#like he keeps trying to find a purpose. probably why he latched on to get rid of the exploits in the first place

[mellohiizz]

so, um. that spoke uu episode, huh.

[waywardsou2]

(credits to @lucrezianoin for the video)

(Latching onto their post because I had something I needed to say)

My theory here is that look of surprise on Viktor's face is because Jayce hasn't ever made it this far, at least not in once peice.

Part of me thinks that this whole time he's been watching Jayce since he can jump multiverses or somehow knew where Jayce was at in the timeline of events he knew were to come in this timeline.

But for whatever reason Jayce never made it this far, he never made it to Piltover to find him and be able to learn what he needed to to succeed. This is the first time Viktor has seen Jayce in a form that wasn't "perfect, dead or dying.

He very well knew who was knelt in front of his Jayce but even still his eyes widen and flicker, his mouth falls open and he takes a pause that I don't think was for the dramatic effect on his part.

This is the first time he's seen Jayce whole in a few multiversal millenia.

And not to mention Jayce, his face of disbelief and probable realisation that everything up to this point had somehow always been connected to Viktor, that even from the beginning it was Viktor who set him on the path of his obsession with the arcane and anything magical.

His whole face softens, he was tired, he was confused, he was angry. And some part of him probably blamed this mage. If he hadn't been given the crystal, he wouldn't have perused magic, Viktor wouldn't have been caught up in all of this and maybe they could have just been professors together at the academy. But then it turns out that it was Viktor, it somehow was always Viktor

Also, that fact that both of their pupils dilate slightly which happens when looking at something you love. It's not like it was the light or anything they are both very well lit up with bright eyes. They are looking at the person they hold most dearest.

Jayce knows if he fails, he loses Viktor, he loses his life and he risks the lives of many others

Viktor knows that if things haven't worked out in the correct order, he is doomed to watch himself and Jayce tear each other apart all over again.

This also means that Viktor has seen infinite outcomes where Viktor and Jayce have not been able to save each other and that this one. These exact events, were the only thing in all of the multiverse that ended up being the good ending, where Viktor wasn't left alone with his glorious purpose and Jayce didn't wind up dead. This and only this timeline was the way things could work out without one of them getting hurt or lost.

I also want to say that this probably created a paradox. Mage Viktor only exists because Jayce and Viktor used the Arcane to unlock the multiverse. But mage Viktor had to exist in some timeline before hextech to be able to find Jayce and fix the other timelines.

And the other timelines only exist because Viktor was trying to save them, but if he had never given Jayce the crystal or saved him then the other timelines may have never suffered, he did this because he couldn't fathom the idea of a universe where he never got to meet Jayce. It was almost as if he didn't like the thought of any of his counterparts never having met Jayce...if that isn't heartbreaking, I don't know what it

And I have a question about Mage Viktor's actions...why? It's not like Marvel where fixing his timeline will fix all timelines. Jayce was only able to save his timeline and Ekko was only able to keep the other timeline from falling apart by leaving. So why did he feel the need to try and fix all the other timelines?

Because he loved Jayce, I think. And he never wanted there to be a timeline where they never met. he needed his counterparts to know what it was like to be in Jayce's presence, he needed to know that he could be loved and that he could love in return. He needed them to understand that. But so many...too many of them didn't

[chaewberry]

complete guide; how to move on from your ex (failure guaranteed!).

pairing; uchiha shisui x reader word count; 4.1k tags; breaking up and getting back together, explicit sexual content, from lovers to exs back to lovers again, humor, civilian reader. chapters; 2/5 read chapter 1

read on ao3!

Kenji was a menace both to society and to you, respectively.

You usually spend the Sundays where you didn’t have to work in a lackadaisical manner; you’d wake up early enough, your biological clock fried to shit, and put a vinyl record on while foraging whatever food you could find inside your cupboards and fridge in order to eat something resembling a nutritious meal. Like Rin would often insist on drilling into your head amidst meetings and consultations and poor attempts at cornering you in the storage room while you were busy side stepping through the chain of command just so that you could get what you needed for your patients through morally corrupt means, “breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”

After that, with music playing the background, the arduous chore of half-assedly cleaning the apartment took priority before you crashed from the lack of caffeine you were so used to having at work, all day, every day, watery and lukewarm and with the probability of someone having used a sock as a filter to make it in the breakroom. When that time came, you’d abscond into the bathtub, steeping inside the boiling water like an overpriced fucking tea-bag — you’d lay within the confines of your watery, heavy grave for an hour and then you’d get out, smelling of honey and wheat, and then you’d have the rest of the day to plan out.

 Of course, most Sundays ended up with you laying on your couch reading anything you could get your hands on; magazines, old books you had bought but never cracked open, medical essays Rin or Tsunade had left on your desk, personal essays from the multifaceted writers in the capital, poems so pretentious that they ruined your mood to read, manga you had borrowed from the library, the pages yellowed and stained with what you hoped was coffee or tea or milk. If the pages stuck a bit too much together you left the manga alone — you were around teenagers all year round in the hospital, you knew what lack of shame tasted like in the air you breathed.

Speaking of shame, or lack thereof.

“Put that back where you found it.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“Why?”

Kenji, you found, was an intricate presence in your life; you were proud to say that you had managed, in those meager six weeks of companionship, to master the whims and wills of the face behind the man. The naked truth thinly veiled behind his childish antics had you doubting his status as a formidable shinobi of the village some days, for no one should be that open about intentions and purposes.

But here Kenji was, on a Sunday morning at the crack ass of dawn, sitting on your tatami floors with nothing but a pair of black sweats on, smelling of your shampoo and soap and smiling like a little fucking kid as he played with a tanto sword harness you had forgotten at the bottom of your closet. Should you admonish him for digging around your closet? You thought of it, but then you had to keep up the ruse of pretending to care about stuff like that.

You knew you lost the privilege to indulge in self-deception when you walked in on him trying on one of your creamy, frilly bras. You had only blurted out, “you’re too busty.” before moving on from the more harrowing events of the day and onto better ones.

Even so, he kept being a meddlesome old man — you told him so.

“I’m not that old,” he refuted, not sounding insulted in the least, flinging the harness to the side. It thumped against the next to the couch you were lying on and fell down on the floor. You blinked down at it, eyes following the familiar patterns, the latch that Shisui used to fasten on his shoulder and behind his back, the marks, nicks and burns. It wasn’t unsalvageable, and the same went for his spare kunai ripping a hole in the box that you had all but shoved underneath the bed.

That bastard still hadn’t come to clean up his shit from your house — you were left with momento’s and reminders everywhere your eyes strayed.

It wasn’t until Kenji bend down to pick up the harness, a stifled sigh escaping past his lips, that you had been sitting on the couch staring at the piece of clothing like a fucking widow. Immediately, you sat back down on the pillow and resumed your reading. You could still see Kenji, feel him as he moved around the house, towards your bed. He grabbed the box without much fanfare and threw the harness inside, his posture lax as he took in the other items that you had stored in there the past few weeks you’ve been cleaning the house.

Obviously, Kenji had known all along that this was underneath your bed. He had never spoken if it; items that irrefutably belonged to someone else, the shirts that hanged too loose on your frame, the supernumerary amount of medical supplied underneath the sink in the bathroom, the scattered shinobi grade shirts and vests you had fastidiously washed the blood off and placed them in your closet, buried underneath your own clothes, one plate too many, one cup too many, extra cutlery you wouldn’t possibly used all on your own.

You had tried, meticulously so, to scrub down the traces left behind but ignored the first rule of breaking up with someone — undoubtedly, Shisui himself should have come to pick up his stuff, but, then again, he wasn’t the only one suffering through such ill-advised behaviour.

