#that is my exact thought process that is EXACTLY it

[dukeofthomas]

@daisybell-on-a-carousel you are so right and correct. perfectly said perfectly conveyed oh my god

The thing is, I actually think it's a super interesting angle to look at the intersection of trauma and mental illness and vigilantism and coping mechanisms with Jason's character.

But, for me, if you want to seriously ask at what point does Jason need therapy more than he needs the vigilante lifestyle it's not Red Hood Jason you should be looking at. Red Hood Jason was literally murdered and the mysteriously resurrected. That's not something you can therapy your way out of! That's something that no amount of talking will ever help you understand, because it's a completely incomprehensible event!

No, if anyone needs therapy it's 12 year old Jason.

It's 12 year old Jason, who has poverty trauma and homelessness trauma and prison system trauma and parentification trauma and drug related trauma and, depending on your reading, potentially sexual trauma.

It's 12 year old Jason, who is taken in by Bruce - a man who is *also* severely traumatised (in extremely different ways) and chooses to dress up as a Bat and punch people about it instead of seeking healthy coping strategies.

It's 12 year old Jason, who Bruce decides - without psychiatric training or so much as a second opinion - needs the same outlet that "helped" Bruce and "helped" Dick.

And by the time aditf rolls around, Bruce is maybe just realising that he's made a mistake. But it's too late, because for two years he's told this child - a child who arguably feels indebted to him, a child who is extremely isolated and had very few if any other trusted adults to talk to - that violence and avoidance is how you deal with emotions.

I think that's fascinating to think about!

That Bruce's own failure to process his trauma left him blind to what Jason might actually have benefited from! That if Bruce had noticed Jason struggling earlier, if he'd reacted differently or explained himself better in aditf, Jason might not have felt the need to travel around the world alone looking for a woman he'd never met and only just learned about!

That if *Bruce* had been healthier, had been to therapy instead of throwing all his energy into vigilantism, none of this might have happened!

Reframe Red Hood Jason as a tragedy of Bruce's own making, not because of the classist bullshit that Jason was always going to end up a criminal and Bruce failed to stop that, but because Bruce's terrible coping mechanisms became *Jason's* terrible coping mechanisms and nobody likes to see the worst parts of themselves in the mirror.

[reginyani]

Wet Dreams | s.reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer decides to call it a day and head to bed, where he has a vivid wet dream of one of his female coworkers at the BAU.

cw: 18+, mdni, nsfw, dom!reader, sub!spencer, fem!bau!reader, oral sex, blowjob, reader swallows, use of Y/N, wet dreams

wc: 1174

authors note: sorry for the inactivity on my account! decided to pay back for that with some spencer smut;) enjoy! if you did, like and reblog!

It was an ordinary night, or so Spencer thought. The hum of the lights in his apartment, the soft tick of the clock on the wall, and the familiar weight of the blanket wrapped around his lower body. Yet something was still different.

 

When he closed his eyes, the world around him slowly started to drift away into an even deeper atmosphere.

 

It started like any other dream he has had—disjointed, unclear—but soon it shifted, warped. He found himself still lying down, leaning up on his bed. The room was dimly lit, and the air was thick with unfamiliar tension. The walls were dark, shadowed, as though the room itself was alive and shifting with every passing second.

 

Before he could process what was happening, the sound of footsteps echoed through the space. He looked up from his covers and found you standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

 

It was you, his BAU co-worker. Unlike anyone he had ever seen, a vision so striking he forgot how to breathe for a second. Your eyes glowed deeply in the low light, and your presence radiated an intense, magnetic pull. You weren't just beautiful; you were something otherworldly. It was odd; he had never noticed it before. As you stepped closer, Spencer's heart skipped a beat.

 

"What are you... doing here?" He asked, his voice hoarse, as if his body were betraying him. It was unable to comply with his usual levelheadedness.

 

"What do you mean, silly? I've been here," you said, continuing to walk over to the edge of his bed.

 

"I—uh..." He's at a loss for words, raising an eyebrow as he watches your body sway side to side as your footsteps make noise against the wood floor.

 

Once you finally make it to his bed, you crawl onto it, on all fours, making your way up his body. You smirk, looking into his big brown eyes. You snatch the blanket off, throwing it somewhere to find some other time.

 

"I can give you exactly what you need, Spencer," you said, your voice soft and melodic, your words carefully crafted to seduce him. It made his pulse race, a sudden heat rising in his chest that he couldn't explain.

 

"Need?" He gulped, sitting up straighter as your body towered over his, his brain trying to catch up with the situation. "I don't... I don't understand," his sad brown puppy eyes staring into your glowing ones in confusion.

 

You leaned in, your face mere inches from his, your breath warm against his skin. "I'm what you need in this exact moment," you whispered. "A way to... release tension, free you from the weight of your thoughts. You think so much, analyzing everything, but sometimes... you need to have an escape."

 

His chest tightened at the suggestion, his mind racing with undignified thoughts. There was something about your presence that made it impossible for him to think straight. It was as if you knew every part of him, every desire, every worry he buried deep inside himself.

 

"You don't have to think anything," you murmured, your fingers brushing over the waistband of his pajama pants. "Just feel."

 

Spencer's breath hitched as he looked down at your hand. He always prided himself on his control, but here, in this strange dream, that control seemed to slip through his fingers. His mind screamed to not allow this to happen, but his body betrayed him as he let out a whimper in anticipation.

 

You smiled at his inner conflict, his whimper music to your ears. "You don't have to fight it," you continued to whisper to him, seductively. "Do you want this, Spencer?" you finally ask.

 

He looks back up at you before finally nodding his head. "...Yes."

 

You grin, quickly pulling down his pajama pants and boxers all at once. His cock sprung out, already hard. He looks away from the scene, closing his eyes in embarrassment.

 

"Don't be embarrassed, baby. It's just me," you say, reassuring him and his doubts about this. Although there was no turning back now.

 

You look back down to his throbbing member, taking it in your hand and stroking it slowly. He turns his head back over, his mouth opening as a low groan escapes his lips.

 

"Oh... oh." he let out, throwing his head back in pleasure. You looked up to see his messy brown curls fall from his slightly wet forehead, his image more beautiful than ever.

Pathetic. It turned you on.

You finally lean your head down, taking it in your mouth slowly, your lips gliding over him as your hand worked the rest that couldn't fit into your mouth. Your tongue began to swirl and flick against the tip, feeling the smooth surface in your mouth.

 

Spencer couldn't hold back anymore. His hands flung to your head, gripping your hair, and he pushed your head further, allowing his cock to be fully pushed into your mouth. He holds your hair back as you begin to bob your head up and down, gagging as his cock hits the back of your throat.

 

Spencer's legs began to shake slightly, moaning loudly. His shame wasn't apparent anymore, as he allowed himself to guide your head on his length, beginning to thrust his hips unwillingly.

 

"Fuck... Just like that." He continues to thrust, this time in a steady rhythm, sliding in and out of your mouth with a swishing sound. Your lips gripped around his cock, driving him closer to release. "God, Y/N. You're so... talented."

 

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his, filled with lust and desire. All his problems seemed to fade away, nothing on his mind but the feeling of your lips clenching against his cock. You moan slightly, sending vibrations up his length, making him stutter out a whimper.

 

"I'm... I'm close..." he warned, his voice low but filled with pleasure as you worked your mouth on him.

 

Suddenly, a loud whine escaped his mouth, his legs heavily shaking uncontrollably. He clutched the sheets, his knuckles turning white as a warm liquid began to fill your mouth.

 

You swallowed.

 

You slide your mouth off his cock with a loud pop, sitting upward as you gaze at his face.

 

"You did so well, baby." You cooed, praising him as you brushed a strand of his hair behind his ear. He sighed softly, his arms shaking as he struggled to keep his body up. "I'm glad I could help you escape, even if it wasn't real."

 

That was the last thing you said before his eyes opened, breathing heavily as he sat up in his bed. The remnants of the dream lingered in the edges of Spencer's mind. It had been so vivid, so real—the kind of dream where every detail felt significant. Spencer rubbed his temples, pulling fragments of the haze, but the more he thought about it, the further it seemed to fade away.

 

How was he gonna act when he saw you at work? He flipped his sheets off his hot body, then looked down at his pajama pants.

 

Fuck.

 

Is all he thought as he looked down at the wet splotch on his crotch.

 

 

tags:

[syluslnd]

Hello! Been binged reading your Sylus hcs/fics and would want to try my shot in this request. How would Sylus react to MC using his black card but only spending it for like ice cream and simple stuff? Like, he's glad/amuse/or what that MC is using his card but became ?? when he saw what MC purchased? (I saw this thing on TikTok years ago but I couldn't remember the exact prompt). Tyia if this request makes it out!

sylus reaction to you spending his money

Sylus sits behind his large, mahogany desk, the dim lighting of his office casting shadows over his sharp features. His usual composed expression falters slightly as he pulls up the statement from his black card, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

He expected charges for high-end jewelry, exclusive fashion boutiques—things that exuded status and wealth. Instead, his dark gaze trails over the unexpected: ice cream parlors and… plushies from a toy store?

He stares at the screen for a moment longer, processing before a soft chuckle escapes him—something rare, almost amused.

You walk into the room, unaware of the reaction you’re about to receive. Sylus leans back in his chair, a slow smile creeping across his face, arms folded. His gaze follows you as you approach, clearly waiting for something.

“I didn’t realize you had such… expensive tastes” he says, voice laced with amusement. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes but his tone carries that usual, unshakeable power.

You blink, confused. “What do you mean?”

He taps his fingers lightly against the desk, still holding the black card statement. “Ice cream shops and let’s not forget the… plushies?”

Your confusion deepens and you nod slowly. “Yeah, the stuffed animals were cute. I couldn’t resist. Why?”

Sylus raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he stands up, stepping closer to you. “I gave you access to all my resources—jewelry, designer clothes, anything you wanted and you went for… a toy store.”

You stare at him, completely unphased by his teasing tone. “Well, yeah, what’s wrong with ice cream and plushies?”

He stops right in front of you, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Nothing at all sweetie ” he says softly, though there’s a trace of disbelief in his voice. “But you could’ve bought anything—something expensive, something luxurious—and you chose… something so adorable.”

“I don’t need all that other stuff” you reply, still not understanding why he’s so surprised.

Sylus chuckles again, shaking his head slightly. His hand brushes your cheek gently, his thumb tracing your jawline. “You really are something else” he murmurs, eyes filled with a mix of amusement and intrigue. “I expected you to be just like everyone else. But you’re full of surprises.”

He leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Next time, at least let me take you for ice cream.”

You tilt your head, finally catching on to his teasing tone. “Oh, you thought I’d use it for something flashy?”

He pulls back, his expression softening, though his smirk remains. “Exactly. But you’re far cuter than that.”

[comicaurora]

Tahraim is my fav absolutely adore him! I love that you’ve made the smith deal in introspection and cryptic bs, a lot of times smiths are very straightforward characters in stories. What made you decide to shake it up?

Can gods be tied to concepts as well as cities? As Tahraim seems to be a god of blacksmithing (or at least has some serious motifs) does he have a city thats just forges?

He also seems a lot more mobile than the other gods, or is he just “tied” to Danix?

Tahraim is a conceptual god, a class of deity considered grander and more untethered than city or nature gods. Also in his weight class are Emnis and Erebas (dreams and nightmares), Shanyasi (music), Sennaia (knowledge), Jiya (war), and a whole bunch of others. They're gods of ideas, and their domains are in the collective consciousness of mortals. They can manifest anywhere they hold sway, and several of them have constructed domains of their own in pocket dimensions; Sennaia has a transfinite library hidden away somewhere, and Tahraim has a forge.

Tahraim's personality comes from my own experience with artists and craftspeople. Many artists are acutely aware that in order for their work to be better, they need to be better. The process of creation and introspection becomes inextricably linked. Forging a tool changes the forger, little by little.

There's also an element I've observed from teachers. I was always a firm proponent of "don't be cryptic or cute, just tell me the thing and I'll get it," and while that's true a lot of the time, there are concepts that cannot be Just Told in any meaningful way. They don't hit or stick if the person doesn't put them together themselves and construct a way that works for them. Teaching isn't always the impartation of information; a lot of the time it's guidance so the student crafts the tools that work for them. Even if the teacher can perfectly communicate what method works for them, everyone is different, and a student that does the exact same thing exactly right might gain no benefits or be actively harmed by the process. Instead, the student has to parse the lesson and create their own tools to execute the same goal.

Personal example under a readmore because it got a little long:

I've sporadically dealt with intrusive thoughts my whole life, though I didn't understand what they were at the time and they've mostly gone away on their own. When I was little, upsetting thoughts would get stuck in my head and stay there; things would give me nightmares that lasted for weeks, or I'd be stuck awake in the wee hours ruminating on every time in my life I'd done something shameful or harmful or wrong. My dad recognized I was upset, and tried to teach me a method of "counting thoughts" that worked for him, where I could sit for a few minutes and just passively observe the thoughts floating by, counting them and observing them and thus becoming aware that they were small, fleeting things with no power on their own. The problem is, this method didn't work for me at all, because "count the thought" didn't communicate to me "and that makes the thought not a problem anymore." The thought still hurt just as bad, all I was doing was reminding myself how many bad thoughts were happening. I would get overwhelmed and end up more distressed, and the fact that this thing that should have worked didn't work just convinced me that I was trapped and nobody could ever help me.

It took actual years before I found a method that clicked in my brain, and it was just one step further down the path of counting thoughts:

"Having that thought is harmless."

Every thought that got stuck in my head was about times or ways I might've harmed people. The things that distressed me most were things I'd done wrong that I had zero power to change, so the wrongness would just haunt me forever, making me miserable forever. But the root of the distress was that I had messed up and hurt people.

The thing that clicked was that having the thought does nothing to anyone but me. The thought is harmless, even if the event the thought is about wasn't or wouldn't be. Having the thought hurts no-one else. And since 90% of my distress was distress at the thought of hurting other people, it hit me that in reality, even in the depths of my angst, I was just sitting there, hurting no-one.

And suddenly I found that the last few intrusive thoughts rattling around in my brain withering, because the last thing that had been feeding them was gone. I was given the technique for Counting Thoughts, but it wasn't made for my hands. I had to make my own version out of it. And just because it worked for me and my own personal brain doesn't mean this method would work for someone else, just the same way the method that worked for my dad didn't click for me. If I wanted to teach someone a way to bypass intrusive thoughts, all I would have to work on would be what worked for me, but I could try to guide them through a path similar to the one I followed to find my method so they could maybe find their specific hangups and what specifically would work for them. Every mind is different.

This is also why it's so frustrating to hear someone say stuff like "Oh I used to worry about that too, but it's actually fine, you can just stop worrying about it!" And it's like, "oh, fuckin brilliant, just stop worrying about it? Absolute genius, I just hadn't thought of that-" like yea it sounds flippant and yea it's not helpful, but they are using the only frame of reference they have and describing what they did. They stressed about something, realized it was not actually a problem, and knowing that was enough to make it leave their mind alone. But saying that they "just stopped worrying" doesn't make you understand or internalize how they did it. And because they can't seem to help you, it makes you mad. But then sometimes, with time and perspective, you look back and think "wow, yea, at some point I really did just stop worrying about that." It doesn't mean their advice worked, it just means somewhere along the line something clicked in your mind and started working.

