weapons and began cornering you two in the room.

"😡"

"Okay that wasn't me that was gravity"

For the boys, you were plan A and she was plan B. That's because you always end up rushing into a fight first which most of the time resulted in you getting dismembered, which she later comes in to save you.

For example when Stormfront had stopped you guys, your bright ass thought it was a good idea to charge at her even though everyone was signalling you to stop. Next thing you know you were just a head being carried by M.M, you ended up watching as Kimiko fought Stormfront with the help of Starlight and Queen Maeve.

"That's my girl!! Now can anyone lend me a hand? I think I lost mine"

Compatibility? 97%

Bonus +

SOLDIER BOY

You know the scene where he walks out of his containment with the gas surrounding him? You swore when you watched him step out butt naked, you could hear angels singing and trumpets playing inside your head.

Shockingly enough, he was the only person who appreciated your humour. Could be a generation thing. He's just relieved not everyone has gone soft over the years.

In a way, you feel like you've become his babysitter. Everytime Butcher and Hughie left to do some business, you were in charge of making sure he doesn't blow up anyone. You kept him entertained so he didn't mind. That's why on the hunt for his former team members, he immediately chose you to be by his side.

"I'll take red with me"

"Red as in the american flag or the russians?" You asked which had him do the typical boomer laugh.

"I like you, you're funny" He said with a strong pat on your shoulder.

Butcher doesn't mind you with him cause he trusts that you can keep him under control. Hughie on the other hand isn't sure if you can even keep yourself under control.

"Shhh... wait... do you hear that?"

"Ah shit, did I accidentally said my dirty thoughts out loud? It's just you look breedable in that suit"

Another thing he likes about you is that you're okay with killing pretty much anyone, just try not to overstep cause that could potentially piss him off.

"I told you he's mine" He said as he had you pinned against one of the trees, apparently you had shot Mindstorm in the head when he literally made it clear to you minutes ago that was his kill.

"Quite possessive aren't you? I can recommended a therapist I know. Her names Martha—"

"You shut your mouth before I shove my shield up your ass"

"Gasp don't you DARE threaten me with a good time!!"

At the end of Season 3, you would obviously side with Butcher when everyone started to turn against Soldier Boy. He had to admit he was kinda hurt though, he expected you to be on his side.

"So what? You're crawling back to him now? After what we've been through?"

"Sorry big daddy, but Butcher has been my day one and I also happen to love him veryvery much"

Cue Butcher rolling his eyes out of disgust.

Compatibility? 100% but after the betrayal? 0% 😔

[evilminji]

You know all those Cults in Gotham?

Bet at least ONE of them could spring for both a Legit Magic User and a Cloning pod.

Because The Wayne's? Hearts of Gold. Long standing pains in the asses. Probably the only thing standing between this gods forsaken wasteland of a city and Their Dark Lord. For GENERATIONS no less!

It's sooooo obnoxious!

So they want to Curse Um dead. Just a good ol fashioned bloodline curse. Destroy um from within, etc. BUT! To do THAT? You kinda need a blood relative to sacrifice!

And Bruce is... well... rather infamously An Orphan With No Biological Kids (at that point).

So? What do you do? Make one, obviously. You send in some of your own on a Holy Mission. Honeypot that playboy! Get us a kid to sacrifice! Our God will reward you etc! But... FFS! What? Are brunettes not your TYPE or something?! Pretty lady! Throwing herself at you!!

TAKE THE BAIT!

But he DOESN'T. Because he's both really used to that behavior, as The Wayne Heir and a False Playboy, AND because? He's fuckin Batman. He can see through your schemes.

Okay.

Okay!

Plan B!

Get us some DNA. We'll CLONE the sucker. That should be doable, right?

........OH COME ON! How?!

Batman: [REDACTED] / Cultists: 0

Fuck it! This is impossible! How are we supposed too... *eyes drift over to the Wayne Family Private Graveyard* .......Idea? Ideeeeaaaa~! Someone get us a shovel!

So they, cultist bastards that they are? Fuckin rob a grave for some DNA.

OBVIOUSLY though, it can't be one of the more RECENT graves! He probably VISITS those! Watches them! No we gotta be SNEAKY! Get one a bit further back! Mwahahahaha! We're so brilliant! Our God is gonna give us SUCH a Good Grade in follower!

A thing that is both REAL and possible to achieve!

So, while a Weirdly FURIOUS Batman? Is just... VIOLENTLY breaking ALL of their bones? Cultist 17 is furiously digging like his life depends on it. Either somebody snitched or Batman was hunting them down! Either way?

Gotta! Get! That! DNA!!! *digs faster*

Ah HA! Got it!

Fucking SCATTER! Run you fools, RUN!!! *everyone bolts*

And AT LAST! They have it! Wayne DNA! Now? Pop that sucker into the machine and make us a baby! Too sacrifice! *relieved noises* Man, that was hard work you guys. But we DID it!

Except??

Theoretical Babies? And "Real, slowly forming in front of me and becoming a human child" type babies? VERY DIFFERENT psychologically. It's ONE thing to sacrifice a HYPOTHETICAL baby... but when you're the guy running and monitoring the Cloning machine? Watching it slowly form and come together into... into a CHILD?

You start asking questions of yourself. Of God.

Of what, EXACTLY, you are willing to do.

What lines you find yourself unwilling to cross.

And yeah, your life was SHIT before the cult. Yeah, you were alone. Adrift. Without purpose. Angry at the world for all of its ugliness and failings. But... sitting, alone, in a dark room? Nothing but the steady hum of machines and the cool light of that pod? You are left with nothing but time... and your thoughts.

And the baby.

The one... the one YOU made.

Almost... he's almost like a son, in a way. Your son. Floating there, innocent and unknowing. Destined to be born, only to die painfully, for a cause he could not even begin to understand. Because he's too young. Too small. Just... just a baby.

The baby YOU made.

Doubt seeps in like mist. Creeping into the cracks forming in your faith. Surely there's another way, right? Why not save up for a better magician? Or... or hire a hitman? Why involve a child? Surely... surely your God would not WANT this, right? Or if He did! Surely, he would want the boy to be able to CHOOSE, right? A noble sacrifice, for the cause?

The pressure builds. Batman is tearing the city APART looking for your fellow Believers. Leadership is pressuring you to get "It" ready all ready.

He's not an "it".

They are dismissing your questions. Threatening and posturing, as you grapple with your faith. Where? Where is the COMMUNITY that you joined? The camaraderie? Every day, Believers are being torn down. The faith has lost so many!

How can this be WORTH it?

Your faith is slowly, cruelly, strangled in your chest. A death, by ten thousand silences, and ten thousand more cruelties.

Your son is ready.

You do not tell them.

The Clone of Bruce Wayne's great-grandfather is small, but healthy, in your arms. A tiny warm body, with a strong beating little heart. You call the police. Leave your phone, call running, on the desk. No one thinks to stop you, as you calmly walk out the back door.

Why would they doubt?

You are Faithful.

You drive. Pray to a God you have lost faith in, beg forgiveness for what you do now. Your beat up old junker of a car makes decent time, as you leave Gotham. Your son, asleep in a carefully made nest of blankets, on the seat next to you. You drive. You keep driving.

Past towns.

Past cities.

Out of the state.

Stopping only to feed your son and fuel your car. You... you can not bring yourself to care about what will happen to you now. You know they will find you. Know this is the end. But something ancient burns in your chest. A caring you never thought was REAL.

You are afraid.

But you will not let them harm your son.

Finally, a town. Far from Gotham. Quite and cheerful. It calls to you.

Here. It... it has to be here.

You find the hospital. Tears choking you. There is a place to drop of children. You've seen them before. How strange, that now you stand before it and HURT. Your arms not listening to your command. You... you have to do this. You HAVE too.

He is just a baby.

He is your son.

You have to keep him safe. And... and that can not be with you.

You gently put your baby boy into the drop off. Press the buzzer. And then? You make yourself walk away.

Get back in your car, and drive. The gun in your glove box will insure they can never pry from you, what you have done. Where he is. He is safe now. He has to be. You... you did your job. As his father. You made sure he was safe.

You can barely see the road, through your tears.

You take your secrets to the grave.

And Danny? He grows up. Is adopted young and never knows different. Both a Fenton and a Wayne. Knowing only one of these, to be his. But... that Wayne? Was a damn fine man. A pillar of his community and a champion of the people.

Got tossed more then a few blessings, in his life.

They weren't the STRONGEST. But they added up. And more importantly? Were hardly the refined magics of the more powerful. They were cast onto "Him". By blood and bone, more often then not. Which was all well and good!

When there was only ONE of "Him".

Cloning technology did not exsist. So why would you word carefully against it? Danny becomes a VERY lucky boy. Survives many things he should not. In fact, the kindness and hard work of his original? Gifted back in magically powered well wishes? By this, he survives something NO ONE could possibly expect him too.

It saves his life.

His template would be quite pleased, knowing that. That his life of good deeds, saved the life of the child he never got a chance to meet. That it protected his children, from even beyond death.

And in Gotham? At long, long last. The program Bruce made in his helplessness and despair, to search EVERY child until the child made of his bloodline was found? Spits out a match.

A Watchtower engineer.

Daniel J. Fenton.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[thriftedtchotchkes]

hi idk if u remember me but i literally love u okay anyways

so literally just dbf!joel saying “sweetheart i need you to be quiet” and ”baby i’m gonna cum if you don’t shut up” and maybe covering her mouth at some point 🤭

have a wonderful day and thank u sm for ur time 🙏🏾

hii love, ofc i remember you! tysm for sending this in ♡ accidentally got inspired by my dinner last night, oops. hope you enjoy!!

does your mother know?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, close family friend!joel, language, smut, rough sex, unprotected piv, age gap, mild exhibitionism, old man joel can't keep it in his pants at family dinner

word count: 1.7k

Friday night dinner wasn’t supposed to go like this.

One hand buried in your hair and the other slapped over your mouth, muffling every moan and sigh you make while Joel fucks you against the sink in the upstairs bathroom of your family home. 

He'd arrived late with a charming, drawled apology and immediately made the mistake of taking the seat across from you. If he'd sat literally anywhere else, he might've been able to ignore the perfect curve of your tits in the lowest-cut shirt he'd ever seen you in, or your constant need for the salt and pepper shakers, conveniently placed right in front of his plate. 

Every time you leaned over the table, he was reminded of the fact that you’d decided to forgo a bra. Whether that was for his benefit or yours, he was doing his best not to find out. 

Not after your parents had taken the time to invite him here, insisting that he eat a home-cooked meal for once, knowing full well he's been surviving off TV dinners ever since Sarah left for college.

“That’s kinda rude of me, huh?” you smiled sheepishly after giving him a particularly revealing peek, but the look that followed was downright sinful. "My bad, I just didn’t wanna keep interrupting your dinner by asking you to pass the salt. Figured it’s been a while since the last time you ate."

And you were right. It had been a while since he’d tasted anything as sweet as you, that satisfied him the way you do, but you already knew that. It’s why you were baiting him—because you know he can’t resist you.

Still, he tried. He really did, but the Southern gentleman in him couldn't refuse dessert or the hefty glass of wine your mom poured after he'd finished helping her clear the table. So, when he'd found himself trapped between your familiar warmth and the armrest of the couch, he should've known there'd be trouble.

When you'd casually gestured a little too widely during the story you were telling and splattered half the glass across his flannel and jeans, he should've gone to the bathroom to treat the stains alone instead of accepting your apologetic offer to help.

He should’ve known better. 