You could barely remember what it was that you had left abandoned at your ex’s house inside the Uchiha compound. Some questionable reading material you had left behind on purpose. A few plates, maybe, some vinyl records you brought with you whenever the mood hit and the two of you orchestrated a little get together amongst friends and in which afterwards Shisui would succeed fucking your brains out on his tatami floors, whatever music playing in the background mingling in with hiccuping sobs and the sound of Shisui laughing down at your face as you took and took. He’d lean down to lap at the drool at the corner of your mouth, lick away the tears clamping your eyelashes.

( “Fine; let’s break up. You’ll have to tell me why though. What am I supposed to tell our friends when they ask?”

You waited as a second passed by, two, three seconds, to feel that familiar pull in the air, the wrapping of space, for Shisui to pop up carelessly close to you and laugh at the false bravado you were putting up.

Just kidding, he’d say — but you could never predict him, even if you expected him.

Shisui was silent for a moment, black curls sticking to his forehead and nape. He smiled, “I’ve decided I don’t want to love you anymore.”)

Kenji didn’t stop there. He turned to you, casting an insolent, analytical glance from head to toe before walking back to stand over you like some sort of half dressed deity of premature ejaculations (“that was one time!)  and an outrageous amount of superior wrist game.

 “Stand up,” he said, smiling like a lunatic while looming over you.

You gulped. “Why?”

“Just stand up.”

Slowly, you did as he asked. Kenji hauled your arms up in the air. Before you could think of a response, quicker than you could blink or formulate a thought regarding his shenanigans, he grabbed the bottom of the shirt you were wearing, black, too big for you, and yanked it up and over your head, leaving you consequently naked except from the black panties you were wearing.

He left you, gaping like a fish out of water, and stalked right back towards the box, dropping in the now rumpled shirt you’ve been wearing for the past three days, before promptly kicking the box underneath the bed once again.

You crossed your arms over your bare chest. “What the hell?”

“Mn,” Kenji said, bending down to deliver a nasty, slobbering kiss on your lips. “How about we take breakfast out today?”

Taking breakfast out in Kenji’s book meant shoving you through the half rotten doors of an establishment whose mere existence should be put down on the village’s records as the source of plagues and public virus outbreaks for the last three years at the least. Once inside, you dared not open your mouth to breathe for fear of catching a fatal illness passing by with the wind. The vapors Kenji characterized as ‘old unfiltered oxygen’ were anything but.

“Can we leave?” you asked, wretched, fixing the surgical mask so it didn’t cut uncomfortably at the sensitive skin underneath your eyes.

Whoever owned this shitty backwater so called breakfast joint should cease to exist effective immediately and his existence marked down in history books for being a danger to societal hygiene and a menace in the overall health of the village.

“No.” 

Kenji shoved you into a booth, the broken, tattered leather creaking underneath your weight and his bulking form as he took a seat opposite of you. The table itself was clean, but marred with a myriad of marks and small dents you knew came from kunai being thrown. Two identical marks marred your kotatsu and even the small table in your kitchen wasn’t spared.

Fucking Uchihas.

You all but ripped the unfolded menu out of Kenji’s offering hands, skimming through the items listed with inked, smudged letters. On one side it listed a variety of breakfasts, followed by beverages. In the middle it contained foods, actual, honest to god foods one would order at a restaurant. Here, you gazed back at Kenji from the top of the menu. Already, you knew that his itching proclivities combined with his shit survival instincts would prove fatal for his future bowel movements.

As a nurse, it fell to you to suggest abstention from ordering something like food from a place such as this — as a bystander however, there would be nothing more amusing than watching Kenji form a sense of self-preservation.

Picking up a second menu off the side, Kenji seemed content in letting it lie uselessly in front of him while he swiveled his body to the side. “I thought you’d at least know about this place, you know,” the man suddenly spoke up, turning his head to address you, though his eyes seemed preoccupied with something else at the bar, the sound of glasses clinking together unmistakable.

“You thought wrong,” you drawled out. You sighed, let the worn out menu fall on the table pitifully. “I miss my kitchen.”

“You never cook,” Kenji hummed, smiling off to the side before turning back to you. He grabbed one of the two glasses left on the table and flipped it over, running a thumb over the rim. “I’ve never even seen you use the kettle - you drink everything cold because you’re a barbarian and too bored for the finer things in life.”

“That hardly proves anything.”

The bastard smiled, ever so amicable. “I’ve never seen you use any of the pots and pans either.”

“You don’t know that,” you fired back, though the lack of heat behind your words was certainly a give away. “You’re not a near constant presence in my apartment, are you?”

“Perhaps not - the frozen meals inside your fridge speak volumes, however.”

Okay. 

“Okay,” you said. A headache was beginning to throb behind your left eye. You pinched the bridge of your nose to stem it. “I take it back; I don’t miss my kitchen. There, satisfied?”

“I will never be satisfied,” Kenji shot back, unperturbed.

Kenji never reacted poorly to anything. He took everything in strides and with a less than a healthy dosage of impeccable acceptance.

“Be miserable, then,” you snapped, not knowing what else to say. 

Kenji, true to his nature, simply smiled; a crooked thing, almost full enough to be false. Kenji never smiled like he was telling a lie. It could be a show of mockery, of genuine pleasure, of trepidation, but never out of a need to plant and sow a lie. He was, in a way, surprisingly honest. It made your own lips curl upwards and your heart cry out with relief; you weren’t a heavy laying weight on his consciousness, and although he always took care of you before and after the intimate act, he took no burdens in lessening your own crisis of self.

You indulged in this depraved act together, and cast yourselves further down the path of no return, a sweet escape no more.

Your honesty never sprouted from words or even actions but only from the empty spaces in between. Kenji was a smart man; he could make up his own truths to fill in those spaces, his own lies. Your deliberate silence was your honesty.

“That’s the idea.”

He shoved a cigarette in your hands and offered you a light. You took it with grace - whatever the fuck Kenji deiced to unravel in this hole in a pile of shit diner that was sidelining as a bar had admittedly shook your own crisis to the surface. It was your last day off before you had to go back mucking up puke and blood from the floor and having to watch grateful parents wheel healthy kids past despairing ones. 

Your fingers shook. You found the urge, abruptly, to bludgeon the man to death. “What the fuck is your problem. You asked me out.”

Kenji hummed. He grabbed the jag and poured water in his glass, sliding it over to you — urging you, perhaps, to drench him with it, and staying silent.

You wanted to press him, drive him into a corner and maybe put the cigarette out in his eye in a fit of bestial rage. You only barely managed to swallow around the knot in your throat before a server came up to the table —  a boy a few years younger than you with short hair caressing the back of his neck and glasses sitting high upon his nose. He ran his slanted eyes over at Kenji, promptly ignored him, and turned to you with a thin assemblance of a smile that screamed bare minimum customer service.

“What can I get for you?”

With fire shimmering underneath your skin, you just barely managed to utter; “waffles, just put whatever on top.” before going back to stewing, opting now to bite the end of your cigarette instead of sucking out the smoke from it like a starved animal sucking out bone marrow from its most recent kill.

The boy only blinked at you, scribbled down your order and turned to Kenji, finally.

Kenji, for his part, immediately seemed to forget all about living in the thralls of misery. With a too wide smile he ordered the medium spice curry and a hot coffee to the side. He didn’t take his eyes off the waiter until he disappeared behind the kitchen door before turning back to you, blinking down at the chewed cigarette in the ashtray. “I’ve decided to apologise. I was in the wrong, please forgive me.”

“You have a personality problem, you know that?”

“Alright, alright,” he murmured in an attempt to placate you. “I’ll buy you strawberries on the way home, okay? Drink some water.”

You drank some fucking water.

“Honestly,” Kenji spoke up. “You should look to invest in some calming herbal teas.”

“You’re part of the reason I’m halfway through popping a blood vessel,” you snapped, slamming the glass on the table. “Are you my fuck buddy or a leech?”

“Is there a quota on how many times you can see your rebound in a week? Can’t I hang out with my part time lover, part time friend outside of office hours?”

