#there's no easy answer but i hope my response was at least a little helpful

[mad-hunts]

in response to the other's answer in regards to what jervis would prefer on his toast, jack simply nodded. he'd found himself at a loss for what else to say even though that was actually quite rare for him. maybe it was the idea that barton could be outside at that very moment, listening in, that made jack suddenly feel like a fog had rolled into his mind; making it so that he could protect himself without even knowing for sure that there was a threat in the first place.

barton didn't like talking about julien - he'd pretty much stowed away every single picture but one the family had with him in it, in fact. for it still hurt him too much to look at them. therefore, especially considering his father's history of not being able to regulate his moods well, jack might have to perform 'damage control' if that were the case. but crossing the bridge if he were to get there seemed to apply quite well here. so, the farceur chose to move on and it turned out to be wisely, too.

jervis did look very tense lying there with jack visibly appearing to want to curl up into himself and never come out. after going to the nearby trunk in the room, he opened it. this was done as a means to distract the both of them from succumbing to the weight of their own differing circumstances. though there was certainly a good cover reason for jack to, ❝ oh, wow. ahh... i almost forgot that its supposed to get down into the forties tonight so you might need this. its going to be cold, after all, ❞ it was also hitting sundown at that moment as well.

jack could tell by just looking through the crack in the curtains of the one window in the room. while gnawing on his bottom lip, he pulled out the plush blanket inside of the chest only to shake it out a bit. now, as jack tossed the blanket up just enough to cover jervis's body without touching him? something matilda told him a few years ago echoed in his mind during a conversation they had late at night: 'you know, i know you'd like nothing more than to get rid of all your feelings sometimes - but i hope you never change.'

jack just remembered looking up at the tent he was in that day of camping afterward, as he decided he should probably get to sleep. but it felt validating in a way he couldn't explain as well even now. because jack's first instinct upon seeing jervis was that he was struggling, so he should help him; though one could definitely say that sense of responsibility had made him suffer in the past. thank goodness sucking in a deep breath through his nostrils and exhaling could allow jack to quiet his mind then.

he tilted his head at the other's words and squinting his eyes, deep in thought. of course if jervis didn't believe in one, that was fine, but it appeared like he might. these sorts of concepts could trigger whole debates for a reason, however, as spirituality was something that jack affiliated himself with. but religion? he wasn't so sure, so he more than understood when jervis settled for saying his loved ones being at peace was simply something he wanted to believe in. with jack's sudden exit came the arrival of a much less benevolent figure, to say the least, and barton couldn't say he blamed jervis for seemingly somewhat disappointed that his son left.

jack was easy to get along with, and with just a little bit of time spent with him, he might just win someone over with his compassionate nature. barton knew this well along with the reality he had to learn other people's behaviors throughout the years to appear at least 'semi-normal.' how that was going for the doctor would often depend on who you asked, though. barton could only snort derisively at that, ❝ funny. just remember, you'd be in arkham right now if it weren't for me and my daughter. ❞ he pointed a sharpened nail in the direction of jervis as he proceeded into the room.

the same crack in the curtains jack had once looked through was soon closed with a quick 'swishing' motion. barton was personally raised with a very limited exposure to faith, as neither wesley nor winslow were particularly religious father figures. but barton could admire those who participate in it regardless of their level of involvement in it. though it could be used as a force of evil as much as it could be used for good, a lot of humanity existed in shades of gray.

so even if they were under the threat of suffering through something like eternal damnation after death... in barton's mind, it was only a matter of time before someone used a widespread thing like faith to their own advantage. and maybe this was bad of him but thinking about wesley being in such a place somewhat brought him a sense of twisted satisfaction; because at least barton would be getting a form of justice for every fearful moment wesley put him through that way. barton only blinked as his eyes trailed from jervis's face to the teacup that jack had presumably brought him.

shockingly enough, all he felt when he discovered that marty's father was a powerful figure was an incredible amount of disbelief for a moment before it fizzled away. barton was used to things getting worse even if he couldn't have seen this coming. plus, he'd gotten frighteningly good at treating human lives like this police captain's more as obstacles than actual beings. it remained to be seen which one jervis was to barton. he squinted his eyes before standing up and ultimately finding out that, yeah, he had done that too quickly.

barton felt like he was green around the gills all over again, ❝ that is one way to put it, jervis. but don't worry. you just reminded me that, although we're going to have to get creative, there are ways of getting away with it. i'd say pinning his murder on someone else might be the best. ❞ he uttered after swallowing thickly, making a 'turn around' gesture with his finger towards the other. barton talking about murder as if it was light dinner conversation said everything that needed to be said about how he felt about their current predicament.

maybe it was because he was still feeling a lot of malaise, but no part of it bothered him in particular. the doctor was more worried about jervis becoming queasy because he accidentally saw the scars where he'd stitched on yves's arm to his own body, ❝ uhh, just in case you didn't get that, turn around. i'm going to change my shirt. ❞ once that was done, barton slipped his current bloodied one over his head only to replace it with the other. he slumped down in the chair to the table opposite of jervis and looked over the tarot cards laid out before him.

barton, too, knew how to interpret them. ❝ what were you two planning on doing with these? a 'past, present, and future' reading? because i can do it while my son's gone for you. ❞

Jervis gave the barest of shrugs as he glanced at Jack through his bangs, the quiet rhythm of their breathing, the slow drip of the IV, and the faint shifting of the cards against the tabletop the only sounds piercing the air. "Either one sounds perfectly agreeable. I defer to your good judgment." A ghost of a smile, pale and wan, tugged at his mouth for an infinitesimal moment.

Call it the lingering pangs of paternal instinct or projection, whatever you felt was most appropriate, but some flicker of warmth—worry mingling with concern—stirred within Jervis' breast; softening the veneer of exhaustion and discomfort that clothed him like a second skin. Like an invisible cancer that had latched onto him, draining his vitality—a slow-acting poison decades in the making; only this time, the source was external, a reflection of Jack's own unease radiating across the space between them.

Jervis drew in a shallow breath, feeling the tightness in his chest not as his own, but as if their nerves had blurred and grown entangled. He tried to focus, willing his own breath to steady, his hands to unclench. A low chuckle escaped Jervis' chapped lips at Jack's query. The medications in his IV coursed through him, cold and prickling, sending a frisson over his skin as goosebumps rose in response. And yet, somehow, it eased the deep ache within him, dulling the edges of both pain and nausea. He could feel the weight of his discomfort receding, just slightly, as though the medicine were smoothing his raw nerves; coaxing him toward a delicate, unfamiliar calm.

Not quite like ketamine.... not like the cozy, blithesome feeling that coursed through his veins with each dose. Even when most of his prior consumption of the drug hadn't been consensual—thick enough to cut his teeth on, it ensured small pockets of blissful ignorance hardening into a dissociative shell, like callus. (God bless those poor, ministering angels at Arkham... only a trace of spite and animosity there, rage bleeding with sorrow at how his autonomy and consent was completely ignored, snatched... one wrong move, and he was left cowering in a crumpled heap, or otherwise dead to the world... but now? Would the scales be tipped, if they managed to drag him back there? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know that answer.) If Odysseus and his crew had been desperate to escape the Lotus Eaters only to stumble unwittingly into the clutches of Polyphemus, Jervis felt quite the opposite.

For better or worse, the ketamine had left him numb to everything.

The pain, the grief, the anguish that tore gouges in his heart and mind; lacerated his psyche to shreds, in conjunction with the ECT. Somehow, he compartmentalized it... gravitated to the cannabis as an alternative upon his discharge, once he'd regained his center of gravity and emerged from his self-immurement; the fractures left by his losses and lessons grinding him to the bone. Everything it cost him and what he'd earned in exchange. Simon. Arabella. His time in Ireland. Sylvie. The flood. Alice.

The lengths he had gone...

And so Jervis chuckled; the sound dry and hollow, barely touching his eyes. He met Jack’s gaze, his expression tightening as he mulled over the question, tasting the irony in it.

“An afterlife…” he murmured, his eyes drifting. Thoughts and memories broke the surface like apples bobbing in a bucket: Simon and Stephen putting aside their differences over the blessing at Passover; his and Arabella's quiet, but spirited discussions of Heaven and the saints and catechism, the differences between the Old and New Testaments as they strolled along the shoreline. Stories of the witch trials in Ireland, of John Calvin and his legacy in Scotland.

All the old beliefs he’d grown up with circled back and hit like a tidal wave, tied as much to memories of family as to the concept of religious faith itself, all its beauty and diverse forms, yet it left him feeling frigid now. For a little over three decades, he'd told himself that he could appreciate the mythology of it all, even found it strangely comforting at times, but belief? That had always been a different thing entirely.

Jervis' mind tugged him back to reality. He could sense Jack’s curiosity pressing at the edge of his own awareness, a secondary presence so strong it was almost rendered a physical form. "That's.... a complicated notion, from where I'm standing.” He let out a slow, careful breath; curled his fingers back around his necklace as he dissected the question. “But... yes. I'd like to think our loved ones are at peace."

He could map it all in a dozen lines, right down to his own lived experiences, the rules he tried so hard to follow, the ideals that always seemed to warp and fray. There was karma, consequence, perhaps even the lingering shadows of what people might call a curse. But the idea of any higher being calling the shots? It gnawed at him like an old wound. And so Jervis looked back at Jack, almost apologetic, the faint sting of an old ache flickering beneath his words.

He was spared from elaborating with Barton's sudden appearance; lurking on the threshold like a wraith. Poor Jack's confidence and ease withered like a hapless petunia caught in the dead of winter. A few quiet words of dismissal and a pat to the shoulder were all that heralded the reluctant, leery departure of his one potential ally in the wolf's den.

'As phantoms frighten beasts when shadows fall.' Jervis sighed, slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, looked Barton in the eye; as well as he could, anyway, with the lingering gray spots and his missing glasses still impeding his line of sight. “Maybe we each make our own heaven—or our own hell.”

Perhaps that was petty or harsh of him to say out loud... though that was the truth of the matter. Jervis didn’t need religious belief to drive him, after all; he needed only his own peculiar code, that precarious balance between curiosity and cynicism, and the sense of duty he still felt for a daughter who had deserved something far more stable, more secure; safer than the patchwork life he had known. Whatever his flaws, his faults, some small part of him still respected the right to believe—what faith meant to others; its power to inspire, to build, to destroy. The cause and effect of human history, the double-edged promises of faith. And maybe that was the root of it: faith could be a tool, a guide, a balm.

But then the stark, often bitter truths he’d learned through survival would come rushing back. Besides, he reckoned, Barton likely wouldn't give a damn about any of his prior train of thought. In any case, on the topic of hell, Jervis never pictured the vast, cavernous expanse of fire and brimstone that Jonathan Edwards had once preached about in the summer of 1741. No. Hell always conjured up fevered images of a frozen lake in the deepest, darkest part of the center of the earth, untouched by light and warmth and life—the last of Dante Alighieri's nine circles.

'I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats.'

He was torn from the thick mire of his thoughts, yanked back outside his mind as if caught in a sudden hurricane at Barton’s next revelation. Jervis shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, then reached for the cup of tea Jack had brought him. The liquid within was a warm, golden amber—like sea glass he’d once collected as a child in Bermuda, or the bits Alice would gather along Gotham’s coastline on their rare visits when she was little.

How simple those days were...

"Well." Jervis' voice was completely flat, his brow creasing with incredulity and disgust. Barton’s outline weaved and blurred before his eyes like a will-o’-the-wisp. No more, no more… no room, no room. He felt completely hollow. "Trading one problem for another, are we?" His scarred knuckles bulged as his fingers curled around the delicate porcelain; his grip hard enough to produce a faint, foreboding crack.

He would weep, if he had anymore tears left to shed over their predicament. For Marty and his partner, for the trouble Jack and Matilda had been brought into by association… but none for himself or Barton. He wasn’t certain he was worthy of it; and Barton had no qualms over their actions, he’d freely admitted it at that bistro earlier. Jervis’ hands tingled, as if they were still covered by the bloodied gloves he wore when he dispatched the driver in order to retrieve Alice’s rabbit, wielding his hatpins on pure impulse; there was no premeditation involved, but there was no discounting how surgical his actions had been in their efficacy with each targeted nerve cluster and artery. He wasn’t indulging in self-pity, oh no… nothing so shallow or solipsistic. Not like that at all. Just a pure ant mill of growing dread and horror and regret, one that couldn’t be encompassed by words alone.

His teeth sought the gouges in the corner of his mouth from where he’d previously bit himself in the throes of his nightmares, worrying at the cuts till they began to sting anew.

‘Despair has its own calms.’

[babygirlphil]

omg that's so amazing that you're interested in psychology and have that kind of experience! Do you think therapy is just not fit for some people? Because I've gone to a few sessions before for my ed and it just didn't work I feel like I wasn't fully honest and the process kind of exhausted me whilst also making it feel like it didn't help because I think I could "guess" her "strategy" to make me say certain things and I just didn't like it. It's a me problem for sure. But recently I've been struggling a lot with depression which naturally causes my ed to also worsen I've been thinking about what to do and idk if I should try again it's so expensive and maybe therapy just isn't for me yk? I would really appreciate your insight

Hi! Sorry for the late reply. I wanted to make sure to give you a measured response.

I do believe that therapy is for everyone, but there are several variables that make finding the right therapist tricky.

Finding a good therapist is like finding a good friend. You aren't going to connect with every therapist you see, just like you aren't going to connect with every person you talk to. A good therapist will take the time to build rapport with their client and will never try to force them to open up before they're ready. You should feel at ease with them. If you don't, it's probably a sign that they're not right for you. I know it's frustrating, time-consuming and costly to have to go through several different therapists to find the right fit, but I think that it's worth it if you have the time and resources (that's a big If though).

There are also many different types of therapy. It's hard to know which ones will work for you until you try them. Most therapists will use a combination of them. Many of them specialise in a specific type. It might be helpful to research the most common ones so you have an idea of what you're looking for.

If you feel that the therapist's methods aren't working for you, you can say that! Any therapist worth their salt knows that therapy is individual and will tailor their treatment plan to you. However, you do have to go into it with an open mind. If you go into it with the mindset that it's not going to work for you, then it won't. Finding the right therapist and type of therapy isn't enough. Even a great therapist will not be able to help a client who is not willing or ready to put in the work. If you don't think you have the energy to do that, then I would hold off on starting therapy again.

Without getting too personal, I have a lot of experience with the behavioral healthcare system as a client too, so I know how exhausting the process can be! I was in therapy for nearly a decade and went through many different therapists before I found someone who was able to help me. Even then, it can take months or even years to see any significant change. If you're looking for a quicker treatment for your depression, I would consider medication instead. Then maybe you can start therapy again once you're more stable.

Obviously, there are other barriers to therapy. Insurance is one of the biggest ones. There also aren't enough therapists to meet demand. That's why predatory companies like Betterhelp exist.

It can also be hard for LGBTQ people (especially the T) and POC to find a therapist who will understand their struggle. I worked with a transmasc teen who had several bad experiences with transphobic counselors before coming to me. I know there's a popular idea in leftist spaces that therapy is a capitalist tool that is designed to turn people into productive workers, and that is true to some extent. However, many therapists do not like the system either. Most therapists understand that a person's environment has a big impact on their mental health (we even have a term for it: social determinants of health).

This has gotten way too long lol. In conclusion, I would say that you should keep trying different therapists and different therapies until you find one that works for you. If you're concerned about the cost, then i would try to find a therapist who will charge you on a sliding scale. There are other options than just individual therapy though. If you're comfortable with it, you could maybe consider an intensive outpatient program (group therapy). It might help you to have supportive peers who are going through the same things you are. There are also peer support specialists at most behavioral health agencies that can help you to feel more understood.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Any characters of your choosing, but how would some of the hsr characters act with a partner who loves physical touch but is too shy to initiate?

Argenti:

More then willing to initiate the physical contact if you were too shy to do so, after all it was the least he could do for you, and Argenti would do a lot for you without having to be asked.

‘All you are to do is ask my beloved rose.’ He says as he helps by gently guiding you into hugging him, smiling when you press yourself up against him and pressing your face into his chest.

‘I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’ Was your response and Argenti couldn’t help but chuckle as your thoughtfulness as he presses a kiss to your head.

‘No such thing.’ He says as he holds you against him as you both took this moment to indulge in the another. ‘I’d very much rather you express yourself however you see fit, as I’ll accept your love and affection in all it’s forms it may take because at the end of the day that love belongs to someone I love very dearly.’ He finishes and you couldn’t help but burrow your head into his neck.

‘You’re too good for me sometimes.’ You mutter against him as you felt him chuckle.

‘I can say the same for you, my beloved flower.’ Argenti replied. ‘It’s hard not to when you’ve been nothing but a beacon of hope and love for me, even in my most dire of times. Your touch alone puts me back together again and makes me stronger then ever.’ He adds as he feels you clinging onto him for dear life as he whispered in your ear to say;

‘So please don’t be dissuaded from ever touching me when it’s brought me nothing but the happiest of emotions.’

Blade:

Stays silent.

Will not move an inch.

He sees what you’re trying to do from the corner of his eyes, but won’t do anything unless you have well and truly given up on trying to initiate contact. And it isn’t until then does he huff indignantly and grabs one of your hands and puts it against one side of his face, holding it there as he stared at you with his ruby red eyes.

‘Was this what you were trying to do?’ He asks despite already knowing the answer.

‘I didn’t want you to feel as though you were pressured into to let me touch you solely because I’m your partner.’ You replied as you were about to pull your hand away from him, when you felt him tighten his grip on your hand. ‘Don’t you think I would’ve said something by now if I did?’ He rebutted with a raised brow and you felt a little silly.

Blade never failed in letting it be known if you were doing something he didn’t quite like. He didn’t need to say much but his silence followed by a certain look in his eye were more than enough to tell you that you’d better stop while you were ahead.

‘True.’ You muttered as you instinctively began stroking his cheek with your thumb, not realising that Blade was pushing more of himself into your hand, much like a cat would when scratched between the ears and humming in content. He looked cute as he did handsome in that moment where his face looked the closest it ever could to peaceful in a long time.

‘If it means anything, your touch is the least painful thing I’ve experienced in my life as far as I’m aware.’ Blade says, finally letting go of your wrist as you placed your other against the side of his face and began stroking the skin there. You then heard him groan in content, a sound of which filled you with both warmth and joy in knowing that your touch helps him find peace, even if it was a small and temporary amount, but still peace none the less.

Aventurine:

Bastard man straight up teases you for being too shy to hold his hand.

‘Hmm? Is someone too shy to even hold my hand? How devastating that must be for you.’ He’d say before grabbing your hand and pressing his palm against yours. ‘It’s as easy as this.’ He continues before intertwining his fingers with yours, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand for added effect.

‘See? That wasn’t so bad was it?’ He asked teasingly, throughly taking enjoyment in all this, when deep down he loved nothing more than to feel you holding his hand at long last. ‘Nope, not at all.’ You replied, feeling your heart going a mile an hour when you felt him squeeze your hand, followed by the caress of his thumb against the back of your hand.

‘Then don’t be afraid to hold my hand in the future, I don’t bite but I’d think you would enjoy that a bit too much even if I did.’ He teases, which was followed by boisterous laughter.

Aventurine may act like he wasn’t phased at all by your touch, when in reality he was begging for more but didn’t feel as though he was deserving of asking for such a thing. He may talk a big game but is equally as hesitant to physical affection as you were for the exact same reasonings.

He silently encourages your need to touch him by doing things that suggested that he wanted it just as badly as you, seeing as how words failed him in moments where he’s wanting something he’s made himself believe he couldn’t have. After all in his own eyes aventurine was a loser, a coward, a fraud, a cheater unworthy of any ounce of kindness nor love but the moment he felt you hold him, his mind goes blank and all he can focus on was his you hands held him as though he were porcelain.

It was his favourite feeling and whenever he sees you hesitating in giving him that oasis from his own mind, he’s quick in making himself believe that you’ve realised that he wasn’t worth your affection, and tries to force you into giving it to him by teasing you and guiding your hands to where he needed to feel your touch most; which was his face.

Aventurine may not admit it out load but he can’t fathom living without your touch, he’d probably go mad but for now he’ll keep a hold of your hand for the remainder of the day.