But the second your doe eyes lock with his, roving over his body like the lovely dinner your mom made wasn’t nearly enough to fill you up, he realizes he does know better. He just doesn't give a shit.

And that's why you're bent over the sink, taking his cock like you were made for it, and making the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. You either don’t care enough to stop, regardless of whether your parents can hear you or not, or you’re too blissed out to notice. But he does.

“Sweetheart, I need ya to be quiet,” he grits out tightly, barely audible over his hips slamming into yours and the filthy squelch of your pussy around him. “Don’t want us gettin’ caught, do ya?”

You can’t respond, or even nod, with his hand still held firmly over your mouth, so you whine your acknowledgment into his palm, squeezing your eyes shut as you try your best to do what he asked. 

You’re clearly struggling. Those muted, stuttered whimpers grow louder every time he buries himself to the hilt, and he almost wants to remove his hand and let the sounds of your pleasure echo around the room, so everyone in this house knows just how good he’s making his girl feel. 

“I know, baby, I know. Feels good, don’t it? S’hard to keep all those pretty noises in when you’re takin’ so much, but I need’ya to try,” his lips graze your ear with each growled word. 

Another pained whimper passes your lips through the cracks between his fingers, and he accidentally bucks into you harder than he means to. Christ, he’s never heard you sound like this before. So needy. He shouldn’t, but he wants to hear more. To feel your chest vibrate with it, watch in the mirror as your mouth parts around even just one perfect, drawn-out moan.

The hand buried in your hair trails down your neck, beautifully elongated as your back arches to take him deeper, and snakes around your body. He tugs down the front of your shirt—that flimsy fucking tank top that's been teasing him all night—to cup your breast and, fuck, you like that. Your pussy grips him in response, clenching intermittently while he roughly tweaks your nipple between two calloused fingers. 

You’re tight, almost too tight for him to keep up his merciless pace if he wants to last much longer, and so goddamn wet. You’re seeping right into the wine-stained fabric of his jeans, making an even bigger mess than you started with.

“Look at ya,” he mumbles, slowing to watch in awe as his cock drags against your entrance, reappearing slicker with every thrust. “So fuckin’ tight...and sloppy. You’re makin’ a mess of me, sweetheart."

You shudder under his rapt attention, at the sheer want in his voice, but despite the obvious effect of his words, you’re still staying quiet, just like he told you to. You’ve been such a good girl, so he decides to take a risk and reward you. 

“M'gonna let go, alright? But ya gotta keep bein' good for me," he leans down to press his lips between your shoulder blades, his hand dropping from your mouth to settle on your waist. "Don't need'ta be silent, just need'ya to keep it down. Can ya do that?"

You gasp as his slow, deep thrusts still and he presses flush against your ass, grinding into you languidly as he waits for your answer. 

"Y-yeah...yes, yes," you reply weakly, cold ceramic digging into your breasts as you pant heavily into the sink. "Keep going—p-please, just fuck me."

"That's my girl," he breathes raggedly, and he's a little ashamed at how quickly his balls start to tighten at the soft timbre of your voice. 

His pace abruptly picks up, and then he's forcing you onto his cock again, his hips slamming into yours with a steady, wet thock-thock-thock that's probably louder than you've been all night. But he doesn't stop—you feel way too fucking good to stop, and he likely couldn't even if he tried.

In the back of his mind, he tells himself that your parents are probably doing dishes by now, and whatever he's doing to their daughter upstairs is getting drowned out by running water and clattering dishware. 

He continues to repeat the shitty lie to himself as he yanks you up, pulling your back flush against his chest and wrapping an arm around your stomach to hold you in place. The abrupt shift changes the angle of his hips so he’s fucking up into you instead, and it feels...indescribable. 

He's hitting something he wasn't able to reach before, a sensitive spot impossibly deeper inside you that has your pussy squeezing him, gushing down his cock, and he's—

Fuck, he's not going to last long. 

"Mmph...fuck—there, Joel, there. So, so fucking close, please, need it harder."

Christ, and you begging him to fuck you harder isn't helping. His hand drops between your legs to your swollen clit, slipping through the slick mess to rub tight, insistent circles into the hardening nub, and the heady friction has your thighs quaking almost immediately. 

"S'good...feels soso good," you slur deliriously, teetering on the cusp of your orgasm. "Wanted you so fucking bad all night...ngh, should've fucked me right there on the table—"

Joel cuts you off before you can finish, pushed a little too far past his limit.

"Baby, m'gonna cum if ya don’t shut up," he grits through his teeth, still pounding into that spot, still rubbing hard and fast swirls into your clit, and he can feel how close you are.

"F-fuck, me too—m'so close. Fill me up, please."

That sends him over the edge. You barely have time to gasp in a breath before he shoves you back down, lifting one of your legs up to the side so he can sink even deeper as he practically mounts you on the edge of the sink.

"Fuck yeah, I'll fill ya up," he groans, drawn-out and wrecked, as he empties inside you, thick spurts coating your convulsing walls. His hands greedily roam your body, caressing every inch of bare skin he can reach. "Send ya back downstairs to your momma and daddy with my cum leakin' out of ya. Filthy fuckin' girl."

Three more achingly deep thrusts, and then you're cumming hard, exploding hot and wet around him, already feeling him start to drip out of you and down your thighs. Your entire body seizes, desperate not to make a single sound while he fucks you through your orgasm, but then Joel meets your eyes in the mirror.

The warm chestnut of his eyes has been completely overtaken by his blown-pupils and he looks a little wild, like he's about to do something you'll both regret. Then, he does. Without warning, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard, sucking a bruise into your skin he knows you won't be able to hide, and the squeal that erupts from your chest is high-pitched enough that you know everyone in the house heard it.

The thought alone stokes the heat already starting to build in the pit of his groin again, and the sight of his cum leaking out of your pussy in thick globs when he pulls out only fans the flames.

"M'takin' you home, sweetheart. Gonna fuck ya the way you deserve," he mumbles into your marked skin, and you tremble in his arms, whimpering softly through an aftershock. "Then, you can scream as loud as ya want—"

"Everything alright up there?" Your mom's voice filters up the stairs. "What, did one of y'all fall into the sink?"

Joel noses into your hair, chuckling before he responds.

"Just finished."

[writingmingyu]

Put a Shirt On, Kim Mingyu

Pairings: FuckBoy!Mingyu x afab!reader Summary: Your fwb Mingyu sent you a message and you can't ignore it Genre: College AU, Smut, Minors DNI Warnings: Protected sex - use of a condom, reader is a little mean and a little selfish Word count: ~1.9k

Author’s Note: Happy New Year! I saw this photo and I had an idea (I mean who didn't look at this photo and have ideas 😈) This was fun and something new, we always talk about taking clothes off this man but when do we ever put them back on??? And so it escalated from there.

I hope you enjoy as always ^_^

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

*1 new message*

You reach over to your nightstand to check the message.

It is an image of Mingyu, your fuck buddy. It is cropped so you can only see his bare shoulders in the mirror selfie. You up? The caption says.

You roll your eyes. As much as you like hooking up with Mingyu, sometimes he could be a complete douchebag. This was why you were only fuck buddies and you hadn’t taken the relationship any further. Sometimes you thought he could be the kind of guy you wouldn’t be embarrassed to bring home to your family, other times he did shit like this.

No, put a shirt on and go to bed. You reply. Refusing to look at the image he had sent. He had annoyed you by saying something dumb the previous day so you were not going to appease him by coming over right now.

A few minutes go by and there’s no response, usually Mingyu would take the bait and keep up the banter but there was nothing. So you take another peek at the photo.

It was slightly blurry and he had cropped it in such a way that you couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing with his other hand…you had a rule with him - no dick pics. But that didn’t mean he didn’t send you ones implying his dick was out.

For example, in this image, you could imagine him just standing there, naked in front of the mirror, holding his cock proudly. What an asshole.

But still, you couldn’t help but linger on the photo. Picturing the muscles he’d concealed from the photo, how large his arms were and the feel of them as they were tensed as he fucked you senseless. His large body encompassed you completely as he provided you with numerous orgasms.

Great, now you were horny. You hadn’t even been thinking about Mingyu since he pissed you off. But he knew exactly what he was doing sending you a photo like this.

You put the phone down. Determined not to give in and take matters into your own hands.

Settling into your bed, and pulling out your favourite vibrator, you are ready to begin but a new text flashes up on your phone from Mingyu and makes you curious.

Make me.

Make me. As if those words ever lead to anything but badness.

You put away your toy and reached for some sweatpants, it was time to pay Mingyu a visit. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Y/N, what a surprise,” Mingyu said when he opened the door, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Shut up,” you respond, pushing your way into his dorm room and heading towards his drawers.

“You know that’s not where I keep the condoms.” He says casually, closing the door.

“I know,” you open the first drawer and pick out a t-shirt. “Sit down.”

Mingyu is confused but he sits on the edge of his bed anyway, enjoying the bossy tone you were using.

You close the drawer and turn to finally take in the sight of him. He was still shirtless, wearing a pair of boxers, presumably thrown on to have a little modesty while opening the door. You let your eyes soak in the view that his cropped photo denied you, if only because you were about to cover it up.

“What game are we playing today?” he asks as you walk over and straddle his lap.

“It’s not a game,” you say, grinding your core down against the bulge in his boxers as you scrunch the shirt up in your hands, “you said to make you put a shirt on, so I am. Put your arms up.”

Mingyu lets out a laugh but does what he’s told. You hadn’t really considered the logistics of this, as when Mingyu raised his arms, it was slightly out of your reach to put the shirt on. But you weren’t going to give up.

You raised yourself up, purposely brushing your whole body against Mingyu’s as your fingertips brushed against his wrists trying to get the t shirt over his hands. 

Seeing your struggle, Mingyu lowers his arms a little, allowing you the reach to pull the t shirt down over his arms, you move down his body slowly, stopping to make sure the shirt goes over his head before bringing the rest of the material down over his torso.

“There,” you say when you’re finished.

“Happy?” There’s a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yes,” You shift your hips towards him, his cock pulsing against your core.

“I’m sure you could be happier,” his hands reach for your hips to grind you down against his length again.

You let out an involuntary moan before taking Mingyu’s hands from your hips and placing them on the bed. “Don’t touch me, I’m still annoyed at you.”

“I know, but you came over, so you can’t be that annoyed right?”

“Maybe I’m just horny,”

“Join the club,”

You both sit staring at each other for a few seconds, it wouldn’t be the first time you had taken your frustrations out using Mingyu. But this would be the first time you would be using him to work out the frustration you had against him. And you didn’t think he deserved the pleasure.

“Take your boxers off,” you stand up heading to his bedside drawer to grab a condom.

You return to stand in front of Mingyu and he has done as you asked. He’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands, his cock standing proud against his clothed stomach.

You open the condom and roll it over his cock. “Wipe that smile off your face,” you say as you straighten to pull your bottoms off. “This is for me,”

“Sorry,” he replies trying to keep his face neutral, but he was enjoying your bossy side a lot. You usually didn’t complain too much when he took charge of your hookups, in fact, you preferred it because you didn’t have to think too much. The only time you were vocal is when Mingyu was first learning the best way to make you cum, but he was a fast learner.

“And if you cum before me,” you moan as you sink down onto his cock. “I won’t speak to you for two weeks. And that’s no fun for anyone.”

“It’s not,” he agrees, breathing heavily as you begin to ride him. “If I’m good will you forgive me?”