Tahraim is a smith who sees no difference between shaping a tool and shaping a person, but there are some ways that people can't be shaped from the outside, and instead have to shape themselves. He likes to be subtle and cryptic, but he also has good reason to be. The only way to make something click in someone's head is to guide them towards it and nudge them when necessary. It's not all hitting stuff with hammers.

[fear-is-truth]

⟢. 𝓢𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑺 — peter maximoff

𝜗𝜚 tags ; mature content﹒mdni﹒fem!reader﹒p in v

kinktober day three : aphrodisiacs

you’re standing in the kitchen, sorting through the groceries when you hear a familiar noise—like rapid munching. turning around, you catch sight of your boyfriend lying sprawled on the couch, stuffing his face with a box of what looked like chocolates. your stomach drops when you realise exactly what box it was.

“oh my god, please tell me you didn’t eat all of those!” you rush over, eyes wide as you snatched the empty box from his hands. he blinks up at you, a bit of chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth.

“uh, yeah? you just had them lying around, and i was hungry… heh, sorry.” he swallowed. mouth agape, you simply stare at him.

“…peter, these weren’t regular chocolates. my friend gave these to me as a gag gift for april fool’s—they’re aphrodisiacs!” it takes a second for his brain to process the new information, eyes slowly widening as he looks from the empty box to you, then back to the box.

“hold on… you mean those kinds of chocolates? oh. oh shiiiiiit.” you drop your face into your hands with a groan. “yes, peter. and you just ate the entire box. like… the whole dang thing.”

he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking a tiny bit sheepish. “erm… what happens now? ‘cause, not gonna lie, i don’t feel any different.”

“yet.”

he looks like he was trying very hard to hold back a laugh, but it didn’t last.

“soooo…your best friend bought you sexy chocolates as a prank? that’s what we’re dealing with here?” you huff, plopping down next to him. “yes, okay? she thought it would be funny. i wasn’t actually planning on eating them.”

“well, now i’ve eaten them. what are we gonna do about it?” you rolled your eyes, poking him in the chest. “we? you’re the one who scarfed down a whole box of aphrodisiacs. this is a you problem now.” peter wiggled his eyebrows, trying to look sexy and seductive.

“oh, i don’t know… it might be an us problem real soon.”

•••

“ugh f-fuck.. keep going, keep going… yowza—yeah baby right there, sweet pussy’s gunna give me brain damage…” he babbles, head thrown back against the backrest of the couch. “peter… shut up…” you moan, rolling your hips down onto him, watching the entire length of his cock disappear into your pussy like a magic trick. the pink tip of his tongue pokes out of his mouth in an commendable attempt to stay silent. you lean down, capturing his tongue between your lips and start sucking, which coaxes strangled moan from him. “mghmm—c-can’t get enough of you,”

peter slurs between your joined lips, hand shoving under your shirt to play at your breasts. relishing in the delicious stretch of his cock, you arch your back and wiggle your hips, and it’s that exact moment that you feel a him twitch inside you.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[sleepy-spaceman]

in hindsight this was really funny

most days i’m ok with being a girl and then there’s other days when i’m on the subway and i see someone that looks like me if i were the most average looking middle aged man and i go “oh my god i NEED to go on T immediately holy shit”

[iceunhie]

indirect kiss moments !

summary: you drink from their cup on accident = the realization that you may or may not have shared an indirect kiss. how do they feel about that? too flustered beyond belief, it seems....

featuring: part one (here) - kazuha, wanderer | part two - albedo, neuvillette, alhaitham

notes: not exactly established relationship, crush crush hehe, fluffy, my two anemo faves in one post.... loud gasp effect in the background (pls don't perceive this as my betrayal to the other anemos they'll have their turn soon i promise 🫡)

WANDERER — (in/ex)ternally flustered as fuck + has stopped working

wanderer doesn't think he has a heart, but the way the void in his chest thumps for but a flicker of a moment proves him quite wrong.

why, you ask? it's all because of you.

he resists the urge to snap, terribly so, but out of being flustered more than anything, not irritation. because there is absolutely no way for him to properly process these turn of events with even a hint of rationality. you seem to be promptly ignorant of the whirring of thoughts in his mechanical head. ignorant of his rather foolish situation of going irrational and borderline idiotic.

all because of a damn indirect kiss.

his eyes lift from where he's burning holes onto the cup you're holding—his cup, he corrects, and lingers embarrassingly long (too long) on your lips. he tries not to fight the way heat creeps up his skin, synthetic yet all too real (perhaps like his own, untouched feelings); he thinks he might be red in the face. horribly red, thinking that oh no, he’s faced with the egregious notion that he may be too (very) obvious with how his reaction to your simple action betrays his secret fondness for your existence. most troubling.

it's fine, he tries to rationalize, he's got to relax. it was but a sip of tea. tea he so carefully procured and offered with much reluctance that was more feigned than anything else. tea he only drank because he heard in passing about your preference for it, very, very sweet tea he wouldn't normally drink, he notes with faint distaste—the things he lets you get away with—

….and then you lick your lips to savor the taste.

if the traveler hadn't showed him a taste of an almost death, then he thinks this might just be how he falls.

[ spoiler alert: he ends up hastily getting up to leave after pouring you another refill, muttering curses that would certainly alarm the average civilian. fast as light; if only to hide the utter mess that was his face. red, breathless (even though he doesn't need to breathe) and disgustingly, horribly flustered.

you’d better do your best to calm his self-imposed brooding— he isn't going to tell you anything about what exactly made him fluster this much. best of luck. ]

KAZUHA — flustered, but smiling like a lovesick fool (wants to write endless haikus about this)

kazuha is drunk, both in love and on the sake that burns his throat in a pleasant blend of sweet and strong.

it all started with your request to drink from his cup. you ordered a different drink from him while the crew of the crux were celebrating beidou’s birthday. even now, the sound of laughter and drunken slurring fills the night, a slow and, if he has to be frank, tone-deaf melody of a simple happy birthday echoing in the air. of course, being as drunk in love (beidou’s words) as he is, kazuha didn't even hesitate at all to give you a sip.

…and it just so happens that you managed to drink at the exact place he drank from earlier.

small mercies come in the form of playing off the intense blush of his face and chalking it up to the effects of the wine and sake. kazuha isn't one to be flustered easily, but he must admit this one elicited no light reaction from him, no matter how much he may downplay its impact.

perhaps it was delusional, but was there not a tradition about drinking from each other's cups like this that could symbolize marriage….?

oh dear, the alcohol was getting to him, and fast.

[ spoiler alert: the next day, when you wake up with a sore headache and an achy body and an extremely clingy kazuha, try not to be confused when he mentions something like kissing you in the haze of his sleep.

the following week will also make you subject to two things: 1) an increasingly clingy kazuha (see above), and 2) dozens upon dozens of haikus left at your home, along with silkflowers of innumerable count you’d think he'd plucked the entire lot of them. you never did know why kazuha had become even sweeter (was that even possible...?) all of a sudden. ]

[९] 2024 © iceunhie :: do not copy or use my works.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

My thoughts about the Trump assassination attempt

After having a few hours to process this whole thing and see reactions from across the political spectrum, I'm having some thoughts and some feelings.

First off, as I said earlier, Trump is a fucking boss. Take anyone who ran for president in the last 20 years, put them in that exact situation, and I don't think a single one responds by raising his fist and snarling in defiance and righteous anger. They run. They cry. They keep their heads down and the first statement you h ear from them is hours later filtered through 20 different speech writers. Today proved to me that, whatever else he may be, Trump is a genuine bad ass. He's exactly the person I want at the end of a sword pointed the United States. Because he's going to have a sword of his own pointed right back, and he's not going to run and hide when it comes time to use it.

Second, the modern left is full of monsters. The amount of people screaming and crying because this assassination attempt failed actually sickens me. It's one thing to have fantasies about easy solutions to the things that scare you. Hell, I'm not innocent. I've thought about how much better things might be if this politician was no longer around or this activist group got axed. But one of the things I did today was think about how I would feel if the assassin succeeded. And then I thought about how I'd feel if someone took a shot at Biden and he didn't survive. Neither thought gave me any good feelings. Obviously I'd be more upset if Trump died, but today showed me that I don't want us to start down the path of shooting political leaders. But too many people on the left, people who should know better, at least enough to hide their true feelings, have no problem publicly wishing Trump was dead right now. That assassinating presidential candidates was a legitimate tactic--but only against the politicians they don't like, of course.

Fuck that.

Fuck them.

America is better than that. Americans are better than that. We're not some third world shithole like Mexico. We're the greatest country in the world. We're the last bastion of representative government. The last place in the world where freedom exists. And it's time we started acting like it.

Third, I ain't got no time for conspiracy theories. Sorry guys, but this wasn't staged and this wasn't a CIA hitman. Unless real, hard evidence comes out otherwise, you won't ever get me to believe any of the nonsense I've seen floated around. Don't be so lost in the true things the media has dismissed as "conspiracy theories" that you immediately jump to the most conspiratorial explanations first for everything that happens. It's lame and cringe and a lot of people I've seen seriously putting these theories forward should know better. I know we're in our emotions right now, but keep your heads.

Fourth, my heart breaks for the families of the people who were hit with the bullets meant for President Trump. But that's the kind of evil we're facing. Whoever did this decided that the idea of a Trump presidency was so awful that they were okay with shooting innocent people just to stop him. And this is after he was already president and none of the things the media is fear mongering about happened during his first term. Those people just wanted to see a man speak. To have some hope for the future. And some piece of shit shot them because he didn't like a presidential candidate. Or worse, because the TV made him scared.

Fifth, fuck the media. You think you hate them enough, but you don't. The media is the driving force behind our enemies, and there's no such thing as a good journopig. They're all lying propagandists. We just like some of them because their propaganda occasionally hits on the truth.

And that's all I got. None of this is organized, none of this is proofread. These are just the thoughts I've been wrestling with for the past few hours. This is the only place I can get them all down without being interrupted or feeling like I need to censor myself. Do with them what you will.

[ventique18]

~ Unwilting Flower~ 🐉🌸

It's Valentine's Day. Your friends are giving each other flowers just for the heck of it, because if they're not going to celebrate it, who else would? You yourself are already committed, but real friends don't exclude anyone. So that means you're part of their celebration too.

And you could only guess what the exact thought process is going on in his head when your darling-- your Valentine Malleus Draconia's delightful smile turns into a deep scowl the moment he sees you carrying a bundle of assorted flora in your arms.

"Hmph. Wait for a moment."

He disappears without your confirmation. Why, is he jealous? You shrug and thought you'd just let him simmer down on his own-- you have nothing to feel guilty about. He knows your bonds with your friends are strictly platonic. If he feels jealous in any way, he could just join your merry band of flower giving, present something to everyone, and receive some himself.

... And then you arrive at your classroom for that hour... to a blossom of multicolored roses decorating your desk; as gaudy as a flower cake, with only a few inches of blank space left in the middle. As if the decorator only realized at the last second that you're supposed to be studying and not gardening.

You can't help but feel everyone's gaze on you throughout the entire lecture, naturally.

But that's not even the end of it. Random bursts of flower petals would shower on you when you enter a room. A student you don't know the name of would present you a bouquet of various knickknacks for seemingly no reason. (You note that they're all suspiciously wearing Diasomnia uniform.) And flowers start blooming at your feet when you accompany Grim to the field for his Spelldrive practice.

But the straw on the camel's back is when you go back home. Right there, in the dead center of your lounge, sitting pretty and sipping tea-- is the main culprit. Surrounded by what you would guess are thousands, and thousands, of roses.

Ever the pleasant look on his face, he smiles slowly at you with a clink of his teacup. "Did you like my little surprise for you?"

"Little--"

You have to remind yourself that this man has no common sense.

You refuse to sit next to him even as he discreetly pats the empty space on the couch. "Well, I appreciate it. It really made me feel the depth of your love for me--"

"The depth of my love? If you believe it so, then I must offer you more posthaste--"

"That's, that's exactly my reservation... I think you don't need to be this excessive. I mean," You gesture helplessly to the roses around you, "It'll make me sad when all of this wilts."

You see him surprised for a second. Does he finally understand? Did he get that the cleanup will be a huge pain? You live alone, and you're sure as hell Grim wouldn't be willing to help play janitor for an entire day.

"Then," he grins at you amusedly, as if you just asked if he knew how to spell his name, "If you wish to be reminded of my devotion to you every waking day, then it'll be child's play for me to ensure than not a single petal wilts for as long as you live."

No! Absolutely not!

"Hornton. I thought you'd have understood who I am at this point." You look away from him, a bit nervous to be rejecting his efforts when he looks so earnest in trying to win your approval. "You know I'd rather spend time with you. A little bit of wine and dine, maybe? Maybe watch a cheesy movie or two."

He pauses. Looks at you seriously. He seems to have caught on.

He stands up, and every blossom in the room-- every rose petal on the carpet and every vine that carefully lined the curtains, disappears with a sparkle. Devoid of the sudden fancy, only the bare homeliness of your dorm remains.

He doesn't walk to you, but he attracts your gaze anyway. "My apologies. I seemed to have focused on satisfying myself, rather than think of what would satisfy you."

You smile reassuringly. "It's alright. I know how hard you try."

It's you who finally approaches. You stop in front of him, then take his hands in yours. He returns the gesture by affectionately rubbing the tips of your fingers, and there you're reminded of how much heavier he can show love through little actions like this, compared with the pomp of public exhibitions.

You entwine your fingers together.

"But why the sudden display? Were you jealous?" You ask.

He urges you to sit down with him. "Jealous?"

"That our friends gave me flowers."

Our friends. The corners of his lips quirks up at that; in his eyes, it's the little considerate messages that you weave in your words that makes you stand out from everyone else.

"No. In fact I'm delighted that they appreciate you. It's just..."

"Just..?"

"... That I saw Schoenheit behind you, carrying a much larger bouquet than you were. I thought he did not deserve to be the most appreciated person in this place."

"... And so you... tried to one-up him by doing all that for me?"

He nods.

And you laugh.

"What's so amusing?"

He really doesn't realize how funny he is sometimes. You cover a hand to your mouth to try and slow down the giggles. "You're so unpredictable. I just can't correctly guess what goes on in your head."

"It's you who's unpredictable."

"Then that's good, isn't it? We have an eternity to try and decipher what each other's thinking." Your gaze roams; settling on his tea gone cold, "Then at the end of the world... we can reveal our answers and decide who got each other most accurately."

The crinkles on his brows slowly smoothen when he takes in your words. His hands unconsciously trail to the inside of his coat; toying with something as he wonders idly.

"... I have something for you." He says solemnly.

