#so this would be an interesting way to do it

[drchucktingle]

BIG thing i get teased about over the years (in playful ways, it is fine buckaroos, but a light tease none the less) is the DIRECTNESS of my titles. many who stumble upon my books will immediately comment 'the title is so long it just says what happens'. here are some of my thoughts on that...

as with a lot of things in the tingleverse, my unusual artistic choices end up being a sort of TROJAN HORSE, called unserious and mocked by many, but hopefully over the years revealing something to buckaroos who are not tied to the separation of ‘low brow’ or ‘high brow’ art

i feel understood by most, but for some who JUST NOW encounter the tingleverse there is an automatic apprehension, from outright to subliminal. things like scoffing ’im not going to try and find meaning in a chuck tingle book’ (real quote) or 'skeptical of the horror, ive seen his OTHER books'

i have written a LOT about how much of this, whether buds know it or not, is not just about the dinosaurs and the living objects. it is about a culture that is built to see queerness and neurodivergence and (drumroll) SEXUALITY as fundamentally unworthy of ‘real’ artistic merit. this trot runs deep

theres SOMETHING ELSE i dont talk on much however, which is directness of my writing style, both in titles and on page. why i do it is this: AS AN ARTIST it is never my intention to impress you. my books are not the 'ME show' theyre the 'US show’ so i simply want my sentences to express what happens

i wont dance circles around you, leading you through the story saying LOOK AT ME LOOK HOW GOOD I AM IM SO COOL. i want to walk BESIDE you. of course, writing to impress is also great and valid art too, just not MY preference. this is ARTISTIC choice, but i want to talk for a moment on politics of it

i tend to see buckaroos holding a sort of STRICT interpretation of what makes ‘good’ art. it is a training that has been pounded into their heads declaring ‘real art cannot just come out and say what it means.' a good example would be if someone was being critical by just saying 'its heavy handed'

the thing is, there is a huge difference between saying ‘it was blunt.’ and ‘it was TOO BLUNT for what it was trying to accomplish.’ TIME AND TIME AGAIN however, you will see folks simply deciding ‘this art just said what it meant on the surface’ and leaving it there, as if that is INHERENTLY WRONG.

and the question i am forced to ask myself is ‘WHY is this wrong?’ in the vast, infinite pantheon of WHAT ART CAN BE why are we so obsessed with hiding ourselves? obscuring our thoughts? removing our politics? there is certainly a time for subtly, but it seems there is NEVER a time for being blunt

some say this is because arts more DIFFICULT to craft when it is subliminal, but folks do not REACT that way. art that is both direct AND subliminal and layered will STILL get torn down for leaving things on the surface, even when technically speaking it is probably most impressive to juggle both

there is plenty for you to research on this regarding the CIA secretly funding abstract expressionist art during the cold war. it is still HOTLY DEBATED, but i will mention it here for anyone reading my thread who is interested in a deep dive. HERE, however, i will talk about it on a personal level

i think that culturally we are CONSTANTLY told to not take up space, especially in marginalized groups. there is decades and decades of programming telling us ‘you can express yourself, but in a CIVILIZED WAY, not too loud, not too direct. CERTAINLY not too political.' i flatly reject this

of all the places to do what you want and say what you want to say, ART IS THE PERFECT ARENA. your writing, your songs, your music can absolutely be as subtle as you want, but especially during times like this, dont let anyone tell you that youre too dang loud. lets trot buckaroos.

and since i spent all morning writing this is am going to leave a link for my new book LUCK DAY, which is LOUD AS HECK. now is a time to make art, and it is also a time to support the artists you love. give a preorder if you can. LOVE IS REAL

[my-castles-crumbling]

professional - february 24 - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 465

"What the fuck is this?"

Regulus looked up from his work to see James Potter storming into his office, just in time for the older man to slam a paper on his desk, fire in his eyes.

"You're- what?- firing me as a patient?"

Regulus swallowed, trying to keep his emotions in check. It had been a difficult decision, and one he hadn't taken lightly. Ever since he'd become a healer, he'd been seeing James as a patient- helping him with Quidditch-related injuries, examining him whenever he had a complaint, nursing him back to health when he was ill. At first, he'd thought it would be fine. That he could ignore his lingering feelings from school and stay professional. But things had just gotten worse, and now...well, last week there had been a close call. A moment of tension. Regulus had been only centimeters away and James had been looking at him with that trusting gaze and...

Regulus had decided to do the right thing, and pass him off to Pandora. He couldn't break James's trust like that.

"Yes," he nodded, face a careful mask. "I think she would be better equipped to handle your...care."

"Why?" James demanded, and to Regulus's utter horror, he seemed hurt. "Did I do something? Did I...?"

"No, James," Regulus replied, again keeping his tone even. "I'm your healer, and this was a medical decision. It had nothing to do with feelings." Even thought it had everything to do with feelings.

But James's desperate gaze was tugging at his heart. "So that's it, then. I thought I was imagining things, but..." he mumbled, and Regulus swore he could hear his voice break. "Fine. I'll make an appointment with her on the way out."

And Regulus should've left it there. But he never could leave things alone when it came to James Potter. So he called out, despite himself, "Imagining what?"

James turned back, face tired and sad. "Nothing, Reg. I just thought you...you might feel..." he trailed off, shrugging.

"Feel what?" he murmured, eyes locking with James's, internally begging the other man to confirm what he'd desperately hoped and dreaded was true.

"That you might...want me..." James finished, sighing, as though he was admitting something pathetic.

A burst of emotion inflated Regulus's chest, and he almost let out a little sob of relief. "Why the hell do you think I said I couldn't treat you anymore, James?" he murmured. "I couldn't keep touching you...keep seeing you like that...keep professional when I wanted to...to fucking snog you on top of my desk!"

"Oh," the other man nodded, wide-eyed. "Well...you're not treating me anymore, are you?" he asked slyly, hazel eyes brightening with interest.

It turned out, snogging on top of Regulus's desk was even better than he imagined it would be.

[yanderenightmare]

can we get a part two to wants&needs, like anything at all please, just want to know what happens next, anything is fine please

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ AN: Truth be told, I actually did write this follow-up right after the first one. My original wish was to continue it, but I lost interest. It's not much, but since you asked so nicely...

♡ TW: implied dubcon/noncon, yandere, obsession, kidnapping, captive reader, deteriorating mental state, psychological abuse

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: Wants & Needs

It’s been a month now, and only a month—one single month since you met your boss and three weeks since he abducted you. 

Time is a funny thing. You never really knew what people meant when saying that, but you think you get it now. He acts as if he’s known you all his life—as if the two of you living together was the natural next step—as if the horror of what happened after you woke up in his bed was the honeymoon, and this, just your homey little life as happy newlyweds.

He brings you flowers when he comes home from work, buys you jewelry and pretty clothes, makes you breakfast in bed, and spoonfeeds it to you since you so often make him cuff your wrists to the headboard. He draws your baths and doesn’t wear a condom when he fucks you because the two of you shouldn’t wait any longer.

That’s how it seems to be for him—but to you, he’s stranger than a stranger. At first, he was Dynamight, the celebrity pro-hero you’d see on billboards and magazines—then your new high-maintenance boss, Mr. Bakugou—and now, the inescapable maniac holding you captive in his house, who gets upset when you don’t call him Katsuki.

Yes, time is a funny thing. 

You thought there would be no end to your fighting back, that you’d pester him about letting you go forever. Realistically, you thought you’d keep it up for at least a full month. But turns out you didn’t even have the stamina to last a week. You’re scared, and you’re tired, and you’re weak, and you’re small—and Bakugou makes it all crystal clear when you decide to act up. 

Bratty, he calls it. 

Time is a funny thing. The outside world has already accepted your disappearance. Bakugou had made you watch it all on the news a couple of days ago—his strategy for making you lose hope and accept the situation, you suppose. The reporters say it was a villain attack at the agency, one of pro-hero Dynamight’s many enemies—and that you were tragically caught in the crossfire. You watched your family cry—watched them lay candles and flowers by the building—watched pro-hero Dynamight swear to catch the villain responsible. The segment was mostly about him after that. You felt like more of a footnote.

Time is a funny thing. The first time he’d undressed you and laid his naked body against yours, you thought you’d never get over the absolute dread of it. But it already feels old. Like some other unpleasant thing you have to do in the day—like a mundane chore—same as washing dishes or getting up early to go to work. It is, in many ways, just what it is.

Meanwhile, your quirk works against you. Suppose it’s somewhat to blame for your state. In the absence of other interference, Bakugou remains the sole source of influence. With no other noise to distort, his message becomes loud and clear—and your eagerness to heed him all the stronger.

In your head, you know you want to disregard him, fight back, run—but your body listens to his wants and needs and responds kindly like nothing would make you happier than to serve. Which is what he whispers in your ear as he takes you. 

Housewife quirk, he calls it.

Time’s a funny thing, and you don’t think it’ll be long now before you come to accept it.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BNHA masterlist

[pathologicalreid]

if you love me, keep it to yourself | s.r.

[previously]

in which Spencer gifts you a necklace for your birthday and you begin to question why you continue to push him away

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (kinda flangsty) content warnings: blowing smoke part THREE, kissing, starcrossed lovers, spencer being interested in other girls, jealous!reader, maeve, reader has hair that covers her neck (?), circa s10, dancing, reader's birthday but the weather/time of year isn't mentioned word count: 2.24k a/n: i meant to post this earlier but i got distracted by animal crossing. my bad.

You shifted your feet again, wary of your heels slowly digging into the dirt behind Rossi’s house—mansion. You folded and unfolded your hands, waiting for something to happen while everyone’s attention was on you.

In true BAU fashion, they’d thrown you a birthday party despite you insisting that you didn’t want one, which left you in a party dress, sitting on the outdoor furniture and watching the way the stars glimmered this far away from the city. Exhaustion wore at you like waves, waiting for an acceptable time to abandon the festivities.

They surrounded you. All of your friends minus Kate, who had gone home early to spend time with Meg, and yet, it still felt like there was a piece of you missing. Something inside of you had been chiseled away with an ice pick, and the raw flesh stung with fresh hurt when Spencer stood in front of you.

“Do you want to dance?” He asked you softly, providing you with a false sense of protection from prying eyes. Spencer’s brown eyes glowed beneath the warm string of lights, studying your appearance as if it was the first time he’d seen you all night.

His hands were tucked into his pockets, and you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, feeling cold despite the heated patio you were sitting on. “No one else is dancing, Spence,” you told him, watching as he took your rejection for what it was.

Spencer turned from you, walking along the path to the gazebo, minding the gaps between the stones as he hung his head. You watched him smooth his suit jacket as he looked up at the same sky that you’d been keeping an eye on, waiting for it to fall.

Someone cleared their throat beside you, and you glanced over to see Dave giving you a disappointed look. “Now,” he started, “I hope I’m not overstepping when I saw this, but if you keep holding him at arm’s length, eventually he’s going to walk the other way.”

You slid further down on the chair you were perched on. He was overstepping. Overstepping so far that his foot was going to slide off of the edge of the world. Part of you wondered if you were watching it happen right now, if Spencer was finally turning and walking away from you for good, but as you eyed him from the patio, he peeked over his shoulder, looking to see if you had moved to follow him.

That was your cue. Pushing yourself to your feet, you wrapped your shawl over your shoulders and followed the cobblestone path that would lead you to Spencer. Your heels tapped gently on the old stone until you halted at the entrance of the gazebo, holding a hand to the worn wood column to keep yourself steady. “Hey,” you greeted, an involuntary smile flying to your face when his head lifted at the sound of your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered. Your proximity to the team was no longer a concern of yours, but the two of you still chose to speak in quiet truths. Using small voices sometimes seemed to quell the gravity of your situation. Two people in love who would never be able to find their way together.

You wanted to move on from stolen kisses in bars and tears shed in your apartment, but every time you looked at him, you were struck with the memory of years past. You thanked him, conscious of the tentative peace between you. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows and his hair had grown considerably since the last time you stood opposite each other like this, but he was still Spencer.

His tie was crooked, and you put your hands behind your back as if to physically restrain yourself from fixing it for him. Besides, there was something about his crooked tie that made him undeniably Spencer—it was so endearing that it built a pit in your chest. “I got you something,” he spoke again, digging in his back pocket for something.

Your breath caught in your throat when he produced the dainty chain; a simple necklace dangled from his fingers and without giving it a second thought, you lifted your hand and took the chain from him. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured, wondering where Spencer acquired the skill of picking out jewelry.

“I don’t see any dancing,” Rossi heckled from the patio, and as if he was controlling you, the two of you took a step toward each other.

You were toe to toe; goosebumps spread across your skin while Spencer’s hand splayed across the small of your back. You set your free hand on his shoulder, the other one dedicated to clutching your new necklace as if your life depended on it. “We don’t have to dance,” he offered to you, still whispering as if Rossi had bugged the gazebo.

Shaking your head, your face warmed when someone turned the volume up and the rest of the team retreated to the indoors. “You like to dance,” you countered, swaying gently with the music.

Every bit of coordination that Spencer lacked with sports, he made up for with dancing. His mom taught him when he was a kid. At least, that’s what he’d told you years ago. “I know I do, but… I was really just looking for a reason to get you away from everyone so I could give you your gift.”

Squeezing his shoulder, you smiled despite yourself and shrugged, “I like dancing with you, Spence.” You wanted to slip something in about being a good friend, but you bit your tongue. He’d just given you a necklace, and you knew better than to push him away now.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in response, “We could dance all the time if you’d go out with me.”

Your steps faltered, you would’ve tripped over your own feet if Spencer wasn’t there, keeping you upright. “I thought we were past this,” you said after regaining your balance.

“I never will be,” he responded immediately. “Can I be honest?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you looked up at him, “If you must.”

“When you told me ‘not right now’ in that bar last year, I didn’t anticipate it taking this long,” he told you, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t mind waiting for you, but part of me was worried that you forgot.”

“I remember,” you assured him. “I told you I’d let you know, and I will.”

Spencer laughed nervously, the gold glimmering in his irises under the faint lights of the gazebo, “You wouldn’t happen to have a timeline for me, would you?”

Your smile returned to your face; he pulled you closer to him with the flat of his palm on your back. “How was your date with that surveillance agent?” You spun the conversation around, acting as if you didn’t remember Dorian’s name. They’d gone out for coffee, and you recalled being in a particularly rotten mood that day.

He hummed thoughtfully, “I don’t think we’ll see each other again.”