“We’ll see,” you use Mingyu’s shoulders to keep yourself stable as you move your hips in a steady rhythm, making sure the tip of his cock hits your favourite spot every time.

Mingyu does as he’s told and doesn’t interact, he just watches as you take your pleasure from him, trying not to think too hard about how hot you look and how the sensation of your walls clenching around him is driving him crazy. He loved when you were on top, taking charge with your tits bouncing in his face. It’s a shame he couldn’t see them in their full glory, as you had opted to keep your shirt on, but that was probably helping him in his quest to keep it together until you got your release.

It doesn’t take long before you feel your orgasm building, you reach down to stimulate your clit, your other hand digging into Mingyu’s shoulder as the pressure builds. You had never left a mark on him before, that was one of his rules but this time you think you might have pierced his skin through the material of his shirt, but you didn’t care.

“F-fuck Gyu, your cock always feels so good,” you whine as you get closer to the edge, looking down at him. His body tenses as he tries to hold off his own orgasm, the material of his shirt stretched to its limits due to his ridiculous size. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he sighs, closing his eyes, as you bounce faster on his lap.

“Look at me,” you demand, “watch me cum.”

Reluctantly, Mingyu reopens his eyes. His hips involuntarily bucking into you and sending you over the edge. You moan out his name as you cum, one hand still rubbing your clit as you ride out your high. The stimulation and the sight of you proving to be too much, Mingyu cums too, he curses under his breath as his cock pulses within your walls.

Neither of you say anything as you wait for your breathing to return to normal, Mingyu lies flat on his back and you rest your hands on his chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles rising and falling as he breathes. Part of you wants to lay on top of him because his torso always looks so inviting but it would be too intimate so you stay upright.

“Is all forgiven?” Mingyu asks as he sits up, removing the condom after you stand.

“I guess so,” you reach for your discarded clothes. Turns out that taking your frustration out on Mingyu was just what you needed. And you couldn't be sure, but you think he liked that you were a little mean to him. 

“So you’ll come over tomorrow night?” He had a wicked grin on his face that caused your stomach to flip.

“No, I don’t think you deserve that.” You say turning your back to him and reaching for the door. Trying to stay composed before you ended up staying longer. 

“I'll come to you then,” 

You roll your eyes. “I think you've done enough coming recently don't you?”

“It was still after you!” 

You laugh despite yourself, “That's true you did hold off. Proud of you.”

“Thanks, it was tough. Ya know, you're really hot when you're mean.”

“Aww does baby have a kink?” You had turned around again and were leaning against the door. 

“Shut up,” Mingyu blushes and comes to stand next to you. “I thought we didn't kink shame.”

“And I thought you liked it when I was mean,”

“Touché,” he leans down to kiss you on the cheek. That was another rule, you didn't kiss on the lips. It was silly but somehow it helped you remind yourself that Mingyu wasn't your boyfriend. Yet when he kissed you on the cheek it was the most intimate gesture in the world. “Thanks for coming over,”

“It's not like I wanted to. But you know I can't ignore a challenge.”

“Hmm I don't know seemed like you really wanted it.” He smiled. 

“Whatever,” you push him away so you can open the door. It was late and you wanted to go to sleep. “I'll text you?”

“Sounds good,”

“Also if you ever send me another photo like that again I will have to block you. It's full torso or fully clothed. Got it?”

“Got it,”

It’s only a minute later when you get another photo through from Mingyu. This time, it’s a photo of his chest, still covered by the t shirt you had just put on him. My new favourite shirt. He captioned the photo.

You rolled your eyes before leaving him on read. It was taking all your strength not to go back there and get him to wipe the smug grin off his face and rip his shirt while you were at it. But maybe you could revisit the idea when he inevitably came over tomorrow night…

[struwberrii]

suna headcanons 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

here are my silly sunarin headcanons!! hope you guys likey

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ (also is mostly relationship stuff but not all)

has the craziest sleep schedule like he stays up all night, falls asleep at 5am, wakes up at 8 am and just goes to school fine

buys you snacks from the vending machines daily

teases you a lot but is really flirty about it

probably most active at night and invites you out when it’s dark, he just likes how much emptier everywhere is

has the best music taste and always puts you onto his music

nonchalant dread head of japan

would probably sneak into your house through your window just to see you

says the funniest things with the most deadpan expression which makes it 10x

if you dont reply to his messages fast enough he hits you with the "why do you hate me"

he’s too honest sometimes and has a bad habit of saying things that are rude when he really didn’t have to

randomly tackles you and play fights

bros the type to pick you up and jump into the pool with you

does the bare minimum with all his school work

starts talking like you and using your slang when you guys hang out long enough

he’s the guy people talk shit around bc they think he’s quiet and a loner but he’s lowkey a shit starter and shares what he hears

slacks/lazy in most things but he carries you guys in fortnite

his bed is covered in stuffed animals from you, even all the cute sanrio ones

ur his profile pic online

i feel like he’d use discord and get paid as a mod on some server 😭😭

calls you stupid as a term of endearment

he can always tell when something’s wrong, like he can sense if something’s off with you

probably wears a lot of sweat pants

always smells really woody and fresh (yk like generic men’s cologne idk 😭)

very touchy, loves having an arm around you waist :3

allergic to drinking water, ik his piss is acid (honestly same here….)

his sister loves you so much

lowkey the worst at soothing you/cheering you up so he just hugs you

let’s you do skincare on him, he thinks it’s relaxing

i feel like he’d own at least one of those stupid tiktok fidget toys that he swears works but everytime he uses it he can’t stop laughing thinking about how stupid he looks

has a bad diet only because he’s too lazy to actually cook

burps SO LOUD and SO OFTEN like hold it man

has a tiktok account that he rage baits people on and reads the comments to you pretending it wasn’t him who wrote them (smh)

tries to teach you volleyball so you guys can kinda play together

i feel like he’d know a lot about the stars and like the constellations

i also feel like he’d really like coke floats (ice cream + coke in a glass) a lot for some reason

acts like he doesn’t really care but he cares so much

he’s only vulnerable and emotional with you

randomly attacks you with kisses

i feel like he'd know some really good unknown dessert spots all around town

i feel like hes an adidas guy

says out of pocket stuff on purpose with no reaction just to see you panic (he thinks its funny)

[frudoo]

just saw the anon for reader helping slasher 141 and now im thinking about actually doing the whole thing. like finding someone, kidnapping them and torturing them. she does it as a gift or surprise. maybe its their anniversary and she wants to give them the best gift ever.

I love this idea, but I just can't see reader ever participating in the torture aspect of her boys' work. She's absolutely not above kidnapping, though.

Warnings: Dark!Fic/DDDNE. Y'all this one is gross (just not in a gory way). Kidnapping/drugging.

 “I have to say, little girl, you look absolutely delicious tonight.”

     You giggle, allowing him to twirl you and trying not to suffocate on the smell of his cheap cologne. The man is loaded and he won’t even spend a pretty penny on some quality fragrance? Although, what else could you expect from a conman like him?

     “Not so bad yourself, Mr. Chief,” you purr, yelping softly when he pinches your asscheek teasingly.

     You want to vomit. Really, you could do it right here, all over his pristinely polished shoes, or on his tailored suit jacket and annoyingly bright tie. The fact that you’ve managed to keep this charade up for the past couple of weeks is astonishing, to say the least, especially given the fact that you’ve been hiding it from the boys. It kills you to see their disappointed faces every time you turn down a night in with them, making up poor excuses about how you’re just going to decorate your classroom, or that your friend has been having a rough time and you’re going to her house to support her.

     The truth is that you’re doing it for their benefit. Herschel Shepherd has been on your boys’ radar for years now, long before they ever met you. It’s just been too risky for them to attempt anything, be it a kidnapping or assassination. He’s too public of a figure as head of police, meaning that he’s protected by a multitude of security personnel, and on top of that, can easily defend himself. Even if they tried to befriend him, suspicions would be raised and it would likely fail.

     That’s where you enter. You’re exactly the chief’s type—a pretty young thing with big, soft tits and a charming smile. The only thing you’re missing is the naivety he’s so desperate to corrupt, but you’ve proven yourself a wonderful actress and he’s none the wiser. For someone who used to be a detective, he really is clueless. Someone should have taught the old man not to flirt with strangers on the internet. You’re just grateful that he took the bait so easy, all too eager to get his dick wet. 

     “Since I’ve treated you to such a nice dinner, how about giving me some dessert?” You hear his knees pop when he bends to whisper into your ear.

     “Anything for you,” you murmur back, “Daddy.”

     For the love of all things holy, you cannot wait to get this bullshit over with. Shepherd wraps his arm around your waist and ushers you into his limo—he really wanted to go all out for his ‘girlfriend,’ apparently. The inside smells like cigar smoke and you have to bite back a frown. It makes you think of John and how desperately you’d prefer to be in his arms instead. In all of their arms. With every disgusting, sloppy kiss the sick fuck peppers across your jawline, you have to remind yourself that it’s all for them.

     For them, for you, for every poor family he’s ever screwed over. It’s all too familiar, the coverups, the paying off coworkers and employees so that they keep their mouths shut. You’ve read about countless cases against heinous criminal acts that were suddenly dismissed when a certain slob threw a large sum of money towards the judges. You can’t even begin to imagine how many women alone have been assaulted because this corrupt piece of shit paid to let their abusers go—and for what? To gain favor? To get reelected? God knows he cheats his way through the system anyway.

     You feel your hand being tugged and realize that you’ve arrived at the parking lot where your car still is, some random garage located in the heart of the downtown area—about an equal walk from any little shop or restaurant in the vicinity. Your ‘date’ furrows his eyebrows and looks at you, confused.

     “A little Toyota Corolla is more inconspicuous than a limousine, don’t you think?” you hum as you pull out your keys.

     “Right,” Shepherd nods, opening the driver’s side door for you. “We are still going to the hotel?”

     “Of course.”

     He buckles into the passenger seat while you start the car, messing with the air conditioning like it’s his right. You avoid rolling your eyes as you begin driving, softly humming along to the radio. There’s a tin of mints in your glovebox that you pull out and offer to him. All according to plan, he takes the bait.

     Almost instantly after popping the tainted mint into his bastard mouth, he starts getting woozy, saying odd things and swaying in his seat. Adrenaline rushes through your veins—this is really happening. You’re kidnapping the chief of police, your husbands’ most desired target, driving him back to your home to be tortured and killed. It’s surreal, and there’s guilt eating away at whatever sense of retribution you’d created in your head. Still, there’s no turning back now.

     No turning back from the rattle of his unconscious body as you drive over the gravel path leading to the barn. No turning back from the strain you put on yourself as you haul his deadweight through the random pieces of hay, nor the act of tying his arms behind the metal pole in the stable where horses should be but has only kept victims. This is a decision you made and will have to live with. For the greater good, you ask yourself, or for the praise you know you’ll receive from your boys? In the end, it’s all one and the same to you. 

     As you stand over the comatose-laden sleazebag, you hardly make out the sound of the barn door slamming open and all four of your lovers trailing in with wide eyes.

     “Bloody hell.”

     “No fuckin’ way.”

     “Steamin’ Jesus, hen.”

     “Darlin’, how in the fuck did you manage this?”

     There’s a beat of silence before you turn around to look at them, your face maddeningly neutral.

     “Happy anniversary, guys.”

[lurkingshan]

10 Things I Love About Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

This wonderful little show has come to an end, and I feel compelled to tell folks why I loved it, and why you should watch if you haven't yet. First, a big word of thanks to @isaksbestpillow for providing her excellent subtitles and making this show available to international fans. You can find all seven episodes here, get them while you can!