You stop giggling, but the smile remains on your face. "Don't tell me it's another Valentine's token. Maybe chocolate?"

He grins, but doesn't answer you. Instead, his hands wander to your jacket; fingers expertly pinning something on the lapel. Just above your left breast.

"A gift for you, but a promise to myself as well."

It's a brooch. Perhaps a bit more simple in design-- a tasteful black with a muted sheen of alexandrite-- definitely not themed around the gaudy red of Valentine's, but very distinctively him.

"May I always be the one closest to your heart, and though our bodies may decay before the end of time..."

You press his hands closer to your chest; determined not to let go as you finish his promise for him. For yourself.

"May this unwilting flower bear witness to the many promises we will make, and how we stayed true to all of them."

[steddiealltheway]

It's a random Wednesday night, and Steve is hanging out with Eddie Munson. Not that that's exactly a weird thing anymore since the world went to shit and Eddie had this whole "you saved my life and I'm going to annoy you for the rest of yours to show my gratitude" type of thing going on. (And yes, he had said those exact words so many times that Steve had memorized them).

But tonight, they kind of just... sit. Not that Steve is complaining. He hates being alone, and always has, so just having someone next to him is nice.

He glances over at Eddie whose eyes are shut, so Steve allows himself to really look.

He had always prided himself in knowing he was comfortable enough in his masculinity to notice when men were attractive. And Eddie certainly was very very attractive. And strangely... pretty.

He has those nice big eyes that make Steve wonder if it makes girls feel all tingly when Eddie looks at them. If they notice the way he's not afraid to make eye contact and lean into it until it feels like he's got their soul on display and memorized it.

He wonders if the girls stare at his full lips and if their hearts flutter when he runs his tongue over his top lip. If they feel all warm and flushed when they imagine what it would be like to feel their lips against his.

Steve nearly groans at the thought for some reason. He wonders if Eddie would kiss a girl gently as if she were fragile or if he would be rough and enthusiastic with the same energy he usually has buzzing around him whenever he walks into a room. He wonders if the girl would run her hand through his hair, and if it's as soft as it looks or if her fingers would get tangled and pull-

"You've gotta stop looking at me like that," Eddie says, startling Steve out of his thoughts as he notices his eyes are now open and on him.

He takes a moment to collect himself and process what he just said. "Like what?"

Eddie looks at him and turns his head away, and Steve tries not to get lost in his profile and the slope of his nose-

Eddie sighs and shakes his head, muttering something like I guess now is the time under his breath, and Steve has no idea what that means. "I mean," Eddie starts and glances at Steve nervously, "You have to stop looking at me with that Harrington look. The one that charms all those girls out of their pants."

Steve scoffs, "I don't have a look."

"You do," Eddie insists as his hand comes up to fiddle with his rings.

Steve looks at Eddie's hands and pulls his eyes away before his thoughts run a mile a minute. "Okay, so maybe I do, but why can't I look at you like that?" As soon as Steve asks, he knows it's a stupid question, but he hopes Eddie gets what he means.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him and shakes his head. His mouth opens and closes and he groans, leaning over to grab his beer and chug half of it in one go. Steve tries not to look at the tendons in his neck as he swallows.

"Because I'm not those girls," Eddie says as he puts his can back down, "But I certainly think like them."

Steve tilts his head a little and knows that Robin would laugh at him for doing the golden retriever look as she puts it, but he's confused. He guesses by Eddie's sigh that the metalhead can tell he needs more explanation.

Eddie's knees come up to his chest as he turns towards Steve. "Just don't... punch me, okay?"

Steve nods and wonders what that means.

Eddie takes a deep breath and his damn tongue worries his top lip, and it's almost so distracting that Steve almost doesn't hear him say, "I'm gay."

It takes Steve a while to process, and he feels like for some reason his whole view of Eddie changes but... in an exciting way. Almost anticipatory. But he's also still so Eddie that Steve just kind of shrugs.

Apparently, his reaction is a little too late because Eddie is rambling as if he needs to defend himself as he explains, "At first I thought I was maybe bisexual or something, and I held out hope that maybe some girl would come along and I would be wooed or whatever, but then I realized all these crushes I had on girls were kind of just friend crushes and I didn't want to kiss them but-"

"What's bisexual?" Steve asks and continues, "Like what does that mean?"

"It's when a person like girls and boys," Eddie explains and continues on.

But Steve hears nothing else Eddie rambles on about because all that's happening in his head is little flashes of memories of all these men he's found attractive, and how he thought it was normal for men to feel all fluttery when they see another attractive man. Especially one like Eddie who makes Steve feel like his heart is about to rip out of his chest, but he just thought that's how Eddie makes people feel... especially girls.

Or maybe especially guys. Especially guys like Steve.

Shit. Holy shit.

"Steve?" Eddie asks gently, "Are you okay?"

Steve glances back at Eddie and looks at him. Like really really looks at him. And then he focuses on how he feels.

Like maybe... maybe the girls he always wonders about... maybe they're him. Maybe he wants to know what it's like to kiss Eddie and run his hands through his hair. Maybe he's...

"There's that look again," Eddie teases lightly but Steve can see the thin veil of terror he's trying to hide in his features.

"What was that word again?" Steve asks sounding more breathless than he realized he was.

Eddie furrows his brow and shakes his head.

"The bi... the bicycle type word," Steve explains hoping that'll work well enough since he can't properly say the definition right now.

"Bisexual?" Eddie tries.

Steve nods and mumbles, "Bisexual." It feels... weird. But it feels right. But it also feels almost shameful? And how the hell did he not realize this until now?

"Steve," Eddie says and lays his hand over Steve's. His rings are cold against Steve's hand.

"Eddie, what if?" Steve takes a deep breath and tries again, "What if that was me?"

Eddie stares at him for a moment and just nods slowly looking deeply lost in thought until he suddenly clears his throat and asks, "Have you ever felt... attracted to a man or wanted to kiss one?"

Steve can't help but have his eyes flicker down to Eddie's lips. "Yes," he says without thinking too hard about it.

Eddie's eyes flicker to Steve's lips as he practically whispers, "I told you, you got to stop with that look."

"Is it working?" Steve asks as he leans in.

He doesn't expect the hand to his chest as he's shoved back lightly but firmly. "You just figured out what bisexuality is, you can't just..." Eddie's hands flap about as he gestures between them.

"Says who?" Steve asks and Eddie just gestures more and mumbles some incoherent phrases. Steve gently grabs his hands and holds them still. "Eddie, I really want to kiss you."

Eddie's eyes widen as he mutters out, "The speed at which you're bypassing this gay panic is alarmingly fast."

"Bisexual panic," Steve corrects trying the word out again to make sure he got it right plus to tease Eddie who huffs. "If you don't want to kiss me, you can just say it," Steve says, thinking that's maybe the problem.

Eddie shakes his head and rambles out, "I've wanted to kiss you since you ripped that damn bat's head off, Christ." He flails back and runs his hands over his face before turning back to Steve and inching closer to him. "Just... promise you won't punch me if you hate this?"

"Promise," Steve says with a wide smile as he cups Eddie's face.

"Holy shit, I'm about to kiss Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington is about to kiss m-"

"Eddie?"

Eddie hums in response.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," Steve says, trying not to laugh as Eddie seems to be panicking about this way more than he is.

Eddie nods and leans forward along with Steve.

Their lips meet and Steve can't help but smile slightly against his lips as Eddie treats him like Steve had half imagined - sweet and gentle as if Steve were the most fragile thing in the world. Then, the kiss shifts as Eddie's lips move roughly against his, using that same frantic, manic energy he always has as his hands come up to tug Steve's hair.

Steve groans and realizes he can do that too, and Eddie's hair is just as soft as he imagined, but then Eddie's pulling away and Steve is chasing after his lips before he notices the look Eddie is giving him. Is this okay?

"Definitely bisexual," Steve announces before pulling Eddie back in and kissing him again.

He's going to have a field day telling Robin later.

AO3 Link :)

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie threw an arm over Steve's shoulder, bringing him into a half-hug, “So, what did you guys think?”

“It was great!” Steve said quickly, relaxing into Eddie’s side, “You guys killed it, dude!”

“He’s right,” Robin agreed, “It was awesome! Super, duper fun and we’re so glad we got to see it. But actually, we kinda got to go-”

Eddie frowned, the loose grip he had over Steve’s shoulder tightening on it’s own accord, “Go where? Don’t tell me you guys are tired already?”

For some reason, Robin didn’t look at him after he asked the question. Instead she looked to Steve, a brow raised as she waited for something. But then Steve was giving her a subtle nod, her queue to start talking again. She leaned in closer, whispering as loud as she could in the noisy environment, “So… you’re like cool, right? Steve said you were cool.”

Eddie cocked his head at her, beyond confused, “I-yes? I guess?”

“About the thing?” She pressed, jerking her head his direction, “Steve’s thing?”

“Oh!” Eddie blurted, finally catching on. But he still didn’t get what Steve being gay had to do with them ditching. He nodded quickly, “Very cool with it. Have zero issues.”

It was almost true. Whatever issues Eddie had with Steve’s sexuality involved his own bullshit more than anything else. Plus, his answer had Robin smiling. Gesturing for Eddie to lean in closer, “Good. Because we, um. Share the affliction if you catch my drift.”

“That’s fine,” Eddie said, not missing a beat. He had kind of figured that out along the way. Considering the process of elimination on who could have possibly talked Steve through his queer thoughts. Not that Eddie cared, “No problem here.”

“Good!” She said with a grin, “Then you know just how limited our options are where we live. And according to an insanely pretty girl, there is an honest to god gay bar, like a few blocks away!”

Eddie swallowed, discomfort suddenly settling in at the suggestion, “T-That’s where you guys are going?”

“Yeah!” She said excitedly, setting her sights back onto Steve, “It’s time for someone to realize that we are hot enough to flirt and be flirted with! Closets don’t matter when you’re hours away from home.”

“We share the exact same closet,” Steve groaned, “Don’t start preaching to me.”

“And tonight we can escape from it!” Robin argued, “Come on! Eddie’s going to be busy with his friends and groupies anyway. What else are we doing-”

“I’m actually not that busy,” Eddie interrupted, trying his damndest to keep his voice calm. Suddenly, he felt nauseous again. He didn’t-He knew Steve could handle himself. He did. B-But creeps were everywhere! And he wasn’t used to being around guys who only wanted one thing and Robin would be distracted with girls a-and Eddie was really struggling with this idea.

Though Steve seemed to disagree. The next thing he knew, Steve was smiling back at her. Letting out a good-natured sigh, “Fine, fine! We can go. Someone has to make sure you don’t get kidnapped.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Robin nearly squealed, bouncing a little in her seat, “This is gonna be so fun!”

Eddie’s heart squeezed uncomfortably in his his chest at the excitement, dread starting to fill him. He opened his mouth, words escaping before he could even think of it, “Sounds like you two might need a D.D. I can do it.”

It was probably the first time Eddie had ever invited himself to something he clearly wasn’t a part of. But he had to give himself some credit for how smoothly it came out. 

Robin looked up at him, clearly surprised, “Really? It’s not exactly your scene.”

Eddie shrugged, “It could be. I like George Michael.”

Steve snorted next to him, “That is the one true gay litmus test. You got us there.”

“Seriously though,” Eddie pressed, refusing to let it go, “Then you can both drink, dance, have fun. And not worry about how you’re getting back to the hotel.”

“But don’t you want to stay here?” Steve asked, “Robin wasn’t kidding about the groupies. You should have heard what some of them were saying.”

“You could definitely get laid,” Robin added. She was staring at him now, looking at Eddie in a way that seemed a little past confused. Like she was examining him. Testing him. Or maybe that was just in his head. 

Eddie held firm, “Maybe, but I’d rather hang out with you two vs playing wingman to the boys. What do you say?”

“If you really don’t mind…” Steve said, trailing off. But Eddie could tell that he was happy. He could barely keep his smile to himself as he looked to the side, biting his lip in a way that Eddie fucking knew other people would notice. How could they not? 

from the next chapter of this fic

[kenyummy]

MISTER TUTOR ꒰⚘݄꒱ YUKIMIYA KENYU

[NSFW] SYNOPSIS : yukimiya kenyu is your tutor. by extension, he is also your favourite victim to tease. also by extension, you two always end up in the exact same way each and every tutoring session.

note : hi this is smut !!!! mostly pwp so heh. heh. theres a severe lack of kenyu fics on tumblr and everywhere honestly so i decided to be a good samaritan and do my part in adding to his slowly growing fic collection. i love love love kenyu hes my boyfriend forever and ever <333 also reposted from my wattpad which u should so check out btdubs

Yukimiya isn't sure when, but eventually, tutoring you took up a huge portion of his life. First assigned for a homework task that you had not completed—his teacher made him tutor you on how to do it and exactly how to hand it in.

Then, his math teacher made him study with you, since you were falling so far behind. You and him spent hours studying together, but nothing ever worked. Either you got him too riled up to continue this session (which really, led into a session of something else), or you yourself were way too unfocused to even consider actually trying to learn from the boy in front of you.

Either way, you and he did not mesh well together, especially in a study-like area. In a library—you were far too loud. At home (either one of your houses)—he was practically asking you to feel him up, God forbid you two were left alone in the house, as well. Even at school, you kept finding yourself getting distracted by the multitude of people that pass by, and every little thing around you intrigued you more than your work ever did.

You never read your assigned novels, something which he couldn't understand. It was just reading, and yet, you acted like it was the hardest thing in the world to do? Whatever the reason was (perhaps you could simply not read), Yukimiya needed to find a strategy that worked for you.

As your (self-proclaimed) tutor, was it not his job to make it so you don't flunk every single test? He thought so.

So, he went through various strategies with you. Studying in timeslots—it didn't work, because when you took a break, you decided that you didn't feel like going back to doing boring old work. Cramming everything in at the last minute—this worked a little better, but was still a giant failure. Sure, it had you actually studying, but you forgot everything as soon as you walked into the test room since your mind had no time to actually process it all.

Whatever it was—it was like your entire being refused to study like it would kill you (from how badly your grades are dropping, he isn't sure that's the only thing that will). A vivid procrastinator, that's what you are. Still, Yukimiya Kenyu is nothing but determined. When he's set on something —you best believe he'll go out there and get it like a champ.

That's why he was sure that this study method—tailor made to fit you—would absolutely, undoubtedly work.

You were surprised when Yukimiya asked you if you wished to spend this week's weekend study session at his house. (He isn't dumb, in fact, he's the complete opposite—and he knows exactly where you two "studying" at a private place like home leads).

So why did Yukimiya ask this? Has he perhaps turned over to the dark side? The thought of that—and perhaps, at what's to come—makes your stomach twist in excitement.

The day came without so much of a hitch. You spent the last few days of the week lazing as usual—your mind couldn't leave the thought of this weekend's "study" sesh with your favourite boy alone.

You wondered this, even as you took a train and made your way to his house—you've been there so often that his address was practically branded into your brain—and you thought about all the things he'd make you do.

Your face flushes.