“Oh,” you feigned surprise, “Why not?”

“She’s not you,” he answered easily, maintaining his façade that you were the only girl in the world—at least as far as he was concerned.

You rolled your eyes, “You’re going to have a hard time finding someone to go out with if that’s your prerequisite.” You tried to resist the flattery that his words brought to you. Your heart clenched at your brain’s outright refusal to accept him.

He shrugged, “I don’t want anyone else.”

Your feet stopped, pausing the dance, “Spencer…”

Spencer shook his head dismissively, “I’m tired of dancing around each other.”

Looking around, you spotted the bench in the gazebo. You nodded in the structure’s direction, “Did you want to sit down then?”

He glanced over his shoulder to the bench, “I was speaking figuratively.”

“Ah,” you breathed. “Well, how do you think we should move forward?” You let him lead you over to the bench, minding the way the curtains of the house moved—a sign that your friends were eavesdropping.

His eyes flickered down to your hand. Your fist was clenched around the necklace that he had gifted you. “You could start by wearing the necklace,” he proposed, taking your hand in his.

Spencer cradled your fist, peeling your fingers away from your palm one at a time before revealing the pendant. “Why don’t you put it on me?”

Plucking the chain from your hand, you turned away from him, lifting your hair from the back of your neck so he could have a clear view of the clasp. His fingertips touched your bare skin ever so slightly when he released the necklace.

You were so close. You were so close to calling everything off and telling him you were ready, but when you turned around and met his eyes, you saw it again. You looked into his eyes and saw the terror. The vague sense of haunting that had been there since the day Maeve died still bloomed in his irises.

You’re not sure why you spoke again, but he had given you something. You felt inclined to return the favor. “Do you know the first time I knew I was in love with you? I mean really knew that I was in love… It was the case right before Emily joined the BAU—the first time. There were two killers operating in St. Louis at the same time, and you had found their communication in the classifieds. It seems so insignificant looking back at it now, but there was something about the way you explained it to me. I realized it wasn’t just that I was impressed by your brain, but I was in love with you.”

He's silent for a long time, and you know why. You’ve never told him you loved him. There had never been a moment before this where you’d truly confessed your love for him, and yet, he knew it as surely as he knew his own name. “That was eight years ago,” he croaked, his voice suffocated by turmoil.

“I know,” you breathed. Your voice was so soft that you weren’t sure he’d hear you, but he did. Spencer always heard you.

He took a deep breath, looking at you frantically like he was waiting for you to take it back, “You never said anything.”

You nodded, “I know.”

“I—” he faltered over his feelings. “I wish you’d said something to me years ago. We’ve missed so much time together.” His words implied that there was a new sense of togetherness now. It wasn’t as easy as being in love with each other, you knew that.

Shaking your head, you dropped a hand to the bench you were sitting on, the wood soft with years of occupants. “I don’t know, Spencer,” you shrugged, tracing the woodgrain with your fingertips. “I’ve seen the other girls over the years. I never thought you’d be interested in reciprocating my feelings.”

He frowned, “Other girls?” His hand caught yours on the bench, enveloping your hand with his warm, nimble fingers.

“JJ, Lila, Austin, Maeve,” you listed, redirecting your focus to the ridges of his hand. You wanted to commit each crease and swirl to memory before he inevitably dropped your hand.

Surprise lit up his face, cocking his head to the side while he looked at you patiently, “None of them are you.”

She’s not you. None of them are you. His words echoed around the confines of your skull like a ping-pong ball. “You keep saying that like it means something.”

“It means everything to me,” he insisted. “You mean everything to me.”

His ice pick had returned, chiseling at your resolve like you were running out of time. “They’re just words,” you said desolately, the dainty chain around your neck applying pressure like shackles on your shoulders.

“Can I ask you a question?” As expected, he withdrew his hand from yours, leaving your palms empty, begging for more.

You hummed, bringing your hands back to your lap, “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

Slowly, he slid off of the bench, kneeling in front of you while he took both of your hands in yours. “You’ve built your walls up so high, how do you know if you’re protected or imprisoned?”

Freezing, you gave yourself a moment to process his words before you tilted your head down in shame, “I’m not entirely sure anymore.” Your confession came as a surprise to both of you. You swallowed thickly, leaning over to be closer to him, “but I think I’d like you to kiss me again.”

Not needing to be told twice, Spencer craned his head forward and pressed his lips to yours. He rose to his feet, cradling your cheeks, he held you like water in his hands. He kissed you and it was just as sweet as it had been the first time, pulling away slightly, he whispered I love you against your lips.

That was all it took for you to drag yourself away from him. Three words that you’d waited a decade for, and all you could get yourself to say was, “It’s okay.”

“Is it?” He asked breathlessly.

Frantically, you stood up and smoothed out your dress. “It will be,” you offered. You headed back to the house, leaving Spencer—and your heart—behind.

"All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire." - Edgar Allen Poe

[inkscape-official]

Yes to all above but let's also add some things about bees.

I've done some beekeeping in the past and have interacted with many beekeepers, they are the nicest people you'll ever meet and care more about the bees comfort than basically anyone else (possibly even more than the bees do... exceptions are later). Bees can leave the hive at any time in a proper setup (there are exceptions... we'll get to those) and beekeepers will regularly let the bee hive increase in population until it naturally splits to form a swarm that will look for a second home they can settle into and usually these bees choose another hive the keeper has setup.

So now the exceptions: First off I will say I would not label everyone who keeps bees as a beekeeper, this is personal preference to distinguish the people who take care of bees from the greatest sin humanity has committed against bees, fucking pollination for sale hives... I don't know the correct industry term but these guys are cunts, basically some industrial scale farms (almonds especially) have decimated their natural habitat so badly that they need to depend on honey bees for 100% of the pollination and the bees in these cases usually can't produce any honey because extremely low quantities of nectar so the haves need to be cycled to recover every 6 months (except they can't because they never get a proper winter... there's a lot of fuckery going on with these setups). If you've ever seen "bee hives fall of truck onto highway" news stories it's these bastards, and again no honey so you can consume honey knowing this isn't an issue (anything with almonds though... this is absolutely happening) Ok not all setups can let the bees leave 100% of the time... there are good times to do that (like when a nuc queen has just had her nuptial flight and the entrance narrower you use blocks the queen from leaving but also prevents pests from bugging the much smaller than normal worker force, the queen has decided to stay anyways once she's done the nuptial flight so you're fine limiting in-out access for a few weeks) there are also bad times to do that (see above rant and consider the pollination for hire companies must have to prevent bees leaving during long distance transport and also when the bees are surrounded by almost no nectar all from a single plant they really hate feeding from so they would actually leave if they could)

So if you're concerned about bee products there's quite a few others you should be boycotting way harder. And if you're interested in learning more about any of this please try to find and reach out to a local beekeeping group (you may be invited to check hives and if you aren't squeamish about insects I'd highly recommend)

Ayoo just to preempt the inevitable dumb takes we’re about to start seeing;

I am PRO-WOOL

I am PRO-LEATHER

I am PRO-BEES

Fuck the idea of replacing durable, sustainable animal products with cheap, flimsy plastic that doesn’t bio-degrade. Agave nectar and other artificial sweeteners are expensive, labor-intensive, and destroy the environment to be farmed.

Do not buy into pernicious marketing campaigns pushed by dickhead organizations trying to stay relevant, like PETA.

[sevsbunny]

secrets

gp!alpha!sevika x omega!reader

4k words!

warnings — sevika has a dick. talks of knotting. fingering (r). thigh riding. slight choking. semi public sex. joint mention.

the brain rot is overwhelming in this one. trust there will be a part two, however please send me things for these two! i want this to be an au <3

skin tone in both pictures is not related/relevant! it is purely for the outfit <3 (minus gloves)

EIGHTEEN PLUS MINORS AND MEN DNI

her scent was intoxicating, smelling of musk, cinnamon, sweat, a hint of mint. and something else. something possessive.

there was no denying the pull you had to her the second you felt her presence enter the threshold of the small meeting room. you were new to the team, having been there for a mere year — and considered an asset for being the only omega — but to each their own.

you needed money. you needed to make a living.

you hadn’t been claimed by an alpha. not that you didn’t want to, just…you hadn’t met the right one.

some were powerful, which usually came with the upper hand of being able to conceal the abuse some held. others were, well. boring. they didn’t spark that interest in you, didn’t make your body thrum with excitement when they were around. you didn’t feel ‘the spark�� your other younger omega friends had talked about when they met their alpha’s in college.

you thought it was something that didn’t exist.

silco paid you well, enough for you to have your own little studio apartment on the top floor. it was small, but you had a rooftop access essentially, so you turned it into a little cozy space.

the hours were tiring, however. you posed as being decoy to missions — a little lost omega in a big city with no one to help her — it was the best weapon to busting these goons that kept stealing from silco.

it was fulfilling for a while, until it wasn’t. you know, the usual motions.

however, it kept you close to sevika. more than it should.

it was dizzying — having to work so closely to her because she was the leader. the one to call the shots. the one that watches everything that goes down, to make sure things are going according to plan.

there were times on the way back from a mission that was more emotionally taxing than the last, that she would let you lean into her, find comfort in her being in alpha.

she knew she shouldn’t let it get farther than that, you were unclaimed and it was dangerous waters for her to be so close to an unclaimed omega when she had been resisting her rut for years.

you noticed her keeping her distance most days, how she would stand on the other side of the room, noticeably the one with the window cracked open. you’d study her figure, the way her broad muscles block out most of the limited light streaming in through the cracked pieces of stained glass. that ruby red cloak sat neatly and layered on her left shoulder, hiding her mech arm. something that you thought of more often than you should’ve.

her brows were usually furrowed at anything, and it seemed that she had permanent scowl on her face. you figured this type of work would do that to you, but that was just how she was. her short, dark brown locks were always in a half ponytail, stray pieces of hair always framing her face that always fell out of the loose ponytail. your fingers itched to push them behind her ear whenever your focus was locked in too long on her.

her eyes never left the usual spot in front of her, darting towards the door when someone knocked, or looked over at silco when he was speaking. but she never gave you a second glance. it kind of killed you on the inside, that just because she was an alpha and you an omega, meant she wasn’t able to spare you at least one single peek. you were always polite and respectful when she was in the room, why wouldn’t she look at you?

it wasn’t like sevika didn’t see you. fuck, all she could smell was you. the scent signature to you, a pretty little unclaimed omega that taunted her every single day when you showed up for work. it was like the devil couldn’t reach her, so instead she gave her you.

it took her resisting herself every single day after meetings to shove you up against the wall and shove her thigh in between your heat, hearing your soft whimpers in her ear as she made you feel the pleasure only an alpha could bring you.

it was after a particularly stressful mission the team had, that you felt like you had almost had enough. and it seemed like sevika was right there with you.

you were both planning to show up at an event, a gala where most of the wealthiest people silco was after would be. it was a pretty elaborate event, one they had been planning on for a while, so you knew better than to think with your pussy tonight.

you had worn a pretty little number, a silk dress that fell down to your ankles, a slit on the left left that ran up to your mid thigh — almost exposing what underwear you should’ve had on. you knew you had work to do, but you also knew you wanted to get fucked up, and you thought you had a pretty good handle on doing just that. (you very much didn’t.)

your hair had been done up, adding on your favorite pearl earrings with matching necklace and black stilettos with a red bottom. you had your signature scent on your wrists and behind your ears, a pink sugar scent with your added omega scent -- vanilla with an undertone of lavender. you knew you looked good, fuck you felt good.

the second you saw sevika, however, you knew it was over for you.

her hair was slicked back into a low bun at the nape of her neck, two pieces of small braids framed her face holding a few pieces of gold hair jewelry. a thin gold chain sat under her neck, white dress shirt with a few top buttons undone with a black vest matching her slacks. her sleeves were rolled up a quarter of a way on her thick arms. you could see a small design of henna on her right hand, the intricate patterns running up to her wrist. you could see the soft light of her mech arm under the fabric of her shirt, and you swore you could smell her from where you stood at the bar. you didn’t know if she had seen you yet, thankfully. you looked away from her, not daring to bring your eyes to her face incase you made some accidental eye contact. you flagged down the bartender and asked for a drink, letting out an exhale of breath as you reminded yourself to stick to the mission.

you knew the second you raised this drink to your lips, it was trouble. there were smells of other alphas around you, and you knew with the way you looked and the fact you had on nothing underneath, you were just asking for an alpha to come up to talk to you.

you didn’t want it though, and sevika wouldn’t allow that anyways.

she spotted you, of course she did. she smelled you before she saw you. it was invading her senses, making her brain full of thoughts of just you. it was getting harder and harder to resist her rut every single day when it came around you.

she let out an exhale as she watched you drink yout concoction at the bar, your legs crossed at the knee to reveal more of your thigh at the slit on your left leg. if she squinted hard enough, she could swear she knew you weren’t wearing anything. but you wouldn’t do that, this is work, you’d keep it professional, right?

her back was pushed up against the wall near one of the doors that let out to a balcony, one that looked over a garden with a little pond. the lights out there were off, no one was permitted to go down to the garden, just on the balcony. you both also knew it was an advantage point these people could have.

you werent sure how much time has passed, but you could feel the alcohol start to take over in your body. you felt giggly, happy and carefree and you honestly could care less what anyone else thought. you had an elbow on the bar, legs still crossed with your back semi to sevika. she couldnt see who you were talking to, but whoever it was was making you laugh like no one should.

she saw a manicured hand rest on your arm in a playful banter, making her chest inhale and exhale heavily. she knew there were other alphas here -- and she knew that you didnt belong to her but couldnt you behave for just once? it pissed her off, how carelessly you were throwing away the mission…

right, the mission.

her huffs again, taking one last long drag to the joint in her hand before flicking her gold lighter closed and placing it into her breast pocket. she kicks off the wall and comes over to you at the bar.

you smell her before you see her.

“ladies,” she says casually, the joint that was once inbetween her fingers, now fell loosely at her lips and smug smile on her lips as she looked down to you and then over towards the other alpha.

“sevika! wonderful to see you!” you sat up a bit straighter as sevika moved closer, half her chest overtaking the front of your seat as you sat back. your thighs pressed against hers as she leaned across the bar casually. she takes a hit from the joint before handing it to you — not offering.

you take it, while she strikes up a conversation with the middle aged alpha that was just hitting on you. you could feel your anger bubbling inside. why would she interrupt you like that? its not like she owned you. you didn’t belong to anyone.

but seeing the way she leans over you, passing the joint between the three of you had you squeezing your thighs a little bit. she perked up a little bit, her nose smelling a slight change in you. you eyed you for a second while the woman she was talking to got held up by a phone call.