This drama understands that sometimes we really do want to fuck that old man

I don't know what to tell you, the man is hot. He is kind, patient, and generous, he's a master chef, he has a beautiful home with a garden that he tends himself, he is a loving dog owner, and on top of all that he has a hilarious dry wit. Who wouldn't want to fuck him??

Ishida is an endearing protagonist having a relatable quarter life crisis

Ishida certainly does! Which is a nice little revelation for him in a time when he's already struggling to figure himself out, as it's his first time wanting to fuck a man and his work colleague to boot. Ishida has hit a stumble in his original career choice and is feeling pretty apathetic about his job when he meets Mitsuya and gets his world rocked.

Mitsuya is a weary older man who has been burned

Mitsuya is quite a contrast to Ishida as an older adult who very much has his shit together, but has also survived some deep hurts living as an out gay man and grown reluctant to let people in. He and Ishida both see something in each other that the other needs.

It's a food drama that will make your mouth water

The food Mitsuya makes and serves to Ishida in this show looks so delicious that I had to make sure I was fed before watching each episode. Mitsuya can feel free to bait me with food any time.

Shige is my idol

We get to spend ample time at the neighborhood bar, where Mitsuya's old friend Shige serves drinks and hot goss. Shige is a great mix of the wise elder gay dispensing advice and the mischievous trouble maker who likes to stir the pot. I love him, and this show's understanding of the realities of men their age living out and proud.

Frito is a very good dog

FRITO! I'm not always too hype about pets with prominent roles in my shows, but in this story Frito is an important character and an emotional support to Mitsuya, and often provides impetus for Mitsuya and Ishida to grow closer.

Have I mentioned this show is hilarious

Truly, so funny. I laughed out loud during most episodes. Ishida is a walking comedy show as he flails through life, and the few moments when Mitsuya's dignified exterior cracks will have you howling.

It gave us one of the best dates I have ever seen on my screen

I still think about this date all the time. It was so beautifully written to underscore why this couple fits and how they each meet the needs of the other. Just having seen this one day spent together, it's easy to understand how a life between the two of them would unfold.

This show has a mature and nuanced understanding of relationships

We get deep into the show's perspective on love and romantic relationships via the return of Mitsuya's ex, Kaoru, a plot which the story handles with remarkable grace. I loved the space they gave to Mitsuya's former love and need for closure, and that Kaoru was not treated like a villain. He even got to provide an assist to Ishida!

The main romance feels deep and compelling

All of this adds up so that by the time we got to the finale, I really believed in this romance and why Ishida and Mitsuya needed each other, and the way the show dug into their hesitations and fears around that was so moving. My only regret is this show is short and we can't follow them to keep watching their lives together, but we got what we needed to feel confident in their future. I will miss them.

[shadowqueenjude]

The most disturbing things portrayed in ACOTAR

Victim-blaming: Lucien tries to help Feyre and gets physically abused by Tamlin as a result. Feyre then proceeds to call him a dog despite Lucien doing everything he could in a difficult situation. And we're supposed to...support Feyre on this? And Rhysand throws around words like "can never forgive" man stfu you prick.

Sexual Assault: The most disturbing thing is not that Rhysand sexually assaulted Feyre. It's that he's never held accountable for this and never even apologizes at ANY point in the series. There are so many examples but this is the one that is the most disturbing.

Double Standards: We have Tamlin locking Feyre up for her own good being vilified, yet Rhysand is championed for locking Lucien and Nesta up in houses for their own good. Huh? WTF.

War Crimes: What Feyre did to the Spring Court, manipulating the sentries with the whole Ianthe thing and basically getting them killed, then weakening the Spring Court rulership which resulted in all those villagers in the Spring Court getting killed, then laying the Summer Court bare to Hybern as well, are nothing short of war crimes. And...instead of feeling regret, we have the main characters saying "Hybern's actions are their own." Like bitch what? Hybern wouldn't have been able to do shit if it wasn't for you! Have some damn accountability! And the fact that Tamlin and Tarquin are vilified for this never ceases to irk me.

Grooming: Rhysand groomed Feyre. He made excuses for everything he did with trauma, then sent Feyre out to do tasks for him like she's some kind of weapon he can use. WITHOUT giving her proper information, there is no choice. And everything he does is constantly explained away, until eventually Feyre becomes his trophy wife. Rhysand basically assigns Cassian to do the same for Nesta. I'm holding out hope that Elain will be saved from the Night Court.

The pregnancy debacle: the whole thing with the baby having wings and Rhysand withholding information from Feyre is just...disturbing. Idc if you're not telling her FoR hEr OwN gOoD, it is HER life at stake and she deserves to know. They didn't even try to shapeshift her to try and save her life? Like why is everybody seemingly more concerned about the baby than the mother? Disgusting. And why is Nesta vilified for being the only one to tell Feyre? She said it to hurt her, blah blah blah. She also wanted to show Feyre that their situations are similar. That they're BOTH being shit on by the Night Court. And when she's close to a breaking point...Nesta is forced to hike a mountain? That is physical abuse. Also, Rhysand being extremely territorial putting a shield over her and barely letting Feyre go anywhere is beyond weird.

Suicide baiting: What Rhysand did to Tamlin in ACOFAS is nothing short of suicide baiting. And...only Lucien seems to really be that concerned about it? Like...are you telling me I'm supposed to be supporting Rhysand after he basically told a depressed male to kill himself?

Segregation: Separating the Hewn City from Velaris IS segregation, no matter what excuse you try to come up with. You can't claim they're all shitty people, since your bestie Mor comes from the CoN. So, there are good people stuck in the CoN unable to get out of their torment because Rhysand decided that only certain individuals are allowed in Velaris.

Performance Feminism: Establishing laws to help women and not doing shit to enforce them is performance feminism. If he's as powerful as he says, he can 100% stop wing-cutting and r*pe. But, he's a goddamn virtue signaler so he doesn't fucking care. The thing is, SJM could've handled these topics in a much better way and it would've been fine. But she completely fucked shit up here and it's crazy that some people don't see it. Part of me is still waiting for the final book where she says, psych rhysand was the villain the whole time. If so, I'll take everything back.

[petew21-blog]

Teen wolf-Alpha needs his pack, Pt. 3

Stiles P.O.V.

"Stiles knew that being a wolf wasn't an automatic win against other enemies. He knew from Scott what it took. But he thought that now when he had Derek's body, it would take more than 8 hours since he become Derek to get caught. Maybe he shouldn't have gone for the bait as his instinct was telling him, but there was no other clue to follow. Besides his mind was still blown from the sex he had few hours ago with Derek. In Derek's body! Yeah, it was kinda weird fucking his own body, but you know a hole is a hole? Nah his body was attractive and Stiles knew it. And he was now a dominating man, he was Derek and everybody feared him. Wait? Am I really trying to narrate my life now? My hands are tied. I'm imprissoned in Derek's body and my only thought is how to narrate my life? I might be more dominant now or just dominating Derek in my body? Man it was so funny to see him act so submisive. He even sucked his own dick!"

Someone entered the room wearing black clothes and a mask. "Thank you for following us. You have made our plans far easier than we thought you would."

Stiles:"Don't you worry. The pack is on their way"

The man:"Oh I wouldn't be so sure about that. And even if they are, well be already gone after we have collected our needed samples. And you might be already dead."

"Oh boy. I hope Scott's gonna come soon. I know he was acting weird lately, but this is about the wolf pack..."

Theo's P.O.V.

Theo:"Scott's body is so awesome. I know I was talking shit about it before, but the strength. Oh god. And I even think that the wolf pack is getting stranger too. But back to me now.

Theo:"My new arms still have to get more bigger, but I must say I am very fond of them. The power that these guns hold is incredible.

Theo:"I still have to remind myself that this is me now whenever I look in the mirror. I always expect Scott to start speaking whenever I approach the mirror. Speaking of Scott. He's still my little bitch now. He calls me 'my alpha' whenever we are not in school. But whenever I see a spark of resistance or free will I have to make sure je won't stand up to me. I hope he knows how I can destroy his life AND how powerful his body, now belonging to me, really is."

Scott came out of the hall entering his old bedroom.

Scott:"I... I have scrubbed the whole toilet and I am now ready for you message, my alpha"

Theo:"About damn time! Took you long enough!"

Theo sat down in the chair in front of the mirror and watched every step that Scott took. He was very cautious now. His master was could get angry over any minor mistake.

Scott:"Should I start with your shoulders as before, my alpha?"

Theo just raised his eyebrows which Scott appreciated. Two days ago when he asked him, Theo threw him across the room and made him lick his feet.

Theo:"Why are you wearing that flanel in my body?"

Scott:"I am so sorry, my alpha. I won't wear it again, my alpha."

Theo:"The hell you will. From now on you will not wear anything until I tell you to. And you will only wear the clothes I will approve. Since you already basjcally live here, serving me, you can get your things and leave them in the basement. You'll be living there from now on. Understood?"

Scott:"I think your family will notice."

Theo:"Did you just spoke without adressing me by my rightful title?"

Scott immediately panicked. Theo stood up and Scott could see his face transforming

Theo:"WHAT DO YOU SEE?!?"

Scott bending down on his knees looking up at his own body:"I see my alpha, my alpha. I am sorry. It will not happen again. Let me make it up to you, my alpha"

Scott started unbuckling the belt. Theo just smiled with his teeth still out. Yeah, that's the way he liked it. He pushed his semi-hard dick into Scott's mouth and thrusted. Theo now knew that he had to make his master happy. And a flacid dick was a problem. He tightened his mouth to make his master feel the pleasure more intensively. He looked up. By the way his master looked at him and the hard dick in his mouth, he could see he made his master happy. His own dick started getting hard too. Scott hated this. He never was this submissive. And now the way Theo treated him made him hard. Or was that Theo's body? He had to find a way to swap them back. He wanted to contact Stiles but couldn't. He always eyed him suspiciously in the halls. Stiles must have noticed that something changed. He needs to contact him somehow. But Theo took his phone and wallet.

Theo was beggining to scream. It was coming and Scott knew that now was the moment he had to act fast. He sped up. Theo was furious now, destroying his old body's soft palate. He came into his old mouth. Screaming and transforming in the process. That's how he liked it.

Scott felt the cum in his mouth. It tasted horribly. Theo in his body only ate meat now, no sugar. So the cum was really disgusting. He quickly swallowed and as soon as Theo took out his dick he said:"Thank you, my alpha!"

Theo just laughed and put his trousers back on. The laughter intesified as he noticed the cum stain on the kneeling Scott's trousers.

Theo:"I hope you understood your punishment for not adressing me properly. Now, take off your clothes. You won't be needing them in this house anymore. Now go and finish cleaning the car!"

Theo looked sat down on the bed looking at himself in the mirror. Man how he loved this. His phone rang. Stiles was calling.

Scott:"Fucking hell. This douchebag is harassing me at school and now he calls me in the middle of the night? What's wrong with this dude?" He picked up the phone. "Someone better be dying!"

Derek:"Hey, this is Der... Stiles. Yeah. Uh... I need your help. I saw Derek few hours ago and he said he will come back to talk to me about some issue we had. He never came back and I am 100% sure it was a wolf thing and he might be in danger. Come to my house I'll show you where he went"

Theo:"Fine... but you're not coming with us. You're not part of the pack."

Derek:"I... just come "

Theo turned off the call and screamed out:"Hey bitch. We're going for a trip. Get my clothes I wore yesterday and wear them!"