As soon as you ring the doorbell—you stand outside waiting for less than a minute—you catch sight of Yukimiya Kenyu himself. Clad in a flowy, white dress shirt, and baggy grey sweatpants—he looked deliciously domestic, and it made your heart race in your chest. Especially when he spares you that smile—that godawful, lady-killer smile that could knock somebody dead—you think you may faint on the spot.

"You're just on time. My parents are going out to see my grandma, so it'll just be me and you alone for a few hours. Should be more than enough time for substantial studying, no?"

Alone? Few hours? Come on, Yukki, you know me better than that.

Now, you were starting to grow suspicious at his deliberate choice of wording and his all-too-well grin. Yukimiya Kenyu... what are you planning? Are you actually planning on getting any work done? No, not really. But that doesn't mean you can't be suspicious of this pretty boy in front of you. A studious, straight-A nerd would surely not fall into his tempting desires without at least a little bit of prodding—which is exactly why you're so wary of this whole setup.

You're led to the familiar sight of his room, somewhere you've been countless times before, same as always. You make yourself comfortable on his bed and watch as he pulls in a second chair to sit at his desk. He sits down at the one he just brought in, and motions for you to take a seat beside him on the chair he had originally had on his room.

His smile is so guileless, you can hardly get a good read on what he's feeling. It almost makes you nervous. Still, you obey, and take a seat, watching silently as he pulls out a few binders and unclipped a piece of paper. A mock test.

Wow, already? He was making you go through a practice test based on the subjects you're learning in math at the moment. Well, this wasn't too surprising. Yukimiya usually went through these with you anyway, so he could get a feel for how much you know about the subject already.

He snuffles his chair closer, eyes gleaming behind lens, "We should spend today going over these questions. If that doesn't take much time, we can just spend the rest of the day chilling out."

Yeah, we all know what you mean by "chilling out".

You nod, back slumped into the chair behind you and you groan, "Ugh... that sounds boring at hell... Can't we do something more fun, Yukki?"

With a cheeky grin and a knowing glance at the bed behind you—you think you make your intentions abundantly clear. You're certain he knows what you mean—this is always how you get what you want, after all.

By now, he'd be pink-cheeked, or perhaps even sloppily making out with you already, but not this time. He keeps the same blank, air-headed expression that he's plastered on his face since this whole tutoring thing started. "No, not this time. I've thought of a way to help you remember the fornulas, actually. I'm sure this strategy will work."

You raise a brow, clearly suspicious of his judgement. He said that same thing the past three times, and you ended up failing said three tests. "Really?"

He nods, smiling, "Really. Let's just start, and I'll try to incorporate it as naturally as possible."

Strange choice of words—but you like to trust your Yukki, so you don't question it. You and him quickly flip to the first page, and it starts with a question on area for a shape you do not recognise—with all sorts of numerals and numbers that it already makes your head spin.

"Do you understand how to solve for x?" He asks, and you think it's easier to straight up say no, rather than lie and look stupid, so you shake your head. "Alright. I'll try to explain it the best I can."

He starts talking, but it's hard to focus when his big hand is taut on your bare thigh, rubbing up and down mindlessly on the skin. You didn't realise he'd come so close to you—he's practically pressed up against your side.

Whatever. You try not to think too much of it. You focus on the sound of his words and sort of figure out how to solve what they're asking, "So, to find x, first you have to use the measurements already given, and then times that?"

He nods, "Yes, but that's not the end. You then still have to find y and z."

You groan, running a hand through your hair and sighing loudly—showing off your exhaustion five minutes into the session, "Ugh... this is taking forever... is this shit seriously on the test?"

Yukki leans up and presses a peck to your forehead. It feels oddly romantic, it makes you blush, "I know it's long, but you'll get it. Just focus, alright? I promise you'll understand if you do."

You really hope his mystery study method actually works.

Yukki continues trying to explain the concepts and formulas on how to solve the shape on the paper—and you're trying, you really are, but his fingers inch up, further and further and it makes it really damn hard to concentrate.

(Curse him, and the stupid effect he has on you.)

His hand stops moving for a moment, and you finally feel like you can breathe again. His words finally stop sounding like a jumbled mess and more like actual teaching, "I get it! You just..."

You proceed to re-explain the concepts he brought up, and worked out the question on the paper with ease. Yukimiya grins, perfect pearly whites behind his teeth and he's clearly proud, "Good girl. You're actually listening to me this time. Let's move on to the next question."

An algebraic expression—so many letters, numbers and symbols and you don't know what half of them mean. Yukki takes one good look at your face and understands exactly what's going through your head—absolutely nothing.

He begins to explain the equation to you once more—his hand inches up even further. It has practically disappeared under your skirt.

Is he doing this on purpose? You can't help but wonder, heat crawling up your neck and your stomach feels tense with anticipation. Usually, you'd think he would be—but he's not even looking at you, completely and utterly focused on the question.

Maybe he doesn't even realise.

The thought makes your skin crawl, but you push down these feelings (and try to ignore the soft touch of his fingers on your inner thighs), attempting at solving the question.

He shakes his head, brown curls falling over his pretty eyes. "No, that's not how you do it. I'll show you."

He leans forward and takes the pen from your hand—fingers brushing over yours—and wastes on time in solving the question while explaining its properties and what steps you need to take. Yukki is a good teacher. He's smart, he's thorough, and he makes sure you understand everything before you two move on.

But you really, really, can't focus because his fingers are now right atop your clothed cunt, stroking softly—it's driving you mad—and languidly, like it didn't do anything to you.

You hiss through your teeth when his index finger brushes over your clit, "Yukki..."

He looks so genuinely confused you almost believe he does not realise what he's doing, "Hm? What? Do you not understand?"

You furrow your brows in an angry motion, "No, are you kidding? You... You're—" The words die in your mouth as soon as you catch sight of the glowing, very much teasing, smirk on his lips.

Fuck. He does know what he's doing. Fucking prick.

You swallow thickly when his fingertips press a little harder, "Is this seriously the strategy you were talking about?"

He still acts oblivious, despite the way he's unabashedly glowing with joy, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Let's just get back to the question. Do you understand it?"

You suck up your pride and take the pen from his grasp—solving the question easily. Yukimiya places his free hand on your head and pats it as a reward—his fingers stop moving so you have time to recuperate your thoughts—but this process soon repeats itself through the next three questions.

You can hardly think straight—but, a thought passes over your mind that maybe if you finish this up as soon as possible—he will finally stop teasing.

You find yourself working as quickly as possible—the sight is enough to please him. Perhaps this strategy really was working. Yukimiya thinks he's struck gold.

You look just like a regular diligent student—well, as diligent as a student can get with a hand shiver with their skirt. You're solving these questions with minimal difficulty and you're actually showing your working out. He hasn't felt this proud since he brought his pet turtle to show and tell in seventh grade (you teased him relentlessly for weeks after that, but he took like like a champ out of love for his pet).

... But still.

Perhaps a part of Yukimiya is rather selfish. A little voice that would never speak unless he found himself caught in a situation like this with you speaks up inside his brain—which makes his eyes glaze over with a sultry gleam and a small, almost harmless thought appear in his head.

What if...

With his sudden movement, you jolt in your chair and  hands fly to his wrists, clutching it over the fabric of your skirt. "Y... Yukki—!!! W—What—"

His two middle fingers plunge deep into your cunt and immediately take up a relentless pace—your chest begins to heave as he consistently keeps pressing against that soft, squishy spot inside of you that makes your mind fog up.

There's��no freaking way you can act like— The thought dies in your throat when the heel of his palm rubs against your clit and you bite back a small whine.

The small little clicking sound that is made each time he thrusts his fingers in and out is almost inaudible in your ears when he begins to speak, lips brushing against your ear, "Keep going, gorgeous. Don't let me stop you now. You're doing so good."

Your leg jitters against him when he smiles against your ear and he feels your cunt pulse.

Still, you pick up your shaky fingers and try to keep a steady grip of the pen—it's hard when all you want is to throw your head back on his shoulder and sit there all pretty for him—but you know better than to ignore Yukimiya Kenyu.

Despite his gleeful demeanor, he seems to take joy in asserting himself over you. You wondered if maybe he just had a sick kink.

Every time you came close to solving the question—he would press harder and harder, and every time you tried to lean back onto his shoulder, he would stop abruptly and ask you what you think you are doing.

You just could not win with Yukimiya Kenyu.

He's driving you crazy. Maybe this is how you make him feel on a daily basis—but you actually think you're going to go mental from this torture. Your handwriting had gotten noticeably messier and more shaky every time you tried to solve that question—even when you did, his pace was absolutely relentless. He did not let up.

"Yukki!" You whine out, cheeks all puffed like a cute little fish and you glare at him with so much anger he actually almost feels bad for a second. Almost.

He takes far too much enjoyment in something like this to feel any menial sense of guilt toward you. Besides, it's not like you didn't have this coming. Despite all this, he knows you will take whatever gives you graciously because you are absolutely enamored with him.

(He thinks that, with a small smile. It's okay for him to say that, right? It's not like it's not reciprocated.)

"Yes?" He responds, slowly, teasingly. He can feel your thigh start to shake as a sign of your impending orgasm, so he starts to slow his thrusts—the tantalizingly sluggish drag of his fingertips across your walls give you a little more than nothing.

You could scream in frustration. He grabs ahold of your thigh and tugs it over his left leg, so that you don't get a chance to close your thighs are his hand—it makes it all the more torturous.

Your words are breathy and heavy on your tongue, "Yukki... lemme... please let me—"

His thrusts speed up, and his thumb begins to rub hard circles on your clit. Your chest heaves with each breath and you start to moan sweetly into his ear. You throw your head back, onto his shoulder and grip onto your skirt—but this time he does not stop. In fact, he seems to go even faster.

You can practically envision the smug expression he must have on his face at this moment—his ego fed and arrogance through the roof. "What? You wanna cum?"

Mindlessly, and desperately, you nod. White-hot fire starts to churn in your lower belly and it spreads to the tips of your toes when he keeps rubbing harder. You're getting close, with your stomach twisting and heart beginning to beat in your ears.

"Y—Yeah... please..." Somehow, you manage right choke that out and whimper right into his ear.

Your thighs begin to shake. He does not stop. "You wanna feel good, gorgeous? Go ahead." He presses a soft, chaste kiss to your temple—an almost laughable contrast to how you're nearly brought to tears by your orgasm, lower half shaking and rutting up into his unrelenting touch with a sense of desperation.

He likes it when you're desperate. It makes you all the more cute.

He helps you ride out your pleasure, all with a pretty grin. Your babbling thanks and praises for his fingers soon die down when your post-orgasmic haze hits you, and you lean back into his touch with low breaths.

After a few minutes of him just holding you like this, hand placed lightly on your thigh—you look up at him, then down, then back up again. "You want me to help you out with that?"

He seems to be slightly taken aback by your bold offer—despite moments before, he sported a cocky smirk and sultry gaze—but manages to gather his composure quickly enough to answer.

He shakes his head and gazes at you kindly, "Oh, you don't have to. I still need to teach you some more formulas—"

Your brows furrow and your remove your leg from over his. "Yukki—don't be like that. Lemme take care of you, okay? Yeah..."

A smile falls upon your lips as his cheeks grow pink. Even when your duck down below his desk—it feels all so surreal. Even when you tug down his grey sweats that did not hide anything, it almost feels like a figment of his imagination.

It no longer does when he feels the fiery enclosure that is your lips wrap around the redden leaky tip of his cock. Yukimiya slaps a hand over his mouth and squeezes his eyes taut shut. His heart is beating a million miles an hour in his chest. He feels like he cannot breathe, but the air gets knocked out his lungs all the same when your move your mouth down.

You use your hand to spread his pre around the base of him—jerking off what your mouth did not fit, until you go a little lower. He thinks his face may be on fire. The hand that does not cover the lower half of his face grips the edge of his table with full force.

He dares not to look down at you and dares not to catch the nasty, foxish gleam in your eyes.

You go down more, then back up. You press a chaste, loving kiss to the bulging tip, then, you go back down again. This time, a little further. You keep doing this until your jaw relaxes enough for your nose to press against the smooth skin of his abdomen—you allow your hands to wander his hard stomach.

"[name]..." His voice trails off shakily, a small moan escaping his lips as his hips jerk forward. You choke a little, but keep going. His glasses are growing foggy from his hot, heavy breaths and he doesn't think he's ever felt any hotter.

The room temperature must have shot up by at least twenty degrees. He feels searing.

Yukimiya's heart nearly beats out of his chest when you pull back once more, staring directly into his half-lidded, cloudy amber irises, and gave a sloppy kiss to the cute little freckle that was on the pulsing head of his dick.

His breathing picks up and his chest heaves. Fuck.

He groans aloud as your mouth sinks back down and your throat presses around his cock. His hips jerk forward again, and he takes this reaction as his opportunity to start thrusting. You suddenly sit still with your jaw as open as it would allow you to be—as Yukimiya lazily thrusts into your mouth.

His hand entangled itself into your hair and he grabs a tight hold of your head as he moves you to his heart's content. The wet choking noises that you make when your lips are snugly wrapped around the base of his cock give him butterflies.

He looks down at you, sweat beading on the side of his face and low grunts escaping his lips, "Ffffuck.... So... mmmm..."

He can hardly firm actual words—his head lolls back and his eyes shut in pure bliss.

Searing hot electricity zaps through his veins—his abdomen contracts, and it's a telltale sign he's getting closer. You use your tongue as much as possible while his thrusts are getting wild and erratic —his groans soon turn into desperate puffs of air.

"[name]...! Gonna..." His hot and heavy pants ring in your ears and his low groans are such a noise you'd never expect to come out of such a perfect pretty boy's mouth. He pants hard. "[name]...!! [name]...!!"

It seems your name is the only word he can formulate at the moment, when his cock twitches in your mouth and spurts of white shoot out the tip right into your throat.

He grabs your hair hard and presses you as close to his abdomen as you can get—hips shaky as you squeal and your throat instinctively tightens—the whine he lets out is something that will forever be imprinted into your memory.

You nearly cough it all up when he finally pulls out of your lips—breathing growing steady and shoulders relaxed into a calm posture—but you force yourself to swallow, and you give him the cutest smile you can possibly muster when you do.

Yukimiya stares down at you with hazy honeyed eyes filled with unbridled lust—hidden only behind the fogged up lens of his rounded glasses. "[name]... You..."

He looks embarrassed when you stick out your tongue at him and it is perfectly clean. He places a big hand on your head—a stark difference compared to his previous way of gripping your hair—he strokes it softly under his touch. "Good girl..."

He chuckles.

Yukimiya Kenyu looks absolutely debauched—you don't think you've ever seena prettier sight. His shirt is disheveled and his cheeks are a searing hot red. He is absolutely gorgeous.

That why, when you crawl up from your kneeling position, and he cradles your aching red knees when you place yourself flat on his lap, you kiss him with all the love you can muster. You do not feel much love—but all of the adoration you do feel is directed solely at Yukimiya.