[pearlywritings]

Surprisingly

synopsis: for the public eye, the head of the Oak Family and his wife are a loving couple. In private they are astonishingly content with each other too.

pairing: Sunday x fem!reader

tw: fluff, arranged marriage, reader is halovian, established some time before the game quest on Penacony.

word count: 2.8k+ words

Nothing supports the man’s prestige and public image more than a proper marriage with a proper woman. So, I want you to meet this very woman, my child…

Two months, fifteen days and one hour. That’s exactly how long ago Sunday became a husband. A role he didn’t imagine himself playing, not with the role assigned to him from above. But, it was Gopher Wood - his adoptive parent basically, who brought you to him and announced his grand plan. And even if the head of the Oak Family had his doubts initially, a thorough conversation held with and without the Dreammaster, plus your immaculate background and some more specific matters proved to him that you were indeed chosen rightfully. He wasn’t sure if it was Mr Wood’s way of helping him, offering you as an aid at handling some of the work-related matters but with the seemingly perfect image of being wed - the elder gave no answers, however Sunday knew better than to question some of his schemes.

And so, your union was sealed. The ceremony wasn’t something exceptionally huge, none of you wanted that, but it was public enough for everyone and their mother to be talking about it. A couple of perfectly sterile interviews, some joint photos and three or four public appearances together, and people have been fooled enough to believe that.

That was enough.

Something as shocking as a wedding would avert the public eye and serve a great purpose in deceiving the people. After all, newlyweds are far too busy for one of them to be plotting something, right?

Right. So right, that Sunday himself was in a somewhat daze for the first week. But it’s understandable - on top of his regular responsibilities he had to prepare for the wedding and get to know the person he was about to spend life with better. Surprisingly, you turned out to be very understanding and supporting from day one, actively participating in whatever additional activity served on the man’s plate. It was weird, new and confusing, but above all he caught himself considering it not unwelcome.

You are astonishingly easy to work with. Well-versed in the matters of Family (but he shouldn't be all too surprised, given who brought you to him), soft, yet - when needed - firm spoken, not afraid to face the crowd in your husband's place for a public announcement and taking a portion of his responsibilities without any questions asked. If not for your interactions outside of all of that, Sunday would've thought you were his secretary and not a wife (but even a secretary wouldn't have known as much as you are aware of).

You are…comfortable. Sunday should really reproach himself for giving in so quickly, but it’s so hard not to. Maybe his vigilance is lulled with security of his patron’s choice or maybe it’s his own longing for normal civil interaction with someone close, but it didn’t take much time to start entertaining your sparks of curiosity.

Oh, how curious you are. Despite being trapped in a loveless marriage, you’ve been willing to learn about him from day one, trying to unfurl at least one tiny secret of his every day. He knows that because you are methodical, because you write it down (and you don’t hide the fact - when he, alarmed, asked or rather demanded you to show him that little notepad of yours, you just did so, with an explanation of your reasoning.)

Speaking of getting to know each other better… It’s still half an hour before your recently established tea time, but… But maybe he could summon you earlier? 

I hope, my child, this woman will become your reprieve. You are not obligated to love her, see her as just a companion, but feel free to treat her as a continuation of yourself. I educated her to match you specifically, after all.

As a continuation of himself… Isn’t it cruel to speak such things of a sentient being? Isn’t it putting one into the position of submission? 

Somehow it feels bitter on the tongue when he thinks of you.

His hand reaches for the bell, but promptly stops before the fingertips can touch the polished metal. Ah, of course, he asked to not be disturbed today. So, let him not violate his own order. He can find you on his own, not to mention, a small walk around the building might help clearing up his mind. Lately, he’s been thinking too much.

Spacious halls of the Dewlight Pavilion are empty, he knows as much, yet he hopes he won’t have to roam for too long, as the gloved hands push the doors of the meeting room. Today you two decided to work from the main Family residence in need of some materials here, and since no congregations were scheduled for the day, the building was all yours.

Each step of his is muffled by the carpet, lining the exactly 39 stairs, every next one lifting some of the weight from his shoulders and smoothing the deep frown of light gray brows. When his heels click on the small podium with the additional three steps, Sunday feels like his head is cleared. 

Stepping on the carpet again, he finally ends up in the big hall with the 5 Lineages symbols and a big City Sandpit in the middle. Quickly fishing his phone out of the pocket, he swiftly unlocks the screen and finds your name in the recent calls, dialing it.

When did it happen that conversations with you outnumbered ones with his sister?

You pick up the phone after just two seconds.

“Hello? What is it, Sunday?”

Ah, straight to the point, he admires that. And the calmness of your tone is surprisingly grounding.

“I was wondering if you’d join me earlier,” he speaks softly, barely holding off from calling you ‘dear’. It’s not wrong for the spouses, but how would you react? He asks strange questions lately. “Tell me where you are, I’ll come fetch you.”

“To answer your first question, I’d love to,” the young man might lie to himself, but he swears he heard your voice sweeten just a little. It makes the little wings behind his ears flutter, which he is quick to still. “As for your second one, however, you might want to look down.”

Sunday follows your instruction without much thought, looking right at the red carpet covering the marble floor.

“...I don’t believe I understand.”

He hears you chuckle, a tinkling sound, lacking any malice. His left wing slightly jerks as the favorable noise fills his left ear through the phone.

“The City Sandpit, beautiful. I am not far from the origami birds’ nest.”

As he moves to round the table, your husband’s heart skips a beat. You called him beautiful, you have done so on multiple occasions already. You praised his intellect, you gently clapped for the perfect choice of the clothes for the day he made, you agreed with him on the most mundane things incorporated into your daily lives. And not once it felt forced or fake. You were surprisingly sincere with him - he would’ve thought that with the Dreammaster’s upbringing you’d have been all mastered flashy smiles and sickly sweet polished words.

But here you’ve been, admiring him in your own quite blunt kind of way.

He immediately spots your tiny figure among the fake buildings on the city’s layout. You are waving at him with a smile.

“Found me,” he hears again in the speaker, but now also from you as well.

“Found you,” Sunday echoes, reaching his free hand to you. When he curls his fingers, you understand and, clutching the strap of the bag hanging from your shoulder, carefully climb onto his open palm.

Your husband is careful, finishing the call and putting the phone aside, before cupping the other hand under the one holding your sitting figure. Bringing you closer to his eyes he can see all the little details on the pretty pale blue dress you left home in this morning, with your second pair of clipped wings wrapped around the waist like another skirt. Then his gaze skims along your neck, adorned in one of the pendants he gifted you and then up to the first pair of wings, bigger than his when you are your normal size. 

He doesn’t have an opportunity to marvel over your intricate halo, because your eyes capture his in a vice, looking at him inquiringly.

“Didn’t expect you to take a break earlier. I thought you liked to stick to your routine.”

This was probably the first thing you learned about your back then betrothed.

“I do,” a tiny smile adorns his pale lips, “however, today I managed to wrap the most attention-requiring matters up earlier. Now only the mundane cases are left.”

“Good to hear that,” you hum, swinging your stocking-clad legs a little. His golden eyes look over your form once more, capturing the image of surprising comfortability in the hands of a bigger being, one that could crash your body so easily at the moment.

“I do wonder however about the reason behind your current predicament,” the male tilts his head in an inquiring way. “I believe I’ve never seen you enter the City Sandpit.”

Well, not to count the very first time he was giving you a tour.

“Oh, as I said, I know your routine, so I usually leave it before our meetings. I actually enter it quite often when we stay here,” is your answer that makes Sunday’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Pardon?”

“It’s easier to do paperwork this way,” motioning to the bag still on your shoulder, you then huff in annoyance. “If only you knew how eager your subordinates to bother me whenever you are unavailable. I am well-informed of my seeming position as the “lady-of-the-house”, but I’ve never signed up to be a link element between you and them, let alone a pawn in someone’s game of becoming first to seek your favor. Pardon me for my straightforwardness, but I much prefer interactions without actual feedback from the interlocutor if the situation doesn’t require otherwise. Except for you, of course.”

Except for him.

“You are my equal. You can always order them not to bother you,” drawing his hands closer to the chest, Sunday turns and starts walking closer to the table’s side where the gates are located.

“As if,” he glances down and catches just the end of your eye roll. “Mister Wood would have had my head if I ruined your picture as little as being distant from your inner circle. I’d much rather prefer just to hide away when needed and return to my secondary duties once I’m done with the primary.”

With the Dreammaker’s upbringing you would think a person can’t be as open-minded. Sunday is sure that it was no different from his - after all you have the clipped wings to match his. But, it seems, you found a way to temporarily escape from the suffocating clutches. Today he learnt a new thing about you, and, surprisingly it warms his soul instead of feeling repulsed.

He carefully puts you down just in front of the gates from the city’s side. Almost knocking off  a little ”DO NOT TOUCH” card near it, your husband moves to the right to let you step out. And in a couple of seconds of blinding light you stand before him in all your tall glory.

“Thank you for making the trip across the city so much shorter,” you grin, shaking the bag’s strap down your shoulder and rolling it, before unwrapping the wings from around your waist and spreading them in a stretch.

“It was my pleasure,” his tone is even, yet the gaze with which he watches you move gives him out. To this day and probably for a long while the levels of intimacy that used to be unknown to him yet which you display are going to surprise him. Sunday almost feels an annoying twinge of upsetness when you rewrap your wings around the dress’s skirt. Though it lets him see a couple of ruffled feathers and he has to suppress the urge of his hand to reach and fix them for you.

Yes, there is some intimacy between you lately, but not close enough.

“If you give me a moment to drop off my papers, I’ll be swift in joining you,” your voice breaks the man out of his self-restraining thoughts, and he lifts his eyes from your waist back to your face.

“Ah, it won’t be necessary. I’d like to have our tea time back at the meeting room, I have some things to discuss with you.”

“So official,” you smile, taking a step to join his side. “Alright then, let us be on our way up. Would you like to fill me in on the agenda of our ‘meeting’?”

“Sure,” Sunday chooses to ignore your teasing, but habitually offers you his elbow to hook your arm in it. “My sister is going to visit soon and she seems to be quite pissed at me.”

“Miss Robin?” Your question is laced with puzzlement. “I assumed from your stories of her that she is hardly in a sour mood.”

“It is true, yes,” your husband sighs, leading you up the first set of stairs. “But I would’ve been mad too if my sibling had gotten married and I did not know a thing.”

“She does not know about us?”

The man nearly halts in his ascending. If he didn’t know better and where your thoughts and loyalties stood in this marriage, he would’ve believed you are offended that he kept such an important fact a secret from his only family member. Nevertheless, he continues his walking.

“I sent her an invitation, you know that. But it seems the planet she’s been on is pretty far away and she’s gotten my message only recently, on her way back. I loathe to admit it, but now I feel very bad and the situation itself is iunjust. I am aware we were in a rush, all because of the- you know why,” he sees you nod from the corner of his eye and feels your fingers carefully dig into his arm, “but Robin has always wanted to be a maid of honor at my wedding. And I ripped this opportunity from her.”

And I am not going to get married the second time. This he did not voice out loud.

For a moment you both fall silent. You get lost in thought, Sunday does so too, analyzing his own words, wondering if this speech of his was too personal, if it was painting him as weak in your eyes.

And his own.

You speak only when he reaches for the knob and twists in to swing the door open and lead you two inside.

“So, how much time do we have before she gets here?”

“Maybe a couple of days,” he breaks the lock of your arms and gets a hold on the strap, sliding the bag down your shoulder and turning to put it aside for the time being. “Why asking?”

“You are a good brother, I can see that, “ ah, here you are, praising him again. “And it’s obvious you care for your sister and wish to give her the world. I suggest organizing a small party for her. This way she could experience what she missed and get familiar enough with me. I can negotiate with Mister Wood, I am sure I can convince him - he has some sort of a soft spot for you, Sunday.”

Surprisingly, it twists something uncomfortable in the halovian’s stomach.

“It sounds… delightful. However, are you certain you’d like to go to such lengths for Robin?”

“Well, she is your sister,” you chose the table farthest from the one your husband has been working at and grab the back of the chair to move it so you could sit, “and I am your wife. I’d love her to believe in us too. If I am not overstepping, of course.”

That’s actually not a bad idea. If almost four months ago someone - even you - suggested he let his sister and future wife meet, he’d be hesitant. He knows his little sister, he knows how perceptive she is - he is not so sure he wouldn’t have cracked under her inquisitive questions about whether he was happy with the arrangement or not. Plus leaving her sad and aching for brother if he let her know of the unjustness of the situation and still chose to proceed with the wedding is just too much for him.

Now he, at least, will not be lying that he is content if being asked.

“I accept your offer and thank you profusely for it,” Sunday slightly bows his head, to which you shake yours, reaching your hand out to beckon him to join you.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’ll have time to thank me later, once we’ve already done something, alright?”

Surprisingly… It is indeed alright.

[luvwestwood]

"Head Empty" - Gojo Satoru

3,043 words.

warnings. nsfw (18+), satoru is your tutor, resolved sexual tension, semi-public sex, he fingers you so you could focus on your studying, sex depr!ved reader, oral (under the table), he eats you out again, library setting, unprotected sex, praising, creampie, fucking you against the library shelves.

notes. i'm literally dripping like a waterfall as I write this. ugh I wish gojo was my tutor, I'd pass all my exams to make sure I receive that good dicking as a reward when I get an A++++.

art used is by @/yunonoai!

The days would only and inevitably count-down until the start of your finals week. You realised you were too much of a procrastinator - someone or something had to tell you to get your shit together to start studying, or at least to receive that ounce of motivation.

You knew who to call for that. A high grade achiever, ladies man, and the college's example of an ideal student. Gojo Satoru. Oh, and boy was he fine. Maybe, getting a little too fine.

You were majoring in law and history, and fuck, was it doing your head in. Luckily, your classmate Satoru offered some help - free of charge. Knowing you were in a sticky situation, of course you accepted the offer. I mean, who wouldn't? Tutoring from the smartest guy in your year is like learning a ground-breaking ability from a top class sorcerer.

Although, you were starting to regret it at some point.

Being with Satoru in the library - almost all day, every day of the week. Your thoughts were clouded with him. Filthy, or pure, the scenarios were endless.

Chin on your palm, eyes dazed into his own. Head empty. You would find yourself staring at his lips for too long, just to be able to hear him scold you playfully for not paying attention. But then having regret when you had to review the same day's topic for the third time cause you just wouldn't listen.

Nothing he taught you would go into that little brain of yours. Not one bit.

You wondered if he was a different type of smart. Intelligent enough to notice how you'd stamp your thighs together after thinking such vulgar thoughts. Like him bending you over the library's table, then and there, just pounding into you in front of ev-

..A slender hand waves in front of your face. "Hey, are you listening?" your train of thought had come to an end as his voice broke you out of your trance.

Your eyes widen, turning to the white haired man beside you. "..Yeah, of course I am." you quickly pull away your chin off your palm, picking your pen up just to stare blankly at the case study in front of you.

He groans, over the fact that this is a recurring thing every time the two of you study. "Then tell me," he continued, "What was I talking about?"

Your eyes flicker into an eyeroll in defeat, and Satoru just grins. Unfortunately you were unable to catch that.

"..Alright," He gently sighed. "Let's just do some quick drilling questions to get you more warmed up."

You stay quiet, mentally slapping yourself before you think; how does he even put up with me.

You fiddle with your biro as you watch his every move. The filthy thoughts come flooding in again as you watched his fingers turn the pages, and you just imagine that the pages were your fo-

"So, tell me. What was the inqu!s!t!on during the Reformation?" Satoru's lips pursed together in hopes of a correct answer from you.

"..That's easy. It was a court..” Developing your answer, your heart thumped as you awaited a 'correct' or 'wrong' result from Satoru. Why were you nervous anyways..? Were you.. seeking validation from him?

He smiled as you gave him the answer, which was in fact, correct. "Good girl," Satoru put a small tick beside the question to note you had it correct. "I knew you had it in you."

You just smile back, no verbal response. His praise towards you immediately had your legs clamped together like always, making you move around in your chair. Fiddling with the fabric of your mini skirt that you just put on for him to see your bare legs.

Satoru goes off on a tangent about another topic in relation to the reformation, and so forth. The words coming out of his mouth just ran straight through your ears, and to some trash can in the library. The thought of him praising you as you please him kept replaying in your head like a broken record player.

Feet tapping out of nervousness underneath the table, your poor biro was so chewed to the point it didn't look like a pen anymore.

A slam of a book was heard on your left, and it was Satoru. Luckily a few people have left the library, so the only person left was someone on the far end of the table, with their headphones on too.

The tapping of your foot had long ended, as you were faced with a distressed Gojo. His hand remained on the cover of the textbook.

"Okay, I know this is hard. You accepted my offer to tutor you, but if you wanted to study on your own that's fine with me." You weren't sure if he hated you, or was just fed up, but no response came out of your mouth.

His hand leaves the cover, and instead his whole body turns to you on the chair. "It always seems like- you're distracted. You're barely listening to me 70% of the time, could you tell me why?" Oh God, if only he knew why.

You lied, hoping you could get away with it. "I'm just tired. Finals week coming up just has me stressed, so I can't sleep." You mutter under your breath, but the library was quiet enough for Satoru to hear it perfectly fine.

"I don't think that's the issue." He slightly leans in closer to your face to whisper sternly. "You act like I don't see you biting your lip, squeezing your legs together or fiddling with the ends of that tiny skirt of yours every time you look at me."

You could've sworn that your throat went dry as your skirt hypothesis was proven true. "..I swear.. I'm not lying."

Satoru pinches his nose bridge in denial. "Look, I doubt that you would want to fail your finals because you were horny the whole time you were being tutored."

I honestly hope there's something playing in that persons headphones.

The two of you take a few breaths to recollect yourselves, until Satoru quietly speaks again.

"How about, we just ease back into reviewing the same material. Just please, give me your undivided attention. Just for now."

With Satoru knowing your dirty little secrets, there's no hiding now. You had no choice but to oblige. "Yeah okay. I'm all ears."

He opens the textbook again, returning to the same chapter. This time he goes on about the results of the reformation.

But something was different.

His warm hand rested on your bare thigh, almost under your skirt. Dangerously creeping into your inner leg, to the point that his pinky finger could graze against your underwear if he wanted to. Your feet tapping also managed to stop. This was enough to form a pool between your legs.

He paused his reading for a moment to turn to you. "Are you alright with my hand there? I mean, this is the only way I could get you to listen." Satoru caressed the soft flesh of your leg with his thumb. All you were able to do was nod, like an obeying puppy. "..Just, follow along with your textbook like a good girl."

Satoru's fingers brushed against your cotton underwear. He whispered under his breath, "You're so needy, aren't you huh?" Your hand swiftly held onto his wrist out of nervousness, his index finger toying with your panties to move them to the side.

"Just relax, and give me a summary of what you had just learnt."

You coughed, clearing your throat. "W-well, I believe it was for a good cause.. and..." Your breath suddenly hitched, stopping you mid-sentence. You felt Satoru's fingers slide between your folds, only slightly pushing his middle finger into your dripping hole.

Words couldn't describe how embarrassed you felt about the fact you and your panties were absolutely soaked.

Faint squelching noises were heard as he slowly fucked at this rate, two fingers into you under the table. Your words caught up in your throat one after the other, "..And.. attitudes to trade.."

You stopped talking, and your hand rested against your forehead as you felt his fingers curl up inside of you. The way you were squirming about in your chair, and the fact that your slick was fully coating his fingers had Satoru's cock straining against his pants.

"That's it.. you're 100% correct. Keep going." The curling of his middle and ring finger picked up its pace, his thumb now lazily rubbing circles on your clit.

You pulled away your forehead from your hand, moving to place it back against his own arm. "Satoru..I can't.. you're gonna.. make me cum.." You swallowed your spit to suppress a moan.

As soon as you said that, he pulled his fingers out. You could almost whimper out loud at the sudden emptiness in your hole, and that he denied you from getting off on his fingers.

"..What the fuck, Satoru?" You whispered angrily, a grin curling up on his face.

You watched as he wrapped his mouth around his fingers, sucking your juices off them before looking around the library. He pulls out a few papers from his backpack, which was another question and answer activity sheet.

"Do these for me, and by the time I'm back it better be finished, and I expect it to all be answered correctly." He slid the sheet to your side, before glancing around the library again.

Confused, you questioned him. "..Where are you off to?"

You could only see another smirk form on his face before he went underneath the table, disappearing off to somewhere. Oh no. You cautiously looked around your surroundings too. Still that one same person from earlier sitting at the end of the table.