“i was fine, you didnt have to come over here.” she grunts as she ashes the joint before taking another hit, still leaning against the counter top. you couldnt focus on much of anything other than the way she was looking at you, how her musk was invading your senses by being this close. you could swear she could hear your heartbeat in your chest harder when her eyes gloss over your figure once before back to your gaze.

“ive seen how many drinks youve ordered. youre getting drunk.” she says matter of factly before bringing the joint up to your lips to hit. you felt a shiver run through your body at the action before taking a hit and exhaling it, the smoke wrapping around her face. her gaze darkens before she takes another hit and ashing it out, and grabbing your discarded drink. she tosses it back and finishes it, before gripping your hand and pulling you off the chair at the bar.

“come with me.” her tone is heavy, angry. you can tell that you over did it, but you can’t think of anything other than her strong grasp she has on your hand, her fingers big and soft. you feel your pussy throb at the thought of them stuffing you full.

she grips your wrist, trying to ignore the way your blood pulses under her touch, how good you smell combined with the faint scent of your slick. turned on already and nothing has even happened has her huffing out of her nose in jealousy.

“you think you can just walk around the office in those short skirts, these tight blouses and get away with it?” she grunts against your ear as she corners you in a dark hallway, the sounds of the gala going on, on the other sides of the wall. it was all around you, but you could only focus on the heat that radiated off of sevika. her thick thigh was snug against your heat, and you could feel her cock throb through her slacks as she presses against you. you couldn’t really think straight at this point, having four flutes of champagne along with the shared joint the two of you just had, your head was empty.

you were officially thinking with your pussy.

fuck.

“what is it, little omega? can’t think straight already? look how easy you are, how small you are…” her mech hand comes up to your chest, the sharp end of her pointer finger trailing a thin line up your skin, right in the divet of your cleavage. you let out a soft whine at the sensation, your cunt throbbing with the lightest touch of hers. she smiles softly, before hooking her metal finger under the band of pearls that were resting peacefully on your throat.

“i know of something that will look better than these around this perfect neck of yours…” her voice is low, moving a shudder through your body as you register how dark and heady her tone is. you inhale as she tugs on the string of pearls and tugs, the string snapping and sending the pearls flying around the two of you, rolling against the ceramic flooring.

her right hand comes up from your hip, her hips rocking ever so slowly into your body. her fingers trailed up the slit of your dress over your skin, catching the edge of the slit and pulling up to reveal the plush parts of your nude hips.

“nothing underneath? while your dripping? you were asking to get someones knot, weren’t you?” you blush darkly at her words, your heat throbbing at the thought of not just anyone giving you their knot.

“not anyone…yours, sev…” her grip on your dress tightens and you swore you could hear it tear. your eyes flicker up from her lips up to her eyes, the darkened gaze she gives you as you whine underneath her. her flesh hand comes to cup your neck, fingers wrapping tightly around you making you gasp out with want. she chuckles darkly at the sound, shaking her head.

“you’re so easy, you know what?” she shakes her head again as she positions her thigh firmly against your heat, moving the fabric of your dress out of the way to reveal to her your cunt snug against the fabric of her slacks. she feels her mouth water as she leans back enough to look at you, then back down to your hips. she squeezes your neck just a smidge before pushing her thigh harder against your cunt. “ride my thigh, baby. get that pussy for me, hm?”

you let out a soft whine as your hips move instinctively to the command, and she cant help but curse our a soft ‘fuck’ as you move. youre so wet, your cunt moves easily over her silk slacks, creating a damp spot on her thigh instantly. her hand around her throat tightens a bit, and you let out a bated moan at the action, grinding your hips harder down on her in response.

“such a fucking dirty omega. who woulda thought, huh?” she grunts as you smile softly in response. she growls deeply, taking her hard from around your neck to move her thigh and cup your heat. she lets out a low moan as her fingers run through your wet folds. she cages you against the wall, her face hiding into your neck as she nips your jaw.

“sev…” you whine out, moving your hips against the feather light touch of her fingers on you, not moving inside of you, but not not touching you. she groans against you as she deeply inhales your omega scent, her brain fighting with everything in her to not let her rut over take this moment.

“fuck, princess. what do you want, hm? use your words.” you let out a soft huff as your head falls back, biting your lip and moving your hips needily for friction. she smiles against her neck, nosing the spot where an alpha could claim you. you let out a soft whimper at the action, more slick gushing onto her fingers. “oh little omega…” she grunts against you, slipping her two fingers easily into your dripping hole, moaning into your ear. her cock was throbbing in her slacks, a damp spot on the fabric making her groan as she grinds her hips into you as she fucks you with her fingers.

her fingers stretch you, the sting quickly turning into pleasure an you can help but moan at the thought of it being her cock stretching you out like this.

your hands come to wrap around her neck, letting her frame hold you off the ground and against the wall with her mech hand anchoring the two of you steady. the sound of your slick against her fingers made you shutter, the sounds of her breathy moans against your neck had you squeezing her digits. “more…” you moan softly into her ear, your finger nails digging into the fabric of her shirt in need. you needed her closer, you needed to feel her deep inside of you.

you needed her knot.

“what is that, omega?” she heard you the first time, but she just couldnt bare to stop fucking you in her fingers like this, feeling your body slack against hers and moving with each stroke on her digits in your weeping pussy. she loved the feeling of you submitting to her, even if its only on her fingers for now.

“more, please, sev…” you let out a wanton moan as she pushes her fingers deep into your cunt, curling them slowly as her thumb presses firmling against your clit. your hips jolt in response, the oversensitivity clouding your brain and making your body react without thinking. she loved having you this pliable in her hands.

“more what, baby?” she wanted you to beg for her knot. she wanted to hear the desperate moans fall from your lips, she wanted to see you fall apart for her. it’s what you and her deserved. she kept her thumb firmly on your clit, moving it in slow circles while your body twitches in her hold. “so responsive,” she mumbles more to herself, before she pulls her head from your neck to look down at your debauched body. your body thrums at the touch, at the praise she gives you and how hungrily she looks up and down your body.

your hands come to grip her shoulders as your brows furrow with want, the look in your eye softening as you stare up at her. she rocks against you, her fingers moving slowly inside of you as her thumb brushes your clit. “your knot…need it…” your cheeks darken at the admission, her smile showing on her lips, showing the gap in her teeth that you love so much..

“that’s what you need, huh?” her fingers speed up as so does her thumb on your clit, a moan falling from your lips as her fingers curl inside of you. “cum on my fingers first, show me how bad this pussy needs my knot.” she grunts as she picks up the pace, your slick running down her wrist and falling onto her slacks. her cock is painful at this point, her knot throbbing as she hears each whine and moan fall from your lips in the empty hallway. she was so lucky everything was louder than the sound of your moans or how wet your pussy was with her finger stuffed inside of you.

your moans turn into sharp whines as you feel your stomach clenches, her hips pushing into you and her fingers curling deep. your nails dig into her dress suit as you shut your eyes and lick your lips. “that’s it baby. cum on my fingers. give it to me.” you let out a sharp moan as your cunt clenches around her fingers, slick gushing from your cunt as you cum. she groans into your ear as she pushes her body weight against you, nibbing the sensitive skin at your exposed collarbone.

you whine softly, feeling her fingers come to a slow movement, thumb slowing down before stopping and pressing firmly against it just to feel your clit throb under the pad of her thumb. she softly removes her fingers from your dripping cunt, before taking both her hands and cupping them under your ass.

“youre so fucking pretty when you cum, omega.” she murmurs against you, and you cant help but let out a satisfied sigh, wrapping your legs around her waist and letting her heavy body fall against you. your body is light to the touch, and you can feel her cock throb against your core. it makes your cunt cry.

“sev…” you mumble against her neck, your arms wrapped around her neck as she groans when you push your hips against her. she nips your skin a bit harder as she pushes her hips harder into you. her scent was overpowering — musk was invading your senses and you could smell something sour, nothing to make you turn your nose but it made you wonder if she was starving off a rut.

the thought alone made your mouth water.

she groans against you as she inhales you, her nose pushing into your neck as her tongue darts out and licks a small stripe on your skin. she moans against your skin, tasting your musk, your perfume and sweat. her cock throbs at the thought of you cumming on her face, her tongue.

she whimpers into your skin, actually fucking whimpers, which makes your cunt throb in response. “fuck, omega…i…we can’t, not in here anyway,” she mumbles into you, and you feel your heart rate spike at her saying ‘anyway’. has she thought about taking you home and making you hers as much as you have thought about it?

you tug her closer, your left hand coming down to trail to her slacks zipper then her fingers grazing over sevika’s bulge. she moans into your skin, hips bucking into your touch. she needs this, needs you — but shes better than that. she knows how to treat a lady and she does not want the first time you take her knot to be at some random gala work event.

fuck, the event.

“don’t,” she warns softly, nosing your neck as she kisses your skin. your fingers halt against her bulge, but her hips still rock softly into your touch. she needs you, but she needs to see you laid out for her.

she pulls her head away from your neck, feeling a loss at not having your scent directly into her nostrils and instead having to be mixed with other scents. she takes her flesh hand from under your ass to come to cup your face. you lean into her touch, nuzzling your cheek into the palm of her hand.

“i don’t want the first time you take my knot here. i want it somewhere comfortable, okay?” herr grey eyes dazzle in the low light, and you can see how sincere her gaze is under the lust invading her scenes. you melt into her touch, taking your hand from her bulge to wrap around her neck again, she pushes her hips one last time against your core, and you let out a soft whine at the contact.

“lets finish this event, then let me take you home. feed you, fuck you, care for you.” you let out a soft whimper at her admission before nodding and nuzzling deeper into her palm.

“what about my pearls?” you ask with a soft smile looking up at her. she chuckles and shakes her head before dipping her head down, brushing her lips softly against yours.

“i’ll buy you all the pearl necklaces and more, mi amor.” she says softly before pressing her lips firmly against yours.

[reiding-writing]

Ive read all your cold reader fics and i love them so much 🥹 i swear theres not many fics with the reader being the grumpy or cold one so its safe to say these fics will always have a place in my heart. i have a request if your not too busy about how the reader would act when Spencer is sick i really liked the fic about when the reader was sick and id love to see the roles reversed ❤️❤️

A STUDY IN CARE — SPENCER REID!

spencer doesn’t know how to take care of himself, so you do it for him.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 1.2k | h/c | series masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — love a good sick!fic

Spencer looks like hell when he walks into the bullpen.

His normally tidy curls are limp with sweat, his eyes dull behind barely-worn glasses, and his complexion is pale, save for the telltale flush high on his cheeks. He’s sick—obviously. Anyone with eyes can see it.

You pretend you don’t.

You’re not heartless, just… selective with your concern. You and Spencer have kissed a few times, gone on a date or two, but it’s not like you’re together together. And as much as you might find yourself drawn to him—more than you ever intended—you’re not about to turn into some doting girlfriend type.

Still, when he shuffles over to his desk with an uncharacteristic sluggishness, you catch yourself watching him. His movements are slower than usual, the precise, practiced efficiency dulled by whatever virus is wreaking havoc on his immune system.

Morgan beats you to the punch.

“Damn, pretty boy, you look rough,”

Spencer sniffles, blinking blearily at him. “I’m fine,”

Emily arches an eyebrow. “Yeah, you sound fine,”

You roll your eyes at the teasing. It’s not like you disagree, but it’s exhausting being around these people sometimes. You refocus on your own work, but not before sneaking another glance at Spencer.

He’s rubbing his temple like even the fluorescent lights are too much for him. His usual meticulous posture is slouched, his elbows braced against his desk like he needs it to hold him up.

With a quiet sigh, you push back from your desk, standing up before you can second-guess yourself. You ignore the way Morgan and Emily exchange a look, knowing full well that any deviation from your usual cold indifference will not go unnoticed.

Spencer doesn’t even seem to realise you’re approaching until you place a steaming mug on his desk.

His head lifts slowly, eyes narrowing at the tea you set in front of him. “…What’s this?”

You give him a look devoid of humour. “Not cyanide.”

He blinks at you, his brain a fraction slower than usual. “I… what—”

“It’s tea, Spencer. Drink it.”

He hesitates for a moment, like he’s trying to figure out if this is some kind of trick, but eventually, he wraps his hands around the mug. “Thank you?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you cut in, walking around the cluster of desks to re-take your seat.

“I wasn’t,”

“Good,”

—

You don’t hover.

Hovering is not your thing. Hovering implies caring too much, and that’s not really your style. But you do make sure to keep an eye on him throughout the morning.

Subtly.

Not that it’s hard to notice how much worse he gets as the hours drag on. His usual rapid-fire analysis is slower, his focus slipping at times. He sniffles every other minute and occasionally buries his face in his elbow to stifle a cough.

It’s pathetic, really.

At one point, Hotch hands out case files, and you catch the way Spencer stares at his stack like it’s personally offended him. He rubs at his temples, the weight of the work clearly pressing down on his already exhausted body.

So, you wait until he’s distracted—probably zoning out over some statistic that’s floating around in his head—and quietly slide a couple of his files over to your desk.

He doesn’t notice.

But Morgan does.

“Interesting,” he drawls from across the room, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk. “Since when do you do extra paperwork?”

Emily glances up from her own files, her gaze darting between you and Spencer before her lips curve in amusement. “Wow. This is new,”

You don’t look up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Morgan chuckles. “Oh, come on. You think we haven’t noticed?”

“There’s nothing to notice.”

“Right,” Emily says, nodding sagely. “You just happened to develop a sudden love for Reid’s paperwork,”

“You see this?” You lift your head just enough to give them a blank look. “This is my ‘I don’t care what you think’ face.”

Morgan and Emily exchange glances, clearly entertained. You, however, return to your work, entirely unbothered.

If they were expecting the usual defensive reaction, they’re going to be disappointed. Maybe a few months ago, you’d have spat out an insult or tried to redirect the conversation. But now?

You really don’t care.

—

By noon, Spencer looks about two minutes away from passing out at his desk.

And, fine, maybe you care a little. But it’s not like you’re going to say that out loud.

Instead, you stand, grab your coat, and walk over to his desk with all the nonchalance you can muster.

“Come on,” you say.