"So, how did I do, Mister Tutor?" A teasing, coy smile places itself on your lips when you pull away, hand sneakily running itself all over his hard torso.

The smile he beams at you is nothing less than radiant. "A+."

© KENYUMMY 2024

[damn-stark]

Hi! I am not sure if you are still taking requests but if you do I have this idea where husband! Hwang Jun-ho and wife!reader expect a babyboy after he is done with the games and stuff and he can finally focus on his family he is extremely grateful to have. I dont know if this is interesting enough 😀

You come first

Hwang Jun-ho x fem!reader

A/N- this was such a great request thank you :)

Warning- Fluff! And talks of pregnancy

——

“Hello?” His call echoes down the hall as he walks past the front door.

He waits for an answer, but he receives silence, utter silence when usually you’d be quick to answer as you’re excited that he made it back home with a beating heart, but alas, there’s not even music playing from any part of the house. Usually, the music is on so the house doesn’t feel so alone, but…there’s silence.

Thus Jun-ho walks in further and calls out your name before following up with his next question. “Are you home?”

Silence is the immediate response once again, but this time he doesn’t get to fill it with one last question because you finally make yourself known. “Yes!”

Seconds later the sound of your feet hitting the floor grows louder the closer you get, until finally you round the corner of the hall and stop to greet him. “Hey.” You smile timidly, but Jun-ho doesn’t process the way you smile because he closes the gap between you to press a kiss on your cheek.

“Hey,” he says softly before pressing another kiss on your lips.

When he pulls back he raises the bag of take-out food to show it off. “Hungry?” He asks.

You sigh and nod stiffly before you leave the hall and take the bag of food to take it into the kitchen. Usually, you tend to fill this time with different conversations and questions, but nothing is said while you get ready for dinner and Jun-ho doesn’t even have the mind to question it because his mind is elsewhere just like yours.

Thus having two lost minds results in a prolonged silence that sticks with you until after dinner when you’re both in the kitchen washing the dishes you used.

“I want to tell you something,” Jun-ho breaks the silence first, making you lift your gaze off the dish you’re drying to look at him.

“What is it?” You probe.

Jun-ho draws out a deep breath and turns the water off to give you all his attention and not have the sound of the running water be a pesky third wheel. Which in turn makes you put the dry plate down to then give him your undivided attention.

“I decided…I am going to abandon my search of the Island and In-ho,” he reveals, causing your breath to hitch and words to fail to form in your mind, leaving room for him to continue.

“You gave me an ultimatum when I barely escaped with my life—”

“But I told you—” You cut him off but he doesn’t let you finish.

“It doesn’t matter if you took it back. A part of you still feels that way. You just chose to push it aside for the sake of our marriage,” he says everything you feel but never wanted to tell him for exactly that, the sake of your marriage. So now that he says the exact words you kept inside, you feel a weight lift off your chest, but something else still weighs you down.

“But I won’t put it at risk anymore. I won’t destroy my marriage or my family, and everything I love because of this obsession because you’re right…it was an obsession,” he continues to share everything that he was thinking over on his ride home and while you were eating dinner. “And I can’t let it continue to plague my every thought.”

You sigh deeply and slowly lower your head to gather your thoughts before you interject. “Are you sure?” You question him as you slowly meet his gaze again. Not because you doubt him, but because you know what it meant to him.

“Your brother. That Island. It all means too much to you for you to just throw it all away,” you get that last weight off your chest, making him close the small gap left between you to cradle your cheek ever so softly.

“I’m certain,” he presses confidently. “And you know why? Because I have you. You mean more to me than any of that. Besides, you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. I know that now.”

You let out a deep breath and cup his hand before offering him a relieved smile. “Good. I’m glad…I am sorry that you have to now suffer the pain of having to leave it behind, but I am happy you chose to,” you say softly before you caress the back of his hand and then lean in to gently smash your lips on his, bringing a passion that makes him cradle your face with two hands so he can deepen the kiss.

Sure the act of passion doesn’t last but that’s because you pull away with a shy smile and a gleam in your eyes. “I have to add that I am glad that you chose to leave that dangerous mission behind because I have something to tell you,” you pause and pull one of his hands off your face to press his palm on your belly.

Jun-ho is confused for a second, but only for a second because he then understands what you’re trying to tell him without using any words.

“Are you sure?” He gasps.

You grin slowly and nod. “I was reading the results the doctor sent when you came in,” you share your previous silence. And before either of you can embrace each other or make any sort of commotion, you wrap his hand with yours and pull it to your lips. “So promise me that you are certain about your choice because if you’re not and you leave again. I…won’t be here to wait for you. We’ll leave and this time there won’t be second chances because he comes first now.”

Jun-ho grabs your face again so you can hold his gaze and he nods confidently, making tears crawl out of your eyes and your heart tskip a beat with glee.

“You come first. You and our child,” he assures you with his eyes brimming with tears, but unlike you his tears don’t fall. He smiles a purely blissful smile as he looks at you with all the love in the world.

“And how can you possibly know that we’re having a boy?” He asks with a laugh.

You giggle. “I’m starting to manifest a boy.”

He chuckles and then pulls you for a long and loving kiss filled with all his joy and excitement, and overfilling you with that bliss as your lips are molded together.

[resident-idiot-simp]

Fuck the idea of the X-Men being concerned about their Logan after hearing about the new Logan and Deadpool won't leave my head.

This Logan is so violent and feral him and Deadpool have done unspeakable things to one another and enjoy it. They HAVE to wonder if their Logan was stopping himself from doing similar stuff.

The professor had said before his thoughts were pretty dark and Jean had seen stuff that had spooked her which lead to lots of distance between them multiple times. She had admitted to others it unnerved her because of just how violent some of it was. She has worried about those he was close to because of it.

Logan had been upset after that because he couldn't help it. It was just how his brain worked.

This Logan however was so much worse. It was beyond disturbing for Jean who had told the others. After this discovery the questions started.

Did their Logan deep down think and feel this way? Was this normal or was this Logan just different? Jean could confirm that in retrospect some of this was definitely in their Logan, but it was hard to say how much.

Maybe theirs had suppressed it well enough you would have to dig to find these thoughts. This Logan was much more animal then theirs was or was it that this Logan just isn't hiding it.

Deadpool has commented on it when asked saying this Logan was less worried about being himself and he loved it. One quote that got passed around was of him saying. "He's a feral he should be acting like this it's natural, do you guys just not know that? A bit pathetic considering this is a school."

That had caused quite a bit of ruckus considering the implications. Sure ferals existed and everyone knew they were more animal then human, but with them being as rare as they were you didn't see them often. Lots of people had only heard stories about them. Hearing and experiencing were two different things and Logan had always seemed pretty tame... Or at least compared to this new one.

When questioned on how he knew how ferals were supposed to act he laughed, "I'm a merc where do you think they go when you goody two-shoes won't take them in because they're too disturbing for you?" This statement too caused a lot of upset.

Deadpool seemed to have a lot of answers If they were true or not it was hard to tell and impossible to determine considering he didn't like sharing. He was insane sure but he seemed to always be right on things he went out of his way to predict or point out.

Someone eventually asked if the old Logan was the same, which had (for the first time the X-Men head ever seen) silenced him. It took him a while as he thought over the question before answering.

"Yes and no, no because If you train yourself out of habits and thought processes they usually die down. However if he just didn't stop himself he would be the exact same. Which honestly would have been better."

When asked to explain why exactly it would be better to be like the new Logan, Deadpool had looked...sad.

"Are you telling me you would rather live a life that's not really you? To be inauthentic just to fit other people's ideals? To change yourself so much that you become practically unrecognizable to the person you were?"

Silence followed that as wide eyes took in wisdom from the unlikely source.

"That's a sad life to live knowing everyone likes that inauthentic version of you better. That you can never be yourself and are shamed when you try to be. That's a damn travesty."

No one knew how to respond and Deadpool had just shrugged, "That's not a life I'd want to live, that I'd want anyone to live." He threw in before walking off to find his Logan and daughter who....oh...was that why Laura always seemed to hate this place?

(x)

[natsaffection]

Ohh an idea 💡 in my head and I know you are perfect to write this, basically reader is working at a company that is run by bad guys but doesn't know it, so natasha is sent on a mission to get close to her and gather Intel, so couple weeks pass and reader finds out in the most distraught way which causes her to end everything with Natasha but still have a good heart decides to give everything natasha needs to take down the company, (happy ending or sad ending either works) 💝

Showing everything. | N.R

Warnings: Just Angst?

Word count: 8,4k

A/n: I'm so grateful every time I finish a Ask that's been on my list for weeks. So thank you for your patience each time. 🫶🏼

You had always dreamed of finding a job where you could make a difference in the world, but you never thought it would come in the form of an elegant office in the heart of New York City. The building, a towering glass structure shimmering in the sunlight, housed one of the city's most prestigious companies. Kinetica Industries. They were known for their groundbreaking technology and humanitarian efforts, advancing medical equipment and energy supply that had revolutionized the industry. It was a dream job, almost impossible to turn down.

You stumbled upon the opportunity by chance. A late night scrolling through endless job listings led you to Kinetica's website. The company was looking for someone with your exact skills: data analysis and project management. The job description was vague but intriguing. Analyzing trends, managing large datasets, coordinating with various departments. It sounded challenging yet rewarding, the kind of opportunity you needed to prove yourself. The application process was quick, almost too quick. A few online assessments, a virtual interview with a charming man who headed your department, and within a week, you were offered the job. They said they were impressed by your resume, your background in bioinformatics, and your impeccable reputation. The salary was more than generous, with benefits that seemed almost too good to be true. But eager to start fresh and leave the stagnation of your previous job behind, you didn't question it further. You accepted immediately.

Your first day was a whirlwind of activity. The office itself was as impressive as the building's exterior. Elegant, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The air buzzed with innovation, with teams of people tirelessly working on the next big thing. You were given a tour, introduced to your colleagues. Bright, motivated people who all seemed to share your enthusiasm for the work. Your role was exactly as described, but with a small twist. You were part of a special project they called "The Initiative." It involved collecting and analyzing data from various sources to create predictive models that could be used for everything from disease prevention to energy distribution. It sounded noble, and you were thrilled to be part of something that could change the world.

But as you settled into your new role, you couldn't help but notice the layers of secrecy surrounding certain aspects of your work. Some files were restricted, accessible only with special clearance. Occasionally, your requests for specific datasets were met with vague answers or outright refusal. But whenever doubts arose, you reminded yourself that every company had its secrets, especially one as influential as Kinetica.

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit office in the underground levels of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Natasha Fury sat across from you, the tension in the air almost palpable. "Romanoff," Fury began, his single eye piercing through the twilight, "we have a problem. Kinetica Industries." Natasha leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "The tech company? They've been on our radar for a while, haven't they?"

"They have." Fury confirmed. "But new intel suggests they're more than just a tech company. We believe they're a front for something far more dangerous. We suspect they're involved in illegal arms trading, possibly even human experimentation. But we need proof." Natasha nodded, understanding where this was going. "And that's where I come in."

"Exactly. We've identified someone on the inside, Y/N Y/L/N. She's new, only started about a week ago. As far as we can tell, she's clean. No criminal record, no ties to any organizations. She's the perfect target to infiltrate." Natasha leaned forward, studying the file Fury slid across the table. Your face stared back at her from the photo clipped to the top of the file, a bright smile, eyes full of hope. Natasha couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, but she pushed it aside. This was a mission, and she had a job to do.

"What's the plan?" she asked, flipping through the file. "You'll go undercover as someone with a similar background, a data analyst, someone they might hire if the current employee doesn't work out. Your task is to gain her trust, find out what Y/n knows. If she's innocent, she might unknowingly be sitting on crucial information. If not.."

"I'll find out," Natasha finished, her voice cold and determined. Fury nodded, satisfied. "We need to act fast. Every day we wait is another day Kinetica could move their operations. I'm counting on you, Romanoff." Natasha stood up, tucking the file under her arm. "I won't let you down."

As she left Fury's office, her thoughts were already spinning with possibilities, strategies, and the cool detachment that came with every undercover mission. She knew this wouldn't be easy. You were innocent, or at least you seemed to be. But Natasha had learned the hard way that appearances could be deceiving. Her mission was clear: get close to you, gather the information, and expose Kinetica for what they really were. But as she prepared to step into your world, Natasha couldn't shake the feeling that this mission would become more complicated than she anticipated.

Your first weeks at Kinetica Industries were a whirlwind of new faces, complex datasets, and an overwhelming amount of information. You were slowly getting used to the office routine when you heard about the new hire. Natalie Rushman, as she was introduced, joined the team on a bright Monday morning. You first heard about her during the daily briefing. Your department head mentioned that Natalie was hired to assist with data analysis, given the increasing workload from "The Initiative."

"I want you to show her the ropes." Your boss said, his tone implying it was not a request. "She has a similar background to you, and I think you two will work well together." You nodded, trying to hide the concern you felt about being responsible for training someone so soon after starting yourself. You hadn't fully mastered your own tasks yet, and now you were supposed to mentor someone else? But you forced a smile and agreed, hoping that Natalie would be as easygoing as she seemed in her brief introduction.

It wasn't until later in the morning that you finally met her. You were in the office kitchen, struggling with the intricate espresso machine that seemed designed to torment anyone who wasn't a seasoned barista. You had managed to spill coffee grounds everywhere when you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

You turned around and saw Natalie standing there, a slight smile on her lips. Her red hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and she wore a white blouse and tailored black pants that made her look effortlessly professional. "Need some help?" Natalie asked, her voice warm and slightly amused. You laughed, embarrassed to be caught in the middle of your coffee disaster. "I think this machine was designed by someone who hates caffeine addicts."

Natalie stepped forward, gently nudging you aside. "Mind if I give it a try? I've had my fair share of battles with these things."

"Be my guest." you replied gratefully, stepping back. Natalie moved with practiced ease, quickly coaxing the machine into cooperation and brewing two perfect cups of espresso. She handed you one, which you accepted with a wide grin. "You're a lifesaver." you said, taking a sip. The coffee was perfectm. Rich, smooth, and exactly what you needed to get through the rest of the day. "I'm Y/n, by the way. I'm supposed to show you around today."

"Natalie." she replied, her smile deepening. "And I appreciate the help. The first days are always a bit overwhelming."

"Don't I know it.." you said, rolling your eyes playfully. "I'm still trying to figure out where half the supplies are kept around here." Natalie laughed, a genuine but slightly guarded sound, as if she was still feeling out her new environment. "I'm sure we'll figure it out together. So, what exactly are we working on?" You began explaining the project to her, giving her an overview of "The Initiative" and what your roles would be. As you spoke, you noticed that Natalie was a good listener, nodding at the right moments and asking insightful questions. It was clear she knew what she was talking about, and you felt a little more at ease, knowing you weren't dealing with a complete novice.

"So," Natalie said as you walked back to the office with your coffees in hand, "what made you decide to work here?" You shrugged, trying to put your thoughts into words. "I guess I wanted to be part of something bigger, you know? Kinetica is doing some amazing things..or at least that's what they tell us. It's nice to think that the work we're doing here might actually make a difference."