A yelp escapes your mouth little too loudly as you felt him tickling the sides of your thighs with his hands, a creaking noise ringing throughout the library as he dragged your chair closer to the table and to him. Luckily no one regarded that.

Trying not to be obvious, you carried on with your work, making an attempt at the questions.

You could still feel him moving about underneath the table, his hands taking a hold under your thigh, placing both above each of his shoulders.

A playful giggle came out of your mouth as his soft hair tickled your legs, your hand sliding down his arm as they made their way behind you on the chair, cupping the back of your ass. His head now underneath your skirt, his pointer fingers going back under as well to tug on your panties, pulling them off and down your legs.

A wet kiss was immediately planted on your bare pussy, your legs jittering about on his shoulders at the ticklish feeling.

Another creak of the chairs legs against the floor was made as Satoru moved you closer to the edge of the chair to have full access to your pussy.

At one point, your thighs almost locked around his head as soon as his tongue made contact with your clit, and as he sucked on it with his lips before using his tongue to fuck your hole.

The writing on the activity sheet turned in to squiggles, now illegible. Your fingers instead twisted the corner of the paper, ruining the quality all together as it became wrinkly.

Your mouth formed an 'O' shape as you felt him fucking you with his fingers, and lapping at your clit at the same time. You had only covered your mouth with your fist to mask it as a yawn.

Meanwhile your other hand repeatedly tapped on his sculpted shoulder, letting him know you were about to cum. And if he didn't move, there'd be a mess all over the library hard-flooring.

The coil in your stomach had finally snap, your silent orgasm washing over you as Satoru lapped at your juices underneath, making sure not to miss a drop.

Satoru's face so messy and wet, it dripped down his chin as he sucked on your clit one last time for good luck.

You felt Satoru gently grab your thighs, placing them back down on the ground and off his shoulders. You honestly felt like you were gloop, your legs felt as if they were made of dough and unable to stand up on their own.

He crawled back up onto his chair, I don't know how the person on the other end of the table didn't suspect anything like at all. Maybe they're just acting dumb or perhaps just genuinely focused on their work.

You slightly looked down underneath the table, seeing your poor underwear left on the cold ground. I'll.. get that later.

"So, did you finish the sheet?" Satoru glanced over to the sheet, wiping and licking around his lips for any excess on his face.

He almost chuckled out loud as he saw the squiggly lines all over the answer boxes. "I'll take that as a no."

You roll your eyes, unamused. "I couldn't focus."

"Really? Well, that beats the purpose of me trying to help you less than thirty seconds ago." Satoru teases, turning around to the book aisles around him. "Ah- think we need to get a certain book. Come with me."

The two of you immediately knew what that meant, and at the speed of light you both got up from your chairs. The textbooks, bags and stationary were just left on the study tables. You remembered to tug on your skirt to make sure your ass wasn't on show before getting up.

Both you and Satoru scurried away into a book aisle deeper into the library, far away from where everyone was studying. Luckily the library was quiet today, and there are literally no cameras here. You always wondered why, but at this moment there was no way in hell you were complaining.

Reaching the 'Ecology' aisle, which was completely irrelevant to what both of you were studying, the two of you jokingly went separately on each side of the shelf, your eyes watching each other like a hawk through the gaps between the books.

Your heart was about to leap out of your chest as you got closer to the other end of the entire shelf. The last step, and Satoru comes jumping at you, pushing you against the entire shelf and started sloppily kissing each other. Almost like you both were yearning for this.

A whimper and grunt came from yours and Satoru's lips as you both melted into each other, a string of saliva connected your tongues as soon as he pulled away.

Your hand quickly snaked down to the waistband of his pants as he planted hot, wet kisses down your neck making you both giggle.

You just couldn’t believe this was happening right now. His heavy cock hanging and pre-cum leaking from the tip as you pulled it out from his pants. Picking you up, Satoru's hands cupped beneath your bare ass as your legs wrapped around his waist.

His weight fully pressed you back against the shelf, to be able to use his free hand to align his tip with your hole before slowly sliding in. You let out a gasp, you imagined him to be big but not so big in girth, as well as length. His cock stretched you out enough that it will probably remember his shape, and only his.

A long grunt came from his mouth as he felt you sink down on him, sliding in and out slowly - allowing you to adjust before immediately rutting into you at an inhumane pace, the shelves slightly shaking from how hard he was drilling into you.

Satoru's hands now had full support on your legs behind your knees, an 'Ecology 101' book falling off the shelf behind you as you moaned his name into his ear like it was a prayer, only to result in him panting against your neck.

"You drive me crazy," Satoru moans out, sounding feral as he panted between each sentence. "Got me pounding into you against the shelves at this library?" The two of you fucked like rabbits. His lips couldn't last ten seconds without yours.

Your ass would ripple each time he deeped into you, noises of your skin slapping against each other echoing throughout the library.

At one point, he thrusted deep enough to hit your sweet spots that you moaned a bit too loud. The two of you just bursted into a small giggle as he placed his palm over your mouth.

Another book, "All about Aquatic Ecology" falls off the shelf behind you. You wonder how someone hasn't check on you two yet, thinking the falling books were a sign of paranormal activity. I mean, you guys chose the shelves far away from people for a reason.

"F-Fuck, Satoru- I'm gonna.." Beads of sweat were starting to form on your forehead from how hard he was fucking your brains out, you were bound to cry, but you felt him place more kisses against your jaw. "Too fast.. Satoru-"

"I know baby, tell me," Satoru whispered, his thrusts getting slow and staggered. "What is it, you gonna cum?"

Your hands moved from behind his neck to clutching onto the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders. "..Please... let me cum.." Your head fell back against the wooden panel of the shelf. "And your cum.. I want it in me."

You felt Satoru give you one last deep thrust into your pussy, bottoming into you as he let out his thick load into your hole non stop, some of it leaking out and dripping down his cock.

The two of you moaned as quietly as you can as your orgasms washed over the both you, Satoru resting his forehead against your chest, his balls throbbing as his cum pumped into you continuously.

His arms still underneath your legs, Satoru slowly slid his cock out before grunting at the cum that dripped and leaked out of you, onto the library floor. What a mess.

He planted another kiss on your lips before gently placing your legs back down onto the ground, holding your hand for support.

"Fuck, Satoru. You literally blew my back out."

You could feel his warm cum slowly trickle down your inner leg, regretting the fact that you said you'll pick up your panties later on.

Satoru slapped your ass, grabbing a handful afterwards. "Think we'll need to start tutoring back at your place."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

[littlereddream]

Biomimicry, anyone?

Reader is gn in this one, little coffee shop meet cute with Jason and reader. I didn’t even know biomimicry was an actually major prior to looking a few things up for this fic. The more you know!

Click.

Click.

Click.

Scratch.

Nope, no good.

Riiiippp.

One more try.

Scratch.

Pause.

Shhhhk!

With a groan, you fall back in your seat at the booth, hoping the paper you’re glaring at can feel enough of your frustration to suddenly supply you with all of the answers to your problems. It wasn’t like you wanted to be sitting in an empty cafe close to midnight working on homework for a class you don’t even take. You thought you’d be done hours ago, the assignment seeming so easy when your friend initially begged you to do it for her so she could attend her sister’s wedding.

Said friend fully neglected to let you know that the assignment required detailed notes from the related four hour long lecture. The same notes she forgot to give you before apparently losing all signal that would allow her to send them to you.

So.

Teaching yourself the lesson from a class you’ve never even considered taking isn’t the easiest task. It’s time consuming, exhausting, and, most of all, boring. It’s what has you offhandedly doodling alternative ideas for your celebrity signature in the corner of your page. At least, that’s what you were doing before you pressed the pen into the page too hard and tore half of it apart.

The old woman who runs the cafe took pity on you ages ago, supplying you with an endless amount of white macadamia cookies while you work. On the house, she insisted. The green discoloration on the edge of the cookies told a different story of her reason for giving them away so easily.

You pick up the pen to try again, this time turning your attention back to the assignment directions sitting on your laptop screen, when a bell chimes into the otherwise quiet space.

The later the night, the fewer customers visit the shop. Most people don’t dare tempt the idea of walking this end of the city, especially not when it’s this dark out. The civilians feared the criminals, the criminals feared the Bats. It’s that same, seemingly endless food chain that has every sensible person who can help it steering clearly of nightly escapades.

Clearly, the man who just walked in has just as poorly sensible as you.

He’s the typical, shady Gotham figure. Thick jacket, hood turned up, hands stuffed into pockets, and head angled down. He’s either about to pull out a weapon to threaten Miss. Aublergine with or demand a pre-agreed upon payment from her.

Neither of those possibilities warrant the old woman’s response. It’s enough to ease your tension, the way she lights up entirely upon seeing him.

You’re sat close enough to hear most of their conversation, abandoning the tricky assignment in favor of listening in.

“You! I’ve been wondering when you’d stop by this week,” she scolds, pulling out a small paper bag from under the counter to drop fresh, warm chocolate chip cookies into.

You can’t really see the man’s face from where you’re sat, but you can make out the minute shrug of his shoulders.

“Got busy,” he says.

You can see him pull out a leather wallet, but Miss. Aublergine is quick to slap away his hand from dropping cash into the tip jar.

“I’ve told you, I don’t want your money. If you really want to pay me back, get the loner sitting back there out of my shop so I can close already.”

She’s leveling you with a knowing look, hands on her hips and a single brow raised, and you drop your gaze back to your laptop. Either you were too obvious of an eavesdropper or she had the eyes of a hawk. Probably a mix of both.

“Yes, okay, message received. I’ll head out now,” you mumble.

While you’re busy gathering all the papers in a neat stack, you can just barely make out the muted conversation happening some feet away. Not enough to understand what’s being said, unfortunately. A few seconds later, footsteps echo over tile to where you’re sat, and worn out boots enter your field of vision. Hoodie dude.

You look up, right into alert green eyes. Green eyes that are focused on the laptop still out on the table.

“Need any help?”

Huh?

Oh.

“Not unless you happen to know anything about biomimicry,” you huff.

He smiles, and what a sight it is indeed. “I do, actually. Mind if I…?”

Too late, you realize that he’s gesturing to the empty seat next to you. At your nod, he lowers himself down.

With his help, the missing lecture notes suddenly don’t seem all that important anymore, every gap in your resources filled by the knowledge he just happens to have. He seems engrossed in the work, hardly paying attention to you next to him as he explains everything. At some point, his hood comes down. At another, your shoulders relax.

Somewhere between both of those points, you’ve both inched a little closer.

No one else enters the cafe for the entirety of the time you and him are sat together. It’s like the world around you has gone silent, sound itself pausing to give the both of you space to breathe.

And then you’re shutting the laptop with a relieved sigh, paper written and assignment finished. Neither of you move right away, but soon enough you start to pack the laptop away with the rest of the papers. It gives him an opening to stand, and when you look back up, the hood is back on.

“Thank you,” you say.

He seems genuinely surprised that you’re still talking to him, enough for his response to take a second longer than it should.

“It’s no problem. Glad I could help.”

He steps back a little, giving you enough space to slide out of the booth yourself.

“You really did. I have no idea how I was gonna get that done myself. Before this, I had no idea biomimicry was an actual major.”

He angles his head to the side a little. “Not your homework?”

“Nope. Friend of mine needed help.”

He gives an understanding nod, and the two of you are thrown back into silence. With a glance outside, it seems the night’s only gotten darker.

“I gotta head out, thanks again.”

Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you’re stopped by his hand around your wrist. It’s instinct to snatch your arm back, but by the look of his face, the way he’s staring at his hand like it doesn’t belong to him, he hadn’t even realized he’d done it.

“Sorry. I just- sorry. Um.”

Somewhere outside, far off into another block entirely, a car alarm echoes down the street.

“You’re walking home?” He asks.

To give the random, still suspicious stranger who helped you with homework the answer to a possibly identifying question, or not.

“Yeah?”

He looks uneasy at that, eyeing the street outside the glass windows like they’re personally whispering threats into his ears.

“It’s late.” He points out.

“I noticed.”

“Dangerous neighborhood.”

“Noted and confirmed.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes in a way that suggests he’s seconds away from dragging a hand down his face.

“I’m saying, you shouldn’t be walking alone.”

Suspicious, suspicious man.

“Walked here just fine, didn’t I?” You reply.

He gives you an unimpressed look. “At a much earlier time, I’m sure.”

Finally, you decide to do you both a favor and beat at the bush instead of around it.

“If this is you trying to walk me home, I think I’m gonna pass. I appreciate the offer and all your help, but I don’t even know your name and I’d rather take my chances walking alone.”

Too harsh? Maybe. Possibly. He did just help you. Should you take it back? Say something else to soften your words? He doesn’t give you the chance to.

“Oh, right. I got it, no problem. Sorry. Be careful, no shortcuts,” He rambles, sincere and apologetic. You almost feel bad, if not for the fact that Gotham’s taught you how much better it is to be safe than to be sorry.

Just as you’re about to leave, a cough rings out from behind the register. There’s the old lady, hacking up a storm and making odd flapping motions with her hands. What- oh. She’s waving you over.

It takes five seconds for you to cross the distance over to the counter and one second for Miss. Aublergine to pull you closer by the arm to where you can just barely hear her whisper.

“Jason has been coming here almost every week for the past few months. He always tries to tip me extra, sometimes comes in with his brothers or sister,” she trails off, taking a second to return to her original thought. “Point is, I know him. He’s a good kid, not a single bad intention in him. Let him walk you home,” she hisses.

You falter, looking behind you to where the man—Jason, apparently— is closely examining the specks of dust on a nearby table. His gaze lifts to catch yours, then immediately returns to the table. He’s as bad at hiding his eavesdropping as you are.

You trust Miss. Aublergine. You know she wouldn’t throw you to the wolves if she knew better.

One last encouraging look from Miss. Aublergine has you turning back and walking over to where Jason is now overwhelmingly interested in the marble tile. You stop in front of him, aiming for an easy smile.

“Still up to walk me home?”

With a matching smile, though it seems like it takes a little effort, Jason nods.

“Of course.”

[yourmidnightlover]

getting it over with - ch 1

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: after relentless teasing and being the butt of too many jokes, you ask bucky to help you become more experienced in… a particular area of your life

warning: precious bucky, virgin shaming?, virgin reader, slight male!oc x reader, sexual harrassment, illuding to sex, talk of sex

w/c: 2.5k

a/n: i am working on part 2 in my other series, timeless. i've been debating two different ways i could take it and it's been an internal battle trying to figure that out. that being said, i can't help myself and started writing this and so here it is! this will likely be a simple mini series with smut in the later parts, probably the next one tbh. anywho... enjoy!

another night with the girls, and yet another night of beng singled out and ridiculed over a miniscule part of your life. 

you were a well accomplished woman and yet all of your hard work has consistently been overlooked in nearly every conversation because of your extracurricular activities. or, well, more like your lack of extracurricular activities. 

you had been working with the avengers for five years now as their pr manager, living there for a little over three after finding it was easier to represent and present the team in a brighter light when you knew more about them. it was after you moved in that you got much closer to james ‘bucky’ barnes, who you’ve coined the nickname of ‘jamie’ for. your friends also began to question why you hadn’t, in their terms, “banged,” one of the avengers you happened to live with.

truth be told, you did enjoy spending time with them, especially bucky. but, that would be crossing a line. you were practically employed by them. well, technically you were employed by tony, but that didn’t change the fact that they were your clients. it was just particularly easy to find the good in the people who constantly saved the world. well, that, and you were supposed to make them look good anyway. 

the most difficult one to paint in the golden light was definitely bucky. you were great at getting the media to lean into his humanity and reminding them of how he had been tortured into what he became. you’ve imagined him to the public as “sargeant bucky barnes,” giving him back the title he earned rather than the name he was branded. he was still wary of venturing into the eye of the public, but everytime he did there were less people yelling at him and more people giving pitying looks and whispers. sure, he would rather not be recognized at all, but whispering was a hell of a long way from harassment. 

bucky was grateful for everything you’d done for him. truth be told, you were grateful for everything they had done for you anyway. hell they had repeatedly saved all of humanity, helping their reputation was the least you could do for them. 

but regardless of how well of a job you’ve done making the avengers’ reputation way lighter, somehow the only thing your old friends could talk about is how you’re somehow still a virgin.

“god, i can’t believe you’re still a virgin sometimes. especially being surrounded by hunks like him,” stephanie spoke up as she flipped her bleached hair behind her shoulder. “i would’ve tried my luck long before i cleared their name, girl. i mean, that sergeant guy has the prettiest blue eyes, and have you never wondered what he could do with that metal hand of his?” 

you rolled your eyes, “he’s more than a pretty face, steph. he’s actually really sweet, too. his humor’s a bit old, kinda like a grandpa.”

“well, if he’s a grandpa then i’d gladly be his sugar baby,” she squeaked as she sipped on her vodka cranberry. 

“can we not talk about him like that?” your face furrowed in embarrassment and you only hoped that she would take your blushing as remnants of the alcohol running through your body.

“why?” she scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “do you want him or something?” she paused, seeingly waiting for your response. clearly, your silence was answer enough. “oh my god you like him, don’t you?” 

“no, no, it’s not like that,” you shook your head as you downed the rest of your drink. “i just spend a lot of time with him because of the job, y’know?” 

“why don’t you just get him to pop your precious cherry?” she ventured as she stood from her stool. 

boy, had you wished for that. mostly in your wildest dreams, but part of you hoped it could maybe happen. but then, you would wake up and were reminded of your place in the world. besides, jamie was over 100 years old. there’s no way he’d want someone who didn’t know what they were doing in the bedroom. 

“or,” steph interrupted your thoughts. “we can get out there and find you a different guy to pop your cherry,” she finished with a wink as she grabbed your hands, pulling you from your seat and to the dance floor. 

you managed to sneak a glance at the clock before the crowd surrounding you made it more difficult, reading the time being 11 pm. you told the guys you’d be back before 1, so that gave you enough time to please stephanie and then politely excuse yourself. 

surprisingly, you had begun to enjoy yourself. the music wasn’t so bad with the surge of confidence the alcohol running through your veins gave you. after a few too many drinks, you were in your own world. finally unbothered by the nagging thoughts of your friends and the weight of your job on your shoulders. 

you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder before turning to see a sweet smile. he had big, brown eyes and shaggy hair, broad shoulders, none that compared to the men you lived with, but they were nice nonetheless. 

“hi,” he said even sweeter than his smile, keeping his hands to himself politely. “i-i’m noah.”

“well, hello, noah,” you smiled as you stepped closer to him, uncharacteristically throwing your arms around his neck as you continued to sway to the music. “y/n.”

“i-uh-you-you’re gorgeous,” he stuttered as his hands modestly found your waist.

“you really think so?” you said teasingly before leaning up to his ear. “i think you are super cute, yourself.” 

at this point, you had nearly forgotten all about stephanie’s presence at all. maybe she had already left with another guy, herself? who knows. right now, all you knew was that you didn’t know brown eyes could be so pretty. mayb you didn’t want to wait anymore. maybe you didn’t want to be the old virgin in your friend group anymore. maybe noah could change that.

“you’re unreal,” he chuckled as he continued to sway with you for the next song until you began to kiss on his neck. 

“you taste so sweet,” you commented in his ear before kissing right below it. he pulled back, giving you a sweet smile before connecting your lips together. 

“you taste sweeter, believe me,” he huffed out a breath as you reconnected your lips with his. 

“i think i want you, noah,” you whispered against his lips so softly he wasn’t sure he even heard you. “pretty please?” 

“ye-yea, sure,” he guided you out of the bar, you needing nearly all of his support to even walk out of the threshold of the door. 

“think ‘m sleepy, noah,” you mumbled against his neck as the cold air hit your face, as if it had began to sober you up.

“you just said you wanted me…?” he perplexed as he pulled you aside into the ally to gather yourself. 

“‘m sorry, noah,” you shrugged as the cold air hit you again. “‘s cold outside, can i go back in?” you turned to walk back inside when he grabbed your arm, probably a bit more harsh than he intended to. 

“what the fuck?” he sounded disappointed. “i complimented you, i let you make the first move, and now you just wanna back out?” he pulled you closer to his body. “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“i-i dunno, i just got confused i think?” you stumbled as you tried to back away once more. “it’s too cold out here, noah.” 

“maybe this’ll warm you up,” he grabbed your pliable face and brought you back in for a kiss before you tried to push him away again.

“y/n?” you heard a raspy voice call out. “what the fuck?” you turned to see your jamie confused.