Without waiting for your reply Kenji leaned forward and took the cigarette from between your fingers, stabbing it out on the ashtray just before a plate filled with spicy curry was all but unceremoniously thrown at the table. The server with the slanted eyes was looking less than pleased, pointing at the ‘No Smoking’ sticker that had seen better days glued to the glass window next to Kenji’s head.

“Ah, Satoru,” Kenji’s voice came out almost as a purr. “Please forgive me - my eyesight is not what it used to be in my old age.”

But Satoru didn’t seem to be in a particularly forgiving mood. He set down your own plate with pancakes with more grace than you probably deserved for indulging Kenji’s bullshit and took out a different notepad from the pocket of his apron, sprawling out something on a piece of paper. For a brief moment you expected Satoru the Server to slap Kenji with said paper, but the young man simply set it next to the plate of curry before placing a cup of hot coffee on top of it.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, shoving the notepad and pen back into his pocket, “be better.”

The contents of the paper had you swallowing down a fresh wave of laughter.

“Quick question,” you said, turning back to observe Kenji after Satoru stalked back into the kitchen. “You wouldn’t happen to harbor explicit thoughts about wanting to fuck our server, would you?”

He gasped. “You make me sound like the lecherous husband who prays on young boys while he leaves his wife home to rot. You wound me, beloved.”

“I hope Satoru spat in your food.”

“You think so?” Kenji asked wistfully.

Nevermind.

After that you two ate in silence. To your begrudgement, the pancakes tasted heavenly, nearly melting on your tongue. Kenji seemed to enjoy his breakfast curry for his part as well, looking all too pleased at the hastily scrawled fine he had grasped in between his fingers, eyes going over the messy spots the pen had left from the overleaking ink. You remembered what he said; in love with someone thirteen years younger than him, not knowing what to do, where to stand and when to stop, starving enough to risk snapping a bone or two to suck the marrow out.

You said nothing, scooping up a forkful of his curry, tasting it, then taking a second bite because it was fucking delicious. Kenji reached over with his spoon and took half a pancake with him, leaving behind smudges of the thick brown sauce on the corner of your plate. Surprisingly, curry with pancakes blended well inside your mouth, and perhaps your taste buds were proving to be as unrefined as you had grown to be the last few weeks.

Afterwards, a struggle ensued; both you and Kenji were drastically knocking each other down in a feud for the bill. It was no less embryonic than it was cathartic when you managed to shove the end of your spoon in a stray nostril and walked off with the bill, specks of Kenji’s blood on the outside of your palm and a litany of swears coming from behind you as you trekked towards the counter with the hard worn and torn in half bill in hand.

Satoru, for his part behind the counter, didn’t seem the least alarmed at the scuffle, nor did he spare a second glance at the bloodied bill you handed him along with the money -- he had reserved, instead, all the ensemble of life he could master behind his beautifully slanted dark eyes to scrutinize your person from head to toe. 

You did the same, though not unkindly.

Satoru appeared to be just a few years younger than you, probably just starting out his twenties, with a stubborn, childish bit of fat still hanging on to his cheeks. The antithesis of his appearance with the look he harbored inside his eyes as he scoped you out nearly made you laugh  you would have, were you any less kind.

Patiently, you waited for your change, and you waited, impassively, for a question.

Satoru handed you your change. “Tell Kenji he’ll need to go to the police station to pay off the smoking fine.”

You grinned. “I’ll tell him - sorry about that, by the way, I didn’t see the sign.”

“It’s fine,” he grunted, watching you as you made to grab your wallet out of your bag, dropping it, picking it up and then dropping it again in quick succession. “Are you a family member?” he almost looked ready to hurl as he asked.

You wondered, briefly, if this was the reason Kenji brought you out to eat here today.

“No, I’m a pediatrician” you supplied helpfully, slipping the money inside your wallet along with the receipt. 

“Oh,” Satoru blinked, “right.”

“How long have you and Kenji known each other?”

“...not long; a few years, give or take.”

“Hm. What were your first impressions of him?”

This time the younger man didn’t hesitate to answer you, “a no good shinobi with too much time at his hands. He basically kidnapped me.”

“That’s just not true, my dear Satomi.” You turned to Kenji, standing behind you and smiling ludicrously wide. “I bribed you.”

Satoru’s expression soured. “Die, please.”

Kenji cooed at Satoru and the boy all but kicked you out of the establishment.

“Is romance lost on you,” you mocked now, walking side by side with Kenji on the way to your house.

“You suck.”

“You wish.”

“No wonder your last beau left if that is how you treated them,” he said, positively dismal. 

You readily agree. “Yeah, I must’ve been a pretty shitty significant other.”

Kenji insisted on walking you home after breakfast, just as he insisted on buying you ice-cream and making you wait ten steps behind him as he ruffled through the magazine stand outside the konbini near your house, cramming issues upon issues underneath his arm with a look of somber severity. He paid for them, shoved them in a plastic bag, and then jabbed the aforementioned bag in between your fingers.

He made a point by saying, “read those.” but firmly stopped you from actually doing so when you went to see what kind of perverted shit he had bought. The amount of questionable and morally bankrupt reading material you found underneath the pillows of teenagers in the hospital far surpassed whatever quota you had set for yourself in this life, and the stickiness in between some of the pages were almost enough to make you reconsider giving them some of those little shits less of their described pain medicine - but you were, above all else, a slave to your job and the oath Tsunade had made you spit out in between clacking teeth and a heavier than lead tongue that soaked in the cheap sake she kept underneath her desk for emergency celebration. Or so she said when had unceremoniously thrown you down on the couch like you were yesterday’s corner whore and shoved the bottle down your throat, shouting shrill congratulations.

Shisui had to carry you home after finding you wandering the streets like a widowed ghost. At the time, nothing more than a passing acquaintance you met through Rin and, consequently, Obito, the man had graciously ignored your comments about your taste in men in uniforms and completed his duty as an officer and safely deposited you back into the safe confines of your apartment where you spent the next day detoxing, making a blood pact with the reflection in the bathroom’s mirror to never let another drop of that toxic waste Tsunade called alcohol touch your lips, and also avoid Rin’s reasonably handsome family friend like the fucking plague and hate him on principle.

Evidently, your own self had proven to be your most wretched adversary.

“You suck,” you told Kenji, voice scratchy and eyes moist.

How very not nonchalant of you.

He planted a wet one on your cheek. “ And swallow.” 

.*.

You dumped the magazines directly on top of your bed, your hair still dripping wet after your shower, dressed in nothing but a pink fluffy towel and the slippers on your feet. You eyed the various covers with mounting interstate as you ran a towel through your hair. You nudged them away from each other to better see them with your foot and paused when one in particular caught your eyes. Dropping the towel from your head you sat down on the bed, face unconsciously pulling up into a grimace. You flipped the magazine, settling on a random page, and felt one of your bottom eyelids starting to tick.

“Trying Being FWB Before Fully Breaking-Up!”

Surely not.

You threw the offending magazine somewhere over your shoulder. You heard it hit the wall, fall down —  you didn’t concern yourself with it, only focusing on latching onto another one. There was a beautiful model splayed artistically over the cover, blonde hair curled to shit, thick and glistening against the glare of the camera and the lights. Only her mouth was visible underneath the main; small, pouty lips pushed apart for the tongue to make an appearance. You opened it right into the middle.

“It’s Time to Stop Asking for Space, and Start Ending Your Relationship.”

Next magazine, on a random page, ‘ Date Them, Even If You Know It Won’t Last Long.” , and the page after that, “The Best Sex Toys of The Year.”

You were going to fucking murder Kenji.

[sharpiepenned]

Why did Fitz's Grandfather give him up?