Spencer peers up at you, bleary-eyed. “What?”

“You’re going home.”

He frowns. “I told you, I’m fine—”

“I’m not debating this with you, Reid.” You grab his arm and haul him to his feet. He barely resists, which is all the confirmation you need that he’s feeling worse than he’s letting on.

Morgan snickers from his desk. “Whipped.”

You shoot him a look before turning back to Spencer. “Come on. I’m driving you home.”

—

Spencer dozes off before you even make it to his apartment.

You don’t wake him right away. Instead, you let him rest for a minute, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. He looks younger like this, all the stress and exhaustion smoothed away.

Eventually, though, you nudge his shoulder. “Reid.”

He stirs, blinking at you with heavy eyes. “Mm?”

“We’re here.”

It takes him a second, but he finally sits up, rubbing at his face before fumbling for the door handle. You sigh and get out first, walking around to help him. He doesn’t protest when you loop an arm under his and guide him up the steps to his apartment.

Once inside, he drops onto the couch with a groan. You shake your head and head to the kitchen, rummaging through his cabinets until you find some instant soup.

“I can take care of myself, you know,” he calls weakly from the couch.

You snort. “Yeah, clearly.”

By the time you bring him the soup, he’s already half-asleep again.

You set it down on the coffee table and sit beside him, watching as he blinks sluggishly at you.

“Why are you being nice to me?” he murmurs.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I mean it.” His voice is softer now, quieter.

You glance away. “Because you’re sick, Reid. And because—” You hesitate. Then, with a deflected glance, you finish, “Because I like you, obviously.”

His lips twitch, almost like he’s trying to smile. “Obviously?”

You nudge his shoulder. “Shut up and eat.”

Spencer doesn’t argue. Instead, he just watches you for a moment longer before picking up the bowl, a small, contented look settling over his face.

[strawberryunsaid]

Nayeon's Solo

It's Nayeon's idea to start a "special fanmeet" for her most dedicated ONCE. The group was intrigued by the idea, but the eldest has to give it a try first.

Nayeon x Male reader

Length: Almost 1.5k.

"You want to what?!"

All of Twice exclaimed once Nayeon brought up the idea of this "special fanmeet" for Once.

"Imagine, we get to reward our most loyal ONCEs AND we get to have a little fun!" says Nayeon.

Chaeyoung smirks a little, she knows her Nayeon unnie has wanted to do this for a while, and she approved of it. She maybe wants to try it next too.

"Well if you're going to propose the idea, you might as well start it!" says Jeongyeon.

"Oh, I'm already planning it. Manager unnie has gathered the fans who have spent the most money on my solo, and invited them to a special "meet and greet" with me. It's gonna be fun!"

Jihyo scratches her head at the thought "Wait, so how many people did you invite?"

"Around, 10-20 maybe?"

Jihyo laughs and pushes Nayeon "THERE'S NO WAY YOU CAN HANDLE ALL THAT!"

"You underestimate me." Nayeon winks as she exists the dorm, getting ready for a very special and intimate fanmeet.

The day of the fanmeet arrives. She wore her red stage outfit to the fanmeet as she knows it accentuates her body, makes her tits and ass plump, tempting the ONCEs to give her a great time.

She's backstage with her Manager unnie. "Are you ready for this Nayeon?" her manager asks, concerned as this is the first of its kind in the group. Manager unnie has done her research, only boy groups have done this kind of fanmeet in the industry.

"I'm ready. How many minutes do I have with each fan?"

"We have allotted 2 hours for this fanmeet. There's around 20 people here right now, so you'll do 6 minutes per person."

"If they don't finish within the 6 minutes, just skip to the next ONCE, right?" "That's right."

Nayeon smiles in excitement.

"If anything goes wrong, we have bodyguards set up in every nook and cranny of this room. Outside, of course, but you just need to say our safe word the moment you feel uncomfortable, got it?"

"Got it. You're the best, Manager unnie."

Manager unnie smiles and gestures her to go to the stage.

The crowd cheers as Nayeon enters the stage.

"Annyeonghaseyo, TWICE Nayeon imnida!"

They may be only 20 of them, but they were a loud 20. Nayeon counted 19 males and only 1 female. 1 female? This is gonna be interesting.

On the stage is one long table, 2 chairs that are next to each other, not across each other like in normal fanmeets... And a mattress.

"So, you're all wondering why you're here today, yes?"

The crowd nods and answers in approval.

"Well, I'm sure you've heard rumors of male groups having "special fanmeets" with their fans, right?"

Nayeon notices the small smirks and surprised faces that the ONCEs were making. She bites her finger in excitement.

"So here's what we'll do. We have 2 hours, let's make the most of it! Manager unnie gave you all numbered tickets, and I'll call you on one by one. You shall each have 6 minutes with me, please take care of me! Number 1, please step forward!"

The shy ONCE makes his way towards the stage. A timid Korean guy who's dressed in TWICE merch and holding a lightstick.

"A-annyeonghaseyo, I'm such a big fan Nayeon noona."

"That's sweet, but if I were you I would stop wasting my time talking and get to playing with me."

The ONCE still wasn't sure what to do during this fanmeet, he didn't want to assume anything as it could get him in trouble if he does something wrong.

"Oh for god's sake." Nayeon goes in for the first move. She grabs his hand and puts one finger in her mouth. She looks at him extremely seductively, like she was going to pounce on you like a wild animal.

You can hear the crowd increasingly get louder... And hornier. The male ONCEs start moving around their crotch areas, as they get harder at the sight of Nayeon getting seductive on stage. The one female also get horny, as she starts putting her hand in her pants and starts playing with herself.

"Now... Do you know what to do?" asks Nayeon to #1 and the rest of the crowd.

The timid ONCE nods in approval. He takes his right hand and puts it on her butt. He squeezes it tight, like he's never grabbed an ass before. Well, no ONCEs has grabbed Nayeon's ass before.

Nayeon takes his hand out of her mouth, leaving a trail of saliva as his hand descends. She goes in for kiss, and they start to make out.

He gets so horny from this, he uses his left hand to grab Nayeon's crotch area, and starts to play with her pussy from the outside. An audible moan escapes Nayeon's mouth, but she was still making out with the ONCE.

He couldn't take it anymore, his penis wanted to break free. He stops making out with Nayeon and takes out his dick.

Nayeon knows what to do. She's a pro at this.

She pulls his arm towards the mattress and she kneels. She starts sucking his penis, and the ONCE still couldn't believe this was happening.

She's sloppy with the blowjob. A ton of saliva on his dick, which makes Nayeon's bobbing that much more smoother. With every in and out of Nayeon's mouth, you can hear an audible slurp. This was a dream that the ONCE didn't want to end.

He only has a few minutes left, and he tends to make the most out of this. He bends over and pulls up Nayeon's shirt from behind. Nayeon stops the blowjob and raises her arms. The cold wind finally touching Nayeon's inner skin. The only thing separating this ONCE from one part of heaven was a red lace bra. He goes in, unclips it, and a pair of wonderful breasts pop out of the bra.

"God I wish I had a camera for this." says the ONCE.

"I know you do, that's why this whole thing is being recorded and you can buy it for a few hundred US dollars if you want to remember this night." Nayeon points to the camera on top of the curtains.

Nayeon may not have the biggest pair of boobs in TWICE, but she does know how to use them.

She pulls the ONCE down to the mattress, making him lay down... Making him her prey.

"I need you to do something for me." she says. "Anything." "Lick my pussy while I give you a heavenly boob job."

He nods. She removes her shorts that were embracing her lower body. A matching lace panty revealed.

The ONCE had a panty fetish, so he gave a request to Nayeon. "Can I have the panty?" "Do you want to buy it?" "Yes." "It's all yours, honey."

She takes off her panty and sets it on the table next to the mattress.

"Discuss it with my manager unnie after the show."

He then starts to lick her pussy while Nayeon gave him a boobjob.

The crowd was in awe of what was happening. Their soloist TWICE bias was right in front of them, giving them a private sex fanmeet. This was everything and more. They couldn't help themselves while watching Nayeon fuck this ONCE. They all started touching themselves, holding in an orgasm to not waste their time with Nayeon.

2 minutes left.

Nayeon stops the blowjob, sits up and grabs the ONCEs head, gesturing for him to stop.

"Time for you to get a glimpse of heaven."

She fixes her position, lowering her pussy towards the penis. She grabs his penis, teasing the wet entrance of her pussy, she leans in towards his ear,

"I'm ready for you to fuck me."

She puts his penis in, and she starts moaning so loudly that the guards outside can hear her.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" she exclaims, bouncing up and down this ONCE. He has his hands on her hips and letting her do all the work. He couldn't stop staring at her. Her erotic face, moaning and screaming at every thrust. Her bouncing tits, he could have never imagine seeing her boobs this up close, let alone fucking her.

And seeing his penis enter her pussy with every bounce. It was a dream.

Less than a minute left, he's about to cum.

"N-Nayeon noona, I'm about to cum." "Then do it inside me." she stares at him seductively, daring him to do it.

The ONCE screams as he cums, Nayeon smiling as she conquers her first in a line of fans.

She gets up, cum escapes her pussy. What a beautiful creampie. But she gets back down, leans into his ear one more time.

"Let's do that again next solo... As long as you keep proving yourself you're my biggest fan.

Next!"

[tealcrush]

Teeth falling out, or I'm back at my old job in the ICU and I'm super late, or there was a patient nobody told me I had and so they had been neglected all shift, or I somehow managed to be super busy the whole shift and now it's almost over but I haven't gotten anything done. Usually during all of that my teeth are also falling out. Why is it always the teeth?

The one about not knowing I had a patient actually happened one time. There were two techs, and whoever had assigned the patients had divided them differently than usual, and told one of us that the other person had that patient, but the other one didn't get told this. So both of us thought the patient belonged to the other tech. At like 3am I noticed that neither of us had been charting on said patient, who was incontinent and in briefs. The way rounding worked was the techs checked patients on the odd hours and the nurses checked them on the even hours. Techs had about 10 patients each, nurses had 2 each.

So I went to the other tech and was like "hey so...which one of us has this patient?" and we realized the assignment screwup and went together to check this poor patient and get them cleaned up. It was clear the nurse hadn't checked them the entire shift, just assumed the tech would do it--which is not how it worked in our unit, the tech and nurse were supposed to help each other. He should have noticed the patient was wet and asked one of us for help, and we would have realized the screw-up way sooner. We gave the patient a really good bath, and the other tech was angrier than I've ever seen her.

So we went to the nurse who had trained this nurse and asked her to talk to him, because it was completely unacceptable, but he was new and deserved a chance to fix his behavior. He did for a little while, but he was more interested in chatting up cute women than doing his job, and gained a reputation for being lazy. Dude eventually quit and moved to another state, to be closer to a woman he liked. Not sure how that went.

rb with your most common recurring theme in your nightmares. mine is pregnancy

[livingasaghost]

i think one reason why so many people fail to understand andrew and neil's relationship is because people don't know what it is to be aspec. and obviously the aspec umbrella is wide and varied and no one size fits all, but at the heart of their relationship, neil is demisexual. and i fully believe andrew is some form of aromantic. and obviously their shared history of trauma (of all kinds) colors their relationship and their sexualities and actions. but aspec people (and the people in relationships with those aspec people) develop such different relationships than allo people. they care differently, and it's often the care that becomes most important, rather than (just) the attraction. like yes, i choose you because i see you because i am interested in you because i don't quite understand you but i want to, i need to, and i am committed to sticking around regardless of whether we are a legal partnership or not.

people argue all the time that andreil would grow to say i love you some day, that they'd eventually heal enough to get married, but that isn't healing. that's ignoring a vital part of each of them. not only are they both still learning what love is, but love is not what their relationship is built around. they did not ~FaLl In LoVE~ they built a partnership around taking care of the other person. sure they were attracted to each other in their own ways, but andrew doesn't look at neil like he's his happily ever after romance. neil is the person who wants andrew to live, who wants andrew to be happy, who wants andrew to know that he has value even when he's not a good person. and andrew is the person who wants neil to be safe, who wants neil to be happy, who wants neil to know that he has value even when he isn't playing exy. their "romance" comes from holding each other up, from calling each other on their shit, from being a safe space when the world has proven it is anything but. neil is the one who almost starts to imagine some kind of long-term partnership in such conventional terms and andrew is so unconcerned with what that partnership looks like...he just knows the two of them will continue holding each other up as long as they can. and sure they'll have sex and sleep in the same bed and get cats together and all that "romantic" shit, but it's more than romance. it's a life. it's security. it's a chance to rewrite the trauma of their pasts.

and yeah to an outsider all that is romantic, sure. but i don't think andrew and neil see it like that. their relationships is all facts and truths. they feel safest in these absolutes, in the trust they are building together, in the shared language they are crafting between tentative touches and long stares. but to label it something as banal as ~romance~ undersells just what's happening to them. they don't need to say i love you because they know that all of these pieces that make up their shared life together say that for them, and they wouldn't know what to do with those words anyway. their "love" is not the same as other people's anyway. they don't need to get married because anniversaries and dates and marriages minimize just how long forever is, and they are already joined together by the understanding they share.

if the two of them got married or started "dating" it would send the wrong message to people who will never understand. neil isn't andrew's ~boyfriend~ he's the man who convinced him that life can interesting enough to stick around for. andrew isn't neil's ~lover~ he's the man who refused to let him run away from the life he always wanted. it's not romantic, it's survival. it's selflessness. it's learning how to care for yourself by caring for someone else and letting them care for you.

[heliosunny]

Your writing is just… unbelievable! You’re doing such a good job, I hope you know that and you’re taking care of yourself (and your wrists!!)

May I request, if it peaks your interest, Yandere!Mydei x Reader, but slow-decent yandere over time as Mydei gets more possessive of reader, who they met when reader and Mydei accidentally bumped into each other in the market place, causing his pomegranate juice to spill on her. She didn’t mind, even licks a bit off of her to taste it before leaving, and runs a trinket shop for people at the edge of the market!

My wrists are doing okay- ;3

CROSSED PATHS

Yandere!Mydei x Fem!Reader

Mydei walked through the market with the same disinterest he always carried, he was all too familiar with this place. He wasn’t here for anything in particular, just taking the usual route through the stalls, a wooden cup of pomegranate juice in hand. The deep red liquid sloshed slightly as he moved, but he paid it no mind.

Then, before he could sidestep, someone walked straight into him.