“jamie!” you tred to wiggle out of noah’s grasp once more, a disgruntled look on your face as you did so. “jamie…” you were now limply wrestling out of noah’s grasp as he scoffed at the situation in front of him. 

“what?” he said in disbelief. “you wanna lead me on and leave with this guy?”

“noah-”

“i think you need to back of the lady, alright, man?” bucky spoke up as he stepped closer towards you. “she’s clearly a bit drunk, just let me take her home and we’ll be on our way. no harm, right?” he tried to reason with the douchebag. 

“no harm?” he grasped your arm tighter before he continued, making you wince slightly. “so this bitch is able to fucking lead me on and then leave me high and dry and there’s ‘no harm’?”

“okay, i’ve tried to be nice about this,” without a second of hesitation, he had noah’s arms behind his back, not enough to seriously injure him, but just enough to harm him enough to not tempt him to do any more harm. “you will apologize to miss y/n for talking to her the way you did, you will walk away, and you won’t do anything like that to any woman in the near future, understood?” noah nodded. “am i understood?!” 

“yes, yes!” bucky nudged him further in your direction as you were leaning your back against the brick wall for stability. “i’m sorry, y/n.”

“for…?” bucky taunted.

“i’m sorry for talking to you the way i did.”

“good boy,” bucky teased as he released the man, letting him run away and not sparing him another glance before he made his way closer to you. 

“‘m sorry, jamie,” you stumbled forward and threw your arms around him. you had never been so openly affectionate, especially with bucky since you knew his aversions. since you were so drunk, you simply didn’t register the unspoken boundaries you had unintentionally set in place for yourself. “didn’t wanna make him mad. jus’ changed my mind s’all,” you buried your face in his neck. 

“you have a right to change your mind, doll,” he soothed as he gently rubbed your back, leading you to steve’s car he borrowed. 

“y/n?” you snapped your head to look at bucky as he spoke. “i don’t want you to be so late again, doll. it’s almost 2 am. had me worried sick about ya,” his hand danced on your knee, you assumed to comfort you after the events of the night.

“i didn’t know,” you shook your head. “i swear, i just lost track of time. s’not like me to do this. i just got so mad and wanted to get it over with, y’know?”

“get what over with?”

“you won’t laugh at me?” you grabbed his hand that was resting on your knee and turned in your seat to face your body towards him. “never, doll,” he chuckled at your serious tone.

“i’m tired of bein’ a virgin,” you said with a sense of disappointment. “don’ want people makin’ fun of me anymore.”

“that’s nothing to be embarrassed about, doll,” he shook his head as he put the car in park before running to your side of the car and helping you out. “some people want to save that moment, i get it.”

“no,” you groaned as you leaned into him. “i don’t wanna save it. i was just scared at first, and then i didn’t want to, and now it’s too late because nobody wants to be with a virgin.”

“that’s not true, y/n,” he shook his ehad as he pressed your shared floor on the elevator. 

“would you wanna have sex with me?” you wondered aloud as bucky began coughing loudly. “don’t be mean,” you huffed and crossed your arms, figuring he was trying to hide his laugh. “steph said i should get you to ‘pop my cherry’ but i knew you would’t wan-”

“hey, that’s not what i meant,” he stopped your train of thought. 

“so you do wanna ‘pop my cherry’?” you awed at the man as the elevator doors opened. 

“i wan’ you to stop referencing it as ‘popping your cherry’,” he grimaced as he said it himself. 

“you wanna have sex with me? bang? do the deed? take my virginity? make love?”

“stop it,” he groaned as you giggled, leaning into his chest even more. “i wanna have this conversation when your sober, if you even remember it.”

“i’ll remember, my sweet jamie,” you held onto his arm as he walked you to your room, helping you get into bed before going into your bathroom and returning with your bin of skincare. “this is why you’re my sweet jamie,” if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was blushing. 

he began using your makeup wipes to remove the remnants of makeup that had survived the night, followed by micellar water to remove the excess remover from your face. you knew he had seen you do your skincare routine after having so many late movie nights with one another, but it was still flattering that he had remembered it all so well. he finished applying your toners, serums, and finally your moisturizer with gentle hands, his metal one providing a nice cold surface that woke your skin up a bit more. it wasn’t until you reached up to grab his flesh hand that he noticed the bruises lacing your arms. 

“god,” he sighed as he looked down at his lap. “i’m so sorry i was too late, doll.”

“you weren’t too late,” you shook your head at his negativity. “you were perfectly on time. you saved me. i don’t-i don’t know what would’ve happened had you not shown up. i-”

“i don’t wanna think about what could’ve happened, please,” he shook his head as he held onto your bruised wrist softly, tenderly rubbing his cool metal hand over the damaged skin before pressing a kiss to it. 

“will you stay with me tonight?” you asked softly, as if you were scared he would say no. as if he would ever tell you no. 

“only if you’re sure,” you nodded eagerly with a grin before he crawled into bed with you. 

bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist as you laid on his chest, breathing in his scent as his soothing heartbeat calmed you down after the nights antics. 

“i’ll remember tomorrow, jamie.”

CHAPTER 2

[himexyandere]

Leaves Fall Just Like Us

Pairing: Yandere Male!Spider x Female!Reader 

Word count: 1750

Content Warning(s): Possessive behavior, manipulation, drugging (via venom), nonconsensual groping, slight mindbreak 

A/N: So this is my first post on this separate, yandere-centered blog, I hope y'all like it! 💗 (Also, our ML's name is pronounced like "rain")

You weren’t sure how or even when you managed to get yourself lost in a mansion, which you originally assumed to be abandoned. That assumption of yours was swiftly proven false as you noted that no part of the mansion looked neglected. Aged, yes, but there were hardly any specks of dust to be found.

In contrast to the cleanliness of the place, there were spiderwebs in almost every corner, nook, and cranny that you’d laid your eyes on. The afternoon sun illuminated most of the space, but you could tell that based on the burnt oranges and light pinks decorating the marble floors, the light was fleeting and wouldn’t last for much longer. 

You had to leave—now. 

As soon as that singular thought crossed your mind, you began to backtrack immediately, feet seemingly on autopilot. You didn’t make it three steps back before you ran into something solid, eliciting a surprised-sounding grunt from whatever you’d collided with. Ignoring the fear sirens blaring in your mind, you whipped around without a second thought, only to come face-to-face (or more like face-to-chest) with a human. Or at least, that was what you would’ve liked to say—

Your eyes scaled the figure, just barely flitting to the side as inhuman appendages flooded your peripherals, continuing upward until you were gazing into the eyes—multiple pairs of eyes—of what you assumed to be a man-spider...? You were screaming before you knew it, which caused the humanoid spider’s eyes (all eight of them) to widen as he raised his arms surrenderingly, dropping a book he had been clutching onto in the process. 

“Please, don’t be afraid!” He rushed to calm your fright while attempting to make himself look as disarming as possible; which, of course, wasn’t an easy feat as he was an intimidating height equipped with six pedipalps sprouting from his back and chelicerae framing his face. “I mean you no harm, I swear!” 

“W-who—” Was all you could manage to say in response as your body trembled of its own accord. 

The man-spider gave you a little smile then took a small step back to give you some more space. That didn’t really help, though, because now you could see just how tall he really was. For the most part, he was built like a normal, human man — if it weren’t for the obvious spider-esque parts, of course.

“My name is Raigne,” The man before you canted his head a little to the side. “May I ask what your name is, my guest?” 

“[Your Name]...” You offered him your name without a second thought, leading you to wonder if it was out of politeness(?) or innate fear. Perhaps it was a mixture of both? 

Then, as if you’d only remembered where you were and that you were indeed an active participant in this conversation, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you looked at Raigne. 

“Wait, ‘guest’..?” He’d referred to you as “his guest” mere moments ago, but getting over the bizarreness of the situation was difficult, admittedly.  

“Well, yes, you are in my home. That makes you my guest, doesn’t it?” The smile on Raigne’s face widened a touch. “Though it appears we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, dear [Your Name]. Tell me, how did you end up here?” 

Honestly, you were just as confused as he was. You remembered traveling with a group of explorers to find abandoned structures for an ongoing research project the lot of you were participating in, only to end up in this unfamiliar place. You were alone and there were no signs of your group. At one point, you tried writing it off as a convoluted dream until you came to realize that pinching yourself did not result in you waking up. 

After racking your brain for a suitable answer to give the man, whose home you’d unknowingly intruded into, you eventually came up with nothing. “I… Don’t remember…” You felt bad, but you didn’t want to lie. 

Fortunately, Raigne was pretty understanding and instead offered you a sympathetic smile. 

“That’s perfectly alright, I’m sure the answer you’re looking for will come with enough time,” He said before bending at the waist to pick up the book he’d dropped. “In the meantime, would you mind coming with me, [Your Name]? Regardless of how you got here, I would still like to treat you as a guest, if you don’t mind.” 

As apprehensive as you were to trust a complete stranger, (never mind the fact that he was, well… A spider) you didn’t see any other choice at the time being. After a few moments, you gave him a nod and a hesitant smile. 

“S-sorry, thank you for having me, Raigne…” 

The smile returned to Raigne’s face, wider than before in a way that seemed unnatural, accentuating his chelicerae. 

“Please, it is my pleasure, [Your Name].”

You’re unsure of how much time you’ve spent with Raigne. Days? Weeks? Months? At this point, it very well could have been years, but you had no way of knowing, nor did you really care to. He provided you with a room, clothes, food, and entertainment — what more could you ask for?

Being with Raigne was a pleasant experience as well, once you overcame your initial fear of him. He was polite and accommodating, on top of understanding. He knew how scary spiders could be, so he took the time to ease your worries by reassuring you with some spider facts. 

“Most male spiders don’t bite, nor do they produce much venom, so you’ll never have to worry about that!” Was what he told you in response to you asking if he was a venomous spider.

His answer brought you a sense of relief, and you noticeably began to relax around him afterward. Not only was Raigne a gracious host, he was also an interesting person overall to conversate with and you found yourself enjoying his company quite a bit. 

As you sat with Raigne in his study enjoying a cup of coffee and chatting idly, your gaze was drawn outside the window behind him as the movement from a falling brown leaf caught your attention. 

“Huh… Looks like it’s gonna be autumn soon.” You remarked as you swirled your finger around the rim of your now-empty cup. 

Raigne stopped talking and followed your gaze out the window, staring in silence as the frequency of falling leaves increased. His odd shift in behavior should’ve been the first sign that Raigne was feeling… Off. 

After your conversation, Raigne quickly retired to his room with the excuse of “feeling a little under the weather”, and shut his door without another word. It couldn’t have been something you said, right? Your conversation up until that point was light, amicable… So what the heck was up with him? You figured you could wait until later to ask him, since now seemed to be a bad time. 

Later that night, after getting ready for bed, you decided to go back to Raigne’s room and check on him. 

“Raigne? Are you in there?” You called out softly after knocking on his door twice. 

No response. 

You pressed your ear to the door, only to realize that it was already open. You pushed your way in, worry clouding your senses as you scanned the dark room. You’d only been inside Raigne’s room a handful of times before this, but for some reason, it was a little more… Foreboding during the night. 

“Raigne..?” You tried calling him again as you stepped fully into the room, looking around the spacious area to find him. 

A soft click sounded from behind you, but it was already too late. 

Before you could even think to turn around, you were wrapped up in a familiar pair of arms and pedipalps, holding you rigidly in place until you felt a pair of fangs sinking into your neck. Then came the injection of an unidentified fluid—venom, you presumed, even in your stunned state. Who else could it be but Raigne clutching your body, back flushed with his chest as he bit you?

“I’m sorry, [Your Name],” Were the first words out of his mouth once he was through with the envenomation, followed along by a low chuckle. “You’re sweet, did you know that? A little too trusting as well… But that’s what I love about you.”

Raigne then nuzzled into the crook of your neck, right next to the spot where he’d sunk his pincers into you not mere seconds ago. 

“W-why, d’you…” Your question was slurred and delirious-sounding, which only made Raigne coo at you in the same affectionate way one would do to a cute, struggling kitten. 

“Hmm? Do you mean to ask why I’m biting you when I told you that male spiders typically don’t?” You couldn’t even nod, but he seemed to know that he’d hit the nail on the head. 

“Well, my dear, I did tell you that most male spiders don’t bite… I never said that I didn’t,” Raigne chuckled again, still nuzzling against you. “Oh, and about the venom… It isn’t lethal, don’t worry. Why in the world would I want a dead bride? I’m a spider, not a specter~” 

As he continued speaking, the frequency of his nuzzling increased, and you still found yourself unable to move a muscle. Your entire body was paralyzed. 

“Did you know? Autumn is the mating season for most spiders,” Raigne’s unoccupied hands began to wonder then, starting from your shoulders and trailing down to your breasts. “I was wondering how I should court you... I truly apologize for not doing it properly, but I really could not help myself!” 

He bent down closer to whisper in your ear, as if his words were much too sacred to be spoken aloud, “You are so alluring… I’m surprised by how uncouth I am behaving because of how much I want you.” 

His words took on a somewhat warbly tone, entering into a raspy, dreamy-like pitch. It didn’t help that he was still groping you, hands eager and thorough in their exploration of your chest. In his mind, he had all the time in the world to do so, after all — and it wasn’t like you would be going anywhere anytime soon, what with his pedipalps still holding you and his venom in your blood.

Raigne fully intended to make you his bride.

Once that thought crossed your hazy mind, the idea of freedom slowly slipped away until you could think of nothing else...

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Take What You Give

Pairing: Nightcrawler x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: fingering, hella dirty talk, pet names, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, DP kinda- it's with his tail so there's that, praise praise praise, unprotected p in v, creampie, kinda cockwarming also- I think that's everything lol

Genre: smut with the tiniest bits of fluff

Summary: after a dreadfully boring date you know the perfect way to unwind

A/N: Someone on tiktok called Nightcrawler community dick and this idea popped into my head because of it lmaoo

***

You're bored. You're on a date with the least interesting person you've ever met in your life and oh GOD you are bored. You feel bad, he's cute and seems like a nice person but none of your conversations have been stimulating this whole time. You're trying to give a real and honest chance before you quit on this and leave. Although you'll admit you're already making plans for after this date so maybe you've checked out at this point. When he starts telling a story about a nightmarish party his college roommates held years ago you practically leap from your chair.

"Sorry to interrupt, I need to use the restroom." You tell him. You don't wait for him to respond before you rush off to find the bathroom. You allow yourself five minutes to come up with a plan ultimately setting a timer before heading back to your table. "Sorry about that. Please, continue." You say with a smile.

"All good?" He asks.

"Yes. Thank you." You say and he continues his story. Twelve minutes later, the alarm on your phone goes off. "Hang on let me just- sorry I have to take this." You mutter angling your phone away from his view as you fake a phone call. "Hello? ... No I'm out, why is everything okay? ... what?! ... Do you need me to come and get you? ... don't be silly of course I'll come. I'm on my way, alright? ... See you soon. Hang in there." You pace out your responses to your imaginary call. "Dillan I'm so sorry my friend is- in a bit of trouble and really needs my help. I hate to bail but it can't wait." You grimace as convincingly as you can.

"Is everything alright? Do you need-"

"I'm alright. We'll take care of it. I just have to go now, but tonight has been fun. I'll call you!" You say standing up. You will not be calling him.

"Yeah I had a great time. I hope things with your friend turn out fine." He says standing with you. You leave the restaurant with one more muttered goodbye and roll your eyes once you're down the block. Time to solidify your plans for the rest of your evening. You dial the number you haven't used in some time- a few months you think but no matter.

"Liebling." His voice is a little breathless when he answers.

"Hi Kurt." You say.

"It's been a while." You can hear the smile in Kurt's voice.

"I'm a busy woman Wagner and you have quite the schedule yourself. Are you engaged for the evening?"

"I can make myself unengaged."

"Don't trouble yourself Kurt."

"For you my dear it's never trouble. When do you want to see me?"

"Whenever you can unengage yourself and get here is fine. I'm not in any particular rush." You tell him.

"I'll see you in an hour. Ish. Be ready."

"Already am." You say suggestively before hanging up the phone. You catch the beginning of what, knowing Kurt, was probably a swear and you chuckle to yourself as you make your way home.

At home, you take off your makeup and the dress you wore and change into some pretty lacy lingerie. Kurt is quite fond of your collection, he says taking them off feels like unwrapping a present he's been dying to receive for months. He's quite dramatic, but you don't see him often so it's easy to enjoy giving him that little treat when you call on him. It's not yet an hour later when he materializes in your bedroom where you're reading leisurely.

"Hello darling." He smiles.

"You're early." You match the grin on his face.

"I said 'ish' plus I hate to keep you waiting." He shrugs.

"Always so sweet to me." You hum marking your place in your book and placing it on the nightstand beside you.

"Do you work tomorrow?" Kurt asks.

"No." 

"Good." He says and then he's over you, holding himself up with one hand while his other cups your face. "You smell of cologne."

"Bad date." You mutter tugging him down to connect his lips to yours. The kiss doesn't last long, you feel him smile against your lips before pulling away.

"Happy to help you forget about it darling but you should call on me more often if you're feeling lonely." 

"If you're worried I'm replacing you Kurt don't be. You'll always be my favorite." You wink at him pulling him in for another kiss. This one he doesn't break, his tongue slipping into your mouth, dominating the kiss quickly. His hands are up your sides nails slightly dragging against your skin enough to send shivers through you. You back away from him enough to tug his shirt over his head, sliding your fingers down his patterned chest.

"I'll always be your favorite hm?" He smirks kissing down your neck.

"Of course my shadow jumper." You whimper when his mouth focuses on a spot against your throat, one of your hands sliding into his hair.

"You know you're my favorite don't you liebling?" He hums into your skin.

"Never had a doubt." You giggle.

"Good girl." His lips trail further, kissing the swell of your best just over the edge of your bra. "I think this might be my favorite set on you too by the way." He says sitting back and pulling you with him so he can unhook the lacy number.

"You say that every time you're here Kurt." You remind him.

"Every time I'm here you unlock a new type of perfection." He winks dipping his head to wrap his lips around one of your nipples as he lays you back against your pillows.

"You're such a flatterer." You say jokingly but a moan punctuates the sentence as Kurt's teasing tongue against your chest tugs at something deep within you. Your back arches towards him your fingers burying themselves in his hair again. Kurt's tail slides up your leg, making you squirm even more and he uses the extra appendage to pull your panties down your body. That tail wraps around one of your ankles, keeping your legs spread for the hand that slides down your abdomen. When his fingers reach the apex of your thighs you're breathing hitches before he's even touched you.

"Always so ready for me, pretty girl." Kurt chuckles. He plunges two fingers into you quickly, curling them in just the right way to have you grinding against his hand. His fingers pump in and out of you with deliberate thrusts, stretching you for him. "Heaven help me, you're absolutely soaking." Kurt hisses, your juices flowing over his hand.

"Fuck babe- I'm close." You pant out, arching into his hand as you chase your end.

"That's it liebling, let go for me." Kurt coaxes softly before leaning forward to take your clit between his lips. He sucks harshly on the bundle of nerves and the sudden stimulation sends you over the edge with a whine. He works you through it with gentle licks and slow pumps of his fingers, watching the way your face shifts between the stages of your pleasure. When you let out a long albeit shaky breath he pulls away, knowing that loud unsteady release of air means you're back in your body. "Oh how I love making you do that." He says pressing a kiss to your lips before placing his sticky fingers into his mouth. The groan he lets out at your taste flooding his tongue is pornographic. There's no other way to describe it, and a fresh wave of arousal washes over you at the sound. You watch him clean his fingers with a darkened look that he relishes in. That carnal desire in your eyes focused solely on him, he'll never get tired of it. When the essence of you no longer coats his digits he pulls them out with a satisfying pop.

"Skipping your usual protocol today?" You ask with a teasing smile. You'd have no qualms if he did but Nightcrawler is one of those makes you cum a dozen times for his own enjoyment types who has never passed up the opportunity to eat you out before fucking you.

"And allow the sweetest nectar to go to waste? Don't insult me." He scoffs shifting himself to lie between your legs. He wastes no time pulling you towards his waiting mouth and allowing his tongue to dive into your center. Your fingers are in his ink-colored hair moments later, desperate to ground yourself as he devours you like his final meal.