I am rereading Assassin's Apprentice (because I just finished Assassin's Fate last week and can't move on), and something that has been bugging me is, why did Fitz's grandfather give him up? We see in the later books that having a bastard child doesn't seem to be the life ruining prospect I assumed it to be when I first read Assassin's Apprentice. Lots of characters are bastards, especially in the Fitz and the Fool trilogy, and while they may not have happy childhoods, they were still raised by one of their parents (or so they thought). So why was Fitz's mother allowed to raise him for 6 years and only to have him ripped away by her own father? While Chivalry might have known about his son, the crown didn't, so there is no reason to believe it was for political purpose. And his Grandfather says "I've enough to tend to of my own, what with my woman getting on in years, and this one's mother to keep and feed." Wouldn't a strong and growing young boy be the perfect thing an aging Shepard would need to help on his farm? Fitz recalls in later books helping with sheep (Thanks @samw1se for the reminder). If he was already helping his mother, why would his Grandfather suddenly send him away?

I think it is because he discovered Fitz was witted. We see how quickly Fitz bonds with Nosey, I can only imagine as a young boy, he probably latched on to a sheep or sheep dog and due to the hatred of those with the Wit, his grandfather probably felt no choice but to send him away.

This doesn't sound like a man who hated his bastard grandson. This sounds like a man who was afraid and forced to make a choice.

His grandfather's hand trembled. Probably because he was afraid of the Wit but still loved his grandson. We see that Fitz's mother still desperately wanted him. And that later in Assassin's Apprentice she has left Moonseye and come to Buckkeep Town to try and find him.

She was still looking for him years later! Her Keppet! Her Beloved child!

This feels like a big unanswered question, and one that I hope Miss Hobb will cover in a future book about Bee. I hope Bee can learn about Keppet and how he was so loved by his mother!!

[iamsherlocked1479]

Kinktober: Day Three hate fuck

A little longer today: 1.6K words. i like this one alot and hope you do too.

Kinktober masterlist

“Seriously?! Him?” you over exaggerate

“Calm down, it's just for three days.” Natasha sighed

“Are you joking, three days with a condescending sarcastic dick.” you could almost hear the sound of Stephens eye roll from your words

“You’re not the most pleasant cup of tea sweetheart.” he said sitting down at the table

“Look, all you have to do is hide out in a cottage for three nights to get a good idea of the patrol route and we’ll pick you up in three days so we can get Bucky back. 

“Fine, but only because i owe Bucky,” you sigh “ but i don’t see why i can’t just do this on my own

“Because this is too high risk and last time you had a solo mission it all-

“Went to shit.” Stephen finished Steve's sentence.

“That's not how i was going to say it but, yeah” you groaned and pushed your head into your arms “listen your new at this, you’ll get used to it, going from being a solo act to a team player can be hard.”

“I’m not in the mood for a team building speech right now cap.” you get up and purposely knock stephens shoulder as you walk past him causing his coffee to spill slightly.

Packing was easy picking comfortable yet appropriate clothing for the event of having to make a quick escape. You then pondered at the thought of bringing the useful tool that was tucked away in your drawer. You argued with yourself before throwing it in just in case it was needed. You jumped as there was a knock at the door

“Are you ready to go?” Stephen walked in “what's wrong packing your dildo?” He smirked

“What? No. Yeah, ready whenever you are.” You walked him and into the hall surprised that he didn’t follow. “Are you coming? It's a five hour drive, we gotta get moving.”

“You’re forgetting that i have a sling ring.” He popped his head around the corner and you went back into your room to see the opened portal. You huffed and stepped through the portal and carried your stuff to the room.

The rest of the evening was fine, you set up the equipment listening for any communications happening between the cabin and the base in the woods ahead of you. And as you figured, nothing, you were no closer to finding your friend.

“You know, if you keep staring at the speaker like that it might float.” Stephen said, pouring himself a glass of bourbon. “Why do you care so much anyway?”

“Because he got me out of the lab. He set me free.” You twiddling your thumbs around

“You mean from the mutant home?” He chuckled to himself 

“Prison, prison is probably a better word to use.” An awkward silence spread through the room. He put his glass down on the table letting a loud bang cut through the silence 

“I’m going for a walk, don’t get into any trouble.” He sighed and shut the door as he left. God you hated him, the sudden realisation that you were alone brought an excitement to your core. You remembered your toy that you had pushed into your bag, you headed to the room not realising the old wooden door hadn’t fully latched when you closed it behind you.

When Stephen got back you were gone, the room was quiet and the desk you had been sitting at was lifeless. He figured you had gone to bed and began to do the same until he heard that noise. The muffled moan coming from your room with a low buzzing sound. He smiled to himself as he peered through the door, he couldn’t help it, something else he could tease you with. But the noises you were making where not of pleasure, but frustration. He didn’t know what drove him into the room but he opened the door with the same cocky attitude he always treated you with.

“What's wrong can’t get off?” 

“What the fuck, the door was closed!” You threw you covers over your lower half

“That door was not closed, what were you doing? trying to entice me?” He leant against the frame

“No i uh, why are you here?” You say frustratedly sitting up in your bed.

“Well from what it looked, and sounded like, is that you couldn’t get off.” He shuffled slightly “so what if i propose an offer?”

“What are you talking about?” You ask as he crosses his arms

“What if, just this once, I help you get off.” His brow raises 

“What? Why, why would you do that.” 

“Because it's better than you not being able to and me having to deal with the sulking. But hey it's just an offer.” He shrugs and walks away 

“Wait” you call out “no strings attached?”

“None” he replies “just this once”

“Just this once?” You think for a moment “fine, okay”

“Okay?” He enters your room, closing the door behind you and sits on the bed “so uh” 

You sigh and lean forward, pressing your lips to his, he quickly kisses back, and you lay down with him on top of you. You couldn’t lie he was a damn good kisser, he trailed them down your neck and his hand went up your tank top where he could play with your nipple. You flinch slightly,

“Easy, it’s okay, I won’t bite. Unless you want me to?” He joked and you rolled your eyes, you were going to say something but then his hand found itself under your shorts and sliding through your folds. 

“Shit.” You called out as he circled your clit. He chuckled and pulled down your shorts

“No panties you dirty girl.” He watched as your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his tongue beginning to fuck you. He was good, so good you were trying not to enjoy it too much, you hated how good it was.

“Fuck don’t stop.” You were close, you were so pitifully close already. You needed this so bad and he was delivering, he spread your legs as far apart as he could giving him full access. You came so hard, over his face and he made sure to clean up every drop, your body was sweating, it was becoming hooked on him like he was a drug. And he laughed at you, he laughed at how quickly you had come.

“If you needed it so bad you could’ve told me.” He began to get up and you stopped him, grabbing his arms. “What?” His brow raised, waiting for your answer, god you hated that stupid face, you hated it so bad you kissed it, you could taste yourself on his tongue and you like it. You pushed him onto the bed, massaging the bulge growing in his crotch. He moaned at the sensation and didn’t fuss when you pulled down his trousers and boxers allowing him to be free. He didn’t complain when you took him into his mouth and began sucking like you need it. “Shit- what are you… god that's good.” He leaned back on the bed and took your hair and wrapped it around your head. You gagged as he shallowly thrusted into your mouth only causing you to swallow him down even more. You pulled him from your mouth with a pop and climbed on top of him. His hand flew to your waist as you sat just above his cock.

“Just this once?” You asked, he nodded and you aligned yourself with his cock and slowly sank down. It was good, it was so fucking good, you bounced like a needy teen and his hands pawed at you tits as he rejoyced at the way the bounced infront of him.

“God you’re so tight.” His hands shook your body up and down him picking the pace. 

“God i need this” you cried out

“You like this honey? Don’t enjoy it too much'' he panted “just this once remember?” He did that stupid smirk again.

“Shut up” you pressed your lips to his again and he kissed you as you rode him so desperately. You could feel the way he scraped your insides away, his curve hitting that spot so perfectly over and over again. You hated how good it felt, you hated how you gripped his shoulders as you screamed his name. Your pace slowed and he flipped you over so that he pinned you between his arms.