Theo parked outside of Stiles's home. Stiles walked out of the house. Theo could see that his walk was different, but he shrugged it off. Not caring anyway. Stiles got into the car to the passenger's seat. He turned around to see Theo in the backseat.

Derek:"Why are you here?"

Scott looked at the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of approval from Theo to start speaking. Theo slightly nodded

Scott:"Well I am part of the pack and I wanted to help the alpha."

Derek looked back at Theo and wasn't really sure what was going on. "Right. Anyway, go straight and I'll tell you where to go"

Theo:"I told you on the phone you're not going with us!"

Derek:"Do you want your pack protected or not Scott? If yes, than drive! He might be dead already and if so then I am screwed. So drive now or I will get sheriff's gun from the house and go there by myself"

Theo found the answer very strange and more so did Scott who couldn't hold himself and straight away asked his friend as he normally would

Scott:"Why aren't you adressing your dad as 'dad's?"

Theo had to hide his anger and rather started the car.

Derek looked back and just answered:"Don't know, didn't give it much thought"

Scott knew there was something different. This isn't his Stiles that he knew

They arrived near the abbandoned factory.

Theo:"Ok, we'll go in check the perimeter and get him. You stay in the car, Stiles."

Derek:"Not happening I'm going too"

Theo:'"Not a chance. THEO, you will stay here and watch him. I'm gonna have a look. Have your phone ready."

Scott:"Yes, my alpha" Scott immediately realized his mistake by addressing his master in front of Stiles. He's gonna know. That actually might not be a bad thing. He wanted to talk to him in a week now and never had the chance.

Theo got angry by Scott's answer but there was no time to solve that now. He headed into the factory by the side entrance.

Derek:"Why are you so submissive to Scott suddenly? You never acted like this. You always wanted to be better and acted like you're better than all of us. What changed?"

Scott:"I know you might not believe this, but hear me out. I've been trying to tell you for a week now, but he wouldn't let me. I am Scott. Theo swapped us and now has made me his sex slave. I wanted to escape and everything, but he threatened to hurt you or destroy my life and everything. I really wanted to tell you sooner, Stiles. I really did" Scott was crying softly

Derek:"That's touching and everything, but I'm not Stiles."

Scott:"What?!"

Derek:"Yeah... your naive little friend wanted to get close to you and bought a second hand potion. Now he's acting dominant in my body and on his first hunt got himself caught immediately."

Scott:"So the person inside in danger right now is Stiles?" Scott ran out of the car into the building. Derek right after him.

Theo got to Stiles first. He was still handcuffed to the fence.

Theo:"Oh what do we have here? Aren't you suppose to be my big mentor teaching me stuff about being a wolf? Not getting caught seems like an essential skill. Now don't you think?"

Stiles:"Can you let me go? They left right after your car arrived so they still might be nearby."

Theo:"Doubt that. With three wolfs here, they won't risk that. But I can see that they set some traps on their way from here. There's a trip wire over there." Theo unhooked Derek's body. He took off his shirt and threw it at Derek. "I don't have bandages, so just take this to atleast cover the bloody spots where they took the samples

Stiles put the shirt on. Few seconds later Theo and his own body ran into the building

Derek:"Fucking me is one thing, but almost getting my body killed and mutilated is a different level. We're leaving"

Derek grabbed his body with by his arm pressing one of the sample sites causing him pain

Derek:"I hope it hurts. If they make another chimera and it's gonna be my clone, I swear I'm gonna kill you" Derek was too focused on speaking to Stiles that he didn't see the trip wire while leaving the room

Theo:"NOOOOOO!:

They expected an explosion. But instead a gas from the ceiling sprayed them.

Scott:"Posion?"

Stiles:"That smell exactly like the..."

Derek:"Like another way to make me angry"

They passed out.

They woke up almost instantly. The four of them now looking at a very different point of view than they had before

Derek:"Oh shoot me now!"

Stiles:"Did we just?"

Scott:"How is this possible?"

Theo:"No way you guys just made us all do a potion swap. And you swapped into HIM?"

Derek:"Let's get out of here before we'll be attacked or something. They wanted Scott to be out of his body before and they got that. Let's get out of here right now"

They went to Stiles's house. His dad was still on duty. There was one message left from him if everything is ok. Some of the four sent a message back to him, but besides that there was nothing to worry about. Maybe just the swap thing. And who was who now?

Scott found himself in Derek's body. Derek was now in Scott's

Theo was Stiles and vice versa.

Theo talked to Derek's body that was now occupied by Scott:"Look I'm really sorry for how I treated you earlier. I didn't really mean..." be was interrupted by a punch from Derek

Theo fell on the floor. "Ok I deserved that. But maybe think about the fact that I am a fucking nerdy human right now and I can't handle this power"

Scott:"I should kill you for how you treated me"

Stiles:"So you guys also bought a option from a sketchy lady?" Stiles said with his shirt already off examining his new chest.

Derek:"Nobody is as naive as you, Stiles. Theo set him up to be the new alpha. Which would work out perfectly if you wouldn't spoil jis plans by getting caught"

Stiles:"Again. I am sorry. They surprised me. I really wanted to prove myself to you, you know."

Derek:"You don't need to prove anything. I know you'd be capable of handling it. It was your first day as a wolf. Mistakes happen. And even we are not able to get the Dread doctors."

Scott:"Sorry to interrupt you guys, but can I talk to Stiles alone, please? Maybe you could check if Theo is still breathing? I think Stiles might want his body back"

Stiles:"Yeah... we'll see about that"

Derek:"Sure. It's not like I got something to do anyway"

Scott:"Stiles, I am so sorry that Theo acted to you the way he did. I wanted to tell you before, I promise. But he threatened me, to hurt you and everything. He even made me his sex slave and forced me to walk around naked. So I want to thank you, even if it was coincidental, that you set me free."

Stiles:"Oh... well no problem. I mean, we're best BROS right? Come on let's just hug it out, man" Theo's and Derek's body hugged. While Stiles's body controlled by Theo looked at them in disgust while spitting blood.

Stiles:"You know, let's leave Derek here with Theo for a while. I got something I want to give to you."

The two of them left to Stiles bedroom.

Stiles:"If you want to give me something for saying you, I might be able to give something to you that might help with your ptsd right now"

Scott:"And what would that be?"

Stiles smiled as he went kissed Derek's body.

Stiles:"I think it would help you to dominate Theo's body, that's now already leaking while looking at you, and I might actually enjoy this too. I really fell in love with Derek's body. Especially the thing you got in your pants.

Stiles grabbed Derek's dick and smiled at Scott with Theo's smile.

They lied down into bed. Making out. Scott was using his new massive arms to take off their clothes, throwing them on the ground. They didn't stop making out. Only when Stiles made Scott sit on top of him to kiss his chest and inhale the musk that he just possessed few hours ago.

They were now lying naked in Stiles's bed. Their hard dicks pressing against each other. Derek's hairy body scrathing the hairless body Stiles now fully enjoyed.

Stiles interrupted the making out session:"What did he make you call him?"

Scott:"My alpha"

Stikes:"Oh my alpha. I need you dick inside of my. I need to be punished for making you suck your own dick so much. It's time to punish me, my alpha"

Scott enjoyed Theo's faced being so submisive. Maybe it was also Derek's massive body that made him the dominant role Stiles was leading him into.

Scott:"Turn around, bitch"

Stiles smiled and did so. He heard as Scott spat saliva into his hand and rubbed it over his dick and then over his hole.

Stiles:"I got some lube here, you know"

Scott:"This bitch needs to get it rough!"

Stiles:"Oh yes, my alpha. Fuck me, my alpha!"

The two massive wolf bodies were practically destroying the bed. Stiles was holding on to the wood, while Scott was fucking him senslessly.

Scott:"Tell me who i am!"

Stiles:"You're my alpha!!!!"

Scott:"Fuck right I am. No matter whose body I'm in."

Stiles:"Fuck, DEREK, I think I'm cumming already!!!!"

Scott:"Did you just call me Derek?"

Stiles:"Sorry. Heat of the moment. Fuck, this body really wants to be humiliated!?"

Scott:"Yeah. Been there. Call me my alpha again!"

Stiles was circling around Derek's dick. He loved how Derek's massive cock was messaging his new prostate. Even if he came already, he had DEREK's dick inside of him!!!

Scott was increasing his speed. It took him some time, maybe cause Stiles already used Derek's body to fill his old hole. But Scott came inside. Stiles now felt the warm cum inside of him. It was so hot...

They were next to each other, smiling at one another. Hugging. Exploring their new bodies together.

Stiles:"What do we do now?"

Scott:"About the swap you mean? Not sure about that, but wanna go for round two when were both ready?"

They just smiled at themsleves again. Making out.

You guys really love Teen wolf 🤣

Another 2 stories from inbox that I combined together (Liam is coming in the next part!)

Could you do a Teen Wolf story including Scott, Theo and Stiles?

Is it possible to make a follow up of your teen wolf story where Theo transoform Scott even further into his beta bitch? like maybe forcing him to wear the clothes he chose, or no clothes at all in the house. Or even include Liam. That would be awesome, thanks :D

Part 2:

[reidsdimples]

Can i Request again?🥺🥹.. Spencer reid x Bau! reader. In one of the cases, the reader becomes the bait to catch the serial killer, however she was injected with a mystery Aprosidiac. Spencer is the one to find her first. So you know. Sex or dead. Spencer keeps it a secret. Then she left the Bau because she couldn't fathom what happened. The reader got pregnant, and she saw Spencer reid resemblance on her Toddler. So she confronted him.👉🏻👈🏻

Accidental Baby Genius | Part 1

This idea was too good to squeeze into just one part 😮‍💨

18+❤️‍🔥 MNDI ‼️

Tw: mentions of drugs, Maeve, pregnancy

Part 2

Unsub on his way to me you inform the team via text as Vincent Croll stalks over to you.

They’re not outside and this isn’t going to be a sting operation. You’re intended to get close to him, to influence him to “take you home” as per his usual MO. You needed to know where his home was, where he kept the others.

Vincent has a thing for playing a very specific game with his victims. But you needed him to come out of hiding and play. You baited him, went undercover, made sure he was watching you, and now you’re here at this illustrious night club, sure that he’s going to ask you to come home with him.

“You are… wow,” the gruff looking bearded man spreads his arms. He hugs you and he smells musty.

You make small talk with him, occasionally checking your phone. You told the team to stay away. Let you get into his house to help those girls. Then they can track your phone to find you.

The two of you get to talking for a while about this thing or the next happening on the news. Finally he asks you to step out back with him for a smoke. You don’t smoke but you agree. You check your phone and it’s Spencer.

“I’m out front in case you need to back out of this,” his text reads. Your partner has always been so concerned over your safety. Especially when it came to being undercover. He thought there was a better way to deal with this unsub and didn’t like using you as bait.

“Thanks,” you smile at Vincent and take the cigarette.

What happens next, happens much too quickly. He’s figured you out, and he’s not going to let you know where he’s keeping the girls. He brings you into his game in an instant with a needle straight to your neck, he pushes the plunger and warm fluid swims into you.

Fuck.

“Good try,” he growls and takes off.

You steady yourself against the brick wall. Your vision swims and you’re sure this bastard poisoned you.

This game in particular- you’ve seen from recent victims- is one where he either injects you with poison or an aphrodisiac.

Help, out back. you text Spencer.

Whatever he gave you, the dose was high. You’re hoping the swimming in your vision is the Oxy he infuses with the aphrodisiacs and not just straight up poison.

“Y/N, what happened?”