His tongue thrusts in and out of you, slurping the juices that spill from you, moaning as your arousal washes over every inch of his mouth. The sounds from him reverberate against your skin only furthering your madness as Kurt takes you apart one lick, one slurp, one suck at a time. When your legs begin to shake, he brings his hands up to hold your thighs still, digging his fingers into the flesh there as he feasts. Your first orgasm on his tongue meets you with a loud moan and barely contained thrashing that does nothing to slow Kurt. You jerk against his still seeking mouth, but his hold on your thighs simply tightens as he continues his onslaught.

"God! Kurt- please!" You cry out though you're not sure if you're asking him to stop or continue. As if it matters, Kurt will go until he's satisfied which with him could literally be hours. With Kurt there's no such thing as too much, he can go and go and go shattering you into a million pieces just to put you back together so he can do it all over again. And you let him. You relish in the bite of overstimulation that soon melts away to pure pleasure again as his tongue forces another orgasm from you. This one takes you by surprise as you pull at the strands between your fingers, your body convulsing harshly.

Kurt's eyes meet yours and he winks at you as he pulls you tighter against his mouth. His tongue focusing now on your too sensitive clit. You writhe against him, caught between escaping and searching for more as you squeal from his ministrations. When a scream Kurt would describe as piercing falls from your lips and your third orgasm coats his tongue he finally gives you a break, working you through your release before sitting up.

"When I asked if we were skipping your protocol it wasn't a challenge." You eventually huff at him, once your chest stops heaving so hard you thought you'd never get enough air in your lungs.

"Tapping out already? I've given you much more in one go before. Perhaps I should be checking on you more often liebling." Kurt smirks as he wipes his face.

"Tapping out? Before you've even fucked me? It's like you don't know me at all anymore sweet one." You tease back.

"That's my girl." Kurt chuckles shucking his pants off before sinking into you. Between your breathless moan and the feeling of your walls pulsing around him Kurt can't help but groan when he bottoms out. He holds still for a moment allowing both you and him to adjust to your heat swallowing his length. With a deep breath, his hips rock back, almost all the way, and then he thrusts into you so harshly that he shifts you on the bed. He settles his hands on your hips then and sets a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping against yours relentlessly.

"Holy- fuck." You grit out, tossing your head back against the bed. Kurt always fills you to the point where it's almost too much, you can feel him everywhere somehow but oh how you love it. Your nails scrape down Kurt's back as you cling to him while he fucks you ruthlessly.

"So good. You feel so good liebling." He huffs out between his thrusts.

"So do you, god- you fuck me so well. Fill me so nicely."

"I know I do pretty one, this pussy loves taking my dick. Does it so well each time. Isn't that right baby?"

"Yeah- yes- love it so much." You whimper when Kurt's tail slips between your bodies and finds your clit. The extra appendage is as dexterous as his fingers and the swollen bundle of nerves reacts to it the same way, luring you to another orgasm that has you shuddering in Kurt's arms. His tail continues to poke around near where you and Kurt are joined, his hips not slowing even with his tail in the mix. It's something he's done before, not often- but it seems tonight he's pulling out all the stops. The tip of his tail is gathering your wetness, covering itself to prepare for entering you at the other end. Kurt lifts your hips further into him, holding you high enough for his tail to get under you and slowly prod your ass.

"Gonna stuff you proper tonight." Kurt mutters before his tail breeches you. Your gasping whine at the sudden intrusion only fuels Kurt more. His tail quickly matches his hips in rhythm filling you in both holes, clouding your mind. You're a mess of moans and whines as Kurt has his way with you. He pulls one or two more orgasms from you before he's spilling into you with a roar. He doesn't even bother pulling out before lays beside you and pulls you tightly against him. He kisses your forehead softly and whispers something in German that you don't know the meaning of. It's fine he'll be here a while. With Kurt it's never one and done. He'll pull more orgasms from you until you've completely lost count, until all you know is his name and the pleasure he's giving you, until the world has been flipped on its axis and you along with it. It happens every time and that's exactly why you call him when you do.

***

[sebsxphia]

ebb and flow.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader.

￫ description: sex is sometimes confusing for you to navigate, but bob floyd makes it easy.

￫ word count: 3.1K.

￫ c/w: mentions of shit sex, brief smut, p in v, f!oral receiving, f!masturbation, sex toys, daddy kink, swearing, kissing and fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ a/n: this is a love note from me, to bob, to myself, and is a very real experience of me and my sexuality. i hope you enjoy! my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

It’s not that you didn’t enjoy sex, you loved sex. You loved the feeling of having your most intimate places and private thoughts brought to life, in a sheltered and cocooned environment. You longed for the closeness and the touch of bodies, slick with sweat. You craved desperately, that feeling of letting go as you were connected to another person, but that was the catch. You craved it, you longed for it, you loved it, but it didn’t always mean that it happened.

If someone was to ask you if you had a high sex drive, you would say, “oh, yeah! I love sex.” And it’s true. You loved sexuality and you would have sex when you could, but it wouldn’t answer the question. Because truthfully, you didn’t know if you had a high sex drive. There was always something or someone, confusing you and making you doubt your own drive.

You masturbated frequently, but it was always with the help of pornography. At least then you could skip to the good bits that would make you orgasm. You couldn’t really do that in real life.

There was a previous partner who, once they finished, panted down at you, “did you come?”

When you sheepishly admitted that you hadn’t, they would scoff as they rolled off you.

“Sorry, I guess. My last girlfriend always used to come so quick. Just not used to going as long as you.”

On a separate occasion, a girl lifted her face up from between your legs with an irritated frown pinched between her brows.

“Are you close to coming?”

Sure, she was hitting the right spots and yes, it might’ve taken you a little longer than most to orgasm, but you felt that hoping and longing feeling of coming fizzle out entirely.

You gave her a sore smile. “It’s alright, let’s stop.”

Your last partner you were with for nearly a year and he was the first person to make you come relativity easily. He knew the sweet spots that were dotted around your body and he listened to what you were asking for, but still came the little complaints. The little comments that made your ribs restrict around your lungs and call it off.

You had both reached your highs and your cunt was still twitching for more. You meekly asked him, “do you think you could make me come again?” And his response made you call it off entirely.

“Again? But you take so long.”

The ache dulled painfully between your thighs.

After that partner, you lost any sort of sex drive for almost a year. But life continued to have an ebb and flow, and it bought you to Bob Floyd.

Bob had you bent over the back of your sofa with your sundress hitched around your waist and his flight suit barely off. He allowed a gap just big enough in between his zipper to free his aching cock and piston his hips against your ass.

He came home later than he had planned, due to running drills for what seemed to go on forever, because someone (Jake), had decided it would be funny to make a passing joke at Cyclone. He was far too exhausted to shower and change on the base, and he was already running late coming home to you. He didn’t want to waste another second. He drove home with his bruised and battered body, covered in a thick and musky scent of sweat underneath his flight suit. He had his hands on your hips and his mouth on your lips the moment you greeted him. Bob’s rough grunts and forceful movements of his body against yours, let you know he needed you, and he needed you now.

With not a second to spare, he was already shuddering behind you and letting out an elongated groan of your name, dowsed in relief. You could feel his heavy cock twitch inside your cunt and you moved with him, aching for your own relief. Your stomach was doing somersaults every time he nudged against the sweet spot inside of you. Bob smoothed his hands along your spine and drew down the hem of your sundress. He gently lifted you up and turned you around to face him, tucking his softening cock back inside of his flight suit. He wore a lopsided smile as he cradled your jaw, pressing his lips to yours and thanking you.

“I needed that. Comin’ home to you dressed like this? Oh, I’m the luckiest, God damn pilot.”

You offered him a reassuring smile and fiddled with the collar of his flight suit, running your fingertips over the stitches and inseams. “Do you think, you could—”

“Oh my darlin’ wife,” you felt Bob’s cool engagement ring press on your hot cheek as he drew you to look up at him. You were yet to be married, but he wasted no time in calling you his wife already. “You don’t even have to ask. It would be my pleasure.”

His pleasure. His pleasure.

It made butterflies swarm in your stomach and your cheeks turn an even rosier shade of pink. Bob always reminded you that it was never an inconvenience to him. He wanted to make you feel good, he wanted to make you come and he would happily stay in between your thighs for as long as you (or he), needed.

“C’ere, sweetheart.” You yelped out a squeal as Bob ran his forearms around your stomach and lifted you up to throw you over his shoulder with such little effort. You were a string of bubbling giggles as he carried you upstairs to your shared bedroom. He could’ve had you right here on the sofa, but he wanted to take you to your bedroom. He knew it was somewhere where you could feel safe being so exposed, feel vulnerable, let out your intimate thoughts.

Between hiccups of laughter, you would cry out, “Robert! Put me down!”

To which he would reply with a firm swat to your ass, and a defiant, “nope! My pretty lil’ bunny deserves princess treatment, do they not?”

He didn’t see how you bit down on your bottom lip, biting back your lovesick smile.

Your hips were hanging off the edge of your mattress, your frame bare and Bob’s hands holding your thighs open as his mouth was planted firmly on your pussy. He was devouring you like a four course meal. His tongue wouldn’t allow a single crease, or fold, to go amiss and he paid intricate detail to your clit. He would wrap his lips firmly around it and let his teeth sink gently in. The harsh suck of his mouth created shock waves, jolting through your abdomen and up your spine.

The pleasure he was providing you felt Heavenly, and you knew your sweet Bobby would never miss how your body reacted to his touch and register what he needed to do next. He was a WSO. Planning, co-ordination and pin point accuracy was his job. Yet, inside your mind, it was as though you were flicking through three hundred television channels at an alarming rate. You couldn’t find that one television show you wanted to watch. You couldn’t find Bob’s touch. And so, as your mind flicked through the channels, your thoughts tailed off with them.

“Fuck, should I of put the vegetables in the fridge? By the time we eat they might’ve gone funny. I must change the bedsheets tomorrow, it’s been… one, two… three weeks. God. I keep loosing track of these things. Maybe I should buy a planner. There was that really nice one you saw the other day. I wonder if Bob would like one too? We could have matching ones. Oh, don’t forget, message—”

“My love?”

The incessant channel flicking came to a stop and you were back to your Bobby in your bedroom. His face was dipped up from between your thighs and a glimmering sheen, mixed with his spit and your arousal, was coating his chin. His eyebrows were turned upwards in loving concern as he repeated his question.

“Are you okay?”

Your chest rose and fell with an exhausted groan. Your hands removed themselves from Bob’s now mused hair, and you ran them down your face. “I’m sorry, honey.” You muttered pathetically against your palms.

Bob now rose completely up from the floor of your bedroom and leant over your frame spread vulnerably on the bedsheets (that you urgently needed to change). He rested one toned forearm onto the mattress to consume your body against his. His other hand let his slender fingers intertwine with the loose strands of your hair that fell against your forehead.

“No, no, my darlin’,” Bob was pleading with you. His tone sounded desperate as he tried to reassure you, but his words were firm. After your multiple confessions of previous partners and their, choice of words, he took the weight of you finding pleasure with him high and mighty on his shoulders. He would never let you fall without him there to catch you gently in his undying arms.

“Please, don’t ever apologise. I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m stayin’ right here with you ‘till I hear those pretty noises you make.” His lips curved into a troublesome smirk at the end. He slid his resting forearm under your back to lift you up off the mattress, and steadily sat you upright incase the blood had all but flowed from your head.

“Shall we move ourselves?” He suggested and you agreed, but before you could speak your agreement, he was already way ahead of you and pulling out the wicker chair from the corner of your room and situating it in-front of your long standing mirror.

“I’ve got an idea, one that I know, you’ll like.” The same troublesome smirk was etched onto his face as he guided you over to the chair. “Do you want me to get you one of your toys?”

You hummed in delightful agreement. “Please, get the black one.”

Bob retrieved the slick black vibrator from the bottom drawer of your dresser and sat himself on the chair. He held onto your waist as he maneuvered you to sit on his lap. His broad hands ran along the underside of your thighs to pick them up gingerly, and rest them over the arms of the chair. His forearm, with his muscles bulging and veins protruding, was locked tightly around your torso to keep you firmly pressed up against his bare chest. His other hand that was holding the sleek vibrator, came down to rest haphazardly on your thigh.

You were fully exposed to yourself, Bob and your mirror. With his firm, but gentle hold on your body, you had no real wriggle room and you were to take whatever sensation he was about to provide you. That made your cunt twitch. Perhaps the flicking through the television channels was about to come to a stop. You’d found your Bobby and his pleasurable touch.

Your head was resting on his shoulder and you felt his plush cheek rub against your temple, feeling his baby hairs catch on yours. And then his lips were warm against your ear. A tickling sensation prickling down your earlobe and along your neck as he spoke.

“You comfortable, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.”

“Good girl.”

There was a quiet snicker from Bob in your ear as your breath hitched at his words. With his arm wrapped around you, he could feel every intricate detail and twitch of your frame against his. He pressed his thumb down on the top of the vibrator and it whirred to life. A steady and low buzz hummed throughout your bedroom. He placed the tip to your thigh and you involuntarily twitched.

“‘member, I’m stayin’ here with you. I ain’t leavin’ you, my darling.” You locked eyes with him through the reflection of your mirror and you nodded against his shoulder, his movements along your thigh continuing.

“Keep your eyes focused, right here, baby.” His own gaze returned to where his hand was trialing with the vibrations further down your thigh and into the apex of your cunt. With the lightest of touches he pressed the tip to your swollen clit and a sudden gasp escaped your throat without even registering it. He pressed the tip down for five seconds or so, before removing it and letting your pussy become a customized to the feeling.

He repeated this motion several times, as he listened intently to how your little moans and gasps became more frequent. Alongside that, his gaze never left your reflection. He let your own eyes flutter open and shut as your body reeled with the sensations, but he was there to intimately gage what you needed next. He dragged the vibrating tip down through your folds and glided along the other, not so sensitive, but still incredibly important, areas of pleasure. He would draw the vibrator back upwards and let it catch on your clit before pinpointing it firmly on the swollen bundle. Each time he repeated this motion, your body withered continuously under his grasp. You let your skull lull back completely onto his shoulder and you weren’t holding back any longer on your moans.

“Feels s’ good, Bobby.” You croaked out with a moan.

He parted his fixated gaze from your squirming frame for only a moment, to allow his lips to fall underneath your earlobe. He nimbly let his teeth graze over your tender flesh and tug at it, before his tongue would soothe over the spot.

“I know, pretty darlin’, I know.” Bob cooed quietly into your ear. A shudder was jolted down your spine and tickled at your nerve endings. His drawl was getting huskier in your ear and your fingertips were digging so hard into his forearm, you were sure they would leave little crescent marks from your nails.

“You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, Bunny. Do you wanna take a look? Do you wanna see how Daddy is making my pretty little clit jump?”

Your eyes fluttered open to peer at the sight before you. Your hips jolted forward as he pressed the vibrator with pin point accuracy on where you needed it most.

“Robert!” You whined out. “Fuckfuckfuck…”

“Is that it, m’love? Is that the spot?” You pursed your lips together and nodded feverishly. You found his gaze again in the mirror and his cock twitched beneath you at the sight of your pleading eyes, with a glaze of tears brimming in your eyes. He gently pushed his cheek against your temple again to motion at you.

“C’mon, Bunny. Don’t hold back. Let those pretty little sounds out. Be a good girl for Daddy.”

He pressed the vibrator on the same sweet spot and let your hips buck upwards to chase the feeling. Your lips parted and a desperate cry tore from your throat. Your voice wobbled as you begged him.

“Please, please, please. Oh God, Daddy! Don’t fuckin’ stop, right there, ‘lease…” You trailed off with pleas as your mind zoned in on the one television channel that was about to bring you crashing off the edge.

Bob watched you with intent through the reflection of the mirror. His cock was shamelessly getting harder underneath you. Right now, in this very moment, in this captured time within the universe, he wanted nothing more than to watch you fall apart in his lap. It was his pleasure as much as it was yours.

“Oh that’s it,” His voice was guiding you through it, coaxing you closer to the edge that you would inevitably fall off. “Good girl. Daddy’s gon’ stay right here, keep toyin’ with my clit.”

“I’m gon’ come, Bobby! Oh God, I’m gonna—” Your jaw went slack and a silent, wordless cry was all that tore from your throat. You were unable to form anything. Not a single thought or word as pleasure tore through you.

“Go on, my baby. Come for me.” Bob was there to take control of your mercy towards him. As you felt the warm burst of your orgasm strike through your clit and up your abdomen, you followed with a broken whine. Your hips were uncontrollably bucking and squirming against Bob’s grip and against the vibrator, that he kept nestled deep within your soaked folds. Your hands reached upwards and behind to grip tightly onto his neck, finding anything to keep yourself stable against the powerful release that was currently coursing through your veins.

“That’s it, Bunny. Keep goin’ for me, you’re doin’ so, so good. Such a good girl f’ me.”

Your thighs were now thrashing against the wicker and Bob made a mental note to soothe them later with cream. He let you move against him with free will as broken sobs left your lips. He continually moved the vibrator as you flowed through your orgasm, letting you soak up every inch of pleasure that he was providing you. He knew how badly you needed this release, and how his patience towards you was something that you treasured with every squirm of your body against his.

He could feel the tensing of your muscles soothe and slow down with each second that passed. Eventually, he gently trailed the vibrator off your twitching clit and back along your thigh, to continue the dying sensation for just that little bit longer. He pressed down the button on top of the vibrator and the humming sound came to a stop. All that could be heard was your pants of hot air bouncing off the bedroom walls. He let the vibrator fall to the floor so he could bring his hand up to smooth over your flesh. He gently ran his fingertips through your folds and let you twitch a little more in his lap, as he collected your arousal. It was like nectar to Bob. There was no sweeter sensation to him than feeling you pool on his fingers.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, Bunny?” He splayed out his hand to cup your pussy and gently squeeze it. It was a comforting warmth under his touch and it pulsated against his calloused palm on its own accord.

You let your hands drop from his neck and rest on his forearms, feeling out the familiar shape of your lover. “Y— yes. I’m your good girl, Daddy.” Your voice was weak, but Bob hummed quietly in your ear as he heard you.

“T— thank you, Bobby.” When you spoke again, he shushed you as to reassure and console you. His fingers were tracing repeated patterns over your thighs.

“You don’t need to thank me, sweetheart. I do this all for you, ‘cause I love you s’ deeply.” He nuzzled his nose against your frightfully warm cheek and let you contentedly bathe in the swirling feeling of the afterglow.

It was a feeling that you had so rarely experienced before, but Bob was there to always make it feel as though you were swimming in a lake made out of the moon and stars.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown @wkndwlff @flames-thebitch @birdy-bat-writes @thedroneranger @randomfandomgirl97

tagging those who may be interested: @sunblchdfly @rhettabbotts @bobfloydsbabe @bobfloyds @bradshawsbitch @peachystenbrough @lewmagoo @sugarcoated-lame @sushiwriterhere

[anotherandomcollection]

Perhaps in another life...

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≻─ ⋆✩ pairings: mavuika x fem!reader (can be read as gn!reader) ≻─ ⋆✩ warnings: some kind of fluff?, angst! - not beta read. probably ooc mavuika so... sorry in advance ≻─ ⋆✩ spoilers?: 5.0 Archon Quest (Act I & II) ≻─ ⋆✩ author's note: idk I feel like writing some angst so I may as well try with a new little idea I had... I also wrote this at like 2am with a sudden rush of inspiration...

I haven't written in a while and I'm completely new to this, I have never written on tumblr so forgive my formatting please. I don't know how to feel about this

≻─ ⋆✩ word count: 1.6K

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The traveler says nothing as they observe the Pyro archons family portrait, one that had been painted to her family's likeness. Apart from her parents and her sister, there had been someone else, clearly bearing no resemblance to any of the family, this someone had their arms linked around the archon - everyone smiling. The traveler notes how the archon can't seem to tear her gaze away from the portrait, before she snaps back to the situation at hand. Her eyes drift back to the image during their conversation and they wonder just how long the archon's duties had kept this archon away from her family. The answer was too long - longer than what the traveler had ever imagined.

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The day your love officially decides to sacrifice herself, was one you already knew was coming. There had been discussions for long before it had been finalised and you were just hoping that your darling wife could let a different archon do this... It's not like Natlan lacked in archons, with the possibility for any human to ascend to the seat. Sure, it was selfish, that much you knew but did she really have to be the one? It hurt to know that Mavuika had to be - to give up her life and return five centuries in the future. Five centuries and without you. And you would live the rest of your life without her.