Natalie nodded thoughtfully, as if considering her own reasons for being here. "I can understand that. It's nice to feel like what you're doing matters." You arrived at your desk, which was temporarily doubling as Natalie's workspace until hers was ready. You showed her how to log into the system, where to find the files she needed, and how to navigate the company's complex database. As you worked together, you noticed how quickly Natalie picked everything up. She seemed almost too proficient, as if she knew the system better than someone on their first day should. But you brushed the thought aside, some people were just quick learners, you thought.

The day passed smoothly, with the two of you working side by side and getting to know each other in small increments between tasks. Natalie was friendly but reserved, sharing just enough about herself to seem open without giving too much away. You found that you liked your new colleague, appreciating her calm demeanor and quick mind.

By the end of the day, you had made significant progress on your tasks, and you were starting to feel a sense of camaraderie with Natalie. As you prepared to leave, you turned to her with a smile. “Thanks for today, Natalie. You made my job a lot easier.” Natalie returned the smile, her green eyes sparkling in the fading daylight. “The feeling is mutual. I think we’re going to make a great team.” You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest that you hadn’t expected. Maybe this new job wouldn’t be so overwhelming after all..

In the weeks that followed, the bond between you and Natalie deepened, evolving from a close friendship into something more intense, something charged. There was a tension between you that neither of you could ignore, a pull that grew stronger with every shared glance, every lingering touch. You had danced around your feelings for each other for a while, but the unspoken words were becoming harder to bear.

One evening, after another long day at the office, you found yourselves alone in the break room once again. The city lights cast a soft glow through the windows, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound breaking the silence. You sat closer than usual, your shoulders touching as you picked at the remnants of a shared dinner. Your heart raced, the proximity making it difficult to focus on anything other than the warmth of Natalie’s body next to yours.

“Natalie..” you began hesitantly, “I need to tell you something.” Natalie looked up from her food, her green eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “I..I’ve been trying to understand these feelings I have for you.. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone I work with, but I can’t keep pretending it’s not there. I care about you, Natalie. More than just as a friend.” The words hung heavy in the air between you, filled with the weight of their honesty. You watched Natalie closely, searching her face for any sign of rejection or discomfort. But what you saw instead was a softening in her expression, a warmth that she hadn’t fully shown before.

“Y/n,” Natalie said softly, reaching out to take your hand, “I feel the same way. I’ve tried to keep my distance, to stay professional, but..I can’t help it. I love you.” Your heart leaped at her confession, your pulse quickening as the truth settled between you. “You.. you love me?”

Natalie nodded, her thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “Yes, I do. And I’ve been so scared of what that means, but I can’t deny it any longer. I love you, Y/n.” The relief that washed over you was almost overwhelming, and without thinking, you leaned in and pressed your lips to Natalie’s in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and filled with all the emotions you had both been holding back.

Natalie responded immediately, her hand coming up to cup your cheek as she deepened the kiss, letting all her unspoken feelings flow into it. It was a moment of pure connection, where nothing else existed but the two of you and the love you shared. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to process what had just happened.

“I can’t believe this is real..” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “It is,” Natalie murmured, her eyes shining with affection. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, everything felt perfect. But as the warmth of the moment began to fade, a sharp pang of guilt pierced Natasha’s heart. She had just confessed her love to you, but the truth was far more complicated than she could admit. She wasn’t just Natalie Rushman, a data analyst who had fallen for her colleague..she was Natasha Romanoff, a spy sent to gather information from the woman she had just professed her love to.

As you sat there, your hand still in hers, Natasha knew she was at a crossroads. She had sworn to get the information she needed, to complete the mission no matter what. But now, with the thought of betraying you, her stomach twisted with guilt. “Y/n,” Natasha began, her voice heavy with what she was about to say, “I want us to be completely honest with each other. Totally honest. I need to know..is there anything about our project, about Kinetica, that seems strange to you? Anything that doesn’t add up?”

You frowned slightly, confused by the sudden change in topic. “What do you mean?” Natasha hesitated, hating herself for what she had to do, but knowing she had no choice. “I’ve just..noticed a few things that don’t quite fit. Some files that are restricted, some data that doesn’t quite match up. I thought maybe you’d noticed it too.” Your brow furrowed as you thought back over the past few months. “Well, there have been a few things that seemed odd, but I just figured it was part of working at such a high-level company. Why do you ask?”

Natasha swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep up the pretense. “I’m just worried, that’s all. I want to make sure we’re not missing anything important.” You nodded slowly, still puzzled but trusting Natalie’s concern. “I’ll keep an eye out, and if I notice anything, I’ll let you know. But..can we not talk about work right now? I just want to enjoy this moment with you.”

Natasha’s heart clenched at your words, the guilt threatening to overwhelm her. She had just used your moment of vulnerability to fish for information, and the realization made her feel sick. But she forced herself to push the guilt aside, to focus on the mission, even as it tore her apart inside. “Of course.” Natasha said softly, pulling you closer and kissing you again, trying to lose herself in the warmth and love she felt for you.

Weeks passed, and the bond between you and Natalie grew even deeper. Your relationship had blossomed into something beautiful, a refuge in the midst of the high-pressure jobs at Kinetica Industries. You spent as much time together as possible..dinners, quiet nights with movies, and long walks through the city. For you, it felt like you had finally found someone who understood you, someone you could trust completely. But for Natasha, the lines between her mission and her feelings for you were becoming increasingly blurred.

The guilt Natasha felt was a constant companion, gnawing at her whenever she saw your trusting smile or felt the warmth of your hand in hers. Natasha knew she was deceiving you, but every time she considered telling you the truth, the weight of her duty as an agent held her back. She had a job to do, and despite her feelings, she couldn’t abandon it.

One evening, after a particularly long day at the office, you invited Natasha to your place. You were behind on some work and needed to finish a report for the next day, but you didn’t want to miss out on spending time with Natalie. Natasha agreed, glad for any excuse to spend more time with you.

Your apartment was cozy and inviting, filled with the little details Natasha had come to love. Bookshelves overflowing with novels, a small collection of plants by the window, and a few framed photos of you with your family. You settled together on the couch, you with your laptop and Natasha with a book she had picked from your shelf. “I’m sorry I have to work tonight..” you said, giving Natasha an apologetic smile. “I just need to finish this report, and then I’m all yours.”

“Don’t worry.” Natasha replied with a smile of her own. “I’m just happy to be here with you. Take your time.” As you focused on your work, Natasha found herself watching you more than reading the book in her hands. The way your brow furrowed slightly when you were deep in thought, the absent-minded way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. All of it made Natasha’s heart ache with affection and guilt. But as much as she wanted to lose herself in these feelings, Natasha couldn’t forget why she was there. This was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. Your work might hold the key to the information S.H.I.E.L.D. needed, and Natasha had to take advantage of it, no matter how much it tore her up inside.

After about an hour, you stood up and stretched, yawning. “I need to make some tea. Want anything?”

Natasha nodded her head, giving you a reassuring smile. “This would be grate.” As you disappeared into the kitchen, Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest. This was her chance. She had to act quickly. She set the book aside and moved quietly to your laptop. The screen was still on, showing the report you were working on, but Natasha’s focus was on the folders and files scattered across the desktop. She opened one labeled “Project Data” her hands trembling slightly as she navigated through the documents.

Natasha scanned the files, her sharp eyes searching for anything that stood out or seemed significant. Most of the documents were routine. Xatasets, project reports, emails. But then she found something: a file titled “Confidential Research Notes.”

Her heart raced as she opened it and found a series of notes detailing experiments and datasets that she hadn’t seen before. It was more detailed than anything you had shown her at work, and as Natasha read through it, she realized it contained the kind of information S.H.I.E.L.D. had been looking for..details about Kinetica’s involvement in potentially illegal research, experiments that crossed ethical boundaries.

She heard the clink of a teacup in the kitchen, and panic surged through her. Quickly, Natasha copied the file onto a USB stick she had hidden in her bag. She had just closed the file when you returned, carrying twocups of tea. “Here you go.” you said with a smile, handing one of the cups to Natasha. “Thanks.” Natasha replied, taking the cup with slightly trembling hands and praying that you hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

You settled back down on the couch, taking a sip of your tea and letting out a contented sigh. “The report is almost done. After that, we can watch the movie you mentioned.” Natasha forced a smile, trying to push down the gnawing guilt and the tight knot in her stomach. “That sounds great.”

As you returned to your work, Natasha tried to relax, but the weight of what she had just done loomed over her. She had gathered the information she needed, but at the cost of betraying your trust. For the rest of the evening, Natasha was distant, her mind racing with thoughts of what would happen next.

You noticed the change in her demeanor and reached out to touch her arm, concern evident in your eyes. “Hey, is everything okay?” Natasha looked into your eyes, feeling her heart ache. “Yeah, I’m just..tired, I guess. It’s been a long day.”

You smiled gently and squeezed her arm. “I get it. We’ve both been working so hard lately. Let’s just relax tonight, okay? No more work, just us.” Natasha nodded, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Just us.” she repeated, her voice hollow. As you both snuggled up on the couch to watch the movie, Natasha tried to focus on the moment, to lose herself in the warmth of your presence. But no matter how hard she tried, the guilt and the knowledge of what she had done weighed heavily on her.

The following days were filled with an unbearable tension for Natasha. She knew she had to pass the information to S.H.I.E.L.D., but she dreaded what would happen when the truth came out. The time she spent with you, the smiles, the laughter, all felt tainted by the lie she was living. Finally, the day came when Natasha couldn’t put it off any longer. She knew she had to deliver the USB drive to S.H.I.E.L.D. The mission needed to be completed, but the thought of what that would mean for your relationship was almost too much to bear.

That evening, as you sat together at your kitchen table, your laptop open in front of you as you worked on another report, Natasha made her decision. She had to do this, even though it meant risking everything with you. But before she could leave, something happened that changed everything.

You called Natasha over, a confused look on your face. “Nat, can you look at something for me? This report doesn’t make sense.” Natasha’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression neutral. “Sure, what’s going on?” she asked, walking over to the table.

You pointed at the screen, your brow furrowed in confusion. “I just got this email from my boss, and he attached this report. It’s about a security breach at Kinetica. They’re trying to figure out who accessed some confidential files..” Natasha’s blood ran cold, but she kept her voice steady. “A security breach? What files are they talking about?”

You scrolled through the report, your frown deepening. “It doesn’t say exactly, but it has something to do with our project. They’ve narrowed down the list of suspects, but I don’t recognize most of the names..except for one.”

You paused, your eyes widening as you focused on a name in the list: Natasha Romanoff.

“Natasha Romanoff?” you whispered, confusion and disbelief clear in your voice. You looked up at Natasha, searching her face for answers. “Wait, is that you? Is this some kind of mistake?”

Natasha felt the walls closing in on her. There was no more hiding, no more pretending. The truth was out, and there was no going back. “Y/n,” she began, her voice trembling, “I need you to listen to me.” You took a step back, fear and suspicion creeping into your eyes. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice shaking.

Natasha’s heart broke at the sight of the fear in your eyes. “I’m still the same person, Y/n. I’m still me. But..I haven’t been honest with you.” Your hands shook as you hugged yourself, desperately trying to understand what was happening. “Who are you? Have you been lying to me this whole time?”

Tears welled up in Natasha’s eyes as she took a hesitant step toward you, but you flinched and stepped back. “Please, let me explain..” Natasha pleaded, her voice breaking. “My real name is Natasha Romanoff. I’m an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. I was sent here to gather information on Kinetica. But everything else..everything between us..it was real. My feelings for you, Y/n, are real.”

Your eyes darted around the room as if searching for something familiar, something to hold onto. But everything felt wrong. The woman you loved, the woman you trusted, was a stranger. “You used me?” you asked, your voice trembling with anger and fear. “You used me the whole time?”

“No!” Natasha said quickly, desperation creeping into her voice. “It started as a mission, yes, but I never meant to fall in love with you. I never wanted to hurt you. Please, Y/n, you have to believe me.” You shook your head, backing away until you hit the wall. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t even know who you are. Natasha Romanoff, S.H.I.E.L.D.… it sounds like something out of a Movie..”

Natasha’s heart shattered as she watched you crumble before her. She took a tentative step closer, her hands shaking. “I’m still the person you fell in love with, Y/n. I’m still the person who loves you more than anything. Please, let me explain everything.” You stared at Natasha, your heart breaking all over again. “You should have told me the truth from the beginning! But you didn’t. You lied to me, and now..now I don’t even know who you are..”

Natasha took another step forward, reaching out tentatively. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I’m begging you, please give me a chance to make it right.” You looked down at Natasha’s outstretched hand, but the fear and betrayal in your heart were too overwhelming. You couldn’t bring yourself to take it. “I can’t..” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this. I need you to leave.”

Natasha’s heart broke at your words, but she knew she had no right to ask for forgiveness, not now. “Y/n, I-”

“Just go!” you cried, your voice filled with agony. “Please, just go. I can’t look at you right now.” Natasha’s hands fell to her sides, her shoulders slumping as the weight of what she had done crashed down on her. She had lost you, and there was nothing she could do to fix it. But as much as it hurt, she knew she had to respect your wishes.

“I’m so sorry..” Natasha whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I love you, Y/n. I’ll always love you.” Without another word, Natasha turned and left your apartment, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoed through the empty space. You stood there, frozen, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as the truth of Natasha’s betrayal washed over you. The apartment that once felt like a safe haven now felt cold and empty, the warmth of Natasha’s presence gone, replaced by a suffocating sense of loss. You slid down the wall, pulling your knees to your chest as your body shook with sobs. The woman you loved, the woman you trusted, was a lie, and you didn’t know if you could ever trust anyone again.

Hours passed, and eventually, your tears dried up, leaving you with a hollow feeling inside. But despite the pain, you couldn’t ignore the truth that Natasha had revealed. Kinetica was involved in something dangerous, something that needed to be stopped. And despite everything, you knew you couldn’t just walk away.

Slowly, you got to your feet, your resolve hardening. You would do what needed to be done, not for Natasha, but because it was the right thing to do. You walked over to your laptop and opened the files you had been working on. With a heavy heart, you gathered everything you knew about Kinetica’s activities, your hands shaking as you worked. The information you collected could help bring the company down, but it came at the cost of everything you believed in, everything you felt.

When you finished, you copied the files onto a USB stick and set it on the table. You stared at it for a long time, your thoughts filled with memories of the woman you thought you knew, the woman you loved. Finally, you took a deep breath and reached for your phone. You hesitated for a moment before dialing the number Natasha had given you, the one you were supposed to use only in an emergency.

Natasha answered on the first ring, her voice thick with emotion. “Y/n?”

“I have the information you need.” you said, your voice firm despite the storm of emotions raging inside you. “It’s on a USB stick. I’ll leave it at the café near my apartment tomorrow morning. You can pick it up there.”

“Y/n, please, can we talk-” Natasha began, but you cut her off.

“There’s nothing more to say.” you said quietly. "That's it, Natasha. After this, we're done. Don't contact me again."