“My turn” he whispered into your ears

“Oh god” you cried out as he pounded into you, he flung one of your legs over his shoulder and rattled the bed. 

“God bet you’ve been thinking about this for so long huh, was that why you're so rude? Jealous that you don’t get to fuck me ever-shit, every night?” He gripped your leg and closed his eyes, his head dropping backwards, “go on tell em you wanted.” He panted

“Fuck stephen i- want it bad. Afraid i’ll get addicted, wanna see you cum, fill me up, i'm on the pill do it. Make me a mess.” You cried out gripping the bed sheets so tight they came off the corners.

“Gonna fill you up, you want that, bet you do” he dropped your leg and picked you up hitting you back against the bed frame pinning you between him and the wall. He fucked up into you, his pace becoming inconsistant and then he came, he came hard shooting his loads of thick white ropes into you and then he collapsed. You both laid there falling asleep, maybe even hating each other slightly less.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @rmoonstoner @mary-johnlocked

Lmk if you want to be tagged! <3

[furorem-yandere]

i absolutely LOVE the way u wrote The Invitation!!!! ive been thinking of writing a fic of my own, and ur work was the catalyst for me to finally start 😭🙏🙏 if i may ask, what tips/recommendations would u give for writing dialogue and actions smoothly together? cuz i just cant get enough of the way u execute it SO well - from the internal monologues to the dialogues and action - I LUV ITTTTTTTTT

ahhhhhh i'm so glad you like my style! <33 sorry for not answering right away... it's hard for me to explain my processes in a way that actually explains how/why i do things this way. i hope my ensuing brick of text helps you to write your fic :)

something that i did that helped me a lot when i first started writing was be very focused on what i was trying to achieve. i'm the type of person that can write and write and write (hence why Invitation is so fucking long lol) so i had to restrict myself: every piece of dialogue is meant to either progress the plot or show something about the characters.

something kind of easy to keep things natural is just saying what you wrote out loud, specifically the dialogue. if it flows easily off the tongue, then it's going to flow easy off the page. if it's awkward to say... then it's probably awkward to read, too. listening to things like interviews, talk show podcasts, and debates can help if you need to focus on the minute details of speech like pauses, when people interrupt each other, how they listen to each other, what details they latch to, etc.

giving your character a speech pattern can be something a bit more challenging but adds a lot of depth; it's like cooking your pasta in broth instead of just water. for example: Sunshine has been living the past few years in NYC. Something east coast americans do a lot is use swears as "spacer words", particularly 'fuck'. on top of that, she's very casual but anxious in more proper settings, and has to fight to keep her cool and not dip into her anger issues. so i'll usually have her swear a lot. when she doesn't know someone well, she gets very tight lipped, gets very simple in her sentences to try not to get snappy (but she often easily gives away her mood anyways). Jack is the polar opposite. he's from a utopia, tries to make himself as approachable as possible, and has responded to his own trauma by going in the opposite direction as Sunshine: while she shuts down and fights, he tends to fawn. his dialogue is very bouncy and friendly, littered with little silly phrases. he works with kids, so he reflexively keeps his topics lighthearted, his voice calm, and looks for resolutions. he asks lots of questions to let the other person know he's very invested in their life, and has some kind of cheesy "child TV show" type of dialogue. when put together, they make a massive contrast and gives them each a noticeable flavor, so even when i drop "Sunshine said/Jack asks" you can still tell who is speaking, or who's thoughts you're listening too.

for making dialogue (internal and external) and meshing it with actions, i like to have them doing something while they talk. i get bored reading a big block of dialogue, so i'll intersperse things like this (exerpt from Invitation ch 2):

"Good morning, Sunshine!" he says cheerfully, ruffling his bedhead ridden hair as if to tame it.  "Sleep okay?" 

you come out with sentence purpose (greeting/setting time), follow up with an adjective, action, and then another piece of dialogue. i find it makes things personally easier to read with an more even flow to it when you sandwich the dialogue and text together.

something i'll add that i think definitely helped me too, is doing poetry, weirdly? i'm going to sound like a total hippie, but a lot of internal monologuing is all about how your character feels, and a lot of poetry is about capturing a particular feeling. being able to flex, get creative with how the character reacts physically to their emotions as well as their emotions themselves will really take your writing to the next level. a lot of times when you don't even flat out say what they're feeling and just explain around it, letting the reader figure it out for themselves, it lets the reader feel engaged and smart. so doing poetry definitely made me better at internal monologues i think, so i recommend it. if you say something like

"seeing him worry over her fighting someone else calmed her. she wanted him so badly for his kindness, then" vs "his brows knit together as he took her hand, his fingers brushing her still bleeding knuckles. she felt her fist unclench in his hand, bloodthirst washing from her by a flood of longing"

one is going to get the point across better because it's more interesting and says a lot more. this is sort of what people mean when they say "show dont tell". we see him care for her by taking her hand, and it's a tender and gentle gesture to rub someone's knuckles so it shows how he's kind of a softy. by having the bloodthirst leave in the wake of longing it gives a transition of emotion so the plot can move forward without feeling sudden and disjointed. there's action, description, and character building which will make everything feel stronger and more cohesive.

i hope all of this helps you in your writing journey!

[t1nfoilorigam1]

I have some Thoughts about episode 5 s2 of jjk

I think part of the reason jjk is so good is that they show charecters as people with emotions. And they dont hesitate to give us bad endings (i cried when junpei died). Obviously this is most prevalent in Geto's charecters arc. But I'm here to talk about how geto's charecter arc makes so much sense. Like, objectively what he's doing is wrong, but he is so real for it. From a general sense, it seems so sad that so much tragedy happened just because Geto didn't like go to therapy or something, but when you think about it from his perspective, I really can't think about anything else he could've done. And, in a general sense, he caused death because he had experienced death and also to prevent death.

Starting at the beggining, Geto was always super strict in his morals. He was adamant that the strong protect the weak because that is how a humane society should work. Gojo is the exact opposite(- people that are strong are just strong and they should get to do whatever) which is basically their argument in the gym. Back to the main point, the reason geto's ideals switched so suddenly and drastically is because he held himself to such a high moral standard. Gojo, despite going through the same thing (different in the ways that he killed toji (geto bears the feeling of not being able to do anything) and also didn't see riko die) was able to remain fine because his morals didn't contradict what he experienced (also his morals are a little iffy but that's another topic). For Geto, who's whole reason for being a jujustu sorcerer was because he believed that his role was to protect non-sorcerors, this caused a moral crisis. After seeing what the star religious group did, he no longer could fully fundamentally believe that non-sorcerors had an inherent right to be protected.

He has been swallowing curses to protect non-sorcerors, an activity that he hates. If he has another cursed technique, something that dint require him to do something so disgusting, than it might’ve been a little different. But he has been self-sacrificing for a while now, and after the star plasma vessel event, he's now forced to do missions and absorb cursed spirits (by himself) all for non sorcerers. Hes presumably going on a lot of missions, as the show mentioned there being more cursed spirits around that time. He's seeing less of Gojo because he's also going on missions all the time.

Also, he hasn't been able to admit to himself that he no longer values non-sorcerors lives. I mean, that was his whole ideology, and he still holds it as the "correct moral standard" in his mind. Basically, he feels like he's betraying himself by no longer valuing non-sorcerors, and is still trying to make himself adhere to his former morals.

Then, he's visited by Yuki Tsukumo. She provides him with the validation that it's ok to have the thoughts that he's having, and far more importantly, a goal: eradicate curses, by killing all non-sorcerors. Before, when talking to gojo about the star plasma group, he said they couldn't kill them because there was no reason. His life has operated around a reason. His reason for being a jujustu sorcerer was to protect the weak, but now he doesn't agree with that reason. Thats why he latches onto that idea later. He knows it's probably impossible, but that dosent matter so much as having a "moral" reason for his actions.