There had been arguments and heated discussions that ended up resulting in everyone's anger and it helped no one, really. At some point, you had to accept it, before you sent off your love with anger instead of some final memories of love and joy. Her mind was clearly made up, long before the final announcement.

It was hard, of course. Hard to accept because suddenly your wife was a ticking time bomb. A set date and a set time, where she would cease to be with you and then she would be lost. She would die and sure, she would be resurrected later... But not in your life time. She would be gone and you would never see your wife alive again. It had felt almost like a doctor's diagnosis, when they give you a time limit. But at least people still had the hope of fighting off an illness and pushing through. This date was final and it was becoming so very real and closing in so very fast.

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The last of her days were spent easy and quiet. Away from the archon life and responsibilities - Mavuika had already ensured she completed everything before the announcement. She had her last days to be spent, after all.

You'd gone out together with her sister, Hine, travelling around Natlan one last time... There had been time spent curled up together, relishing in each other's warmth once more and the comfort found in each other's arms. Soon, sleep would not come easy for you. Too used to the warmth of your lover.

You'd brought her for a quick visit to Sumeru, though it had been rather uneventful and... A lot of sand. More than you'd ever encountered in Natlan and finer than you'd encountered. Dunes and dunes of sand in every direction and wind that blew the sand everywhere and it had stubbornly clung to everything. You spend time still getting sand out of your clothes and bags long after your darling has passed.

In the nights, quiet words of comfort are exchanged and promises made. Mavuika had already requested her wedding ring be kept somewhere... Somewhere she could find when she inevitably rose once more in the future. You cling to your wife, even in your sleep and you dream of a future that you will never be able to have with her.

At times, it feels like you are grieving the loss before it happens. But how do you not when you know it would happen already?

No matter how much fun and laughter is spent together in each day. No matter the soft kisses and tender touches... Your wife would die in a matter of days. And you were powerless to stop it.

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"Come on love, its time to get up", She whispers, though she doesn't shake you awake. The sun had long rose and the colours of the sky had shifted from the orange and purple sunrise hues into the bright sky of a new day. You looked ethereal - the sunlight catching in your hair and sprawled across the pillows. And so at peace, without the weight of a hidden grief that you carried over the last few weeks.

She supposes it was how you saw her when she set her hair aflame. 'it's beautiful, angelic even...', you'd told her once. If she brought up the comparison you would probably laugh. Something about how the sunlight in your hair could not compare to an archon's beauty. Her beauty. But still she watches as the sun dances across your skin with a wonderful glow.

"We don't have anything on today.", Is the only response she gets, your voice laced with sleep, before you bury your face into her neck, turning away from the sun's glare. You can feel her laughter as she runs her fingers through your hair and you are lulled back to sleep with the rhythmic and soothing quality of it. When you wake later, you find yourself still tangled with your wife and she too had been dragged back to the land of dreams.

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The day comes and... The moment your wife gives you the last kiss, last hug and last touch... It passed numbly. She hugs her family goodbye, final words are exchanged... and then she's gone. You had not been allowed to witness the actual sacrifice and you did not want to either ways. The feeling remains numb until it's night time and you're alone. Alone for the first time in... Years. Since you had married, she had always been home for bed, curling up together and relishing in the warmth that radiated through the house. Warmth of the person, in both the figurative and literal sense... And it was gone.

The dam breaks and you cry yourself to sleep. You wake exhausted, despite the full night of rest and it is painful. You force yourself to go about your day and life continues on.

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It hurts even more, when Hine, still young and perhaps she had not quite grasped the meaning of gone. She's inconsolable at first, but soon gains a kind of fire in her, insistent that there's some way of seeing her sister again in the future. Her determination would have been adorable, if you weren't already aware that living that long was impossible and just barely coping with your grief. And unlike your wife (ex...wife? No, she was your wife even if she had passed.) no one else really had that 'wayob ordained purpose' to rise again and protect Natlan from destruction so far into the future.

Five centuries was almost unfathomable to you. No one, short of gods and perhaps the Adepti you hear about in stories from Liyue could live that long. But you were no such mythical beast nor were you a god. You were as human as they got and so was Hine.

Regardless, you force a kind smile as you work together to theorise ways to live that long. To see her sister again and to see your wife again. It's not possible, you already know, and you hoped that her sister would see it before she was too far gone in her aspirations for the far future. She does, eventually, almost a full year later when the passion mellow and it finally hits that she's gone. You hold each other as you both cry and mourn the loss of a loved one.

──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────

Five centuries later and Mavuika rises once more. She finds the wedding ring that she painstakingly stored and had a family portrait made. Painted onto her father's old armour, she describes her family to the best of her ability and she almost weeps at the likeness that the artist manages to capture.

She cannot mourn now, not really. She already accepted her fate in the centuries before and she knew what she was giving up. But if not her, then who? She had a duty to her nation. The grief hits her in the quiet hours of the night when she isn't the Pyro archon of Natlan but just Mavuika . No one fights alone - but why did she feel like this was a battle she was oh no lonely in. So far into the future and so much has changed since the past.

Unfortunately, little survives five centuries of erosion. She doesn't know exactly of what happens to her family. Her sister... Has some records and she pieces together that her younger sister managed to be an architect. Playing a major role in rebuilding the Scions of the Canopy.

But you... Some evidence points to you also became an architect alongside her sister. Helping to rebuild and design the children of the Echoes. Some say you died young, a mysterious disease that compromised your immune systems. Others say you eventually left Natlan to a different nation, which one is unclear but you never returned until much later in life. But all records are alike in stating that you never remarried and never took on another love.

And so Mavuika sits alone and she prays (to who? to who does an archon pray to?) that in the end, her sacrifice is worth it. That giving up everything had been worth it. And she hopes, so desperately that when her (second) human life expires, she can see you again.

[googleitlol]

So… saying Dove is a little antsy to find Wukong and get out of Red Boy's cave may be an understatement.

With many of Red Boy's men injured, it takes about a full day to clear the rubble blocking the entrance. Having nothing to do but wait only drives Dove mad with worry. The second enough is cleared for her to leave, she says goodbye to Red Boy and goes. They do have a little talk first about maybe finding different methods to controlling the Samadhi Fire, or at the very least controlling his temper so something like this doesn't happen again.

She'd stay to help him if she could, but in the moment, all she can think about is finding out what happened to Sun Wukong.

Dove Masterlist:

Oh

There’s a space through the blockage. Too small for a person but just enough for your dove form, and that’s all you need. With nothing else keeping you here, you make your way to the entrance, Red Boy following from behind.

“Take care, Red Boy.” You give the boy a smile once you reach the entrance.

The kid doesn’t look up at you, his eyes focused on the ground in front of his feet. “Are you sure you can’t stay?”

A quiet huff of air escapes from your lips, strings pull at your heart as you watch the boy. If only you do more for him, but that just isn’t possible. You can’t put off returning to your friends any longer, and you have to figure out what happened to Sun Wukong. The thought of having Red Boy join you did cross your mind, he certainly would be helpful if he could learn to control the Samadhi Fire. But if you’re able to find Wukong and others, there’s no way they would want him to join. Not after, well, everything.

Still, he needs better guidance than what is here for him in this cave. You just aren’t able to be the one to do it. “My friends are waiting, and I need to know what happened to Sun Wukong.” You crouch down and rest a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to go through that fight, try to take it easy from now on, okay? Try putting an end to all that eating-people thing.”

“…I’ll think about it.” He groans. A little worrying, but you feel as though that’s as good of an answer as you’re going to get.

Standing back up, you pat the boy on the head, ruffling his hair a bit. “Goodbye, Red Boy.”

He grunts in response, and with that, you take flight and squeeze through the opening amidst the rubble. The land before you once you emerge from the cave is a depressing sight. The water seems to have gone down a bit, but the ground alongside it is a muddy mess. Forgotten arrows and blood-stained weapons stick out from the ground and mountainside, scattered across the battlefield. Some trees have fallen over, others that still stand have burnt branches and scorched trunks.

You don’t spend much time taking in the aftermath of the battle, determined to get moving as quickly as possible. Sun Wukong must have drifted downstream, so that’s where you have to go. With any luck, you might run into the rest of the pilgrims on your search. This is the same direction Tripitaka went to find Pigsy and Sandy, after all.

Staying close to the river, the trek down the mountain is quiet, oddly so. Not a single animal crosses your path, there are no birds in the sky nor is there a single buzz of an insect. It might have worried you if not for your thoughts focused on one thing and one thing only.

Your eyes constantly scope out the surrounding area for hours, looking for any trace of Sun Wukong. It’s like you can still see him falling into the river, that moment playing in your mind over and over. Never did you think you’d ever see him like that, like he could actually be… no, he isn’t.

Come on, this is Sun Wukong you’re thinking about. He’s the Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Heaven! Maybe that hit only surprised him. After all, nothing can hurt him. At least, not physically. You hope so.

Dammit! Your thoughts are getting the better of you. How can they not? If Wukong really was okay, why haven’t you seen him? Why didn’t he get out of the water? The thought of finding his body washed up along the riverbed sends a shiver down your spine. What if he’s unresponsive? If you hold him up only for him to slump back like dead weight? If you try and feel for a pulse–

Before you can spiral any further, an odd scent disrupts your thoughts. Why… Why can you smell saltwater?

The ground begins to shake, and you quickly take dove form and fly up to a nearby tree. The roar of the river grows louder, even more so than during the thunderstorm. It’s coming from uphill, and when you look back, you see it isn’t the river growing louder.

A tidal wave crashes down the mountain, a massive wall of water falling downhill towards you. Smaller trees are knocked down by the rolling force and you quickly take off to a higher vantage point in the sky. The mass of water rushes past, drowning the surrounding land and rising exponentially.

Where did all of this come from? It isn’t slowing down, if anything, more water is coming, but the question of its origin eludes you. It smells like ocean water, but how did it get here? It’s encompassing the mountain at an impossible rate, the trees that still stand barely have a moment left in the air before the water rises to swallow them completely.

Damn, how are you meant to find anyone in this?! Who could be doing this? Did the dragon king’s army return? But they couldn’t have made it rain saltwater, there isn’t even any rain clouds overhead! But then who could be responsible? Who could turn an entire mountain into an ocean?

…Wait a moment.

You look out over the water, a hint of nostalgia flashing through your mind. It is almost like the Southern Sea, by Potalaka Mountain. It couldn’t be… surely, not.

As if you had the capacity to take in any more sudden events, a boy’s scream pierces through the sky. Was that Red Boy? You look out in the direction of the cry and notice three figures in the distance where you came from, by Red Boy’s cave. One of them is on a strange mass, the other two hovering just above on some kind of platform.

You fly over, as fast as you can. What could have happened now?! When you get closer, you’re able to recognise the figures and realise– oh, shit.

The figure sitting on the mass is Red Boy, and the thing he’s sitting on is a collection of swords??? How does that even happen?! What surprises you even more are the two figures in front of him on a lotus platform. Your fellow disciple, Moksa, and Guan Yin herself.

All one thousand of her arms are revealed, her gaze cold as she narrows her eyes at the demon boy before her. You’ve rarely seen that look from her, brows pinched together and her glare sharp enough to pierce metal. You only ever saw that expression when you got into serious trouble as a child.

She holds five golden bands up into the air before sending them towards Red Boy. Four bands fly to his wrists and ankles with the last one falling around his neck. “Listen to me well, child. Under normal circumstances, I would have given you the opportunity to surrender yourself without the constriction of the golden bands. However, you have made a mistake. Have your men release my disciple and I may spare you.”

Shit shit shit shit–

Pushing yourself to go faster, you fly towards the three to disarm the situation. You don’t have to get much closer before your master raises her head up and turns in your direction, Moksa quickly doing the same. “Squab?” She calls out to you as you approach.

Once you’re close enough, two of her arms pull you close into a tight embrace. “Thank goodness you’re safe, my child. Are you hurt?” She loosens her grip a bit once you change back to your human form and stand on the platform with her, but more of her smothering hands begin checking your face and arms, focusing on the wrappings on your arm while you try to speak.

“No– I mean, a little, but it’s alright! I’m okay.” You quickly pull your arm back, but before you can say much else, she wraps you in another hug.

“I was told what happened, I came as soon as I could.” She explains, finally letting you go and giving you the chance to breathe, her arms slowly fading with the reassurance of your safety.

With her check-up over with, you look back to the demon child sitting on the mass of swords. “Please, let Red Boy go. I have already resolved the problem, he let me leave without issue.”

Moksa shoots you a surprised look. “You did?”

“Yes!” Red Boy shouts out on your behalf, the poor boy on the verge of tears.

Guan Yin looks over to the demon child, and the swords vanish in an instant. Red Boy manages to catch himself with his fire cloud, quickly shooting your fellow disciple and master an irritated look while Moksa steps closer to you to give you a hug. “You had us worried, Sister. We were told that you were able to negotiate the freedom of the Tang Monk, but you were still trapped in the demon’s cave.” He explains with a frown, and you mirror the look. Who could have told them that?

“She isn’t in there!” Your head whips back when you hear his voice.

He’s there, crouched on his somersault cloud and looking back in the direction of the cave as he flies forward. “I went back to the brat’s home, but–”

He isn’t able to finish before you jump to him, tackling him into a hug. “Wukong!”

“WoOAHH–!” He lets out a shout as he loses his balance and falls back, sending the two of you crashing into the sea below.

The splash of salt water isn’t enough for you to let go, not until you notice your friend sinking deeper into the water like a rock. A hand grabs onto the back of your shirt as well as Wukong’s, Moksa pulling the two of you out of the water.

Wukong is quick to jump back onto his cloud, barely shaking off the water before taking you out of Moksa’s arms. “Dove, you’re okay!”

“Are you?!” You hold his arms in your own. He looks a little beat. From what’s exposed of his chest, you can see wrappings that go around his chest and back. “I saw you fall in the fight but you didn’t surface! I know you’re immortal but I thought you might have– I thought that…”

You pull him close, holding him tight in your arms. You let your head rest on his shoulder, that faint scent of peaches more comforting than you ever thought it could be. “You scared me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, stiff before returning the embrace. “You’re one to talk.” He chuckles, one arm wrapping around your back while the other cradles the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

“Usually, when it’s just Master that’s been taken, I can handle things with just my brothers and you.” He mumbles, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. “I had to bring an entire army and a bodhisattva for this! You are exhausting to rescue.”

“Me?! I negotiated Tripitaka’s freedom and my own after your first fight!” You release him from your hold with a laugh. To think you even spent so long worrying about this stupid monkey. “ You’re exhausted? I’ve been following the river for hours, terrified at the thought of finding your corpse washed up on its banks!”

“That doesn’t make any sense, I can’t die!” He scoffs, rolling his eyes at the thought.

“Explain all this, then!” You take the idiot by his lapels and pull his shirt down a bit to expose the wrappings, how badly was he hurt when he got hit??

You reach out to turn him around and check his back when he lets out a hiss. You retract your hand when he pulls back and shoots you with a look. “Sorry.”

“Wow, Sister, leave the injured man alone. Or at least wait for us to leave.” Moksa scolds with a smirk, and it only hits you now that you have an audience watching you pull your friend’s shirt down.

Guan Yin laughs softly under her breath, clearly amused despite your face growing more and more red. “I see that you really are alright.”

You nod, turning to face the bodhisattva while Wukong fixes his shirt. “Yes, Master. I apologise for any worry I may have caused with my absence.”

“Miss, you have a lot of friends with very violent tendencies.” Red Boy frowns, his arms crossed.

Before you can respond, Wukong put an arm over you and gives the boy a glare. “Says the one who was planning on eating her.”

“I didn’t want to eat her, just your master.” Red Boy scoffs. “I’m not so terrible as to do harm to the people that are nice to me.”

“Yeah, because locking them up is so much better.” Wukong bites back. “You’re lucky I didn’t swat you halfway across the continent!”

The boy laughs. “Like you could! Remind me, simian, who was the one that lost both fights?”

“You mean after you pulled those dirty tricks with the fire?!” He sneers, his cloud moving the two of you closer to the boy before you pull his arm back.

“Okay! Let’s all take a breath.” You hum, giving your friend a smile. “I think it’s about time we got back to the others, yeah?” Wukong looks over to you as you speak, the anger on his face receding before giving the demon boy one last glare.

“Yeah, you’re right.” When he looks back at you, he returns your smile.

Your master hums. “Give your companions my regards, I’m afraid I will have to stay back.” She glances over to Red Boy, who shrinks back a bit under her gaze. “There are some things I would like to discuss before returning home.”

With that, Sun Wukong scoops you into his arms. You let out a bit of a surprised noise when he does, and he takes off before you’re able to say a word. Hopefully, your master goes easy on the boy.

Soon it’s just you and Wukong soaring through the new sea, and you give the demon a worried frown. “Here, I can change back into a dove–”

“No, it’s alright.” He grunts, his eyes facing towards the horizon.

Your brows furrow, discomfort itching at your limbs. “But you’re hurt, I don’t want you to strain yourself.”

“Ha!” He grins, shaking his head as though you said something amusing. “I can still lift my staff just fine, and it weighs several tons more than you ever could.” Wukong looks down to you, noticing the worry on your face and frowning. He hums a bit as he looks back up, silence stretching for only a moment before he continues.

“I just… it’s been a long couple of days, and I want to.” He admits. “You’ve had me worried sick and, I don’t know– I feel better like this. Is that okay with you?”

Wukong looks back down to you, his eyes almost… you’re not sure what to call it. The look he shares with you, it’s soft, gentle. You’re taken aback a little by the sincerity in his voice, and even though you feel an immense relief to see him safe– to see him alive– you still feel your heart quicken its pace the longer you share this look with him. Perhaps it was because you haven’t had a peaceful moment with him in the last two days or so, but his red and golden eyes stun you in the moment. Those golden irises, they’ve always taken you a little by surprise.

Eventually, you remember he asked you a question, and turn away into his shoulder in hopes to hide the flushed red growing over your face. You’re not even sure why you can feel any heat in your cheeks. “Sure, Peaches, I don’t mind.”

“Peaches?” Your eyes go wide as he echoes the nickname.

Now you have a reason for your face turning red. “I mean, you are what you eat.” You mumble, as though any sort of reasoning could make this any less embarrassing. You didn’t mean to say any of that out loud! Gah, what is going on with you?!

He laughs a bit, clearly amused. “No, I like it! You’re right, I am what I eat.” His chuckle rumbles through his chest, and oddly enough, you can feel his heartbeat become a little faster. “Does this mean I get to call you Love-Do–”

“No.”

His laughter fills the air, and you can’t help but smile a little when you hear it. Knowing he’s safe, that he’s with you now, it feels as though a weight has lifted. You’ve never felt so afraid for him before, have such panic rush through you over the thought that he was in genuine danger. Hearing his laughter, you can’t help but feel this sense of relief, of joy.

Wukong sighs, and you feel his hold tighten just slightly. “I’m glad you’re safe, Dove.”

Your smile refusing to fade, you tuck your head into the crook of his neck and sigh. The scent of peaches is so calming. “I’m glad you’re safe too, Peaches.”