A long silence followed on the other end of the line, and you could hear the pain in Natasha's voice when she finally spoke. "Thank you. I'm so sorry. For everything."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to keep your emotions under control. "Goodbye, Natasha."

The mission was over. Kinetica Industries had been exposed, its leaders arrested, and the illegal activities shut down. Natasha had completed her assignment, but the victory felt hollow. As the dust settled, she could only think about you, how she had lost you and how desperate she was to make things right.

Days turned into weeks, and the absence of you in Natasha's life became unbearable. The empty silence in her apartment echoed the emptiness in her heart. She replayed the last conversation she had with you over and over in her mind, haunted by the pain in your voice, the cold finality of your words. Natasha knew she had no right to ask for forgiveness, but she couldn't live with the thought that you hated her, that the love you had shared was now just a memory tainted by lies. After much deliberation, Natasha decided she had to try one last time to explain herself and apologize in person. She knew it was a long shot..you had made it clear you didn't want to see her again but Natasha couldn't leave things the way they were. She had to try.

One evening, just as the sun was setting, Natasha made her way to your apartment. The familiar building loomed before her, but this time it felt different..colder, more intimidating. She hesitated at the entrance, her heart pounding in her chest. What if you refused to listen? What if you called the police before she even had a chance to say anything? But she knew she couldn't turn back now. She took a deep breath, entered the building, and walked to your door. She stood there for a long moment, gathering her thoughts before she finally raised her hand and knocked softly.

There was a long pause, and Natasha's heart sank as she imagined you ignoring her, refusing to even open the door. But then she heard footsteps approaching, and the door opened a crack, revealing your wary eyes. Your expression shifted from surprise to anger as soon as you saw Natasha. Your hand tightened around the doorknob, and you narrowed your eyes. "What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice cold and hard.

"Y/n, please, I just want to talk." Natasha said quickly, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I know I don't deserve it, but I need to explain-" You cut her off, your voice sharp with anger. "Explain? There's nothing left to explain, Natasha. You lied to me, used me, and now you have the nerve to show up at my door?"

"Please.." Natasha pleaded, her voice breaking. "Give me five minutes." Your eyes flashed with a mix of anger, pain, and something else that Natasha couldn't quite place. You hesitated, your hand still gripping the doorknob as if you were weighing whether to slam the door in her face. "If you don't leave right now." you said, your voice trembling with barely suppressed emotion, "I'll call the police."

Natasha felt her heart sink, but she didn't move. She knew you were serious, but she also knew that if she walked away now, she would never have another chance to make things right. "Do it." Natasha said quietly, "Call them if you want. But please, hear me out first. I need to show you how sorry I am. I know I can't undo what I've done, but I can't live with myself if I don't at least try to apologize."

You stared at Natasha, your hand shaking as you gripped the doorknob. The pain in your eyes was unmistakable, and it broke Natasha's heart to see how much she had hurt you. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you thick and suffocating. Finally, you let out a shaky breath and loosened your grip on the doorknob. "You have five minutes," you said, "But if you lie to me again, I swear I'll call the police."

Natasha nodded, relief washing over her even though she knew this was only a small victory. "Thank you." she whispered, stepping back as you opened the door just enough to let her in. You led Natasha into the living room, a space that had once felt warm and inviting but now felt cold and distant. You gestured for Natasha to sit on the sofa, but you remained standing, arms crossed over your chest as you waited for her to speak.

"Okay," Natasha began, her voice trembling, "I know I've hurt you in a way I can never fully apologize for. I deceived you and betrayed your trust. But I need you to know that every moment I spent with you, every touch, every word I said to you, was real. My feelings for you are real." Your eyes flashed with anger, and you shook your head. "How am I supposed to believe that? You're a trained spy. Lying is part of your job."

"I know.." Natasha said, her voice breaking slightly. "And that's why I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it. But I couldn't leave things the way they were. I couldn't let you believe that everything between us was just part of the mission. It wasn't. You became the most important person in my life, and I was so scared of losing you."

"Then why didn't you tell me the truth?" you asked, your voice trembling with pent-up emotion. "Why did you wait until I had to find out this way?" Natasha swallowed hard, tears welling up in her eyes. "Because I was a coward. I didn't want to lose you, and I thought that if I could just finish the mission, maybe..just maybe we could have a life together afterward. But I was wrong. I should have been honest with you from the start."

You shook your head, tears filling your eyes as well. "You should have. But you didn't. And now I don't know if I can ever trust you again." A tear rolled down Natasha's cheek, but she made no move to wipe it away. "I understand." she said softly. "I know I've broken your trust, and I have to live with that. I just wanted you to know that I love you, Y/n. I will always love you. And if you never want to see me again, I'll respect that. But please don't think that I didn't care about you, because I do."

You looked away, blinking back tears. "You should go, Natasha. There's nothing more to say." Natasha nodded, her heart breaking all over again. "I'm sorry." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For everything."

Without another word, Natasha turned and walked to the door, her steps heavy with the weight of the finality of the situation. She paused in the doorway, casting one last look at you, hoping to find something..anything that might suggest there was still a chance for you both. But your expression remained cold and distant, your eyes avoiding hers. With a heavy heart, Natasha opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind her with a soft thud that echoed in the silence that followed. Natasha stood there for a moment, letting the reality of what had just happened sink in. She had tried, but it was over. You were right. There was nothing more to say.

Unknown to you, the case of Kinetica’s downfall was far from over. The company’s leaders were desperately trying to cover their tracks, attempting to salvage what they could. But amid the chaos, they discovered something alarming: You, one of their employees, had been the one to pass on the damning information that had led to their downfall. And now they wanted revenge.

You were alone in your apartment one evening, your thoughts drifting as you tried to focus on the book you were reading. The quiet was soothing, a respite from the whirlwind of emotions you had been grappling with. But that peace was abruptly shattered by a sudden, insistent knocking at your door. Frowning, you set the book aside and walked to the door, peering through the peephole. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw two men standing outside, men you didn’t recognize, but something about their presence immediately set off alarm bells in your head.

“Who is it?” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady despite the unease rising within you. “Delivery.” one of the men said, but there was no package in sight, and his tone was too cold, too rehearsed.

Your instincts kicked in, and you stepped away from the door, your heart racing. These weren’t delivery men..they were here for something else, something far more sinister. Panic gripped you as you realized that Kinetica must have found out what you had done. Just as you were about to reach for your phone, the door burst open with a loud crash, the two men forcing their way in. You screamed and stumbled back, your thoughts racing with fear and desperation. But before they could reach you, another figure appeared in the doorway, moving with deadly precision. Natasha.

She had been keeping an eye on your apartment since your last conversation, knowing that Kinetica might try something. When she saw the men approaching your building, she knew immediately what their target was and she wasn’t going to let them harm you. “Get away from her.” Natasha snarled, her voice cold and dangerous.

The men turned to face Natasha, but they barely had time to react before she was on them. In a blur of motion, she disarmed the first man, sending his weapon skittering across the floor. The second man lunged at her, but she easily dodged and delivered a powerful kick to his stomach, sending him crashing into the wall. You watched in stunned silence as Natasha took down the men with brutal efficiency, her movements fluid and controlled. The fight was over in seconds, the two men lying unconscious on the floor as Natasha stood over them, breathing heavily.

For a moment, the apartment was eerily silent, the only sound the ragged breaths of the two women. Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind struggling to process what had just happened. Natasha turned to you, her expression a mixture of concern and relief. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, laced with the fear she had tried to suppress.

You nodded slowly, your eyes wide as you stared at Natasha. “I..I think so..” you stammered, still trying to grasp everything. “What..what are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t leave you unprotected.” Natasha said, stepping closer, her eyes full of guilt and love. “I knew Kinetica might come after you. I couldn’t let that happen.” Your gaze flickered to the unconscious men on the floor, then back to Natasha. “You..you saved me.”

Natasha nodded, her heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. “I will always protect you. No matter what’s happened between us, I’ll always be here for you.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Natasha, the woman who had lied to you, who had betrayed you, but who had also just saved your life. The fear and anger you had been holding onto began to waver, replaced by a deep, conflicting emotion you couldn’t fully understand. “Why?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you.” Natasha said, her voice heavy with emotion. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I know you may never forgive me, but I had to make sure you were safe. You mean everything to me, Y/n.”

Your heart broke at the sincerity in Natasha’s voice. Despite everything, despite the lies and betrayal, Natasha’s love for you was real. And in that moment, you realized that your own feelings were just as complicated. You were angry, you were hurt, but you still loved her..more than you wanted to admit.

The two of you stood in silence, the weight of your emotions heavy in the air. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts, torn between the betrayal you felt and the undeniable connection that still existed between you. Finally, you took a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can forgive you, Natasha..” you said quietly. “But I can’t ignore what you just did for me. You saved my life. And..and I still care about you. I don’t know what that means, but I need time to figure it out.”

Natasha nodded, tears glistening in her eyes as she looked at you. “Take all the time you need.” she whispered. “I’ll be here, no matter what you decide.” You nodded hesitantly, the storm of emotions inside you beginning to calm. “Thank you.” you said softly, your voice barely audible.

Natasha stepped back, giving you the space you needed. “I’ll take care of this.” she said, gesturing to the unconscious men on the floor. “And then I’ll go, if that’s what you want.” You looked at Natasha, your heart heavy with everything that had happened between you. “I don’t know what I want..” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I think..I think I need to be alone right now.”

Natasha nodded, her eyes reflecting the understanding she felt, even though the pain was clear. “I understand.” she said quietly. “Just know that if you ever need anything, anything at all, I’m here.”

You didn’t respond, but the look in your eyes said enough. You stood there, watching as Natasha efficiently secured the two men, ensuring they wouldn’t pose any further threat. She worked in silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you. When Natasha was finished, she stood by the door, hesitating for a moment as if searching for the right words, but then deciding against saying anything more. With one last, sorrowful glance in your direction, she turned and left your apartment, the door closing softly behind her.

You stood frozen in place, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened. The apartment, which had been filled with tension and violence just moments ago, now felt eerily quiet. Slowly, you sank onto the couch, your body trembling as the reality of the situation settled over you.

You were filled with so many conflicting emotions that it was hard to sort through them all. Anger, fear, relief, affection..they all swirled within you, and you didn’t know how to make sense of them. You had asked Natasha to leave because you weren’t sure of anything anymore. And though it felt like the right thing to do, now that she was gone, you felt a cold emptiness spreading through your chest. A part of you wanted to call her back, wanted her to stay so you could work through these chaotic feelings together. But another part of you knew that you needed time to be alone, to sort through everything that had happened between the two of you.

The night passed in a blur of thoughts and emotions, with sleep coming only in brief, restless intervals. When morning finally came, you felt just as exhausted as you had the night before. But with the new day came a certain clarity. You knew you couldn’t stay in this limbo forever. Natasha had told you that she would always be there for you, and you believed her. But the question was whether you could let her back into your life, whether you could ever trust her again.

As the day dragged on, you tried to focus on mundane tasks, but thoughts of Natasha kept intruding. Finally, after hours of agonizing, you decided you needed more information to figure out a path forward. If there was any chance of peace or understanding between you, you needed to know the whole truth. The next day, you called Natasha. She answered immediately, and you could hear the mix of hope and concern in her voice. “Y/n?”

“I want to know everything.” you said, your voice firm even as your heart raced. “I can’t move on without understanding everything. No more secrets, no more lies. If there’s any chance for us to find peace, you need to show me everything.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before Natasha spoke, her voice filled with relief and caution. “I understand. I’ll take you to S.H.I.E.L.D. You’ll have access to everything, my reports, the mission files. Whatever you need to know.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Okay. When can we go?”

“Right now.” Natasha said without hesitation. “I’ll come pick you up.”

True to her word, Natasha arrived at your apartment shortly after. The drive to the S.H.I.E.L.D. building was silent, the tension between you both palpable. Natasha stole worried glances at you from time to time, but you kept your gaze fixed out the window, lost in your thoughts. When you arrived at the unassuming building that housed S.H.I.E.L.D.’s operations, Natasha guided you through a series of security checks, her presence and clearance making the process smooth. You followed her, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and curiosity. This was a world you never imagined you would be a part of.

Finally, you arrived in a large conference room. Natasha gestured for you to take a seat at the table while she went to a console on the wall and entered a series of commands. The large screen in the room flickered to life, displaying a series of files and documents. “This is everything.” Natasha said quietly, turning to face you. “My mission files, the reports I sent, the details of Kinetica’s operations. You have full access.”

You stared at the screen, your heart racing. “Why are you doing this? Why are you showing me all of this?”

“Because I owe you the truth.” Natasha replied, her voice steady but laced with emotion. “And because I want you to know that I’m not hiding anything from you anymore. I know I broke your trust, but I want to do whatever it takes to rebuild it. Even if that means showing you everything.”

The next few hours were spent going through everything, the initial mission briefing, how Natasha was assigned to get close to you to gather information on Kinetica, and how she struggled with her growing feelings for you. She explained how she tried to keep you out of harm's way even as she fulfilled her mission, and how every moment you shared, despite the circumstances, had been genuine.

You listened intently, absorbing every word, every detail. There were moments when your anger flared up again, moments when you wanted to shout at Natasha for the betrayal, for the pain she had caused. But there were also moments of understanding, moments when you saw the inner conflict Natasha had gone through, torn between her duty and her growing love for you.

When Natasha finished, she looked at you, her heart pounding in her chest. “I know this doesn’t undo the lies, but I wanted you to see that I truly cared about you. I never wanted to hurt you, Y/n.” You remained silent for a long time, processing everything you had learned. You felt raw, exposed, but also strangely relieved. This was what you had needed. the full truth, with nothing held back.

Finally, you looked at Natasha, your expression unreadable. “You were honest with me today, Natasha, and I can feel that. For the first time, I feel like I’m really seeing you..with all your strengths and flaws, with all your mistakes.” Natasha nodded, her voice soft as she responded, “That’s all I wanted. To be honest with you, even if it costs me everything.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you tried to organize your thoughts. “I don’t know where we go from here, Natasha. I don’t know if I can ever fully trust you again. But..I see that you’re trying. And that means something.” Natasha felt a small spark of hope ignite in her chest, but she didn’t dare let it grow too large. “Thank you, Y/n. That’s more than I deserve.”

You looked at Natasha, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and something that resembled hope. "Maybe it’s a start. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but at least now I know the truth. And that’s more than I had before.”

Natasha nodded, her heart heavy, but she was grateful. “Whatever happens, I’m here. If you need space, I’ll give you that. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. I won’t go away.” You managed a small, tired smile. “I guess we’ll just have to see where this takes us.”

You both left the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters together, the tension between you eased but the future still uncertain. As you stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, Natasha glanced at you, and for the first time in weeks, she felt a cautious spark of hope. You caught her glance and sighed. “It’s going to take time, Natasha. I don’t know if things can ever be the way they were, but.. we can find something new. Something honest.”