The collision wasn’t violent, but it was enough to jostle his cup, sending the juice spilling forward. The rich crimson liquid soaked into the tunic of the person in front of him.

“Tch” Mydei clicked his tongue, already annoyed. “You should watch where you’re going.”

Instead of irritation, you simply looked down at the stain, then back up at him. Without hesitation, you ran a finger along the droplets clinging to your skin, bringing it to your lips and licking it off.

“Mmm. That’s good” you mused, amusement flickering in your eyes. “You’ve got good taste.”

Mydei stared, silent for a moment. He wasn’t sure what he expected your reaction to be, but it certainly wasn’t that. Most people would be frustrated, flustered, or at least make some effort to clean up. Instead, you stood there, completely at ease, as if the spill was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

His gaze flickered to your clothes. “It’s ruined.”

You merely shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Gives me an excuse to close up early anyway.”

That caught his attention. “Close up?”

“I run a trinket shop. Just by the market’s edge.” You smiled, “Little things to catch the eye and heart.”

Mydei didn’t reply right away, just watching as you gave him a small wave and disappeared back into the crowd, as if this meeting was nothing more than a fleeting moment.

The next day, Mydei found himself walking toward the edge of the market, where the usual noise and crowd thinned out. He wasn’t sure why he bothered. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was just something to do. Either way, he figured he’d at least take a look at the shop you mentioned.

When he arrived, however, the place was closed. The wooden sign hanging on the door was tilted slightly, as if it had been left that way in a hurry.

What was the point of bringing up a shop if she wasn’t even going to open it?

He exhaled through his nose, about to turn back and head home, when movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention.

There you were, walking toward the shop with a slow, lazy pace, arms stretching over your head as you let out a deep yawn. You looked half-asleep, hair slightly messy, and completely unbothered by the fact that most stalls had already been open since morning.

Mydei frowned. “Isn’t it late to be opening now?”

You blinked at him, then glanced at the sky as if just realizing the time. “Mm. Guess so.” You rubbed at one eye before giving him a lopsided grin. “But hey, better late than never, right?”

He stared at you. “That’s a terrible mindset for business.”

You only chuckled, fishing out the key and unlocking the door with an easy shrug. “Maybe. But I open when I feel like it. I still get customers, so it works out.”

That… was the most carefree approach he’d ever heard. He didn’t know whether to call it ridiculous or strangely impressive.

Instead of arguing, he crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the nearby post. “So, do you actually sell anything useful, or is it all just cheap junk?”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. “How dare you.” Then you grinned. “You’ll just have to come inside and see for yourself.”

And for some reason, Mydei didn’t immediately walk away.

As you pushed open the shop door, the scent of old parchment, polished wood, and faint traces of incense drifted into the cool evening air. The interior was warm, lit by scattered lanterns that cast soft golden hues across shelves packed with trinkets—intricate carvings, delicate charms, aged coins, and strange little oddities that seemed to whisper of stories untold.

Mydei stepped in behind you, arms still crossed as his sharp eyes swept across the shop’s interior. He made a low noise in the back of his throat—half curiosity, half scrutiny. He reached for a small wooden carving of a beast with jeweled eyes, turning it in his hand. “You actually sell things worth looking at.”

You laughed, stretching lazily before stepping behind the counter. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

He huffed, setting the carving down before moving to another shelf. “Take it however you want.”

He studied everything with an almost calculated interest, fingers skimming over old coins, testing the weight of metal trinkets, and occasionally raising a brow at something that caught his attention. He wasn’t the type to be easily impressed, but you could tell he wasn’t just humoring you—he genuinely found the shop interesting, even if he didn’t outright say it.

“You actually know what you’re selling” he muttered, inspecting an engraved pendant. “Not just collecting junk and hoping people buy it.”

You leaned on the counter, resting your chin on your hand. “Of course. Every piece here has a story. That’s what makes them special.”

Mydei glanced at you briefly, as if considering something, but before he could speak, a voice cut through the quiet.

“Mydei!”

A man rushed into the shop, breathing heavily, eyes scanning the space before locking onto him. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere—” He paused, glancing between you and Mydei before continuing hurriedly. “There’s trouble. You’re needed now.”

Mydei clicked his tongue in irritation but didn’t hesitate. He turned to you, nodding once. “Guess I’ll have to finish looking around another time.”

You waved a hand dismissively, grinning. “Take your time. The shop isn’t going anywhere.”

Without another word, he strode past the man and out into the night, disappearing as quickly as he had come.

Five days had passed since Mydei had left in a rush, and in that time, life went on as usual. Your shop saw a steady stream of customers—travelers looking for charms, locals browsing out of habit, and the occasional collector intrigued by the more unique items you sold.

The place was lively today, filled with chatter and the occasional sound of trinkets clinking together as people picked them up and examined them. You were busy handling coins, giving a customer change, when a familiar figure stepped inside.

At first, you didn’t notice him. Mydei wasn’t the type to announce his presence, and he simply stood near the back, scanning the shelves with his usual unreadable expression. He blended in well, quiet and observant, though his presence carried a weight that would eventually demand attention.

It wasn’t until you turned, momentarily catching a glimpse of something unusual in the dim light, that you really saw him. A few stray leaves were nestled in his hair, likely from his journey back to town.

Without thinking, you moved toward him, reaching up on your toes to pluck the leaves away. “You’ve been out in the wild, huh?” you mused, brushing the last one from his shoulder.

He barely reacted, only arching a brow. “You didn’t even notice me walk in, and this is the first thing you do?”

You grinned. “Well, you weren’t exactly loud about it.”

Just as you stepped back, a child rushed past, bumping into you at full speed. You stumbled, thrown off balance, and for a brief moment, you thought you might crash straight into Mydei—until his hand caught your wrist, steadying you with ease.

“Careful”

You let out a short laugh, regaining your footing. “Thanks. You could’ve just let me fall, you know.”

“And let you take me down with you? No thanks.”

The day continued, and surprisingly, Mydei lingered. He leaned against a shelf, watching as you worked, occasionally glancing at the customers but never interfering. He had no reason to stay, yet he made no move to leave.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the last customer stepped out, you stretched with a sigh, locking up the shop for the night. “Didn’t think you’d stick around that long”

“It’s dangerous,” he replied simply, arms crossed. “Beasts have been spotted near town. You shouldn’t walk home alone.”

“Oh? And here I thought you just enjoyed my company.”

He scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he walked alongside you as you made your way home, the quiet hum of the night settling around you both. When you finally reached your door, he stopped a few steps away, watching as you unlocked it.

“This where you live?”

You nodded. “Yup. Cozy, isn’t it?”

He didn’t comment, only nodding slightly. “Stay inside at night.”

With that, he turned, disappearing into the shadows of the street.

You lingered for a moment, watching where he had gone before finally stepping inside. Something about him stuck with you, and despite his rough demeanor, you couldn’t help but smile.

The following days passed as usual. Customers came and went, some lingering to chat, others leaving with trinkets tucked away in their pockets. Yet, amidst the routine, you began to notice something—or rather, someone.

Mydei.

You never saw him enter the shop, nor did he ever buy anything, but you caught glimpses of him near the marketplace, often stationed in the same general area. He was never in armor, never dressed in anything that would mark him as a guard or knight, but there was something about the way he carried himself that made you wonder.

At first, you assumed it was coincidence. Maybe he just happened to be around. But as the days passed, you realized it was too frequent to be chance. He wasn’t a customer, yet he lingered. He wasn’t a merchant, yet he remained nearby. Still, you weren’t one to pry. If Mydei had business in the area, it wasn’t really your concern.

Then one evening, as the sun began to sink below the horizon, a group of men entered your shop.

You noticed them immediately—rough around the edges, their movements too casual, too calculated. They weren’t here to browse; their eyes weren’t on the merchandise. Instinctively, you stayed behind the counter, watching them with the same easy calm you always carried.

One of them stepped forward, idly picking up a small carved pendant. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Thanks” you said.

He turned the pendant over in his hands before setting it back down. Another one looked toward the back of the shop as if expecting to find something—or someone.

That’s when you realized. They weren’t stealing. They were looking for someone.

Before you could say anything, a familiar voice cut through the tense silence.

“Took you idiots long enough.”

Mydei stood in the doorway. The men stiffened, immediately straightening like soldiers caught slacking off.

“Captain” one of them muttered under his breath.

Captain? Well. That explained a lot.

“Back to your posts” Mydei ordered, “Now.”

The men hesitated for only a moment before shuffling toward the exit, each one sending you a quick glance as if only now realizing their presence might have looked… suspicious.

Once they were gone, you turned back to Mydei, leaning against the counter with a smirk. “So, Captain, huh?”

He exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t make a habit of announcing it.”

“You also don’t make a habit of staying in one place unless you have a reason.”

His gaze flickered toward you, unreadable. He didn’t confirm or deny it.

Instead, he only muttered, “They won’t bother you again.”

You shrugged. “Wasn’t really bothered to begin with.”

With a short nod, he turned to leave.

It was another evening at the market, the golden hues of the setting sun casting long shadows as you prepared to close up shop. As usual, one of your friends—Edward, a vendor from a few stalls down—came by to help carry the heavier crates of unsold goods back inside. It had become routine by now, something neither of you thought much about.

“You really should hire someone for this” your friend teased, easily lifting a wooden box filled with carved trinkets. “One day, you’ll be stuck under a pile of your own stock.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “And ruin your chance to show off? I wouldn’t dare.”

The two of you worked smoothly, chatting about market gossip and the odd customers you had encountered that day. You didn’t notice Mydei at first, but he had been watching from a distance, arms crossed, gaze unreadable. He wasn’t even sure why he was still here. Yet, as he saw the easy familiarity between you and your friend—the way you smiled, the way they stood close—something in his chest tightened.

Before he could think twice, his body moved on its own.

He stepped in between you just as you reached for another crate, his hand easily grasping the handle before you could. “I’ll do it.”

“Mydei? Didn’t know you were in the business of heavy lifting.”

“You shouldn’t rely on random people.” He didn’t look at your friend, but the message was clear enough.

Your friend raised an amused brow but didn’t argue, instead watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled interest. “Not random” he pointed out, arms crossing. “I help all the time.”

Mydei didn’t respond. He simply hefted the crate as if it weighed nothing, walking into the shop with ease. You exchanged a glance with your friend, who smirked knowingly before waving you off and heading back to their own stall.

Once inside, you turned to Mydei, leaning against the counter with a grin. “Didn’t take you for the helpful type.”

He placed the crate down with a little more force than necessary, expression unreadable. “You’re careless.”

You tilted your head. “How so?”

“Letting just anyone help you. You don’t know what their intentions are.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You’re really that concerned?”

He scoffed but didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced around the shop, as if checking for anything else to ‘help’ with.

Part of him wanted to say no—that it wasn’t concern, that he didn’t care. But the truth was, he did. More than he should.

“…Just be careful” he muttered at last.

You smiled. “Always am.”

The next day, the marketplace was bustling as usual, and you were busy sorting through a new batch of trinkets when Edward stopped by. It was nothing out of the ordinary—he often passed through to chat or lend a hand when he had the time.

“You’ve got something on your face” he said, leaning in slightly as he observed your face.

You blinked. “Huh? Oh.”

Before you could react, he carefully reached out, brushing the side of your face to remove whatever it was. The gesture was entirely innocent, but from an outside perspective—especially from a blocked or skewed angle—it might’ve looked a little different.

And unfortunately for Edward, Mydei happened to be that outside perspective.

From where he stood, partially obscured by a wooden post at the edge of the shop, all he saw was Edward’s face close to yours, his hand hovering near your cheek, and you standing there without pulling away.

In an instant, he was moving.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mydei’s voice cut through the moment.

Edward, startled, immediately pulled back and turned to see Mydei standing there—expression unreadable, stance tense.

You blinked at Mydei’s sudden entrance, then at Edward, then back at Mydei. It took you about two seconds to put the pieces together, and when you did, amusement curled at the edges of your lips.

Edward let out a short sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Relax, I was just getting something out of her eye.”

Edward, not one to test his luck, let out a low chuckle and took a step back. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He shot you a knowing glance before casually making his exit.

The moment he was gone, you turned to Mydei with a smirk, resting your chin in your hand.

“Wow” you mused, tone playful. “Didn’t take you for the type to interrupt people like that.”

He clicked his tongue, looking away. “I have to remind you that you don’t know what people’s intentions are.”

You tilted your head. “Uh-huh. And what exactly did you think was happening?”

He didn’t answer, but his jaw tensed ever so slightly.

Your smirk widened. “You’re like a big cat that’s always on edge.”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“You know, the kind that watches everything, always looking ready to pounce if something gets too close.” You grinned. “Kinda cute, honestly.”

“… Stop talking nonsense.”

But despite his sharp words, Mydei stayed. Even when the conversation ended, even when there was no longer a reason to linger, he stayed.

Just like he always did.

----

The sun had long since passed its highest point when Mydei arrived at your shop, only to find the doors shut tight. No sign, no explanation, nothing. He frowned.

You never closed without warning.

For the first time in a long while, a foreign sense of unease settled in his chest. He told himself it was ridiculous—you were probably fine—but as the hours ticked by and the shop remained closed, that irritation grew into something sharper.

By the time dusk began creeping across the marketplace, he had already decided to check on you himself. But just as he moved toward the door, you finally appeared—yawning, stretching, completely at ease.

He stared. “Where the hell have you been?”

You blinked at him, rubbing your eyes. “Overslept.”

“…Overslept” he repeated flatly.

You grinned. “Yup.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. Here he was, thinking something might’ve happened, only for you to be completely unfazed, acting as if you hadn’t just left your shop closed the entire day.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you teased. “You worried?”

He scoffed, looking away. “Tch. You’re careless.”

“Well, since it’s already this late, might as well do something else.” You stretched again, eyes flicking to him. “What about you? Where were you headed?”

Mydei hesitated for a moment before answering, “…Camp.”

You tilted your head, interested. “Your camp, huh?”

“Not a place for civilians,” he muttered, already expecting you to drop it.

Instead, you grinned. “Sounds fun. Let’s go.”

His men were not prepared.

The moment you entered the camp, curious eyes peered from behind tents and around corners. Soldiers whispered among themselves, their gazes darting between you and Mydei like they had just seen a ghost.

Their captain—who barely tolerated company, let alone anyone outside of their ranks—had brought someone along? A girl?

Somewhere in the shadows, a small group crouched together, trying (and failing) to be discreet.