Then, Haibara dies. On a mission that's fundamental purpose was to protect non-sorcerors, from a curse those same non-sorcerors has created.

Then, the catalyst. He goes on a mission and finds Mimiko and Nanako. They are locked in a cage for being sorcerers, and are being blamed for the actions of a curse, which was created by the non-sorceror villagers who are blaming them and trying to kill them. This is when he decides (also they did a really cool thing w the shadows that I only realized in my rewatch). Basically, he snaps. He no longer can keep telling himself that it's his duty to protect non-sorcerors, and that combined with the idea he already had about killing all non-sorcerors to eliminate curses gave him the perfect reason to kill all of the non-sorcerors in that village. And then he went and killed his parents, to show to himself that he didn't just kill those people because he wanted to, that he had a moral cause for this.

After he does this, he is noticeably a lot happier and calmer. He has a "moral cause" that allows him to kill the people he wants for a reason, but mostly that gives him a cause to work torwards. And also he has daughters now.

Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that Geto is fundamentally wrong, but his actions are completely understandable.

[s8nist]

Today was hard. Beautiful, but hard.

He called me today after his run while he walked another mile to chat. Said he looked at the time and realized I was probably still driving home. We talked for about 40 minutes.

The main thesis, the purpose of the call, was to confess that after we talked today about November being only in 4 months, and briefly talking about how I'm considering Durham, he was hit with a wave of depression at realizing our time together was almost up.

He ended up making me cry like a baby talking about it. Talking about how hard it is for him to realize that when I'm the only person in his life making him happy right now. Didn't have the heart to say that I feel damn near the same. I think mine is for different reasons though. It's not like I'm not happy with my other friends - of course I am - but it's not the same. He gets me in a way I've never been understood before. That on top of me being completely and entirely latched, the idea of this time (getting to see him every day) ending is completely gut wrenching.

I know it's good for us, and we both deserve to move and to find joy in other places, but knowing that there's a very real possibility that wherever I go, he won't be is killing me. Why? It's not like he's been in my life that long. But even so, I can't help but feel that there are two time periods of my life. Before him and after him.

He said somehting that really hit me hard and started the waterworks. He told me that he thinks he's just kind of felt that this entire time, wherever he goes I'll be there too; or that wherever I go he'll follow. But today he realized that might not happen. Crushing to say the least. I'd guarantee it if I could. Grab him by the hands and tell him, "Wherever you go, I'll follow."

He told me that selfishly, there's a part of him that's okay with staying the course. Sticking to the routine of a miserable and terrible job if only to continue seeing me and being around me. Even more crushing. I would be happy with that.

Some lines post-phone call that nearly killed me:

"I'm just not ready to leave you yet."

"I would literally follow you around this country."

And you know what? I don't care if it's him just being dramatic, or just saying that, or just being silly. To even have someone say that to me means so much to me.

I can't imagine leaving him. I've gotten so used to him always being there. No matter how terrible my day is, no matter how hard I have to work to keep my head above water, he'll be there the next day. Or the day after. To think that there's a day where I won't have that certainty makes me feel like I'm drifting out to sea. He's my rock, my buoy, the one thing keeping me close to shore right now. What if I can't swim on my own?

I know I can, or at least, I can learn how to, but why does it have to be so damn hard? Why do I have to be so incredibly attached?

I so desperately wish things were different. I wish we could plan our lives together, even as friends. I could be happy with that. Happy to know that no matter where I go, he'll be there too.

I wish I could tell him how I feel. Wish this was all easier. Wish wish wish wish wish. But for now, I'll try to enjoy the hell out of te next few months. Soak up every minute I can. That, and write a few more drafts of my letter.

God I'm terrible.

[illmoraineakoi]

oh mY GOD I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE AS I WAS TYPING ALL OF MY REBLOG OUT THAT THE GANG WOULDN'T KNOW. BUT YEAH, IF ONLY ALAN AND NOOGAI THEMSELVES KNOW THEY'VE SWITCHED, FROM THE GANG'S PERSPECTIVE IT'S PROBABLY ABSOLUTELY HORRIFYING.

That makes Noogai's side so much worse, good god.

And, like, it probably wouldn't even start out too bad. Noogai wakes up in Alan's body, investigates around for a bit, finds his computer setup, and then finds the stick figures.

And he's intrigued. Curious. Why would his future self, 18 years older than him, still be playing around with these little animated pets? They were kinda fun when he'd messed around with them, but, like, entertaining enough to keep playing with them for 18 years? Noogai probably finds that a little bit weird.

But, it also piques his curiosity. So he sits, and takes hold of the mouse.

It's weird that they're all just free and wandering around the empty desktop. He knows from experience the most entertaining place to play with them is Flash, because of the freedom the animation tools gives him. He also knows that uncontrolled stick figures can be chaotic and destructive. Why his future self would trust five of them like this was beyond him. But these ones are all just gathered there right on the task bar, facing him, not doing much of anything. A few give him little waves. It's almost cute.

He picks one up, and it squirms a little, not too much. The others don't react. Don't attack.

He frowns. They seem peaceful. Calm.

Why? What was the purpose of that? Wasn't the whole point of these things to fight them? Or were these ones serving some other purpose he was unaware of? But, even as a pop-up blocker, the Chosen One was still quite feisty. Always trying to latch onto the cursor or misusing it's limited powers to ruin webpages he was trying to look at. Being aggressive and fighting against the computer user was a fundamental part of these things' programming.

It's boring if they don't react properly.

So he throws the stick he picked up. And does it again to another. Trying to provoke a reaction, to trigger that part of their programming, anything interesting.

They instead seem to freak out. Panic. Little arms flail about in exaggerated displays, and the odd one out, the orange one with the circular head, mimes tapping on the screen. It's not the reaction he was expecting, but he also doesn't really care. The cursor dives back in and yanks one by the leg, spinning it around and tossing it against the side of the screen.

And that's when they started running away.

Scrambling across the taskbar, diving into folders; each one goes in a different direction making it impossible to follow them all. All except for the orange one, who is still there, staring at the cursor.

it jumps into action a second later, darting across the taskbar, and sliding under his cursor; he just barely misses it. it slams a nubby foot into a program icon, the logo unfamiliar, launching something. An animation window covers the screen, and the little orange stick is crawling up onto the canvas--perhaps getting some fun out of this would still be possible, he muses.

This program isn't Flash, and he doesn't know the hotkeys. No matter; if this one hadn't used fire or lasers already, it was probably a pretty easy one to deal with. Likely victim-tier.

Orange text catches his attention.

[ALAN?! What are you doing?! What was that for?!]

He pauses...

How did it know his name? How was it...was it speaking? How? Was the AI within them now so advanced that it could generate text? Logical text? The thought is a bit daunting; if these little computer pets had such advanced generative AIs, it was terrifying to think about what the rest of this future world had. Had technology truly advanced so quickly in so short amount of time?

Why even include an AI like that into something like this? It seemed like a massive waste. He couldn't fathom a purpose for it.

He ignored it; the idea of speaking to some weird computer AI didn't appeal to him. It was actually a little bit creepy, honestly.

He opened the symbol library, and found it full of mostly useless stuff. Guess his future self wasn't big on keeping fun weapons in easy access.

More text.

[Alan? Why aren't you responding? Is something wrong?]

Did his future self normally reply? Weird. Weird and creepy. Did he not have any friends that he needed to socialize with an animated program to not feel lonely? Wow, talk about pathetic.

Come to think of it, if his future self regularly talked to it, that's probably how the AI knew his name.

He forewent any symbols in favor of the tools know knew and were familiar with. He lassoed the orange stick figure, yanking it up in the 'air'. It jerked, and then began to flail.

Text, again.

[ALAN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP IT!]

Stop? Did this little dinky AI really think it had the authority to try to tell him to stop?