Sun Wukong giggles, and you grin. He sounds like he really likes that nickname, huh? Maybe it wouldn’t be so embarrassing to use it more, if it got that sort of reaction from him. Maybe not in front of the others, though.

~~~~

She called him Peaches. It’s… it’s cute. Sun Wukong didn’t expect that from her, though her embarrassment is making it all the better. With the stress of these past days, he nearly forgot how much he loves it when she gets all flustered like that. It’s just… he can’t think of any other way to describe it other than cute.

The sage can feel his heart racing but he tries his best to ignore it and play it cool. Damn, how does she do it? When she was gone, he was beyond stressed, and having her in his arms is so calming, yet his heart is going a mile a minute. How does she do this to him?

She’s the only one who ever can. It felt like some sort of magic, but not her usual magic. Not her gift, it was… it was something else. That ‘something else’ has been bugging the sage for some time now. He’s not sure when it started, but whenever he’s able to see that smile, when he caught a glimpse of her in the heat of battle– sometimes when she was the way she is now, all flustered– that something else prods at him.

Wukong looks down at her again, safe in his arms. He could stay like this forever, if he could. Her warmth encapsulates him, making his injury nothing more than a faded memory. It feels so right, so perfect, having Dove in his arms.

Her calming aura and that something else continues to pick away at him. It makes him feel light, and when it’s there he can’t help but smile and tighten his hold slightly. He doesn’t want this to slip away. What a nice feeling, this something else. “I’m glad you’re safe, Dove.”

She smiles before nuzzling her head into his neck, and the action is enough for Wukong to believe his heart might burst from his chest. He feels his face flush as she lets out a little sigh of content. The small sound is enough to make his chest constrict. “I’m glad you’re safe too, Peaches.”

The giggle that comes from him is completely involuntary, as though it’s an automatic reaction to her name for him. This woman… That something else, it’s almost eating away at him.

That something… else…

Oh. Oh, wait.

No… wait, no… oh.

Oh.

[k-dokja]

IT’S NO BIG DEAL — It's a little Big Deal actually.

Summary: You should meet his new friends... all two of them.

"What the hell is this?"

Arguably, he doesn't know if you'd look scarier or less scary without the huge knife you're waving. He has seen you beating people, some of them go out cold with only a kick to the face.

"Not only you went out and got caught up in gang fights, but you also brought back your unruly cohorts to my kitchen? Do you have no fear of death?"

Brad whispers next to him, "She called us unruly cohorts."

"She was raised well," Jake whispers back, "her vocabulary is more developed than us."

"I'm more terrified of the fact that she got us on our knees immediately," Jason hushes back at them, "Who is this girl? Why have you brought us to our deaths?"

Jake throws him a glance with a small smirk on his lips, "She's my future wife. Be nice to her, she'll be your future boss lady."

Jason opens his mouth but snaps it shut when you speak up. "Will you three stop whispering among each other and answer me already?"

With a pacifying smile, Jake raises his hand and gives you an imploring look. "We were hanging out after school and I mentioned to them how I often helped you cook. Hence..."

"Hence you brought them here to freeload?" You raise the knife and Jake flinches back. He knows he's in no real danger, but on some base levels of instinct, his mind's screaming at him to cower and run.

"When you put it like that, it sounds bad," his grin is strained, and he feels cold sweat running down his neck, "you mentioned wanting to test new recipes and I brought you new test subjects, that's all."

Immediately, Jason whips his head to stare at him. "That sounds even worse!"

Jake only grins further, like he didn't throw his friends under the bus a moment earlier. At least, you no longer look mad. You're mulling over his suggestion even, that look on your face when you contemplate is adorable.

Then you glare at him again, "Fine, but you better pull your weight," you say, "I'm not feeding you lots for free."

Brad and Jason are both staring at him now, but he ignores their wide eyes and gets back up on his feet. "As you command, my lady," Jake nods at his friends to follow his lead. After some reluctance, they follow.

You are quick with your delegation around the kitchen, he guesses that comes from your experience commanding him. He doesn't mind, making it go smoother without any unnecessary bickering. After listening to your precise instructions, Jason begins to dice the vegetables while Brad works to season the meat.

Jake has the easier task of helping you knead some dough. "What are we making?" He asks midway through his task, vaguely realizing he doesn't know what he's working on.

"I was going to make pot roast but since your friends probably want to eat sooner, I'm going to make roasted beef with vegetables," you say, "I'm reheating the stew I made yesterday and the rice only needs to be fried, I'll make tuna salad later. That should be quick to prepare."

He snorts. Even with your earlier scolding, you are making enough food to feed the three of them anyway. "Then what are these dough for?"

You throw him a perfunctory glance, "What else? Desserts."

Jake snickers but says nothing in response. Maybe he should have because his silence only leaves space for Jason to butt in. “So, how long have you two been dating?”

He can hear the record scratching in your head. From your expression alone, he knows your head must’ve blanked the moment you heard the question. Unlike you, Jake has no problem with the question. He could’ve taken the initiative to answer it, but he didn’t. Selfishly, he wants to hear the answer from you, even if it’s a denial.

“We aren’t dating,” you frown, “what gives you that impression?”

Jason fumbles, “Well, Jake said—”

Jake coughs loudly, cutting in. “It’s easy to misunderstand, the two of us often spend time with each other,” he hopes his explanation would temper any unfortunate outcome for him, “others can get the wrong idea.”

“Really?” You ask, nonplussed. Somehow, he’s disappointed by your quick recovery from the shock of the situation. “Guess that makes sense.”

Jake, on another hand, turns to Jason and pantomimes zipping his lips shut. He puts on a pleasant smile when you turn back with the pot of stew in your hands, his face is the picture of innocence. In his peripheral vision, he notices Brad clasping his hands in prayers. For who, he can't tell.

Thankfully, you notice none of that and what remains of the cooking session goes on without another noticeable hitch.

There are two things Jake predicted when he brought Jason and Brad over to your place. One of them is that they will see you and fall in love within three seconds because if that happened to him, then no reason why they should be infallible to your wily charm. The second thing is more plausible and amusing all the same, all it takes is for them to eat one bite of your cooking and they'd be heads over heels for you too.

He wouldn't blame them if they never want to leave afterwards. You're simply that irresistible.

Since the previous outcome didn't happen due to your unbridled rage, Jake has a pleased smile on his lips when the boys change their entire demeanour the moment they begin to eat. It's like watching someone actualizing their enlightenment in real-time. Fascinating and wild in equal measure, he can't say he doesn't enjoy watching it.

"So?" Jake asks the question you want to ask but is too polite to mention. You focus on your food, but he knows you're listening because there's a small smile on your lips when Jason answers.

"Holy shit," Jason gawks at him, "you get to eat like this every day?"

Jake grins, "Only when she feels generous enough to grace me with her blessing."

You stick your tongue out at him but the smile on your face when you look back down at your food tells him all. It has been a nice idea bringing Brad and Jason over, even if he did spring it on you out of nowhere.

He could've spent the remainder of the meal watching you, but he knows there are far more productive things he can do. Jake turns to Brad, who has been silent the whole time. Getting his opinion would be a good idea, too. Even if—

"Hey! Eat faster! Brad is eating everything!"

By the end of the meal, Jason and Brad have volunteered for dishes and cleaning duty. You sit at the dining table to monitor them, if only because you don't want anything to happen to your family's chinas. Jake takes the chance to sit back, too. He would love to lend a helping hand, but three would be a crowd.

Besides, he enjoys the chance to talk with you without the interlopers.

"You don't mind?"

He nods at his new friends milling around the kitchen. It'd be a moment before you give him your answer, but the wait is worth it because he's warm all over now. "Not really," you say, "I'd have preferred you giving me a head up so I can prepare better but... it's nice to see you hanging out with friends. You've been hanging out alone for so long."

Jake snorts, "I wasn't hanging out alone, I had you."

"I can't be your only friend, Jake," you chuckle, "'sides, we don't even go to the same school or study in the same grade, it's nice to see you having friends who have more in common with you."

"You and I have plenty in common," he says, "like... we live in the same neighbourhood."

You roll your eyes but your smile is affectionate when you look at him, "Yeah, and once you moved away after you finished school, we'll no longer be friends?"

"You make it sound bad," he laughs softly, "I won't let that happen."

"Mhm, whatever," you hum. "They seem nice, I hope the three of you will stay friends for long. It's better to have many people watching your back since you get into trouble all the time."

He can't help but grin, "Do I seem that unruly in your eyes?"

You arch an eyebrow at him, "Do you want to hear the truth? It will hurt your feeling."

"Please spare me then, my fair lady," he pleads mockingly, "I can only take so much of your cruelty."

Caught in the little bubble he has made with you, Jake fails to overhear the conversation his new friends are making behind his back. All the better because if either of you heard it, he wouldn't know how to play it off without lying.

"...He's whipped."

"He's definitely whipped."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: you all are beautiful.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The professor’s shadow looms over you in your dim room. Now you have a face for your disappointment. The thought of his staunch expression fills you with dread and somewhat motivation. So it is that you at least try. Just try. Simple as that. Try. 

After your meeting, you spend the day cleaning your room, hoping for a clean slate to start over. You spend a bit too long contemplating useless possessions as if putting off the inevitable. Eventually you have to sit down and do the real work. Once you do that, you will be forced to face reality. This is the flip of the coin; success or failure. 

The next morning you turn on the overhead light, casting the space in a brighter tint than usual. You aren’t used to the clarity or the tidiness. You can see the floor. There isn’t clutter on the desk or the bookshelf and it just feels easier. 

Anxious to begin, you sit down and boot up your laptop. You open your notebook and find your place. The course book takes some time to load as you yawn and rub your forehead. You need coffee before you begin. That’s it. No other distractions after that. 

You get up and cross the room, a needling above your left eyebrow. Yes, coffee is a must. You come out into the hall and listen to the silence of the apartment. It’s early and you know your mother had a late night. You woke up several times to inexplicable thumps. 

You shuffle into the kitchen and wash out the dregs of yesterday’s coffee from the pot. You empty the filter and put in a new one; measuring the grounds particularly. Everything you do is deliberate now, it has to be. You pour water in the tank and pop the lid down, hitting brew to cap off the process. 

You lean on the counter and yawn again. You hang your head as your eyelids grow heavy. You can’t be sleepy all day. You need your energy. The equations will certainly do little for your pulsing head. 

You hear your mom’s bedroom door and you shift over towards the sink. A figure appears at the edge of your vision but you don’t look over. You assume it’s her until the deep rumble rises from the man’s throat. Lee nears and before you can sidle further, he’s behind you. 

“Mm, coffee smells good,” he rasps as he pens you in, reaching over your head to open the cupboard. His stomach presses to your back as you stare down at the sink, “scuse me.” He takes down a cup, lingering a moment before he backs away and sets the cup down with a loud clink, “you’re up early.” 

Him too. You keep the thought sewn up behind your lips. You shrug. 

“Heard you last night too. Skittering around in your room.” 

Your blink at him. He wears only a pair of white underwear, his belly pudgy but his arms firmly muscled. He hardly seems bothered by his bareness. He takes the pot off the burner mid-brew and fills his cup, emptying what’s there before he places it back. You tuck your lower lip under your teeth and cross your arms. 

“Night owl, huh,” he comments as he pulls the sugar dish away from the wall. He takes the lid off and sprinkles the sugar into his coffee without a spoon. You stand and watch him dumbly. 

He swirls the mug and takes a sip. He lets out a satisfied sigh, “mm, you make good coffee.” 

You bite into your lip before you let it free, “thanks, sir.” 

He scoffs, “sir? Ain’t got my badge on right now.” 

You nod and cross your arms. 

“How old’re ya?” he turns to lean on the counter, slurping loudly. 

You’re put off by his curiosity. Your run-ins are few and far between. That’s on purpose. You avoid your mother’s men and often, the do the same with you. You answer him and he hums, eyes slitting as he thinks. 

“And you’re still living here with ma?” He wonders, “old enough to be out on your own, ain’t ya?” 

“I guess,” you lock your arms tightly, your shoulders hurting from the tension. 

“Mmm,” he takes another gulp, his eyes still on you. “Ain’t bad. Ain’t bad at all. Bet lots of men wouldn’t mind.” 

“What?” You shift back on your heel. 

“Yeah, not too bad on the eyes, are ya? I mean, ladies are all the same when you get em naked,” he chortles and stands straight.  

“Sir, I... I got... I got homework,” you turn, swaying awkwardly as you drop your arms and march away. 

“Ah, smarty pants, huh? Men like that too,” he taunts after you. “Don’t matter much when they young like you.” 

You’re brittle, about to break. You don’t need another reminder of how much of a loser you are. Even when you try, it’s just not enough.  

You don’t look back, your skin crawling as he belches and you hear the carafe hit the top of the machine as he lifts it again. You close yourself in your room and frown at the wall. You didn’t even get coffee for all that. 

You pout and drag your feet to the desk. You sit down and brace your head in your hands. You’ll try to wait him out. He’ll have to leave eventually. Coffee doesn’t matter. You got to get through this course book. You promised you would. 

📓

It takes two days to finish the coursebook, faster than expected. A gleam of pride flashes through your mind but quickly fizzles out as you attach your work to an email. It might be done but it matters more that it's done correctly.  

You don't know much of Professor Smith or truly of people in general, but he seems to be very precise. Forgiving in moments but given his feedback on previous submissions, he is strict about the numbers themselves. You make yourself hit send. 

You could take the afternoon on some self-congratulatory celebration, but you still have work to do. You open up coursework five and wait for the case studies to load. The most difficult part for you are the spreadsheets. There's so much data to sift through though applying the formulas and balancing them are easy enough. 

After a few problems, you stretch your fingers and lean your head on the heels of your hands. You yawn at the desk and roll your shoulders as you sit up. If you can get through just one course, you might just be able to do this. 

It's a bit ridiculous. The smallest of things are so big to you. The simple are overly complicated by your self-doubt and yet too often those doubts have proven true.  

You shake off the wave of grimness and stand up. You stop halfway, hovering between the seat and your feet, as an email chimes in. It's Professor Smith. You sit and blink at the laptop. 

'Thank you. I will have a look over and return with feedback. Hope you are keeping well. Good job on the speedy work. 

Best, 

Raymond' 

Your cheeks pinch as a smile threatens. He hasn't said whether you've done well or not but the acknowledgement feels like sunshine on your skin. It makes you want to keep going. 

You forget about the whim to have a cup of tea and settle back in to work at the next problem. If you get through the first section of the coursework, you might just be able to sleep. 

📓

Groggy, you rub your eyes and grumble. You lean forward on the toilet and let the trickle out. You woke up with a horrible fullness and it hurts to let it out. You sigh as you stand and pull up your sweatpants. 

As you crank on the sink, you hear a groaning hinge that mirrors the noise. There's staggering and the shatter of glass. A body hits the wall just outside the bathroom door. You turn off the faucet and face the commotion.  

Your heart races as your mother cries out and there's the crack of flesh. Your reticence has you cowering as fire speckles over you. It's not just fear, it's anger, the frustration you tamp down each time you hear her bawling. 

"No good lousy bitch," Lee snarls as there's another slap. This time he grunts, "what the hell do ya think ya doin'?" 

You near the door and slowly turn the knob. You inch it open and see your mother crawling away from the man. The scent of vodka permeates the air and a broken bottle litters the carpet around her. 

Lee boots her rear and sends her to her stomach. She yelps as he steps over her, dropping down to straddle her between his knees. She's wearing one of her tattered night shirts and nothing else, one sleeve down her shoulder. 

"Now, I waa being nice and you just had to go and yip like a spoilt bitch," he grabs her hair and forces her head up as she whines. The thrashes out, the glass cutting into her arms and legs, as he shifts his weight and the elastic of his briefs tautens as he tugs at it. "Lemme show ya what you're worth--" 

Your heart races and your throat lumps. Your chest tightens and your adrenaline wakes you completely. You don't know what to do. Do what you always do; hide. 

You push the door towards the frame and your mother sobs again. You close your eyes and stop. You don't know what you're doing. Why you're doing it. It never helps. It never works. Not since that little girl ended up at the bottom of the stairs all those years ago. When she learned to keep out of the way. 

Those memories fade and you swing the door inward. Your feet stomp out across the floor and you leap onto Lee's back as he bares his ass. You hook your arms around his thick neck and he falls backwards as your mom yelps again. 

“Huh, oh,” she wriggles and drags herself from under you and Lee as you wrestle on the floor, “sweetie, no--” 

She reaches for you and Lee kicks her again. She falls back and you squeeze him tighter, as hard as you can, ignore the bite of the glass as it pierces through your shirt. He elbows your side and you gasp, the pain ringing through your ribs.

Still, you don’t let go. You don’t know why. Maybe because if you do, you lose. 

“What’re ya—dumb little brat—just like your ma,” he snarls as his weight crushes you and he tries to peel your fingers from around your forearm. “I’m gonna teach you--” 

“Don’t hurt her!” You mother jumps on him, further adding to the pile. You can’t breathe as you’re flattened beneath them. “That’s my daughter! My daughter...” 

Her words slur drunkenly as she cries and lays her fists weakly into the man atop you. He shoves her off of him easily but she doesn’t relent. She lands on her ass between his legs and yours. You barely keep hold of him as you head begins to thrum. 

“Hold him, baby,” she orders as you can only see the top of her head over the chaos. She jerks and the man atop you grunts and shrivels his hands flying down to cup below his waist. “God--- Irene. The—fuck.” 

“Baby, let him go,” your mother huffs and heaves as she struggles to her feet. 

She pulls on your arm, tugging you out from under him as he rolls onto his sides, his hand between his legs. She must have got a good shot in. She stumbles and sways as she pulls you up, hanging onto you as she almost topples again. She’s drunk. Very drunk. 

“Go to your room, sweetie,” she brings a hand to your cheek. “Please--” 

“But...” you trail off and look down at the man as he puffs out through gritted teeth, “make him go, mom. Please. He’s going to hurt you.” 

“It’s alright,” she coos and pets your face, “it doesn’t hurt so much.” 

“Wh-why?” You sputter. 

“You gotta go, baby,” she coaxes, “let me take care of him.” 

“Mom, please,” you beg her, eyes glazing with tears. “We can call the cops--” 

“He is the cops, baby,” she lets you go and turns to him, falling over him as she rubs his arm, “Lee, honey, I’m sorry. I was just scared--” 

“I oughta--” he chokes out, “that damn daughter of yours...” 

“Shush, honey,” she comforts him and bends to whisper in his ear. 

You stare down at them, mortified. All that effort and for what? She just folds for these men. Goes right back to taking the abuse. Over and over again. They don’t even treat her nice. 

She looks up again, her eyes glistening, “go. Lock your door.” 

Her hiss nips at you and has you scrambling to your room. There’s nothing you can do. You don’t know why you thought for that instant that you could. You don’t know why you think there’s anything you can do right. It all just ends the same. 

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Just a friendly reminder that I missed the last post so I’m posting part 26 and part 27 on the same day, so make sure to go back and read 26 if you haven’t already! ❤️

Part 1 | . . . | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28

Eddie doesn’t laugh the way Steve thinks he would. Instead, he frowns slightly. “Should be careful,” he mumbles. “Some dealers don’t care what they give you, long as they get their money.”

Steve hums in response. “Well, I won’t have to worry about that now, right?” He shifts on the roof, laying down to look up at the stars. Feels, more than sees, Eddie do the same. “You’re staying.”

“That I am,” Eddie replies, sighing as he looks at the stars. “Wish we could see ‘em all.”

Steve glances over, and Eddie lifts a hand, waves it lazily at the sky. “The stars. Can’t see but half of ‘em cause of all the lights. But they’re so pretty. So bright. Almost enough to make me want to brave my dad again.”

Steve hums. “He’s still alive?”

“Yeah. ‘S he not? In four years?”

“I dunno exactly. Just… the way you phrased things made it sound like he wasn’t.”

“Well, hell,” Eddie laughs, raising the blunt like it’s a glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

Steve snorts and knocks his knuckles against Eddie’s, accepting the joint again after Eddie takes a drag. “So,” Eddie says, rolling over to lay on his front, propping himself up on his elbows. “Tell me the Steve Harrington hierarchy for dates. What comes first?”

Steve chuckles. “Why?” He asks, then answers regardless. “First date is getting to know each other, y’know? If you run out of things to say twenty minutes into it, how the hell’re you supposed to make a relationship work, right? So first date is making sure you’re…” he waves a hand around, looking for the right word. “Like… making sure you match.”

“Compatible?” Eddie suggests, and Steve snaps at him.

“Compatible, that’s it, yeah. Making sure you’re compatible. Second date’s for making sure you’re serious about it, making sure there’s still more to talk about, that you’re not gonna end up staring awkwardly at each other twenty minutes into that date because maybe you’re compatible enough for one date, but not really two, right?”

“So every subsequent date is just making sure you’re compatible.”