“She’s so… casual?”

“She’s actually talking to him.”

“She’s still alive.”

“Do you think she—?”

Before the last sentence could even be finished, Mydei turned sharply, his piercing gaze landing right on them.

“Out” he ordered.

There was a brief scramble of bodies before they all disappeared in a mess of quiet shouts and tripping feet.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter. “They’re fun.”

“They’re idiots” he corrected, rubbing his temples.

You only hummed in amusement, following him to where a small campfire burned, casting warm flickering light over the clearing. Mydei sat first, and you settled beside him, close enough to feel the lingering heat but not too close to crowd him.

For a while, there was only silence—the crackling of fire, the distant sounds of the camp settling down for the night.

You stretched your legs out, gazing into the flames. “So, do they always eavesdrop like that, or was this a special occasion?”

“They’re not used to seeing me with company.”

You smirked. “Oh? So I’m special?”

He shot you a look, but the usual sharpness wasn’t quite there.

You leaned back on your hands, watching the embers float up into the dark sky. “Y’know, this is nice. I should close my shop more often.”

“…You must be crazy.”

But despite his words, Mydei didn’t look irritated. If anything, he stayed there longer than necessary, watching the fire, listening to your stories, and letting the quiet companionship settle between you.

The fire crackled between you, warm and steady, casting shifting shadows over Mydei’s face. He had been quiet for a while, arms resting on his knees, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the flames.

Then, without looking at you, he spoke.

“…I have a friend.”

You raised a brow. “Oh?”

He nodded slightly. “He’s… in a situation.”

You smirked, already catching on to where this was going. But you let him continue.

“This friend,” he went on, “has a crush on a girl.”

You bit back a grin. “Mhm.”

“He doesn’t know how to… approach her about it.” His words were carefully chosen, like he was trying not to make it obvious. “She’s carefree. Doesn’t seem to take things too seriously. He doesn’t know if she’d even notice.”

You hummed, tapping a finger against your chin in thought. “Sounds like this friend of yours thinks too much.”

Mydei shot you a look. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” you countered with a lazy grin. “If he likes her, he should just… y’know, show it.”

He frowned. “Show it how?”

You shrugged. “Small things. Stick around her. Do things for her. Make it clear she’s different from everyone else. And if he’s brave enough, tell her.”

Mydei went quiet for a moment, mulling over your words. You weren’t sure if he expected something grander—some complicated strategy—but you could tell he was taking your advice seriously.

And then, almost immediately after, he tested it.

A second later, he reached out, plucking a stray leaf from your hair with casual ease.

“…What” he muttered, glancing away like it was nothing. “There was something there.”

You stared. Then, slowly, a knowing grin spread across your lips.

“Mydei.”

He tensed. “What?”

“You’re predictable.”

“What are you talking about?”

You laughed, nudging his arm. “You’re following my advice already. You’re really bad at being subtle.”

He scoffed, looking off to the side, but the way his fingers twitched betrayed him.

You shook your head, amused beyond belief. “Well, tell your friend this—he doesn’t have to worry. I think the girl already noticed.”

-----

The shift was slow—so gradual you barely noticed at first. Mydei had always been watchful, lingering near your shop more than necessary, helping out in small ways that he’d brush off as coincidence. But then it started becoming… more.

You weren’t the only one to notice. The market folk whispered about it. Your friend Edward raised an eyebrow when Mydei always happened to be around. Even his own men exchanged looks whenever you visited the camp, though they were too scared to say anything outright.

And Mydei? He didn’t care what anyone thought.

But what truly set things in motion was when another man—some passing traveler—got a little too comfortable in your shop.

It was harmless, really. The man was just talkative, leaning in slightly as he complimented one of your handmade trinkets, flashing a charming smile. You, being as easygoing as always, just laughed and continued the conversation.

And Mydei, standing just outside the shop, watching from the shade of an awning, felt something snap.

The stranger’s hand briefly touched yours as you passed him a necklace.

That was it.

Before you could react, a shadow loomed behind you.

“You’re done here.”

The traveler barely had time to turn before Mydei was there, towering over him.

The man blinked in confusion. “Uh—”

“Leave.”

The traveler raised his hands in surrender, stepping back. “Didn’t mean anything by it, mate. Just chatting.”

“Chat somewhere else.”

The moment the man was gone, you turned to Mydei, raising an amused brow. “That was aggressive.”

He didn’t answer, his jaw tight, his fists still clenched like he was resisting the urge to chase after the guy and make sure he never even thought about coming near you again.

You grinned, nudging him. “You’re like a big cat again. All tense, ready to pounce.”

His gaze snapped to you.

“Mydei?”

“I don’t like it.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t like people getting too close to you.”

You smirked. “Well, if you wanted me all to yourself, you could’ve just said so.”

His eyes flickered, something snapping into place. And then, in one swift movement, he stepped forward, crowding your space, forcing you to take a step back until your spine brushed against the counter.

“Fine,” he said, “I want you to myself.”

“No more ‘friend’ nonsense. No more watching you let people touch you, talk to you like they have a chance.” His eyes burned into yours. “If you belong to anyone, it’s me.”

Silence stretched between you.

“…Wait, what?” You blinked. “You—what?”

“I said,” his voice didn’t waver, though you swore his ears were turning red, “I want you to myself.”

For once, you were actually stunned into silence.

“…Alright,” you said, still watching his expression closely. “Let’s test that, then.”

“What?”

“A test date,” you clarified, tilting your head. “If you’re serious, prove it.”

His gaze flickered, as if trying to gauge if you were teasing or not. But when he realized you weren’t laughing—when he saw that you were actually agreeing—something in him shifted.

Before he could respond, however—

“WOOHOOO!”

The loud cheering and applause from outside made both of you jolt.

You turned your head just in time to see a whole group of people—his soldiers, a couple of market vendors, even Edward—watching from the entrance of your shop, clapping and whistling like they had just witnessed the grand finale of a play.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE HE FINALLY SAID IT!”

“I OWE YOU FIVE COINS, EDWARD!”

“OUR CAPTAIN’S FINALLY A MAN!!”

A vein visibly twitched on Mydei’s forehead.

“ALL OF YOU—LEAVE! NOW!!”

In an instant, the group scrambled, tripping over themselves as they scattered like startled rats.

You, on the other hand, were barely holding back laughter. “Oh, wow. They’ve been waiting for this, huh?”

Mydei groaned, rubbing his temples. “…I’m going to kill them.”

You chuckled, nudging him. “Not before our date, you’re not.”

“…Fine.” He shot you a look. “But don’t think this is just a ‘test.’ I don’t intend to lose.”

“We’ll see, big guy.”

Mydei was not a romantic.

This became very clear about five minutes into the so-called “test date.”

You had expected him to be awkward—maybe stiff, maybe too serious—but you hadn’t expected him to treat it like some kind of mission.

The moment you met up, he stood there, arms crossed, brows furrowed, eyes scanning you like he was assessing the situation.

“…What?”

“I don’t know how these things work.”

“That’s the point of a test, isn’t it?”

He grumbled something under his breath, but then—without warning—he reached out and took your hand.

Your eyes widened slightly at the sudden contact. He held it firmly, almost too tight, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“…Too much?” he muttered, not looking at you.

You chuckled, easing his grip just slightly. “A little. You’re holding me like a prisoner.”

His ears turned red, but he didn’t let go.

The first thing Mydei failed at was conversation.

You both walked through the market, and while you tried to talk about casual things—the weather, your shop, the odd things you saw—he kept answering in single words.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Maybe.”

“Hm.”

At one point, you just stopped walking and looked at him.

“…Are you planning on saying more than one sentence today?” you teased.

He frowned. “I don’t talk much.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

He shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. You realized then that he was actually trying—it just wasn’t coming naturally to him.

“Alright, alright. Don’t stress. Just—” You tugged his arm slightly. “Tell me something about yourself. Something no one else knows.”

His eyes flickered toward you, something unreadable passing through them. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then, finally, he muttered, “I hate spicy things.”

You blinked. “Huh. Really?”

He nodded.

“…So if I gave you a something spicy right now, you wouldn’t eat it?”

“…I’d eat it if you gave it to me.”

Oh.

The second thing Mydei failed at was dealing with people.

As you walked through the town, a few people—mostly men—stopped to greet you. Some were regulars at your shop, some just acquaintances. But every single time someone so much as looked at you for too long, Mydei’s grip on your hand tightened.

At one point, one of your regulars, a friendly merchant, smiled at you and asked if you were free later to look at some new goods.

Before you could even answer, Mydei cut in with a flat, “She’s busy.”

The man blinked. “…Oh. I—”

“She’s not available” Mydei added, tone sharper this time.

You sighed, nudging him. “Relax, I can speak for myself.”

Mydei huffed but didn’t say anything else. He did not like people taking your attention.

It was ridiculous. But… also kind of cute.

The third thing Mydei failed at was subtlety.

At some point, you stopped by a food stall, eyeing some skewered meat. The moment you reached for your coin pouch, Mydei immediately slapped money down before you could pay.

You raised an eyebrow. “I can pay for myself, you know.”

“No.”

“…No?”

He crossed his arms. “I take care of what’s mine.”

Your breath caught slightly at the phrasing. But before you could tease him for it, he shoved a skewer into your hands, looking away like he hadn’t just claimed you in the middle of a crowded street.

By the end of the day, you had to admit—he was bad at this.

And yet.

Despite all the failures, despite all his awkwardness and overprotectiveness, he tried.

And then, as the sun was setting, he did something that truly moved you.

You had mentioned offhandedly a few days ago that your favorite spot in town was an old bridge overlooking a quiet stream. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

But as evening fell, Mydei silently led you there.

You blinked in surprise as you stepped onto the bridge, the soft glow of lanterns reflecting in the water. The air was crisp, the sounds of the market distant.

“…You remembered”

He stood beside you, arms resting on the railing, gazing out at the water.

“I remember everything you say” he admitted quietly.

For a moment, you just looked at him—the way the fading sunlight touched his sharp features, the way his fingers tapped absently against the wood, the way he had tried so hard today just because he wanted to be with you.

And that was it.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

Mydei froze.

You pulled back slightly, smirking. “You pass.”

It took him a solid three seconds to react. His face slowly turned red—first his ears, then his neck, then his entire expression.

“…Tch.” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, looking away. But he didn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he held it tighter.

“Guess I'll be bothering you from now on.”

“…I don't mind.”

[camzeecorner]

𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚃 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙾 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳

Over the last few weeks you’d found it incredibly hard to give yourself pleasure. Sure you knew exactly what your body liked and how to get yourself dripping wet, but you couldn’t cum. You shrugged it off the first few times reminding yourself it was ‘just stress’. But after the fifth time, you noticed this wasn’t normal for you.

Every night you’d fight with yourself, trying to force the cum out of you. You’d stay up late, the buzzing sound of your small toy could be heard around your room with your pathetic cry’s. Your body would shake while sweat rolled onto your bedsheets. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened.

It’s not like you masterbated too much, maybe once every week, but surely there were people who did everyday. The built up sexual tension was all you could think about. Maybe you just needed help.

You grabbed your phone clicking on X, immediately going to your bookmarks. You scrolled as you tried to find a video, one that looked interesting and would do the job. You clicked on a video setting your phone up as you slid your pants down. You watched the video as you slowly toyed with your folds, bringing two fingers together as you slid across your slickness.

You moaned in pleasure as you felt your clit throb at the contact, clenching around nothing. As you dipped your fingers into your hole you bit back a whimper, the pleasure seeping into your mind. You went slow trying to build a pace, then going faster matching the thrust on the screen.

Your eyes closed in pure bliss as you sat back working yourself. Your body began to shake, your fingers began to twitch. Just as you thought you were so close your eyes snapped open, hearing a faint knock on your door.

“Y/n? Can I come in?” You heard Matt. You silently cursed to yourself as you sighed. You had completely forgotten about the plans you made, being so caught up in your own mess. You hurriedly slid your clothes back on as you exited the app shutting your phone off completely.

“One second I’m coming!” Your voice was heard outside of the door. You cringed at your words as you thought about what you said. You did wish you were cumming.

As you walked over to the door you straightened out your clothes and fixed your hair, as you opened the door you were met with Matt. Your eyes scanned over his body, he was wearing some loose grey sweatpants and a black fitted tee. Your eyebrows were raised slightly, since when did he get so hot?

You’ve always known Matt was attractive, but you never took the time to really think about it. Maybe it was his growing beard or his low eyes. Either way it still made you clench your thighs together, in hopes he wouldn’t notice.

As you walked to your bed Matt followed quickly behind you after shutting your door. You both sat on your bed, watching as he kicked his shoes off. You studied his features, trying to figure out what spell he put on you.

Of course Matt noticed your stare, it felt like a hot intense wave of heat crashed down onto him. He carefully turned his head towards you, just staring back into your eyes. He let out an awkward chuckle as he looked off to the side.

“What?” His voice soft. You blink rapidly coming back to reality. He watched as you tucked your lip into your mouth pressing them firmly together. You inhaled a sharp breath through your nose, as you closed your eyes.

Matt watched in confusion, debating whether or not he should ask if you were okay. He swallowed a thick lump in his throat as he grew nervous. Were you mad at him? He sat silently as he waited for you to speak.

“Matt.. can I talk to you about something?” You asked politely. Your tone sounded shaken as you avoided his attention. His face scrunched up as he slowly nodded his head. You picked at your nails as you thought about how to word this. Would Matt think you were weird?

Fighting against your thoughts, you decided you’d face whatever answer he threw at you. “Can you.. help me with something?” He chuckled lowly as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Help you with what?” He asked, his voice was clear and still which made a shiver run down your back. “I’ve just been having a hard time with.. you know..” you trailed off, you’d hope he’d save you the embarrassment and finish your thought. But just as you figured he was left clueless once again.

“I can’t..I can’t cum..” you whispered. Matt’s eyebrows raised as he heard you. He was surprised you were bold enough to even admit this to him. “You.. can’t cum? What do you mean?” He spoke carefully. He words sent a sharp bullet to your stomach, feeling the embarrassment settle into your mind.

“Like.. no matter how hard I try to make myself cum, it’s just doesn’t happen. I spend all my nights hoping to get rid of this built up frustration yet I’m still left unsatisfied.” Your bottom lip pouted as you spoke, thinking of all the failed attempts you’ve made and how it left you feeling uncomfortable.