He sent the stick figure flying in response, pen gliding over the smooth surface of the really nice art tablet as he drew out a weapon; the response of the tablet was far smoother than anything he'd experienced before. Oh, he liked this tablet, a lot. This tablet was nice.

The orange stick raised its head, but threw itself just barely out of the way when the heavy spiked mace slammed into the spot it had just been. It seemed to stare at it for a moment, before it's head shifted towards the cursor.

[You're not Alan...You can't be...but...you look like him...] the text was smaller, this time, fainter. Suddenly, the color of the Orange stick almost seemed to spark for a moment, a weird faint sound coming from the speakers, almost like a growl.

[You're not Alan. Who are you?! What have you done with Alan?!]

The text flared on screen, large and bright. The orange stick leapt to it's feet, automatically hunched into a fighting stance, but it's 'face', if you could call it that, was pointed right towards the screen.

And Noogai could almost swear that it felt like it was glaring directly at him, if such a notion wasn't utterly ridiculous.

It was frankly funny to him, that he'd somehow managed to break this AI so much that it was spatting nonsense at him. Maybe he'd overestimated the quality of it, earlier. What even was this anymore?

Still, he tapped a few keys until he found the right one, and humored the poor little program.

[You can call me Noogai. Let's have some fun, shall we?]

x

(Yeah, okay, let me just vomit out a fanfic completely unintentionally real quick, that's fine.)

Up for interpretation if the other four ran on their own, or if Orange told them to run and hide. "Alan" suddenly attacking them probably spooked them pretty bad enough that I don't think it's unreasonable they fled themselves. Especially if those throws actually hurt.

Because Alan probably never hurts them, when he throws them. He more like tosses them, in the few instances we've seen him do it in the shorts. He arguably probably never intentionally hurts them, perhaps instances of play fighting notwithstanding. So going from that level of care and consideration one day to suddenly having "him" just grab Yellow and yeet him as hard as possible for no reason the very next morning was probably a shock.

Although I don't think they other four would stay away for very long, especially if they notice Orange in distress. Then it'd be like Episode5 Virabot Fight 2.0, where they attempt to give the cursor a beatdown as a group, and probably succeed in doing so.

I suddenly have so many feels for this omg what have you done to me

yo... i need a plug for things where alan and noogai are separate people but like still the same person.... even better if alan is haunted by noogai...... pls

[inkfamy]

You're the person who said we're shipping First Aid with Bruticus now right?

If Bruticus is obsessed with First Aid how does he react to Defensor? Does he just latch on to Defensor's left arm and refuse to let go? Does he go bananas and demand his wife back? Do they walk off into the sunset holding hands?

Also, have the Decepticons ever tries getting a regular ambulance and convincing Bruticus that it's First Aid?

Hello! I'm so sorry for letting this ask languish in my inbox for a month, my brain is made of spaghetti. I am absolutely ecstatic to be the Bruticaid Guy.

I have been percolating on a Bruticaid fic and here's the things your questions alongside the other things swimming around my brain have turned into:

Personally I think Bruticus's feelings of love and affection aren't (initially) very well developed. He feels some kind of possessiveness and protectiveness over his components, because he needs them and knows he couldn't exist without them, and he understands loyalty in the form of his (forced) loyalty to Megatron and by extension the Decepticon Cause. To begin with, he doesn't fully understand love as much more beyond possessiveness and loyalty; he only processes his feelings as a desire to Have this new component, which must be his because why else would he Want it.

I think he's very jealous of Defensor when First Aid is attached, and he mostly wants to get First Aid detached so he can Reclaim His Property. Defensor likely feels a similar way, enhanced by the fact that the Protectobots as a gestalt are very close to one another and none of them would want to see First Aid in the hands of a Decepticon, whether that Decepticon likes him or not. Cue a lot of violent combiner clashing.

I've been thinking SO MUCH about the next part. We are talking G1, so whacky hijinks must ensue. The Decepticons initially just steal a regular ambulance, and Bruticus realises it's not alive as soon as he gets his hands on it. Insert tantrum. Their next step is trying to pass off a Decepticon as First Aid; Dead End gets painted red and white because he's just about the right shape and he's part of a gestalt and maybe that's what Bruticus find so appealing. This one takes a bit longer to work out: probably a few days before the false First Aid is revealed because poor Dead End got dropped in a river and all his paint washed off or something. Even bigger tantrum.

The Decepticons probably get desperate enough that they nab another Earth ambulance, smuggle it to Vector Sigma, and have it brought to life in the hopes that the resulting Decepticon will be a suitable distraction for Bruticus. The poor bot gets called Last Aid, and his only purpose in life is to be a cute little boyfriend. He's a triple changer and turns into an ambulance and a left arm, but he doesn't have a gestalt to bond too.

Last Aid ends up being pretty much Shattered Glass First Aid: he's a classic evil clone, obsessed with First Aid, the Protectobots, and the Combaticons. There's a bunch of nonsense in having to ensure the Combaticons don't know that Last Aid isn't really First Aid, because Bruticus mustn't know. Last Aid gets mostly ignored and his only assigned mission is "keep Bruticus happy". He is absolutely venomous at this being the purpose of his life; he hates the Decepticons and Bruticus. For a while he probably tries to manipulate Bruticus into idk, stomping on the real First Aid so he can take his place, turns up to cause havoc in the Protectobot base, and is generally a funky evil little guy with a kind of sad backstory (but also he is so very evil).

I don't think Last Aid is very nice to Bruticus, and that's probably what eventually reveals the ploy. Maybe he hurts Bruticus somehow and First Aid finds Bruticus injured, and being First Aid he can't not help, but this giant combiner is kind of shying away from him and waiting to get smacked again. Maybe this is the first moment where First Aid isn't scared of Bruticus, and Bruticus learns what being treated gently is like.

At some point Last Aid probably ends up working with Shockwave to try and take over the Decepticons, or otherwise gets kind of incorporated into their medics team (but isn't allowed to work without Hook there, because he Cannot Be Trusted Not To Do Something Horrible).

[ssadumba55]

Shoot (Leo Valdez X Child of Apollo! Reader)

A/n: this is something I've been trying to write for a while but could never finish. it's not a request, just something I really felt inspired to write. I don't write enough for Leo! Plus this really helped me get my flow for writing back

For most demigods, finding out they're a half-blood and having a place to finally fit in is the best feeling in the world, for you it just makes you feel ostracized more than ever.

Your mortal parent had dropped you off with the hopes that maybe you’d finally belong somewhere, be with people who were like you. But as soon as you stepped into the camp, you knew that wasn’t going to be the case.

Camp Half-Blood, at least it seemed to someone who had never been, was a place where everyone knew who they were. There were the good looking Aphrodite kids, the mischievous Hermes kids, the crafty Hephaestus kids. And then there was you.

The first week of camp was spent trying to figure out who your godly parent was. Judging by how little you fit into the existing cabins, you were sure your godly parent was going to be some extremely minor god or goddess.

But to yours and everyone’s surprise, a week into camp you were claimed by Apollo. The god of the sun, of prophecy and poetry, music and medicine. Nothing that you felt a personal affinity for, it just made your feelings of not belonging worse.

You had no friends at camp, keeping mostly to yourself. The closest to a friend you guessed you could say you had was Will Solace, your brother.  Half brother. He was the Apollo cabin head counselor and, probably sensing your slight distress when you first moved in, latched onto you almost immediately. Which meant his weird son of Hades boyfriend, Nico Di Angelo, also hung around you a lot. 

Even if you had wanted to make actual friends, it would be impossible with Nico hanging around. A lot of the campers were uneasy and unsettled by his presence. He was alright with you, though. The two of you rarely ever conversed directly. He only hung around you if Will was there too, so you wouldn’t really consider him a friend. 

The more camp activities you participated in, the stronger your desire to isolate yourself from the other campers came to be. You couldn’t play any musical instrument they had at camp, when you tried to help Will in the infirmary you just ended up getting in the way more than actually helping and you really didn’t understand the point or process in poetry.