“Syringe, the syringe,” you point to it on the ground and hold your neck.

“Shit,” he scoops it up and hurries you back to his car where he breaks something out of his trunk.

He swabs the inside of the syringe and runs some kind of tests with his kit. Of course Spencer Reid had a drug testing kit just on hand.

Meanwhile you become very aware of your nipples against your bra, your legs pressing together to place pressure on your pussy. You’re sucking on your bottom lip and Spencer standing there, frantically using those hands to work his text equipment is the hottest thing in the world. You have your answer for what he injected you with.

“MDMA, OXY, but not poison,” he slumps his shoulders. You giggle.

“Spencer take me home,” you grin get comfy in his front seat. You try to remember what was so scary about what just occurred but you can’t.

You’re not going to do anything to or with Spencer, that would be crazy. You’ll just go home, use your little rose toy, and sleep it off.

You’re staring at Spencer, your mouth watering at the sight of his soft lips, you want to run your tongue up the side of his long neck, you want to run your fingers through his wavy locks and press his face into your pussy…

Somehow a small moan escapes you and he snaps his head over towards you as you adjust in your seat.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Good, so good,” you purr.

Ew stop, you chastise yourself but you can’t help it. You’re going to mount your work crush right here right now.

He pulls into your driveway ten agonizing minutes later and offers you a hand to help you out of the car. You take it a tug him closer to you, you sloppily wrap your arms around his neck and smile into his chest. You inhale his scent greedily.

“Okay,” he peels you off of him slowly and guides you towards the door.

You purposely stumble which forces him to walk behind you with his hands on your hips. You’re aware of the thin material of your short dress and just how easy it would be to bend over…

“What are you doing?” He asks and evidently that thought didn’t stay in your head.

You had flung yourself forward on the brick steps to your house and arched your ass up in the air towards him. You can’t help but laugh at the way he throws his hands up, red spread across his cheeks as though he’s unsure what to do.

“Shh,” you shush him and scamper up the stairs.

You grab his hand and drag him in with you. He doesn’t protest, he doesn’t seem the least bit adverse to following you into the house in this state.

“Do you need anything?” He rubs the back of his head awkwardly.

“Mhmmm,” you drawl out the sound and eye him up and down while biting your lip.

“I don’t think we should… you’ve been drugged,” he reasons.

“Are you saying you don’t want to?” You pout and bite at his neck. “Because I’ve been wanting you to bend me over your desk for months.” You nip at his earlobe and you can’t believe you just admitted that.

“I’m not saying that I’m just saying that-“ he swallows hard.

“Fine, I’ll be upstairs pleasuring myself. You’re free to leave or join me,” you offer.

You prop yourself in your bed in the silk sheets feel incredible on your too hot skin, your rose sex toy comes to life with a buzz and you smirk.

Your heels are still on but you’ve kicked your thong into god knows what direction, and pulled your dress up. Just the sensation of your favorite toy buzzing in your hand has you whimpering. Every nerve is alive, it feels too fucking good.

You spread your legs wide in the dark of the room, and spread your pussy open just enough to place the vibrating bud on it. It’s so intense, oh fuck, it’s never been so intense. You lull your head back and you don’t know if Spencer left but you don’t care. You need an orgasm. Or ten. You’ve never been so turned on.

It’s completely inappropriate but you arch into your toy and moan loudly as it vibrates against you with disgusting suctioning sounds from your wet cunt. It’s glorious.

All kinds of whimpers and moans are escaping you when suddenly Spencer appears in your doorway.

He hadn’t left.

He clearly had been warring with himself though. He watches you, his face cast in shadows from the dark room. But you can see him lick his lips as you run the rose toy over your dripping cunt. You up the game.

“Spencer I’m about to cum,” you mewl. And it’s not a lie because his eyes on you send you over the edge. You throw your head back and twitch as your legs squeeze closed around your wrist. You pant for a moment.

“How many times have you called my name when using this?” He crawls onto the bed, towards you. He’s a mess of wavy hair, his tie undone.

“Too many,” you whimper the truth.

He places his large hands on your knees and pushes them apart. You open your hand and let the small toy go.

“You should have told me,” he whispers and pushes his hands up your thighs, he squeezes gently. “How are you feeling?”

“I want you, I feel good, I want you to make me feel good,” you stammer because you can’t focus with those hands on you.

You’re surprised when he adjusts the speed of your rose to vibrate harder. He presses at against your over sensitive clit and you writhe beneath him. He lets out a pleased moan and you feel his long middle finger poking at your entrance.

“Please,” you beg him.

He obliges and slides it in swiftly, he pumps you slowly while pressing the toy against your clit.

“So pretty,” he coos and withdraws his finger to rub it between your folds.

You frown when he removes the rose but are blindsided when his mouth latches roughly onto your throbbing pussy.

“Fuck,” you grip his hair hard, pulling it so that he’s deeper in your cunt. He groans against you but tongue fucks you properly.

Your body comes alive as though it’s been set ablaze and you cum on his face quickly, too quickly.

You’re whining when he moves up your body.

“Need more?” He whispers against your ear. You nod. “Greedy girl,” he bites down on your neck.

You frantically rip his shirt open, needing to feel his body, god you loved his body. You run your hands over the planes of his chest and abdomen, moaning your arousal as you reach his belt buckle.

“Do you want my cock?” He tilts his head and looks at you.

“Please,” you beg. He leans down to whisper in your ear while he pulls his cock free of his pants. “Do you want me to fuck your tight little cunt?” You whimper at his dirty words and you can feel the head of his cock against your heat. “Do you want to cum on my cock? How many times have you fantasized about this?” He continues and then he moves down and flicks your nipple with his tongue.

“Reid, please,” you pant.

“Mmm,” he moves back up your body and finally, finally lines up his throbbing cock to your drenched hole. “No one can find out about this,” he whispers assertively.

“No one,” you agree and claw at his hips to encourage him.

When she pushes into you, you can feel every inch of him and he moves slowly. He allows you to stretch to fit him.

“Fuck, tight little cunt,” he groans as he focuses to push in.

“It feels so good,” you cry out and watch him push himself deeper. “Please Spencer just fuck me hard, give it all to me.”

“Yeah?” He asks. You nod and wrap your legs around him.

He abandons the gentle routine and slams the last four ish inches into you, you scream like a lunatic because you’ve never felt so good. You’ve never felt so alive and he’s rutting into you as hard as he can.

Your headboard slams violently into the wall as the sounds of his balls slapping against you fill the air. He pounds relentlessly in your pussy, arching up to hit that spot inside of you until all you can do is hold onto him for dear life.

He’s fucking you like an animal which is fitting because you currently feel like a fucking cat in heat. You’re rolling your hips to meet him thrust for thrust and he’s breathing loudly, groaning here and there.

“Spencer,” you cry out as you reach your climax again.

“Cum on it,” he bites out and fucks you faster.

“Yes sir,” you don’t know where the ‘sir’ came from but you both let it slide.

Your pussy clenches around him and drags a whimper of his own from his throat as your entire body shakes.

“Fuck baby,” he gasps.

You’ve brought him to the edge too, he isn’t thinking and you aren’t thinking because he explodes into your throbbing cunt. His cum fills you completely as his thrusting slows.

You moan and whisper some kind of praises for him fucking you so well.

-

You hardly remember him moving out of you before you pass old cold. Sleep takes you more violently than ever and you wake up hours later on your face. The room spins and a horrid groan escapes you.

“You okay?” Comes Reid’s voice as he moves from the armchair in your room to your bedside.

“Mmm,” you shove him away because you were going to throw up. And that you did, your poor rug. Ugh.

Spencer rushes to the restroom to get you a hot wash rag and a small cup of water. He’s clothed now, though his black button up is untucked and his slacks ride on his hips lower due to his belt being undone.

“Thank you,” you sigh and sit up. He blushes and looks away from you, only then do you realize you’re naked and pull the blanket up to your chin. “How long did I sleep?”

“About five hours,” he informs. Sure enough it’s six am.

“Did you sleep?” You ask nervously.

“No, I was watching you,” his mouth presses into that awkward smile of his.

“I’m sorry that I kind of jumped you like that,” you clear your throat.

“No, no I’m sorry. I feel like I took advantage..”

“No-“ you cut him off. “I would have done that sober. Perhaps I would have been less brazen about it but… yeah.” You smile awkwardly.

“Really?” He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows.

“Come on Reid, I’m no actress. You didn’t have any idea I was attracted to you?” You ask.

“I guess I just never assume people are attracted to me,” he shrugs.

“Well. Nonetheless, I should tell Hotch what happened,” you inform.

“I told him that Vincent drugged you and I was watching you for the night, they’re organizing a sting on him tonight,” he says.

“Oh, thank you,” you nod.

“We can’t tell anybody about this…” he speaks lower.

“I agree,” you nod and a hint of guilt invades your gut.

“Besides you’ve got your…” he pauses. “Gavin.”

Gavin wasn’t her boyfriend, more of a casual hookup friends with benefits guy that you’ve mentioned.

“Right,” you glance around the room awkwardly. “And you’re talking to your Maeve,” you give him a small smile.

“That’s true,” he relaxes a bit. “I think I should go,” he stands.

“Thanks, for everything,” you say.

-

In weeks that follow, your life changes drastically. You’re all over the place, you’re having trouble focusing, you’ve developed PTSD from being drugged, you’re emotional. It’s a lot. You fight with Gavin constantly, you and Reid hardly talk.

It all comes to a head when you’re shot in the shoulder about two months after the drugging.

“You did great, the bullets gone,” the doctor tells you.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. “Can I see the team?”

“Actually there’s another matter to discuss,” the kind eyes older woman pulls her rolling chair up. Your heart hammers. What could it be?

You eye her Valentine’s Day scrubs, taking note of the smiling hearts.

“You stated upon triage that you weren’t pregnant or breast feeding. The MRI picked up on this…” she hands you a xray looking scan.

Your mouth drops open. “You’re pregnant, honey,” she points to a small sack looking thing in your uterus.

You don’t speak, you say nothing for an impossibly long time. So long in fact that she informs you she’s ordered ultrasounds and that she won’t say anything to your team. You barely hear her and she wonders out of the room.

You’re still not present, still in a dream like trance when they give you an internal and external scan.

Everything okay? They said we can’t see you. Spencer texts you.

All good, just some tests. You send back.

“Alright everything looks and sounds good,” the lady tells you. “You’re measuring about eight weeks. I’m going to write down your due date and give you a list of OBGYNs in your zip code,” she smiles.

The doctor returns with said paperwork and is prepared to discuss things further.

“Alright, it would appear as though you are due on Halloween,” she hands you the paper. “The surgery didn’t impact the baby. It’s perfectly healthy.” You swallow hard and nod. “Is there anyone you would like to speak to?”

“My boss, Agent Hotchner,” you squeak. She nods and squeezes your shoulder sympathetically.

While you wait you’re working out the time frame- it could easily be Spencer’s or Gavin’s. You slept with them within days of one another. You lean over and vomit in the bin they gave you. You’re shaking.

“Y/N, everything okay?” Hotch’s eyebrows are arched in concern.

“I need this conversation to stay between us,” you say first and he sits.

“Okay,” he nods.

You hand him the ultrasound pictures.

“I think interested in that transfer to North Carolina.”

The transfer to said FBI department involved a desk job, perfect.

“I-“ he’s speechless. “Congratulations.” He glances at the pictures. “October huh?”

“Apparently,” you sigh and drop your face into your hands. You adore the BAU but you can’t stay.