Matt nodded his head as he took your words in, letting them linger and sink into his brain. “Okay. I’ll help you.” The words made you look up, taken aback that he’d agree. “Really? You’re not worried this might change things?” Speaking calmly and carefully. His eyes started to roam over your face, trying to find any clue that you were just joking. Yet your face remained still and serious.

He shook his head as he watched a small smile form onto your face. “No, you would do the same for me right?” Watching as you nodded. “It’s just what friends are for.”

Your eyes watched as he slid to the bottom of the bed, pulling you down laying you flat on your back. You could feel yourself grow even more wetter as his fingers slid down your stomach and in towards your thighs. He caressed your skin, feeling small bumps appear.

Slowly he slid your shorts off tossing them aside, he could see the visible wet patch on the center of your teal panties. His cock twitched from the sight, almost making him moan. He had to remind himself this was about your pleasure, he shouldn’t be selfish.

Bringing a finger up he ran it over your core earning a faint moan in return. Your body jolted from the new sensation, his touch lingered sending a wave of pleasure straight to your dripping pussy.

He took notice how sensitive you were, you must’ve been like this for a while. Carefully he slid your panties down tossing them. He stared at the sight in front of him, watching as your slick arousal dripped . Fuck you were so wet.

“Baby.. you’re so wet..” his voice cooed. You felt as he ran his fingers over your folds before pressing down lightly. You moaned as he teased you, building up a pace. “Oh- sh-shit” you cursed. He studied as your face twisted in pleasure, your back arched slightly off the bed.

Dipping two fingers into your hole you immediately shut your legs. His grip was strong and fierce as he held them open. You whimpered at his touch, feeling his fingers pump into you at a slow pace.

“Feel so good ‘round my fingers baby.. wonder what you taste like.” He called out. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip before he sunk his head between your legs. You felt as he placed his tongue flat against your clit before licking up your juices.

Your body froze as you sucked in a breath, he felt so good against you it almost made you cry. He moaned against you tasting the sweet juice linger in his mouth. He placed a loving kiss right into you clit before sucking your swollen bud.

You were quick to reach for his hair tugging lightly as he ate you like a starved man. “Right t-there Matt” he moaned as you continued to throw praises at him making him need you even more. You thighs tried to shut only being blocked by his shoulders forcing you to keep them open. His fingers clawed at your skin leaving his nails imprinted.

He slurped up every juice that dripped from you making you moan, feeling the build up in your stomach. You were so close you could taste it. “I’m close..so -so close” you cried. Matt heard your voice lace with desperation making him work even faster.

He was determined to make you cum. He brought his fingers back letting them toy with you. Pressing his thumb harshly on your clit rubbing incredibly fast while his pointer and middle finger plunged into you.

Your eyes rolled backwards as you mouth hung low. Your stomach tightened as your legs shook. “Oh I’m cumming” you moaned. You panted as you felt the intense pressure crash down, sending a wave of pure euphoria. Your stomach tightened making you choke on your own sobs as you felt yourself cum, for the first time again.

Matt lapped up all the juices, leaving nothing behind. He felt as you clenched around him smirking to himself. “That’s it babygirl.. give it to me..” his voice cracked.

As you panted from your orgasm your hands remained balled into fist locking into his hair. Slowly you released his hair as your body completely relaxed, feeling all the tension slowly disappearing. Your eyes felt heavy as you turned to the side.

“Feel better?” Matt asked, stroking your cheek. You melted into the touch letting your eyes flutter shut. You nodded at him, mumbling a small yes. He could sense the tiredness as your body grew limp.

Grabbing wipes and a fresh set of new clean clothes he changed you and wiped away all the juices and sweat that stuck to your skin. Your bodies laid side by side as you hugged him tightly.

“We definitely should’ve spoken way sooner, you were amazing”

Tag list - @shaquilles-0atmeal @monroesturnns @blahbel668 @mattssluttywaist @jetaimevous @ribread03 @meatballlover10 @mattslolita @sophand4n4 @riasturns @nickysturnss @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @sturnshood @riasturns @strnilolover @chrisbrowser @cayleeuhithinknott @blushsturns @snoopychris @chrissweetheart @watermelonstarzz @sosasturns @chrissweetheart @eeyoresturnz @phone4pills @raesturns @priscillaog @angeliolo @amyiasturnl @sunrisemill @lezleeferguson-120

[jadedsomething]

Freedom would be having disposable income and time to enjoy life. You're not free if you have money but no time. You're not free if you have time but no money. So many things have money as a prerequisite to enjoy life, starting with transportation as the biggest requirement to do anything regardless of the destination's price tag.

The reason people are poor is because we do not value the time of someone who works, and we only value a person if we determine their time to be valuable since we are exchanging time for money. Primarily if the time they've spent so far hasn't been invested into something enough so that our actual time doesn't feel wasted when trying to train someone. Which is interesting because the only way to have experience often, is to be given experience, and nobody wants to be the first in fear they'd lose out but nobody is willing to protect their investments either.

[wendichester]

Hii! I love your writing! 🩷

Would I be able to request dean x fem!reader? Maybe reader is one of Sam’s friends from college and Dean instantly fall for her. Slow burn-ish but turns out she’s a hunter too and sticks with the boys? You can decide what brings them together and if you want to write smut or not :b

Thank you! <3

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ unfinished business,

summary. being sam's best friend is nothing but perks

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 870

notes. smutty!!! mdni! + absolutely love this concept of being sam's bestie and dean falling for reader!!! thanks for requesting hun, hope you like it 🩷

Dean’s not the kind of guy who believes in fate.

But the first time he sees you, he feels something pull.

It’s stupid, really. He’s been in Palo Alto less than ten minutes, freshly showered after the long drive, expecting a quick beer before dragging Sam back into the life. He wasn’t expecting you—perched on the arm of Sam’s couch, laughing at something dumb his brother just said.

Your laugh hooks into his ribs.

You glance up, and Dean knows in an instant—he’s screwed.

Because you’re looking at him like you already know him, like you can see right through the cocky grin he forces onto his face, like maybe—just maybe—you’re interested.

“Dean,” Sam says, standing to clap him on the back. “This is Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Dean keeps his gaze locked onto yours, offers a slow, lopsided smirk. “Should I be worried about the company you keep?”

Your lips twitch. “Oh, definitely.”

The words shouldn’t hit him like they do, shouldn’t make his pulse tick up, shouldn’t make him wonder what exactly you mean.

But they do.

And damn, does he want to find out.

It takes months.

Months of stolen glances, teasing remarks, conversations that last too long and end too soon. Of catching you staring, of looking away when you catch him.

Sam’s clueless, of course. Always has his head buried in a book, always assumes the tension in the room is just Dean being Dean.

But Dean knows.

Knows that something’s happening here, slow and inevitable, like a fire catching under his skin.

And then, one night, it all snaps.

It’s a hunt.

You’re not supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be back at school, safe and oblivious to the life Sam left behind.

But here you are—bloodied, exhausted, standing over a pile of dead vamps with a silver knife in your hand.

Dean can’t fucking breathe.

“What the hell, Y/N?” His voice is sharp, rough with adrenaline. “What are you—”

“Saving your ass,” you shoot back, wiping the blade clean against your jeans.

Dean’s head spins. He can’t decide what’s worse—the fact that you’ve been lying this whole time, or the fact that seeing you like this—alive, fierce, completely in your element—makes his stomach clench in a way that has nothing to do with fear.

“You’re a hunter.”

You exhale, running a hand through your hair. “Surprise.”

Dean stares at you, still catching up, still trying to piece it all together.

“You could’ve told me,” he says, quieter now.

You give him a look. “Like you would’ve believed me?”

Damn it. You’ve got a point.

Dean drags a hand down his face, takes a slow breath. “So what now?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

And there it is—that challenge, that pull that’s been between you since day one. Dean steps forward, close enough to catch the scent of your shampoo under the blood and sweat.

Close enough to finally do what he’s wanted to do for months.

He cups your face, rough hands gentle, searching your eyes. Giving you a chance to push him away.

You don’t.

You never would.

And then he’s kissing you.

It’s not slow, not soft—it’s months of tension, of longing, of wanting finally breaking loose. Your fingers fist in his jacket, pulling him closer, and Dean groans against your lips, deep and wrecked.

“Tell me to stop,” he mutters, breath hot against your mouth.

You shake your head. “Not a chance.”

That’s all it takes.

Dean lifts you, pressing you against the wall of the abandoned barn, slotting his hips between your thighs. He’s hard, aching, and when you grind against him, a broken sound escapes his throat.

“Fuck, sweetheart...”

Your nails rake down his back, your mouth tracing the sharp edge of his jaw, and Dean’s losing it.

His hands slip under your shirt, dragging over warm skin, pulling it over your head. Your bra follows, and then his mouth is on you—hot, wet, desperate. He kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, down to where your nipples pebble under his touch.

You gasp, arching into him, and Dean grins against your skin.

“You always this needy?”

“Shut up and focus, Winchester.”

Dean groans. “Yes, ma’am.”

He unbuttons your jeans, yanks them down, finds you already soaked. His fingers slip through your heat, teasing, testing.

“Jesus, babygirl. All this for me?”

You whimper, hips bucking into his touch, and Dean doesn’t waste any more time. He frees himself from his jeans, lines up, and sinks in.

You both shudder, breathless, still for a moment before Dean starts moving.

Slow at first, deep and measured, then rougher, faster.

Your moans echo through the barn, your body tight around him, perfect, made for this. For him.

Dean can’t think, can’t breathe—just chase the feeling, chase you.

And when you come—clenching, gasping, pulling him over the edge—Dean knows.

He’s gone.

And he’s never coming back.

Later, as you lay tangled together in the backseat of the Impala, Dean traces lazy circles on your bare hip.

“You know this means you’re stuck with us now, right?”

You smirk, resting your chin on his chest. “Think Sammy will approve?”

Dean grins, pulling you up for another kiss.

“Sammy's gonna love it.”

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

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[bludhavents]

Professor Tavis

pairing: boyfriend!garrick tavis x reader

word count: 3.9k

summary: When hear about Garrick's new job from Xaden, you start to question why Garrick didn't tell you himself. He makes it up to you in the best way possible.

warnings: 18+ ONLY. smut. porn with plot. brief description of panic attack. professor kink tehe. unprotected p in v. fem!reader. ridoc being a protective best friend. super minor onyx storm spoiler.

Xaden looks past his cousin to Garrick. “I just need Professor Tavis.”

I can’t help but gape at the title given to my boyfriend. The title I am just now hearing for the first time. My head snaps up to gawk at him along with the rest of my squad. He winces, but slides by me on the steps and follows after Xaden without looking back. 

All of my friend’s eyes turn away from the men as they disappear and focus on me instead. 

“Professor?” Bodhi frowns. “Since when?”

I meet his round brown eyes and shrug my shoulders, turning back to face the map on the table. Apparently, I’m the only one who remembers that we’re trying to plan out our flight path. The rest of the group is murmuring around me now, gossiping about Professor Tavis. I try my best not to feel scuffed at the fact that I’m learning about my boyfriend’s new job along with the rest of my squad. Except, apparently, not all of them were so oblivious.

“He told me about it over breakfast. They just asked him to accept this morning,” Imogen says, and I straighten in my seat. She’s always been interested in my boyfriend, which is enough to make me jealous as is. Him confiding in her about his new status before telling me feels like a punch in the gut. Then, she piles on top of that feeling. “He didn’t tell you? That’s weird.”

The hair on my skin raises uncomfortably under my leathers. I swallow hard. 

“Shut up, Imogen.” Ridoc slaps her on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Let’s refocus,” Rhiannon supplies, drawing her finger from Basgiath to one of the isles on the map. I can’t make out which one it is through the unshed tears that are stinging in my eyes. “This route could work.”

The group argues again, all speaking over one another as they shove their fingers onto the paper and suggest their own ideas. My mind races as I sit amongst them, drifting through my recent memories with Garrick in an attempt to recall any reason why he’d have withheld this from me, but I come up with nothing. A small sigh leaves my mouth as I continue to stir over the pit in my stomach. 

“What’s wrong?” Bodhi asks, looking up from the map.

“Nothing! I’m just tired.” I rub my eyes and blink hard, trying to force myself back into the moment to help my squadmates formulate the plan. Ridoc nods from next to me, leaning his head onto my shoulder with a dramatic yawn. 

“Me too. Can we break for nap time?” He smiles cheekily at our friends. Every single one of them rolls their eyes at his antics, but Rhiannon relents. 

“Yeah. We can come back after dinner and look at it with fresh eyes,” she says, folding the map up on the table and tucking it into her bag. We’d been here over an hour already. “I’m gonna head to the training room if anyone wants to spar.”

Violet, Sawyer, Aaric, and Sloane all break off with her. The rest of the group goes their own ways, and Ridoc stays with me as we head toward the dorm wing of the castle. His footsteps are wider than mine, his long legs guiding him easily down the corridor. 

“Never took you for a teacher’s pet,” he teases, looking down at me with a wide grin that shows all his teeth. I laugh, shaking my head. 

“Didn’t know I was one. Gods, I can’t believe he would tell Imogen before me. I mean Xaden, I get, but Cardulo? What in Malek’s name did I do to deserve that blow?” I let myself rant to him. Nobody else is in the hallway around us. There’s no reason to hide my disdain for my situation when I already know that he’s tuned into my agitation anyway. 

“I wanted to punch her in the mouth!” He shouts, throwing his hands up. “I mean if you’re going to be a homewrecker, at least have some tact about it.”

My heart twists and pounds in my chest. Homewrecker. The humor of the situation is abruptly drained from my body. My pulse quickens quickly, and my jacket suddenly fits too snugly. I grab his wrist and stop walking, turning to face him with hot cheeks. 

“You don’t really think…” My voice trails off, not wanting to think about the possibility of Garrick and Imogen having any sort of secret relationship. 

“No, no, gods, no,” he hurries out, quickly taking a step toward me and wrapping me into a tight hug. He speaks softly into my hair. “I’m sorry. That was a poor choice of words. You know that Garrick loves you more than anything. It’s pathetic and weird and I’m so jealous of it. He’d never do that to you. Gods know Imogen has tried, though.”

I relax a little at that, but I can’t help the sob that rips through my chest. The past hour has been utterly overwhelming, and it feels like I can’t breathe through the stress. Ridoc holds me tight, running a hand up and down my arm as I wet his leathers with my tears. 