Natasha nodded, her heart swelling with emotion. “That’s what I’d like.” As you walked side by side, the past still loomed over you, but for the first time, there was a path forward..a path that might lead to healing, to forgiveness, and maybe even to a future where you could rebuild what had been broken. The road ahead would be difficult, full of challenges and doubts, but you had taken the first step together. And for now, that was enough.

[milfsloverblog]

Secret Benefits (part 9)

(Previous parts here)

Sugar mommy!Larissa Weems x fem!reader

N/A: Huh you’ll probably hate me after reading this chapter. Please send all complaints to my lawyer (myself, but less evil). Enjoy and don’t forget to reblog and let me know what you thought :)

The aroma of garlic and simmering herbs filled the air as you slipped on the apron Larissa had handed you. “A cooking class?” you mused, tying the strings around your waist and glancing at her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting this.”

Larissa smirked, adjusting her apron with effortless elegance. “You did say you were tired of the usual dinner dates. I thought something hands-on might be more entertaining.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “And here I was thinking you’d take me to the opera or something equally extravagant.”

“I do enjoy surprising you,” she admitted, smoothing down the front of your apron before reaching for your hand. “Besides, I rather like the idea of cooking something together. It requires teamwork.”

The instructor called for attention, launching into a demonstration on making fresh pasta. You focused on kneading the dough, your hands working through the soft mixture as Larissa stole subtle glances at you. Every now and then, her fingers would brush against yours, a gentle reminder of the connection you had built over the past two months.

Larissa maintained control in the ways you had come to cherish. When your dough wasn’t coming together properly, she stepped behind you, her hands settling over yours, guiding your movements with a quiet authority that made your breath hitch. “Like this,” she murmured against your ear, her voice low and firm. You followed her lead, pressing and folding as she directed, your body instinctively responding to her presence.

As you shaped the pasta, she remained close, ensuring you executed each step properly. When the instructor walked by and complimented your technique, Larissa gave you an approving nod, as if the praise was hers to grant. It sent a familiar warmth through you, a mixture of pride and something deeper, something that kept you tethered to her.

When it came time to cook the pasta, she didn’t hesitate to take control of the process, ensuring everything was done to her exact standards. She plated both portions herself, serving yours with an air of quiet satisfaction. “Taste,” she instructed, offering you a fork.

You obeyed, savouring the bite as her gaze lingered on you. “Delicious,” you murmured, though you weren’t entirely sure whether you were referring to the meal or the way she was looking at you.

Later that night, as you curled up on the couch in Larissa’s quarters, she received a message that made her posture stiffen ever so slightly. You raised an eyebrow, setting down your wine glass. “Bad news?”

Larissa hesitated before exhaling softly. “Morticia Addams is back in my life.”

Your stomach tensed. “Morticia Addams. As in… your Morticia Addams?”

Her lips pressed together in a tight line. “She’s hardly mine anymore.”

“And why, exactly, is she back?”

“Her daughter, Wednesday, has enrolled at Nevermore.”

When Morticia arrived at Nevermore, she carried herself with the same effortless grace that Larissa remembered far too well. She was dressed in black silk, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders in waves, and when her gaze met Larissa’s, a slow, knowing smile curved her lips.

“Larissa,” she purred, stepping forward as if no time had passed at all. “You look radiant, as always.”

Larissa kept her expression composed, her hands clasped in front of her. “Morticia. It’s been a long time.”

“Far too long,” Morticia agreed, her gaze sweeping over Larissa in quiet appraisal. “I must say, it feels almost poetic to be back here. Nostalgic, even.”

Larissa inclined her head. “I imagine so. Though I trust this visit is more about Wednesday than nostalgia.”

“Of course,” Morticia said lightly. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the… familiar comforts of the past.”

Larissa’s jaw tightened. “Wednesday will be in excellent hands here.”

“I have no doubt.” Morticia tilted her head, watching her carefully. “I heard something interesting, you know. A little rumour that you have someone special in your life.”

Larissa’s expression didn’t waver. “I do.”

Morticia’s smile sharpened. “How lovely. I must admit, I never imagined you settling down. It suits you.”

Larissa exhaled slowly. “Is there anything else you needed?”

Morticia chuckled, reaching out to smooth a nonexistent wrinkle from Larissa’s sleeve. “Not at the moment. But I do hope we can catch up properly some time. Perhaps over dinner?”

“I’m afraid I’ll be quite busy.”

“Shame,” Morticia murmured, her fingers lingering just a second too long. “But I suppose I’ll see you around.”

You took a slow sip of your wine, considering your next words carefully. “How did she react to seeing you again?”

Larissa’s gaze flickered away. “She was… familiar. As she always is. But when she learned I had a partner, she became rather insistent on reminiscing about old times.”

You set your glass down, tilting your head. “How insistent?”

A pause. “Flirtatious.”

Your fingers curled against the cushion beneath you. You had never met Morticia, but you knew of her. The way Larissa had once loved her. The way she had never quite spoken of what had been left unresolved between them.

“And does she know about me?”

“She knows I have someone.” A shadow of something unreadable passed over Larissa’s expression. “She doesn’t know how young you are.”

Your lips quirked, though there was little humour in it. “Do you think that would make a difference?”

Larissa sighed, reaching for your hand. “I think it might only encourage her.”

A sharp sting of irritation settled in your chest. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

“She doesn’t matter,” Larissa said firmly. “You know that, don’t you?”

But the uncertainty gnawed at you. Because Morticia was beautiful, poised, and had a history with Larissa that you couldn’t compete with.

Before you could say anything else, Larissa’s phone buzzed again. She sighed, picking it up—and you watched as her expression shifted ever so slightly.

“Is that her?” you asked.

Larissa hesitated before nodding. “Yes. She says Wednesday is adjusting well.”

You leaned forward. “And?”

Larissa hesitated again. “She invited me to dinner.”

Your jaw clenched. “And what did you say?”

“I haven’t answered yet.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and unspoken. Finally, you exhaled sharply. “If you go, I want to know everything. No secrets.”

Larissa reached for you, pulling you into her warmth. “No secrets,” she promised.

But as you curled into her, the uncertainty remained, lingering in the quiet space between her heartbeat and yours.

The next Saturday night, Larissa found herself sat across from Morticia in a dimly lit, upscale restaurant. The atmosphere was intimate, the soft murmur of other patrons filling the air as the flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the table. The crisp clink of silverware on porcelain seemed too sharp in the silence that lingered between them.

Morticia, ever the picture of elegance, was dressed in a black silk dress that flowed effortlessly around her as she shifted in her seat. Her eyes were dark and calculating, and though she wasn’t actively glaring, there was a weight to her gaze—a silent challenge that Larissa could feel pressing against her chest.

The tension between them was palpable, thick with unspoken history, old feelings, and years of silence. It had been far too long since they'd last shared a space like this, and Larissa wasn’t sure whether it was the familiar ache or the unpredictability of the evening that was making her feel so unsettled.

“You look stunning, Larissa,” Morticia said, her voice low and smooth, as if they were still in the intimate world they had once shared. “You always did know how to wear power with such grace.”

Larissa gave a tight smile, sipping her wine to give herself a moment of distance. “Thank you, Morticia. It’s been a while.”

“It certainly has,” Morticia agreed, her eyes never leaving Larissa. “Too long, I think. So much time… wasted.”

Larissa’s throat tightened at the subtle implication in Morticia’s words, and she quickly took another sip of her wine. The alcohol burned down her throat, but she welcomed it—the warmth spreading through her chest was a welcome reprieve from the cold knot of nerves that had settled in her stomach.

Morticia leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering even more as if sharing a secret. “It’s strange, don’t you think? To see you so… settled, so sure of yourself. I remember a time when we used to be sure of each other.”

Larissa forced her focus on the glass in front of her, her fingers wrapped tightly around it as if it could anchor her. “I’ve always been sure of myself.”

“Mm.” Morticia’s smile was knowing, sharp. “I don’t doubt that. But you’re different now. I can see it. You’re not the same woman I once knew.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Larissa felt the edge of something, something that might have been guilt or longing or both, but she refused to let it show. She took another long sip, the liquid making her feel both warmer and more exposed.

“I’m still the same person,” Larissa said, trying to keep her voice steady, though there was a crack in it that she couldn’t quite cover.

“I’m sure you are,” Morticia replied, leaning back in her chair, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “But I wonder, Larissa, do you still remember all the little things we used to do? The late-night conversations, the way we’d talk about everything and nothing all at once.”

Larissa froze, her hand momentarily tightening around her glass, her mind flashing back to those nights—those endless hours when everything felt easy, when she’d lost herself in Morticia’s laughter and their shared secrets. But that had been so long ago, before the distance had formed between them.

“It’s been a long time,” Larissa said softly, her voice almost too quiet.

Morticia’s smile deepened, and she tilted her head, as though studying Larissa with the same intensity she always had. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How time can change everything… and nothing at all. The way we can slip back into old rhythms, as if no time has passed.”

Larissa looked at Morticia, her breath catching for just a moment. She didn’t know what was happening, but something—something about the way Morticia was looking at her—was stirring old feelings she had tried to bury. The air around them felt thicker now, charged with something Larissa wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

She could feel the warmth of the wine spreading through her, blurring her thoughts as she took another long drink. The words felt like they were slipping past her, too heavy to hold onto. She was losing control—losing her grip on the composed exterior she worked so hard to maintain. And Morticia knew it.

“Larissa…” Morticia’s voice was a velvet whisper now, one that tugged at the edges of her consciousness. “Do you ever wonder what could have been? I know I do.”

Larissa’s heart skipped a beat, and for a second, she was back in that place where everything had once felt so effortless between them. Morticia’s fingers brushed against the stem of her wine glass, just shy of touching her hand, but it was enough to make Larissa’s pulse quicken.

Her breath was shallow, her thoughts clouded by the alcohol, by the proximity. She could feel Morticia’s presence like a weight pressing down on her, heavy and demanding. It was the same pull she’d always felt—a gravitational force she couldn’t escape.

And without thinking, without really understanding what she was doing, Larissa took another drink, almost too fast this time. The burn of the wine felt sharper, more intense, as it slid down her throat, and it was only then that she realized she was already tipsy, her nerves disjointed in a way they hadn’t been in years.

Morticia’s eyes flickered, and Larissa could feel the moment shift. There was something different in the way Morticia was looking at her now—something more predatory, more deliberate.

“You know,” Morticia said, her voice barely a whisper as she leaned even closer, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like if we gave in to the tension between us. If we just let go and did what we always wanted.”

Larissa felt the heat rise in her cheeks, her heart pounding in her chest. But the words were already slipping from her lips before she could stop them. “We can’t. It’s not… I can’t…”

But Morticia’s lips were already close to hers, her breath warm against Larissa’s skin. The air seemed to crackle between them, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Larissa didn’t realize what was happening until it was already too late. She was kissing Morticia, her mind too foggy to process it, too drunk on the wine and the years of unresolved tension to stop. The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if neither of them wanted to admit what was happening. But soon, the pressure grew, and Larissa found herself caught up in it, her heart racing faster, her pulse louder in her ears.

When they finally pulled away, Larissa’s breath was shaky, her head spinning from the wine and the kiss and the way Morticia was still looking at her—like she had won something, like she had always known this moment would come.

Larissa blinked, trying to make sense of the whirlwind inside her chest. “What… what did we just do?”

Morticia’s smile was soft, almost affectionate, but there was a sharpness behind it that Larissa couldn’t ignore. “We did what we’ve always wanted to do,” Morticia murmured, her fingers lightly grazing the side of Larissa’s face. “And now, Larissa, you have a choice. What happens next is up to you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unresolved, as Larissa sat frozen in the moment, her mind racing to catch up with the sudden reality that had just crashed into her.

And as the evening wore on, the uncertainty lingered in the space between them, even as they finished their dinner in silence.

Larissa opened the door to her quarters, the familiar warmth of the space immediately enveloping her. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she stepped inside, and her eyes quickly scanned the room, landing on you sitting on the couch. You were curled up in one of her oversized blankets, a book in your lap, but you looked up when you heard the door close behind her.

You gave her a soft, knowing smile, but there was an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite place, a tension in the air that wasn’t there before.

“How was dinner?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though you couldn’t hide the slight edge to your voice.

Larissa paused, her coat still draped over her arm as she stood in the doorway, seemingly caught off guard by the question. She was suddenly aware of the quiet hum of discomfort between you two.

“It was fine,” she replied, her tone carefully neutral, though her voice carried a hint of something unspoken. She shrugged off her coat, folding it with deliberate care as she crossed the room toward you. “Business, more than anything.”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing slightly as you watched her movements. “Business with Morticia Addams, right?”

Larissa’s breath hitched for a fraction of a second, but you were watching her closely enough to catch it. She didn’t let the moment linger, however, quickly smoothing over the brief hesitation with a cool smile. “Yes. She’s here because of Wednesday, you know that already.”

You sat up a little straighter, a frown tugging at your lips. “And how is she? Morticia, I mean. How did she react when she saw you again?”

There was a long pause, and Larissa finally sat beside you, her gaze distant as she smoothed a hand through her hair, a nervous habit you’d come to notice in her when she was sorting through something complicated. “She’s the same as always,” Larissa said finally, her tone clipped. “Graceful, poised... she knows how to make an entrance, as you’d expect.”

You studied her face, sensing that there was more she wasn’t telling you, but you didn’t press further just yet. “And was she...?” You let the question hang in the air, not needing to finish it for Larissa to know exactly what you meant.

Larissa hesitated, her fingers tapping absently on the edge of the blanket you were wrapped in. “She was... familiar,” she said carefully, as if choosing each word with caution. “And it seems like some things haven’t changed.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean by that?”

Larissa’s expression flickered briefly with something unreadable, but she quickly masked it with a tight smile. “She’s still the same, just more... insistent. In her own way.”

You swallowed hard, the thought of Morticia pressing into Larissa’s life again stoking a mixture of unease and jealousy that you didn’t want to admit even to yourself. “Insistent, how?”

Larissa sighed, leaning back into the cushions as she closed her eyes for a moment, her posture stiff. “She’s always been good at making things complicated. But that’s all it is. Complicated.” Her voice softened toward the end, almost as though she were reassuring herself more than you.

You wanted to believe her, wanted to trust in the steadiness of her words, but the knot of doubt in your stomach was tightening with every passing second. Morticia’s return felt like an echo of a past Larissa hadn’t fully closed, and you couldn’t help but feel like a part of her still lingered there, in that space between them that you couldn’t even touch.

Still, you nodded, trying to push down the uncertainty. “So, no more dinners with her, then?”

Larissa chuckled softly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No more dinners. Not unless it’s strictly necessary.”

The tension between you both hung heavy, unspoken, yet undeniable. You leaned your head on her shoulder, a quiet surrender to the comfort of her presence, though you knew that something had shifted—something between you, and something between her and Morticia that was too fragile to ignore.

As the silence stretched on, you closed your eyes, letting the soft rhythm of Larissa’s breathing settle you, unaware of how deep her past with Morticia would bleed into your present together.

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