“Can I ask why you want to transfer? We can put you on desk duty here…” he says.

“My family is only an hour from the FBI office there, it just makes sense,” you glance at the ultrasound again.

“Did you know you were pregnant before this?” He gestures at your shoulder.

“No, she just told me,” you half scoff, half laugh. He smiles.

“Well, okay. I can get started on that transfer Monday,” he stands.

“The team can’t know,” this takes him by surprise. You refuse to ruin Spence’s life, it had only been a month since Maeve’s death and he wasn’t coping well. “Please.”

“Of course,” he gives you that troubled glance but doesn’t push it.

You’ll operate as if it’s Gavin’s and move on from there. You know Gavin will run the other way anyway.

You’re doing Spencer a favor, if it isn’t his he won’t have to worry about it. If it is… well maybe it’s better he doesn’t know at all.

[seeingivy]

the season of us

phd!eren x f!reader

**part of my canary mate fic

previous part linked here

--

Follow Up: Gabi Braun  Hello Y/N,  I hope you’re having a great week!  Just letting you know that Gabi and I had a great meeting last week. We’re going to start processing her paperwork and everything. She seems like a very sweet girl. She spoke very highly of you and all of the hard work you do. I can’t wait to hear all about it when you come home in a few weeks!  Love,  Pieck 

“so do you always have such a shit look on your face or is today something special?” 

you nearly jump at the sound of eren’s voice, not having noted when it was that he sat in the car. you had taken the free time to open your emails, the one from pieck standing particularly out between the usual mix of promotions and comments that levi left on your documents. 

you note that eren’s wearing his glasses again today and that much to nanaba’s delight, he’s freshly cut his hair to avoid man bun status all together. 

“you got a haircut.” you state. 

“you’re wearing a green sweater.” eren responds, mimicking the tone in your voice. 

“what?” 

“i thought we were both just stating random facts.” eren deadpans. 

that was one way to start the day. 

you roll your eyes, peeking over your shoulder as you pull out of his driveway. in your peripheral vision, you can see that eren immediately reaches for the aux cord hanging in between the seats and plugs in his phone. 

“i mean. you had to know that i was making a comment about your haircut. that you got in between the time we last saw each other.” 

“a comment would be something objective. like, eren i love your haircut, you look so handsome. you just simply stated that i got a haircut, which is a fact. which i am obviously aware of. since you know, i was the one who got the haircut and all.” 

you sigh. 

“i don’t understand how you have this much energy to fight before you get coffee in your system.” you mumble. 

“you bring out a special irritation in me. you should be flattered.” eren responds. 

you scoff. 

“oh trust me, i am. it’s my true honor to haul you around in my car and have you sass me every morning.” 

eren doesn’t take the bait and the two of you continue to drive down the street in silence. it’s often quiet that way, nothing filling the air between the two of you except for the music. which at the current moment wasn’t filling the awkward air at all. 

you peer over to the passenger seat at the red light to see eren scrolling through a playlist. you’re not sure if your eyes deceive you, but in the blur, you swear that the name of the playlist is your name. something that looks eerily similar to the shape of your name.

you swear you’re imagining it. and against your better judgment – and something you’re positive you will most definitely get teased for even mentioning – you ask him if it’s true. 

“is the name of your playlist my name?” you ask. 

no. the name of his playlist is obviously not your name. 

eren looks over at you, green eyes almost bored, as he answers. 

“yes.” 

he responds like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. that his simple response warrants why your name would be in his playlist, like it’s something as casual as what the weather's like today or how far the two of you are from the coffee shop. eren scrolls towards the middle of the playlist and starts playing the song. 

The Song for My Brother - Nam Hye Seung, Park Sang Hee 

“why is your playlist name my name?” you ask. 

“because we agreed that it was going to be my turn to play music today.” eren states. 

you glare at him. 

“you’re acting like that explains why you have a playlist that has my name as the title.” 

“yeah. we agreed that we were going to play movie scores for each other since we both liked them.” 

“did that warrant you making an entire playlist? with my name on it?” you ask. 

“i’m trying to put you on good scores. i can’t go repeating them and they all depend on the mood. don’t go taking it personally or anything.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“does it count as putting on when i already know the score? everyone’s watched crash landing on you, you dumbass. besides, this isn’t even the best one from the show.” 

eren looks over at you, almost intrigued. 

“you watched crash landing on you?” eren asks. 

“i’m more shocked that you did.” 

“and what is it that you thought that i watched?” eren asks. 

you shrug. 

“baby sacrifice rituals. joe rogan. the antichrist.” you offer. 

you think your eyes deceive you again, that eren’s trying to fight off a smile. then again, your original instinct was correct. 

“no, those are part of my morning mantras. i watched the show with my mom and my sister.” 

you laugh in response. 

“what do you think the best one is from the show?” eren follows up. 

“same sky, different world.” 

“wrong. it’s picnic.” 

you shake your head. 

“picnic is a classic because it does have the hints of the main title in it so it feels nostalgic. i like the violin. but same sky, different world is too perfect tone wise for what’s happening at the end of the show. it gives the last scenes of the show an entirely different air. because they are under the same sky but in different worlds.” 

eren smiles. almost too brightly and you’re convinced that he’s taunting you. 

“so you really are into scores?” eren asks. 

“did you think i was just saying that when i mentioned it yesterday?” 

“i mean, a little bit. the only other person i know who listens to them as seriously as me is my little sister, karina. she plays the cello too.” 

you scoff. 

“i’ll be making a counter playlist for tomorrow since you’re getting so competitive about this entire thing, which in hindsight i should have realized would happen. now, get out and go get the coffee.” you respond. 

in the three minutes that eren leaves, you get a notification on your phone. 

[busstopbilly]: I am finding myself in dangerous territory.

[lizontopoftheworld]: The K during rush hour? 

[busstopbilly]: Ew, I would never go over there. If I wanted overpriced food, I’d at least go somewhere where the food is edible. 

[busstopbilly]: No. I’m in dangerous wallflower territory. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[lizontopoftheworld]: don’t you have like horrendous foot in mouth syndrome when it comes to her? what was it you did last time?

[busstopbilly]: I told her that her friend’s boyfriend, well now he’s her fianceé, was too loud or something like that. I am ninety percent she told them and that I won’t be invited to the wedding, but that’s not a big deal. 

[busstopbilly]: Let’s just say that I did something that could be perceived as weird. And I didn’t think that it would be weird, because now she knows that I thought about her. At length? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: you sound like a murderer 

[busstopbilly]: Is this how perverts feel? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: I ALMOST CHOKED ON MY SPIT 

[busstopbilly]: I’m glad you find my torment so amusing. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: RELAXXXXXXX

[lizontopoftheworld]: you’re so melodramatic. i’m sure she didn’t think much of it. and even if she did…why don’t u just go for it :D 

[busstopbilly]: You can choke. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: OH MY GODDDDDD

[lizontopoftheworld]: you said she was pretty 

[busstopbilly]: And that’s relevant why? 

[busstopbilly]: i just need you to assuage the fact that I’m not a creep so that I can use it to move on through my day. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: does my endorsement mean that much :) 

[busstopbilly]: Obviously. 

[busstopbilly]: Your opinion is the only one that matters to me, pretty girl. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: bro can u relax its like eight in the morning 

[lizontopoftheworld]: u have my seal of approval that u are not a creep. or a pervert? NOW MOVE HENCEFORTH THROUGH UR DAY

[busstopbilly]: Thanks, Liz. 

eren returns after two minutes, with both of your coffees in hand. you shoot him a grateful smile as you stick yours into the cupholder and make your way towards the hospital.

--

“hey. can i talk to you in the fishbowl?”

you look over the top of the divider to find gabi peering over the top, eyes expectant as she waits for an answer. 

red eyes and messy hair. 

you give her a nod, picking up your laptop and walking down the length of the hall with her. 

“everything okay?” 

“yeah, yeah. i just had a question that i wanted to ask you. with people not around.” 

“okay, sure.” 

you swing open the doors of the glass conference room and plop down at the end of the wooden table. gabi looks over her shoulder before talking, double checking the door is closed, before she turns back to you and gives you an awkward smile. your first instinct is to make a note – that this something that you most definitely have to interrogate falco about later. 

“are you about to confess that you committed a murder to me?” you ask. 

“what? no!” 

“you’re just particularly flighty. whispering, looking over your shoulder. are you sure everything is okay?” 

gabi slouches down into her chair. 

“no, no that’s partially what i wanted to talk to you about.” gabi starts. 

you can tell that she’s fumbling words together. that she hasn’t thought about this entire thing that deeply, only because it’s very clear to you that she’s exactly like you – that when she has to say something important, it’s rehearsed in her head four times before it actually counts. 

that much is obvious from the way that she talks in the meetings. talking about papers, about her proposals – the order of the words are almost identical to what she had written, which to you, was a sign that she had almost memorized them, rehearsed them over and over again to make sure that they were perfect. 

you wonder if she found conversations as difficult as you sometimes. that when they weren’t rehearsed, they were almost impossible to control. 

eren did mention that you had a rather unconfident way of talking. 

“thank you for connecting me with your sister. she’s very sweet and she’s been really helpful.” 

you shoot her a smile. 

“i’m glad that she could help. is everything going all right with that?” 

“yes. yes, we just submitted all of our forms to get an appointment and everything. there’s just a problem.” 

“which is?” 

“do you remember when….when you offered me the help and you talked about how hard it is to juggle this thing with everything else? you said that it could be a lot at times?” 

you nod. 

“i do remember that. what about it?” 

gabi’s voice sounds strained when it comes out. 

“did you mean it? was it really that hard for you too?” 

you can’t help but deflate at the sound of her voice. at what she’s asking you. 

was it as hard for you as it is for me right now? 

“yes. i did mean it. in every sense of the thing. that type of thing is hard, hard at any portion of your life, but especially when you’re trying to figure out your own thing and what it is that you like to do.” you respond. 

gabi’s face melts. 

“really hard.” she affirms. 

“do you want to tell me what part of it is hard right now? just so that i can see if i can help you?” 

you’re not sure what it is, but the mere question sends a flood storm of words babbling out of gabi’s mouth. it’s hard to keep track but certain things stick out more than others. 

“i just don’t know what to do because i have to help my mom translate most of the forms. then i get so irritated that i end up doing the entire thing by myself when i’m supposed to be reading all the papers that eren gave me for our abstract. falco’s having the time of his life chatting with everyone and he always invites me to come out to talk about stuff with mikasa and jean, but i can never come because i’m so busy. and this is one summer! one summer where i’m supposed to just be doing research to figure out if i like this. and then…and then i feel guilty. why am i complaining when they did so much for me? i want to help them, i desperately do, but i can’t help but feel like i’m missing out on something here. i want so bad to go to the conference with all of you in marley, but i don’t know if i can pay for transportation. when am i going to get this much time alone again with falco?” 

gabi’s eyes widen at the last part, coupled with a pink flush that creeps up her neck. you so desperately wished that you could sick it to eren – that you knew for a fact that falco and gabi weren’t just being friendly.  

you wonder why that’s the first thing that you thought of. and choose to ignore it to pick your words carefully. 

“i’m garnering that…transportation is the issue here?” 

you choose to save her from the embarrassment of pointing out what she said – especially when it’s very clearly something that she does not want to discuss. 

gabi shoots you a grateful smile. 

“i dropped three grand on sending in the applications for the stuff with my family. pieck told me that i’d probably have to spend more down the line. i know this is a great opportunity but i can also just present at the conference at the end of the fellowship and go off of that.” 

you shake your head. 