“I guess, yeah. Except when you know you are compatible, then you show ‘em who you really are. You put away your nice shirts and start getting out the everyday ones. The dates aren’t as planned out because they don’t need to be, because you already have fun together. Maybe you go to the arcade and you don’t let ‘em win. Or not as easy, at least. I’m still terrible at bowling. I don’t think there’s any hope for me.” He shakes his head with a chuckle.

Eddie raises a brow. “You’re telling me there’s a sport in which you don’t excel? This I have to see.”

Steve laughs and nudges his shoulder. “Man, shuddup.”

“No, but seriously,” Eddie says, and he sounds serious, so Steve drops his smile and listens. “If… if I were to go on a date, on a few dates, with a guy, maybe someone like you, and it’s going well, and we get to that point… I could imagine us doing pretty much exactly this.”

“Getting high on a roof?”

“Spending time together,” Eddie says quietly. “No expectations.”

“Oh,” Steve says quietly, sure his cheeks are scarlet.

“And,” Eddie says even quieter, practically a whisper, “I maybe wouldn’t mind trying with you.”

“As excited as that makes me,” Steve says, “and trust me, I’m pretty damn excited, I can’t help but think maybe we should wait until we’re past the end of the world.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, and brushes his knuckles against Steve’s. They both watch the movement. “Figure I’ve waited this long, what’s a little bit longer, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, pressing his thumb to one of Eddie’s knuckles. Wishes he was pressing his lips to that knuckle instead.

He suddenly sighs. “It’s not just gonna be a week or two, y’know. It’s… when this is over, we can’t stay. Robin and I, we’ve gotta go back to the future.”

“Well, sure, but there’s some version of you that’s gonna stay, right?”

“And if that version of me doesn’t know that any of this happened? ‘M still an asshole, Eddie.”

Eddie grins and rolls over until they’re face-to-face. “I don’t think you’re capable of not being bitchy,” he says, laughing when Steve good-naturedly shoves his face away. “No, but hey,” he says quieter, more serious. “The Harrington Charm might be legendary, but us Munsons got a few tricks up our sleeves too, m’kay? If I have to win you back, I’ll do it. Or could you write yourself a note, maybe? Alli’s staying, she could give it to you. You could write to ask any one of us about it, and we’d tell you.”

Steve hums. “How do you do that?”

Eddie blinks. “Do what?”

“Make me feel like everything’s gonna be alright.”

Eddie blushes, but doesn’t answer, just offers Steve the joint again.

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[tidbit-fanfic]

A/N: WOW did this take forever. Did you think I’d honestly leave Forever & Always as it was? Here’s your fix-it-fic, part two to Forever & Always, but of course you don’t have to read this if you don’t want to fix things. That’s fine.

TW: 18+ Smut, protected sex (wrap your willy silly), car sex, blood, cannon level violence, angsty angst, the l-word, Micheal, mention of castration, spanking, makeup/angry sex?, fluffy fluff

No one ever said breakups were easy. Months passed before I could even look Dean in the eye again, and more passed until we returned to how we were before the relationship had ever happened. We formed a close bond and worked together on case after case. I accompanied Castiel and Kelly when the Winchesters were arrested, and I became a major support during Kelly’s pregnancy, within the limits set by Cas. When they busted out to raise more hell? I was there to help clean up after them. 

Things became rocky when Dean began lashing out towards Jack. I slammed my fist into his jaw one time. I don’t regret it, and I don’t think I ever will. He left in a huff after, ignoring me, as Sam and I tried to make sense of everything. A whirlwind of catastrophic events later, Dean stepped forward, doing the one thing he promised he never would: let Micheal in. 

“Anyone find anything?” 

“Sam, we’ve been searching for weeks, and every time you ask that question, what’s the answer?”

The younger Winchester pushes his hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lungs. “Just hoping for something.”

“I know. You miss him, but we’re working overtime to scrounge up anything on him. Have you even slept in the past twenty-four hours?” I stand from the rickety chair I’d been sitting in for the past hour, looking into Sam’s eyes. His face quickly switched to one of guilt, a shy, school-boyish look taking over his features. My hands found their place on my hips, taking on a motherly stance. “Go. Sleep. Now.”

“But—”

“Now, Samuel.” He runs off to his room to get some sleep, hopefully. I turn back to my small team of five people. They all shake their heads, a couple returning their eyes to the screen sitting before them. With no sign of Dean, Sam and Mary have become overly stressed, constantly checking in on any form of a lead. Meanwhile, Jack and Cas are out doing their own little thing, leaving me to manage this small team, checking sources daily. Micheal must be covering his tracks extremely well because our facial scanners have reported back nothing about Dean, or any unnatural glitching. 

I walk my way into the kitchen, searching for a distraction. These past few weeks, I organized and reorganized the kitchen at least three times. It’s become my solitude after losing Dean yet again. I pulled out some ingredients and began cooking dinner for everyone in the bunker, hoping that by keeping my hands busy, I could distract my mind. 

“So, you’re going to follow this lead alone?” I cross my arms, narrowed eyes sizing up the Winchester standing in front of me, resulting in Sam shaking his head.

“I’m meeting up with mom and Bobby on the way.”

“Fine,” I say, pushing off of the table, watching as he goes to turn. “And Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Bring him back.”

Sam looks at me, a hint of remorse playing in his eyes. He goes to open his mouth before I wave him off, making my way to Jack’s room. I raise my hand and knock, waiting for Jack’s response. The door creaks as I open it, revealing the young male who has been living with us for some time. 

“Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”

“I mean, better now. Cas is finally beginning to see that I can help on hunts.”

I nod, sitting at the foot of his bed. “Did Sam tell you…”

“He did.” 

“Oh,” I state, racking my brain for ways to keep the conversation flowing when the blonde pipes up.

“You still care for him. Don’t you?”

My eyes snap up to Jack’s. “Jack. It’s difficult.”

“It’s not though. You should tell him when he’s back.”

“I can’t do that, he’s…it's…complicated.”

The male tilts his head, eyes searching my face for an explanation. I sigh, “I, well, he was the one who messed up, and I just took it. I accepted he didn’t like me enough to work through it. Then I fell apart, Jack, and I can’t live through that again.” 

“Is that truly how you feel?”

“There is no other way. We can’t, he can’t change what he did. I can’t forgive him for making me a second choice.”

Jack reached forward, resting a hand on mine, the other to wipe away the tears that fell. “But you still love him.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “But I can’t have him.”

“Y/N, I know I may not have been on this earth for long, but I’ve seen enough to say this: if you love him, give Dean a second chance. You never know how things might go this time around.”

I stand, wiping my face. “No Jack, I can’t” 

I leave his room, returning to the main part of the bunker, not before grabbing a glass of alcohol to numb the pain. I join the research team in the library, sitting in one of the few comfy chairs while Jack’s words echo through my head. “Give him a second chance. You never know how things might go this time around.”

 Heavy footsteps resonate through the bunker, Cas re-entering from Jack’s room, a look of shock crossing his features. “Dean?”

I watch as Cas wraps Dean into a hug, setting my glass on a nearby table as Dean’s voice rings out. “Hey, Cas.”

One of the few extra hunters walks up to Sam, running him through the information we collected since his departure. Meanwhile, Dean looks around at all the new bodies occupying the bunker. I turn my head away, beginning to make my way towards my room to avoid interaction with him, but it seems as if fate has other plans, with one of my subordinates stepping into my field of vision. “Cap? We have a couple of updates on that nest you asked about?”

“Show me what you have.” I look down at the tablet, littered with pins displaying the nest’s pattern of migration. I listen as they explain the situation, ignoring the presence creeping in from behind me. 

“Okay, send out a small group, maybe five? Check in with Sam to get it approved and run a couple of facial scans to ensure that they are where you’re predicting. Good work.”

“On it Captain.” 

“Captain? That’s an interesting nickname.” Jumping at the rough voice, I turn to meet a pair of forest green eyes I used to call home. I look him up and down, taking in the state of him, and maybe, just maybe, appreciating the archangel’s fashion taste, paired with Dean’s attempt at making it comfortable. As I meet his eyes, I can't help but force a smile, refusing to reveal my emotions.

“Dean! It’s so great to see you in one piece. Sam had us searching everywhere for you.”

“Sam did? It wasn’t you?” 

“He was driving himself sick.”

He nods, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Look, Y/N, I know we—”

“Captain?” Another voice cuts through his sentence, and I turn to see Charlie holding out a tablet, nodding to Dean before redirecting her attention to me. 

“The reports you wanted just came back. Our predictions were right. Ketch’s team is nearby, just a couple of miles down the way. We’re sending them the info on the nest right now.” 

“Thank you, Charlie. And it’s really great to see you back, Dean. Especially in one piece.” I turn, heading back to my room, this time without interruptions. I close the door behind me, sliding down against it before rubbing my temples. Breakups aren’t easy, and living in the same space as your ex just makes it worse. 

The next morning, I’m up before everyone else, starting coffee and breakfast for the bunker. A sweaty Sam enters the kitchen, grabs a glass of water, and then presumably leaves to take a shower before the hustle of the bunker begins. I relax into the routine I’ve put myself into since Dean left, mundane tasks I easily get lost in. Breakfast is finished before I return to my room, a notification lighting up my phone’s screen from Sam. I flip my phone over, opting for a couple more hours of sleep before dealing with him. 

The sound of knocking wakes me up, as my door moves slightly with the action. I open it, coming face-to-face with Sam. Taking a step back, I rush to smooth down my hair while Sam lets out a low whistle. “And I thought my bedhead was bad.”

I throw a middle finger at him, glaring as he chuckles. “What do you want?”

“Just got a case in.” He walks in, taking a seat at my desk, opening his laptop to reveal a newspaper article. Man Reported Missing By Girlfriend: Claims A Giant Woman-Bird Took Him. 

“Are we sure she’s not just crazy?”

“Yes, multiple police reports of missing men in the area have a claim of ‘giant woman-birds’ taking them. Seems like an us problem.”

I look over his shoulder at the reports, showing drawn portraits of the attackers. “Jesus, those look like harpies. Tricky little buggers, but should be a ‌simple case. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“Good, see you then.”

Ten minutes later, I cross the threshold to the garage, eyes scanning it for the younger Winchester. The passenger side window of the Impala rolls down, revealing Dean, sitting in the driver’s seat. “C’mon, we don’t have all day. If Sam’s right about the feeding patterns, they’re gonna strike again tonight.” 

I look over my shoulder to the door of the garage. “Speaking of Sam, where is he? I thought it was just going to be us on this hunt?”

“Nope. Just me and you, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” I open the door, tossing my bag into the backseat before climbing in, staying as far away from Dean as possible. He grumbles something under his breath, throwing Baby into drive and leaving the bunker. This was going to be a long hunt. 

Blood hit my face as my knife sliced through a harpy’s wing. The creature let out a screech before turning to me, its teeth elongating as it prepared to attack. I raised an arm to push back when a gunshot rang through the air. She fell to the ground, revealing a blood-covered Dean standing behind her. I dropped my arm, huffing and kicking at the dead body of the woman. We had destroyed the nest,and all the harpies within it, leaving only one last step before we could head to a hotel and get cleaned up. I looked at Dean, whose eyes remained locked on me with worry. “You ready to burn these bitches?”

A smirk broke out on his face. “You know it.”

I giggled beneath my breath, grabbing a container of gasoline before returning to the building. I poured it on top of the bodies, as well as the makeshift nests, before returning to Baby. Dean pulled a zippo from his pocket, striking it before throwing it into the door. We both leaned back onto the vehicle, watching as the building went up in flames, the adrenaline slowly beginning to leave our systems. 

I turn, looking at the man beside me. While checking him over for any wounds, noticing his shoulder bleeding. Claw marks from where the harpy attempted to take him. I reach out, pulling the torn fabric from the wound for a closer look. “Crap, Dean, this looks like it hurts.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” He shrugs, tensing as my hands work over his wound. “First aid is in the backseat.”

I nod, going to get it, ready to be done with the hunt. “Alcohol incoming.”

After I ensure he won't get an infection, I thread a fishing line into place, starting the first stitch, causing a hiss to rip from his mouth. Stitch after stitch, I tend to the injury, patching over it with some hydrocolloid bandages before stepping back. 

My eyes flutter open, revealing unfamiliar scenery. Dean looks up from his phone. “All good. Just taking a pit stop. Showers are over there.”

“I thought we were going to a motel?” I rub my eyes, reaching over the seat for my bag. 

“I thought it’d be pretty stupid, considering we’re only five hours from home. I was just gonna clean up and nap a bit before finishing the drive.”

I nod leaving the Impala and making my way to the shower building, clutching my pocket knife in my right hand as a safety precaution. I knew Dean had parked in an area where he could see the entrance, but it never hurt to be a little extra cautious. I entered the station, locking myself into one stall and starting the shower. Peeling my crusty clothes from off, I rinsed them in the water, hoping to remove some of the blood. I climbed into the shower, scrubbing away the gore painted on my body. My mind wandered to our situation. 

I had slept in the Impala with Dean many times, mostly when the motel was out of vacancies, leaving us to find a station similar to this. Sam would stretch out in the backseat while I cuddled up to Dean, safe in his arms. Back when I trusted him with my life. Now, I can’t trust him as far as I could throw him. ‘Give him a second chance.’ If only it were that easy.

I return to the Impala, devoid of monster blood. Dean’s head was lolled back, resting against the seat. I knocked on the window before opening my door, ensuring he wouldn’t shoot me. He opened his eyes, a strained smile covering his features when he saw me. I climbed in and curled up against the door, hoping to catch a little more sleep. Minutes passed before his deep timbre echoed through the car. “I know you’re still up.”

“Not the point Dean. I’m trying to sleep, what you should be doing.”

“I can’t.”

I opened my eyes, turning to him. “Why not?”

“It’s,” he swallowed. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“No, it’s not nothing. What’s wrong?”

He scrubbed his hand down his face, looking out his window. “Micheal fucked with my head.”

“I thought you couldn’t remember anything?”

“I lied somewhat. He was awful Y/N. Showing me the things he would do if I didn’t obey. I—I can’t get the images out of my head.” His voice became tight with emotion.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. He’s gone now.” 

“That’s not the point. Micheal threatened Sam, mom, Cas, Jack, but the worst? He threatened you. God, Y/N, if you saw half of what he was going to do to you, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me.”

“Dean. He’s gone. We’ll find him, kill him and you’ll be fine.”

“Damn it Y/N, you don’t get it do you?”

“I don’t get what?”

“I love you! That’s why he threatened you.” I look into his forest-green eyes, studying the pain and anguish hidden behind them. 

“You don’t get to say that.”

“And why not?” 

I rest my back against the door, as far from him as possible. “You dumped me, remember? For a one-month-old? Not to mention how much of an asshole you were during the whole Amara situation.”

“I’m—”

“No Dean. You hurt me. You showed me just how little you care about me. You wouldn’t have even thought about her twice if you actually loved me. When Micheal convinced you to say yes, and you disappeared, I knew there was no fixing this. One day you're gonna find someone else and leave me just like you did the first time. I can’t go through that again. It would kill me.” I look at him, tears threatening to break through. “I love you. But I can’t do this to myself again”

“I won’t do it again, baby. Forever & al—”

“No!” My sob catches in my throat as I hug myself. “Forever doesn’t exist. Always means occasionally to you Dean.”

“Baby—”

“Stop.” I close my eyes, the pain slowly turning into anger. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Silence envelopes the space between us, leaving an awkward feeling between us.  

A sigh echoes from him, his hand running through his hair. “I know I fucked up. The Mark made me an absolute asshole, and I knew you deserved better. I tried real hard to bottle up those emotions I had for Amara, knowing they were only because of some weird mark-magic shit. After the whole demon ordeal, I knew you deserved better, so I quit trying. I had to hurt you to get you to leave me. I couldn’t run the risk of hurting you again.”

“Dean, that's not your discussion to make.”

“Isn’t it? I’m the one who was going to hurt you. It was me who took the Mark.”

“You don’t think I would’ve done the same to save the world? You’re really fucking dense if you can’t see I would’ve done the exact same thing. The only difference between you and me? I wouldn't have pushed you away for some random creature. Especially a baby!”

“Damnit Y/N. You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.” 

His eyes flicker from mine to my lips. “I love you so goddamn much, that hurting you would be hell all over again. And this time, not even Chuck could pull me out.”

My breath caught in my chest. “You don’t mean that.”

“Evey fucking word.”

I look out the window, mulling over his words. “Dean. I—”

“Fuck it.” Dean undoes his seatbelt, grabbing my jaw and forcing his lips to mine. Gasping, I open for his tongue, our saliva mixing into an intoxicating elixir. I throw my arms over his shoulders, pulling on the hairs at the nape of his neck. He pulls back exposing his neck, as I kiss along his jawline. I nip and suck beautiful bruises into his skin, pulling at the neckline of his shirt to reveal more of his skin. His hands go to grip my ass, pulling me over to straddle him. I lean back, making contact with his lust-darkened eyes and swollen lips. My hips grind down, a familiar ache developing in my lower stomach. Dean bites his lip, watching my hips as I rock against the zipper of his jeans, his erection pulling the fabric taut. I bring my lips to his again, small pecks while his hand rests around my throat,wringing a whine from me. “Princess, get your ass to the backseat now.”

I climbed into the back of the Impala, Dean following right on my tail, grinding his clothed cock against my ass as the door shut behind us. I went to turn around, stopped only by the sting of his hand meeting the meat of my ass. “Nuh uh, pretty girl, hands and knees.” 

“Asshole.” A crack rings through the air, his hand meeting my butt once again. 

“What was that again? Couldn't hear it over your bratty attitude.”

I lean my head on my arms, biting my lip to keep from saying anything else. Dean played with the waistband of my leggings, pulling the band just to let it snap against my skin. I push back into him, needing him urgently. Finally, he pulls my leggings and panties down, leaving them tangled up in my knees. Hands trace up my thighs, thumbs spreading my lower lips apart. “Jesus. Why’d I give this up? Such a pretty pussy, just begging for attention” 

“Don’t tease.”

“‘M not baby, just enjoying the view.” He trails his fingers through my folds, fingertips catching on my clit with each drag. Returning to my entrance, he slips his ring finger into me, curling it upward before he adds another. Suddenly, he pulls away, the sounds of his belt being undone sending a rush of anticipation through me. Dean slides his cock along my cunt, coating himself in the wetness fund there. “Wait, wait.”

“What’s wrong?” He leans back, removing his hands from my body. 

“Condom?” 

“Right, right, shit.” Dean climbs over the seat, popping open the glove box to get the needed protection. His jeans and boxers sit on his thighs, cock bobbing as he rolls the condom over it. “Good?”

“Good. Now get in here, cowboy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He breaches my entrance, pushing into my heat, causing a whimper to leave my lips, shaped into his name. The cool metal of his belt buckle presses against the back of my thigh when he bottoms out, his groan vibrating against my back. “Dean, move.”

He tucks his head into my shoulder, a deep groan releasing from his chest. “Sweetheart, if I move, I’m gonna cum like a goddamn pre-teen. Give me a second.”

Rocking my hips back onto him, I earn myself another breathy moan. “Please, Dean?”

“Shit. You’re gonna be the death of me, baby.” He pulls back, my pussy encouraging him to return home. His hips snap to mine, balls tapping at my clit. I arch my back, panting as I meet each of his thrusts. He sits back, hands finding their place on my hips, dragging me back. “Look at you, such a perfect slut for me, aren’t ya? All for me.”

I moan as his hips speed up, the tip hitting the spongy spot inside me. Dean lands another slap on my ass, leaning forward to kiss the place under my ear. “You’re dripping, soaking my cock so well. And you said you didn’t miss this.”

He grinds into me, the icy feeling of the buckle pressing deep into the heat of my thigh. Baby’s windows fog up, our breaths intertwining in ecstasy as he speeds up, going harder, faster, deeper. Dean’s hand slides up my back, knotting into my hair, pulling me up to my knees, without slowing down. “God baby, your pussy is the closest thing to heaven I’ve ever felt. Fuck. Such a good girl for, shit, for me.” 

  I clench around his cock, my orgasm within reach. “Dean, I, I need—”

“I know, princess, I know.” His other hand wraps around the front of my waist, slipping between my folds as he finds my clit, circling it with the right amount of pressure. My head falls onto his shoulder, shameless moans exchanged between us as my climax comes closer and closer. “Dean.”

“C’mon babydoll, cum fr’me.” With that, I reach the heavens, Dean following close behind with a couple of thrusts before he spills into the condom. We lay there, breaths intermingling as he tucks his head into my neck again, pressing soft kisses to the skin there. I pull him away, looking into those enchanting green eyes of his. 

“Fuck you, Dean Winchester.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to my lips. “You just did, sweetheart.”

After cleaning up, again, I curl up on his chest in the back seat, satisfied and secure, as Dean traces patterns along my back, his breath evening out. 

“Dean.” He hums. “I meant what I said earlier. I truly love you.”

“I love you too sweet—”

“But if you break my heart this time, I will cut off your dick.”

“Fair. Now can you go to sleep? I fuckin’ exhausted.”

I giggle at his wording, snuggling into his chest again. Breakups are hard, but when you’re hopelessly in love, it’s hard to remember the pain. Unfortunately, I fell in love with Dean Winchester, and by fate’s design, he fell in love with me.