It’s suddenly too hot. I fumble with the zipper of my jacket, trying desperately to get it off of my body as anxiety surges. Ridoc replaces my hands with his on the zipper, then quickly unbuttons the collar and slides my jacket off of my shoulders. He tucks it under his arm and takes a step back. My chest aches with the force of my sobs. After a minute passes and I show no signs of stopping, he sweeps my legs off of the ground and carries me bridal style toward the dorm hall. 

My face stays buried in his shoulder the entire way, uncontrollably wailing. I try wiping my eyes on the sleeve of my undershirt, but it’s no use. The floodgates have opened and the tears just keep coming. It’s a panic attack.

“It’s okay, we’re almost to your room,” he says sweetly, pushing open a set of double doors with his hip. He keeps walking. “Deep breaths. Almost there.”

“What the hell happened?” A familiar voice echoes through the hallway, and a new set of tears rises behind my eyes, spilling over quickly as I choke out a sob. Ridoc stiffens beneath me as I dig my fingers into him, holding myself close to him. 

The anxiety that’s running through my blood isn’t just about the thought of being cheated on, because I know deep down that Garrick would never do that to me. It’s just overwhelming to have Imogen’s snarky comment on top of the stress of planning our trip to the isles, and keeping Xaden’s secret safe from the others. It’s too much, and it’s all weighing on me now.

Ridoc’s steps slow, and he bends over at the waist, setting me back on my feet gently. I release my grip on him only after he places a hand on my upper back. Through my tears, I first see the wetness running down his leather jacket, racing from the collar down to his stomach. Then, I look away from him and see Garrick towering over us, right next to my door. 

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” Ridoc moves a gentle hand to the back of my head before turning and shoving my jacket into Garrick’s chest, matching his mean scowl with one of his own. “Don’t look at me like that when I’m the one who brought her here, Professor.”

“Don’t start, Gamlyn,” he bites back. His knuckles are white where he’s holding my jacket.

“I’d watch your fucking mouth if I were you. It seems to be getting you in trouble a lot recently.” He crosses the hallway and steps into his room, slamming the door shut loudly behind him. Garrick’s lips are pressed together tightly, chest heaving with angry breaths. His eyes trail away from our friend and land back on me, softening as he rests a calloused palm on my wet cheek and tilts my chin up to face him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His tone is pleading, and hot tears keep falling down my face as I stare into his hazel eyes and search for my answers. If he was cheating on me, would I see it in his revealing eyes? I don’t notice anything different. When I look into him, I still see only my Garrick. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

He opens my door with one hand, using the other to urge me in front of him. He guides me all the way to the edge of my bed and sets my leathers next to me as I take a seat there. His tall form shrinks to my height as he kneels in front of me, placing his hands on my hips. 

“Sweetheart, please talk to me,” he begs, squeezing my skin. 

“I’m just a little overwhelmed.” I drag my cold palms over my face to wipe away the drying tears and take a deep breath, willing them to stop falling. “Everyone was asking me questions about you becoming a professor, and I didn’t know anything about it, you never told me. Then Imogen starts answering all of them, and I just-- I don’t know. It really upset me, I think, to have her know more about what’s going on with you than I do. Then when we were walking back here, I started thinking that maybe there’s a reason you would tell her before telling me, and I just…”

Garrick flinches in front of me and moves his hands to cup my jaw. His hazel eyes burn into my skin and force me to meet his gaze. I see his lips parted in shock and a deep furrow between his thick brows. He opens his mouth as if to start talking, but hesitates, swallowing hard. 

“I don’t even know what to say,” he admits, running a thumb to catch a stray tear in the corner of my eye. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I never ever meant to make you think that I was going behind your back. I promise you, with all of my heart, that you are the only person I’ve wanted to tell all day.”

“Why didn’t you?” My voice breaks, and I gnaw on the skin of my bottom lip. 

“I didn’t tell Imogen, first of all-- Xaden did. While we were eating breakfast, which was right after I’d gotten back from the meeting where they told me about the job offer.” He grasps my hand in his and brings it to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to my skin. I sigh, letting my free hand brush the hair above his ear. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. That’s just what she told everyone,” I apologize, and he shakes his head quickly. 

“Don’t apologize, I don’t blame you at all,” he says sincerely. “I’m sorry that you heard it from someone else. I’ve been wanting to tell you all day, but you weren’t at breakfast, and then I got pulled into another meeting to discuss lesson plans, and then by the time I got out, everyone was working on the flight paths with you. I wanted to be able to sit down and have a discussion with you about it in private without everyone listening, and then fucking Riorson ruined that. I should’ve just asked you to come talk with me, and I’m sorry that I didn’t realize that until it was too late.”

I stare at the man in front of me, watching his chest rise and fall with slow breaths. A sweet smile graces his full lips as I hiccup, finally taking in my first full breath all day. His shaggy hair falls into his face as he bends over. I watch as his strong hands delicately untie my boots before sliding them off of my feet one at a time. It feels like I’ve been bathed in a pool of relief and his words are the water that cradles me.

“Come here,” I swing my legs onto the bed and pat the spot next to me. He removes his own shoes and lays in the empty spot, wrapping an arm around my body and tugging me into his side. Our eyes meet where we lay, and I press a kiss to his lips. My body melts into the taste of him, but I relent, pulling away. He groans in disapproval. 

“Why?” He whines. I giggle, feeling at ease here in his arms. He smirks down at me and leans in for another kiss, but I put my finger to his lips instead. 

“I want to hear about this job!” I prop myself up on my elbows, laying on my stomach as he narrows his eyes at me in disdain. Looking at the man in front of me, I wonder how I ever got myself so worked up. There’s nothing but concentrated love in his eyes right now, and it’s all for me.

“Later. Come kiss me right now, I’ve missed you.” He sits up, grasping my cheek and bringing his mouth to mine. I sigh into the kiss and he takes advantage, slipping his tongue through my parted lips. My hand on his chest pushes him back against the mattress, not breaking the kiss as I follow him down. 

We’re thinking the same thing, his fingers grabbing my hips to lift me onto his lap, but I’m already lifting my leg to straddle him. He pulls away from the kiss and attaches his lips to my jaw. I can feel his smile against my skin.

“Good, sweetheart,” he praises, “you know just what I need.”

I settle onto him, my thighs clenching either side of his hips. He uses his hold on my waist to push my body down harder onto him, a groan rising in the back of his throat as he rubs me over his clothed dick. Gripping me roughly, he drags me back and forth over and over. I press sloppy kisses up his neck and along his jaw, leaving one just below his ear before lightly grazing my teeth over his earlobe. 

Every part of him is solid beneath me. Solid arms, solid chest, solid stomach, and a solid dick working me just right. Garrick Tavis drives me crazy.

“I need you,” he says, stopping his movements and turning to stare into my eyes. His pupils are blown, revealing only the faintest sliver of hazel around them. I kiss him softly. Garrick has always been a tease. I appreciate getting to return the favor sometimes, and the perfect idea has presented itself. I kiss him again and he groans, bucking his hips up. “I need you now, sweetheart.”

“What do you need from me, Professor Tavis?” I fiend innocence, voice soft and low, looking at him with wide eyes that I’m certain are just as lust-blown as his. Garrick’s lips part and the next kiss he drags from my lips is feverish. His hands are gripping at my shirt, tearing it off of my body with no regard and discarding it to the floor carelessly. 

He grips my ass roughly, and I squeal as I’m suddenly lifted off of his lap and flipped onto my back, staring up at my boyfriend as he unzips his jacket and slides out of it easily. I sit up to help him with his shirt, but he pushes me back down.

“I’m a professor and you’re a cadet, our relationship is strictly off limits.” He slides his shirt over his head, and my pulse stutters. I reach a hand out to feel his packed muscle, trailing my fingers down the patch of hair that starts at his navel and dips below his waistband. He inhales sharply.

“Off limits?” I don’t look at him, instead I work on unfastening the belt around his waist. My gaze drifts below my hands, and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth at the sight of the bulge straining against his pants. 

“Strictly. So I need you to be really quiet for me, sweetheart.” He rakes his hand through my hair, fisting it gently at the base of my neck and pulling so that I meet his eyes. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Professor Tavis.” I nod quickly. He removes my hands from his crotch and steps off the bed. I frown, rolling to protest, but he’s quick to shut me up. 

“Take your pants off.” He’s already stepping out of his. “I can’t wait any longer.”

I don’t question him, the angry red tip of his stiff cock saying enough to prove that he’s being honest. My bottoms slide off quickly. I shove my panties off with them, baring myself to the desperate man in front of me.

“Bra.” Garrick’s voice is tight. He’s fisting himself, but not pumping at all. He’s waiting for me to follow his instructions. I unhook my bra and shrug it off. He hums in appraisal, bringing his eyes to my bare chest. I revel in the way his eyebrows knit together, like he’s physically pained by my beauty. This is what it felt like to be loved. 

“Professor Tavis?” I stand up from the bed, walking toward him slowly. He inhales sharply as I pause in front of him, nearly pressing my skin to his. “What should I do next?”

“Get on your knees, sweetheart.” He smoothes the hair at the top of my head as he commands me so sweetly. Seeing him like this, so affected by me, is driving me crazy. 

I lower myself to my knees in front of him, wetting my lips as I become eye level with his dick. Pre-cum is already leaking from the tip, and I open my mouth to lap it up, but he cradles my face and stops me gently. My eyes meet his as he towers above me, shaking his head softly. 

“Not yet, sweetheart. I want you to put your hand between your legs.” My breath catches in my throat in surprise. We’re both so desperate, and he’s dragging this out for so long, but I can’t find it in myself to argue with him as his cock twitches when I lower my hand down my stomach and dip it between my legs. The moan that tumbles from my lips is immediate. Garrick’s foreplay made my clit swell, and it’s the most sensitive that I’ve felt as I begin to stroke myself with my fingers. Letting the noises of pleasure escape as I start grinding with my hips is uncontrollable. 

“Professor Tavis,” I moan loudly as my head falls back. “Please fuck me. Please make me cum.”

I’m shocked when one strong arm wraps around my waist and hoists me up, but I don’t hesitate to wrap my legs around his waist. All plans of sucking him off are abandoned. He holds me tightly to him, molding his mouth to mine so fiercely that our teeth bump. The head of his cock teases my entrance and I gasp at the sensation. It takes him only two steps to reach the bed, where he pulls his mouth away from mine and lays me out on my stomach. The loss of contact makes me whimper.

“You’ve gotta be quiet for me,” he coos. His rough hands are a sharp contrast to his saccharine voice as he lifts my ass into the air and kneads it. I groan, jutting my hips back, and he tsks. “What’d I say? Quiet for me baby. Don’t make me tell you again. Can you do that for me? Can you shut that pretty mouth while I fuck you?”

The moan that leaves my lips is unstoppable, and he laughs darkly behind me before pulling my hips back. My cheeks flush at his laugh. 

“I want to be good for you, Professor. Please let me try.” He inhales sharply and then aligns his tip at my entrance. I push my hips back slowly, and he’s the one who can’t keep to himself this time. 

“Oh, fuck me, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, grabbing my ass and pushing himself further into me. I gasp as he bottoms out inside of me, feeling overwhelmingly full. 

He leans down over me, leaving a trail of kisses up my spine. His lips pause at my neck, and he bites me softly. 

“You’re such a good girl for me. So fucking good. Thank you, sweetheart.” He straightens his spine and pulls his hips back so far that the tip of his dick is barely inside of me, before he slams into me. I whine, my walls stretched out by his thick cock, but he only pulls out again, leaving me to wait before he rams into me another time, cursing as he finds a steady pace. His cock is moving at the perfect speed. I moan as he hits a sweet spot, and I feel him focus as he hits it again, and again, and again. 

I cry out. “Oh gods. Just like that. Right there.”

He keeps his thrusts perfect and steady, pushing me closer to my edge. Once his fingers wrap around my front and find my swollen clit, I let out a shaky breath. He continues his punishing pace as his finger circles my clit once, then twice, and it’s the perfect combination. I’m shattering around him immediately, my legs shaking. 

“Professor Tavis!” Waves of pleasure ripple through me, my orgasm prolonged by him chasing his own now, his dick pushing into me roughly. I’m still squeezing him, wetness dripping down my legs as he hits the perfect spot. “Fuck!”

“Fuck, I love you so much, sweetheart,” he moans, pace quickening before he stills. I tighten at the feeling of his cock twitching inside of me, filling me up with his release. He exhales deeply, fanning my spine with hot air. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking dream.”

He places a firm hand on my ass as he starts to pull his dick out, but hisses with the motion, and then pushes himself back inside. I turn my head to look back at him, watching as he does it again, backing himself out almost all of the way and then sliding back in. His eyes are fixed on the point where he’s entering, watching with deep breaths as he repeats it one more time.

“Sweetheart, you feel so fucking good. I don’t want to leave.” His voice is strained with pleasure, gaze trailing from where I’m wrapped around him up to my ass, then my back, and then he meets my face. The fire in his eyes is enough to melt me.

“So don’t. Stay inside and come lay with me,” I suggest, hoping that he does just that. He smirks and lowers himself onto the bed with me, holding me close to keep himself inside as he adjusts us so that we’re spooning now. I lay my head on his arm and sigh contentedly. 

“I love you, sweetheart. That was fucking hot.” He laughs breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. I giggle, finding that I could really get used to this new job of his. 

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Also - holy mother of god - is also known as a Hail Mary - you know - like the last ditch effort to rescue someone or something - a desperate attempt to rescue or save something at risk of being lost - the last hope!

I can’t be the only one seeing where this is going - Eddie’s last attempt to save his relationship with Chris - his last hope!

Because there is something in the concept of Eddie’s desperation and him choosing to ask Mary to help hi - because Catholics also believe Mary, because she was a virgin who gave birth to the son of god, was assumed into heaven without dying - that she lives there as a corporeal person. It is believed that as his mother, Jesus cannot deny a request she makes of him and that god has the same bound put upon him - because she followed his desires and gave birth to his son.

So, when you find yourself in a completely hopeless situation and start to pray to God but that doesn’t work, you pray to a saint to add their prayers to yours to get a signal boost. Still ‘no.’ Then you pray to Mary, and convince her of your dire need. If she is swayed, she intercedes on your behalf, getting a ‘yes’ when all else fails.

And so Eddie reaching this point would be really interesting and good - especially because the dual meaning suggests he will have to appeal to his own mother and get her to help him - where she has been obstructive before - that she will finally see the genuine love and care and effort Eddie is putting in and will finally choose to help him.