“i’m going to drive in my car. i’m pretty sure that freeloader falco is going to ask if he can join me in a few weeks. did you want to come with us?” 

gabi gives you a tired smile. 

“i can’t impose. that’s a lot of gas money.” 

“that’s a non-issue. i would love to have you there when the four of us all present our work together. granted, i’m sure that eren’s going to blab the entire time and let none of us get a word in because that’s just who he is, but still. it would be a great place for you to network and see how things work. plus, at the undergrad level, it’s kind of a who can show off more contest.” 

gabi groans. 

“ugh. don’t say that.” 

“granted, some of that doesn’t go away when you become a grad student. just think about the fall social. levi fully instructs me to go brag so that i can make him look good. but for the most part, it is people who are interested in that type of thing.” 

you sigh. 

“it’s really hard to grapple with what to prioritize. i love my family more than anyone else, but you also have to not give up things that are really important to you. that…that can make you harbor a lot of resentment. and i don’t want you to be resentful towards your family because, it’s such a hard and complicated thing to grapple with.” 

“yeah.” gabi responds. 

“it’s not supposed to be your job. but it is. you want something entirely different, but your family is what you’re strapped with – good and bad.” you add. 

you sigh. 

“you wouldn’t be imposing if you came with me. i hate to drive long distances, so you can even take over for a little bit. i refuse to let falco drive my car so it would kind of work out perfectly. but think about it. i’d at least like to be able to help with some part of everything you rambled about. the part i can actually help with it.” 

gabi gives you a halfhearted smile. 

“you don’t have to make up stuff to feel like i’m giving you something back.” 

you smile back. 

“i wouldn’t do that. and i know that you know for a fact that i’m not kidding about falco’s driving since you basically risk your life everyday when you try to get here.” 

gabi smiles. 

“don’t even get me started.” 

“you don’t get me started.” 

gabi takes a pause. 

“you…you won’t tell him what i said earlier right?” 

“i’m not sure what you’re referring to.” 

gabi sighs a breath of relief. 

“god, falco’s right. you kind of are the best.” 

--

eren notes that he’s in a particularly bad mood when he leaves the feedback on the abstracts that levi asked him to review. this point is only made apparent to him when he sees you at focus group afterwards, the expression in your face cueing him into the fact that he’s about to get an angry lecturer. 

“did you really feel the need to leave a comment on every single line of the abstract i wrote?” 

“i didn’t write a comment on every single line.” eren retorts. 

he shouldn’t be so quick to talk back. to respond with the first thing that comes to his head. 

“oh sorry. you left the line where i wrote my name blank. that’s awful kind of you.” you deadpan, as you slam hard on the button of the elevator. 

the elevator whirrs up, quietly whining in the background, as eren huffs a sigh. 

“i fixed your entire algorithm, that was entirely dogshit by the way, without saying anything snarky. you could have done the same.” you respond. 

and that was exactly the problem. that you had rewritten his algorithm perfectly, so perfectly that he couldn’t find a mistake or rectify the new issue that they had at hand. 

“would it kill you to get a spell checker? did you get your bachelors degree from a cereal box?” eren asks. 

you roll your eyes. 

“quit being so patronizing, eren. not all of us are afforded the privilege of writing in our first language.” 

eren has no response for that. only because he feels horrible

“did you run the numbers?” eren asks. 

“what?”

“did you run the algorithm after the fact? after you fixed it.” eren asks. 

you shake your head, following directly after eren as he basically darts out of the door of the elevator the second that it opens. he smacks his password onto the free computer quickly, offering quick smiles to the people that wave as they walk past, and pulls up the code that you had fixed earlier that day. 

eren runs play on the code and you instantly detect the problem. 

three steady lines and one that doesn’t even take off. 

“what the hell? what happened there?” you ask. 

“colt’s not meeting the mark. well technically, he’s not even moving past the starting line.” 

the algorithm is supposed to be simple. training against itself to see if there’s a significant amount of progress that can be simulated for future sessions. and for three of them, that much was true, even promixing. 

but for one person, it’s staggeringly bleak. 

you reach for the closest chair, rolling it up next to where eren’s sitting, and reach for the mouse. eren can tell that what you’re going to do next – that you’re going to read every line of your code obsessively, to see if you can find a mistake as to why colt wasn’t responding to the stimulation therapy at all. 

eren only knows that because he tried it himself hours before. 

“that can’t be.” you murmur. 

“it is.” 

you click back to the tab with the windows, the color coding of your graph pissing you off entirely. three yellow lines – signaling good progress – and one that was bright red. 

noting your complete failure. 

“so what are we doing to do?” you ask. 

“if colt doesn’t pass the round that we give him this week, he’s going to be excluded from the group.” eren murmurs. 

“what?” 

“it’s part of the ethics guideline that we wrote. that would technically be the third time that he gets stimulated unnecessarily and we…we can’t just keep doing it when it’s something that has more risks than harms.” 

you scoff. 

“more risks than harms? there’s quite literally nothing else that he can do in his condition.” 

“i know that. but technically, we could push things over the edge. make them worse and i would hate to do that.” 

eren shrugs. 

“i didn’t mean to be harsh on your abstract. it was fine, i just…already ran the numbers and was prematurely upset about it.” eren asks. 

you give him a halfhearted nod, as you stare back at the line. 

“i thought your concern with falco was that he was going to get too emotionally involved. you don’t seem to be taking it so well.” 

eren pinches his lips into a line. 

“you’re seeming very passionate about it as well.” 

“well, that’s the difference between me and you. i wear my heart on my sleeve and you pretend like you don’t have one.” you respond, pushing up out of the chair as you read through the charts that have been stacked at the check in station. 

eren makes a quick observation. that every time he’s argued with you, it’s because he’s already been in a bad mood before. 

he’s quick to follow suit at your side, noting that your eyes are glued on colt’s chart, razor focused on the notes that floch had left earlier in the day regarding his status. eren can see bright red hair turning down the hallway as eren reaches forward and shakes hard on your shoulder. 

you get his hint and follow eren down the length of the hall to the the room of the focus group. only to be met by the most crushing sight, and quiet possibly, the only one that fills you with enough determination to get it right when you do the stimulation therapy next week. 

at the sight of colt finally laughing with everyone else in the focus group. 

--

an: eep! we enter the scores part of the fic. anyways, for those of you who wonder, these were the scores that were mentiond in this chapter and some of my favorites from crash landing on you: the song for my brother, picnic, and the story of us! I can't wait to share more eep

taglist: @invisible-mori @multiplefandomthings @chericos @wheredidmycrowngo @chaoticpxnda @aizzon @stuffeddeer @butterfly-skinnylegend @najaemism @hellokitty-doll @constanciandrea @iblamesusy @jaegersdiary @f4irygard3n @misadear @fell-4-u @coyloves @sobbangchan @you-always-made-me-blush @th0tformikasa @yell0wdreams @itzmeme @elliesbabygirl @miniaturemartian @differentrunawayperson @k0z3me @stroberiz @stillnotherapy @cherryredribbons @bsenpai @cacapeepee

[moonstruckme]

hi! i have a request, but not for a specific character, you can pick who you want to write about i just ask that it’s not about any of the stranger things characters😅 but could you write something just pure and fluffy and sweet with a plus size!reader please? there is a serious lack of just pure plus size!reader fanfics, almost all of the ones i find are smut and it makes me quite sad because i’m currently not able to read smut because of mental health reasons🥹 i just want to read something so sweet and pure and loving with a plus size!reader and her man just loving her softness and curves.

Hi sweetheart! I hope this is alright <3

Sirius Black x plus size!reader ♡ 822 words

You’re innocently reading when cold fingers try to jimmy into the crease between your thighs. You squeal. “Sirius, don’t! Shit, your fingers are freezing.” 

He pouts. Even with his pretty lips and freakishly long lashes, the expression doesn’t work on you like it used to. Sirius has worn it out. “Exactly,” he whines. “They’re cold, and you’re so warm. Quit being selfish.” 

“So get a blanket like a normal person,” you chide. “Don’t make your cold fingers my problem.” 

Sirius scowls. “I thought my problems were your problems. Isn’t that, like, the point of a relationship?” 

You lower your book to give him a look. “That’s an awfully self-serving idea of what a relationship is supposed to be, Siri.” 

He huffs, reaching the whole two feet to grab the blanket you’ve strewn over the armchair. “Fine. You must have me in your thrall or something, you know that? I used to get whatever I wanted. Where did it all go so wrong?” 

“Not sure.” You flip your page idly, though you’re not really reading anymore. Just baiting your boyfriend, as you are wont to do. “Maybe when you stopped trying to woo me.” 

Sirius gasps, and your book is torn from your hands. He sets it on the table, and you both pretend he hasn’t done it with care, saving your page. “How dare you! I woo you every day of the week.” 

“Mmm.” You try to look unimpressed, but you know he can see the smile you’re fighting. “I don’t feel very wooed when you try to use me as a human heating pad.” 

SIrius’ grin comes out to play. You take that as permission to release your own. “Aw, m’sorry, lovely girl,” he croons, bending to brush his lips over the place on your thigh where his fingers had clawed for entry a minute before. “Have I not been telling you how wonderful you are often enough?” 

You bite your lip against the giggle bubbling up your throat. “You could stand to do it more.” 

“My pretty baby.” Sirius grips the fat of your hips, pulling himself upward to kiss you on the lips. “My sweet, darling angel, do you know how much I love you?” He moves to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, just under your eye, kiss-kiss-kissing all up and down your face. 

Your giggles escape, and you break, hands touching his waist to keep him close. “I do,” you admit happily. “I love you too.” 

“No, but not nearly as much as I love you.” His voice wilts with a dejection that’s entirely for show, leaning back to bat his too-long eyelashes at you pitifully. “You really have no idea, do you? You silly thing. I think I need to show you more often.” 

You’re quiet, shaking with silent laughter Sirius pretends not to notice. 

“I love you here,” he says, palms rubbing soothingly up and down your thighs, “but for more than just because they’re so warm. And I love you here” —his hands slide over the material of your shirt, up your waist, dipping lovingly into each rolling curve— “and here” —he follows the path to your broad shoulders, squeezing lightly before continuing upwards to cup your face— “and I love—baby, are you paying attention? This is important—I love you here.” He pecks you on the lips. “Love love love you, gorgeous. I love you here, too.” He kisses your nose, then presses his lips to your forehead. “I love you here most of all,” he says, words all mushed up against your skin. “Do you believe me now?” 

“Sirius,” you say softly, face now infinitely warmer than it had been a minute ago, back when you’d been under the impression that you were the one teasing him. “Of course I believe you.” 

“Good.” He gives your head one more firm kiss before backing off, giving you one of those sweetheart, earnest smiles he keeps locked away for special occasions. “It’s important that you know, you know?”

“Mhm,” you say, and his grin widens at your shyness. It takes a lot for him to make you this bashful these days, so your flush is a victory for him. “This was all a part of your grand scheme, wasn’t it?” 

Sirius blinks at you. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

You stare him down for a few seconds before sighing. “Fine, you can use my legs to warm your hands.” 

“Yes!” He wastes no time, worming his fingers into the soft inner part of your thighs. You tense at the cold. “I prefer not to think of it as using you. More like affection that also happens to have utility, yeah?” 

“Sure.” You roll your eyes, fighting a shiver as you pick your book up from the coffee table. “It’s like you said, you get whatever you want.” 

Sirius leans forward, pecking you sweetly on the lips. “You know it, babe.”