Being good at nothing your dad was the patron god of stank, especially when it seemed like he’d gifted all his other children with the joys of mastering these skills. Sure, you were okay at hand to hand combat, not bad with a sword either and you loved spending time with the pegasi in the stables but none of that made you a child of Apollo.

Which is why the four of you were on the archery fields now. It was the last of the activities you had to try from your fathers plethora of patronity and you hoped it would be the one you were at least semi decent at. The sun was setting on another day at Camp Half-Blood, there was still time before dinner though so Will had decided to take you out to the fields and see if you had merit as an archer.

With him was his ever faithful boyfriend, Nico and Leo Valdez, a chipper son of Hephaestus who had actually volunteered to come help.

Why, you would never know, it was probably just going to end in disappointment.

Still, you stood with your legs parted, exactly as Will had instructed. Fingers pulled the bowstring back taut, the arrow nocked and ready to be sent flying. Just you and the target, you could do this. Before you could think anymore about it, you released the arrow and it soared… for a few seconds before promptly hitting the ground.

Seriously? It was like your dad was intentionally picking on you, making you bad at the things he was good at on purpose just to get a rise out of you. 

“Hey, that looked pretty good! You should try raising the arrow a little higher next time,” Will said from your right, shooting you an encouraging smile before turning back to helping Nico with his shooting. Nico wasn’t an archer, nor did he have any interest in shooting. He probably just liked the excuse to be close to Will.

You let out a groan as Leo stuck his thumbs in the air, grinning encouragingly as well.

“Come on, try again! I know you can do it! You make the… the preparation look so easy!” He was clearly trying his best to be supportive, but had no idea how to be so. It was annoying, he was too chipper. Plus, the two of you barely knew each other. Why was he even here anyway? This was one of the few rare occasions you’d seen him outside of his cabin or workspace. He spent hours there, according to Will. Supposedly he was working on something special, but nobody wanted to ask what it was yet.

You glared at him, but it didn’t seem to deter his attitude. His stupid face was really starting to bother you.

“If you think it’s so easy, why don’t you do it yourself.” You shoved the weaponry into his arms and stomped off. It was childish and uncalled for. You knew it, but you couldn’t take it anymore. Coming to this place was the worst decision of your life. Someone called out to you, probably Will, but you ignored him and kept going.

Hot tears pricked the back of your eyes as you made your way to the dock to sit and relax, clear your head. The dinner bell rang shortly after but you didn’t join them. It would be too embarrassing to see Nico, Leo and Will after your outburst. Plus, you weren’t hungry anyway. You just wanted to fit in somewhere, belong. Do something right.

As the sun began edging closer to the horizon, you realized though that you’d have to go back to your cabin eventually. Miserably, you picked yourself up off the dock and began the walk. Maybe if you were lucky, Will wouldn’t be back yet.

As you neared the cabins, your shoulders relaxed. You could hear the sounds of singing coming from the amphitheater. That meant everyone was distracted with a sing-along. You could sneak off to bed and nobody would even notice you missing.

“Hey! Wait up!” A voice said from behind you and you turned, immediately a wave of guilt flooding into you. Leo Valdez was making his way toward you, in his hand what looked to be a case. He probably wanted an apology for your freak out earlier, after all, none of it had been his fault.

You slowed so he could catch up, avoiding his eyes as he fell into step beside you. 

There was silence for a few beats, then he broke the silence; “Are you alright? You ran off really fast, I called out to you, but Will said it was probably better to give you your space.”

Somehow, he was only worried about you even though he had every right to be upset.

“I’m fine. Wouldn’t you rather be at the sing-a-long?”

His face turned slightly pinker, like he was almost embarrassed about being there with you and not with everyone else.

He swallowed and stuck out the case for you. “I… Well, I wanted to give you this and I promised Will I’d check on you so…”

You took the case, it wasn’t heavy. Curious, you kneeled down and placed it on the ground, opening it to see what was inside. Sitting there was a crossbow. It had clearly been modified, though you weren’t exactly sure how. Slowly, you lifted the weapon from its case and inspected it.

“It’ll probably be easier to shoot with than that big bow and- oof!” Leo was caught off guard by your arms around his neck, after you’d made sure to carefully put your new weapon back. You hugged him, feeling tears well up slightly.

Leo wrapped his arms back around you, and his body temperature seemed to rise a little the longer the two of you stayed like that. After a while though, he soon worried he may combust if you guys stayed like this much longer.

“I can show you how to use it..” He offered, gesturing over his shoulder to the archery field. 

The two of you made your way up to the archery field, empty because everyone was still at the amphitheater. He took your hands in his, guiding them where they were supposed to go. Ah, taking a page out of Will’s book, you thought, this must be his way of flirting.

Leo placed his hands gently on your waist to steady you, your eyes meeting and he once again looked away with that pink tint on his cheeks 

Your face heated up as you focused on aiming your weapon. Maybe, just maybe, camp wasn’t so lonely after all.

[sweetmage]

VIOLENCE ASK: Number 12 🥺

Thank you for your ask! :D

12. The unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

Probably predictable coming from me but these guys for sure! (I was inspired by your choice of emoji lol)

Sebastian

I certainly get why a lot of people might hate Sebastian and feel uncomfortable about his stances and behaviors and I'm certainly not here to say that isn't valid. However, a lot of other "critiques" of him come from people who either have never taken him with them or who have misunderstood his character. His internal struggle with himself goes much further than just Prince vs. Brother and I think he is a very compelling character, albeit unfortunately underrealized. Perhaps this is cheating but I would like to attach some other people’s meta that dives into his character’s nuances and motivations much better than I could! On how Sebastian’s performative adherence to chantry propaganda conflicts with genuine values and actions. On how Sebastian victim-blames himself and has used some parts of his faith as a bandage for his unaddressed trauma. Oh Sebastian’s admiration of the wardens, his love of violence, and his desires for cut and try good vs evil conflicts (it is hard to sum this one up, I recommend just reading it for whoever is interested)

As for more of my own thoughts, I genuinely find him to fascinating. He is a walking contradiction in every regard and he is as impulse as he is uncertain about everything (those two traits playing off of each other frequently). He is a victim of abuse, neglect, and abandonment who latches on strongly to people and ideals that give him purpose and make him feel useful and like he belongs, he performs to fit those roles even if they go against his nature. He is genuinely kind and thoughtful though kind and thoughtful don't always go hand and hand with the Chantry's definition of good and virtuous. I think he is genuinely funny, he has about as much snark and sass as the rest of the crew if you actually take the time to listen to him. He treats Merrill with kindness and respect and is open to civil discussions about her faith and way of life which is more than can be said about some of my other faves. More of a headcanon but think there is a very delicious and angsty tragedy to the Last Straw if you play a mage and support Anders (which I always do, of course). I wrote a little about that here and drew a comic about it here if you are so inclined to read it! None of this is to say that I agree with or condone his actions, I certainly do not. I will always be pro-mage and, performative or not, many of his actions and statements against mages as a whole and characters who are mages are entirely inexcusable. I also want to clarify that I do not think his faith is ENTIRELY performative or fake, I think he genuinely believes and receives comfort from his faith, but is the actions he takes because of it (conscious or subconscious) that do not align with the ways he conducts himself otherwise and I think he has a lot to sort or morality wise and a lot of impulses to deal with. But it's okay, I can fix him :)

Tamlen

Embarrassingly I do not have nearly as much to say about Tamlen lol. He is just my favorite of the origin companions and his story really really punched me straight in the gut and then much later punched me straight in the gut again. I think he is very sweet and goofy was written realistically in a way that he felt like a real friend I might have had when I was younger. I know a lot of people like him and think of him fondly, but I would love to see more fanart of him and stuff. I would love to shoutout this beautifully drawn and absolutely heartbreaking comic about him that I keep coming back to. Also I will be obnoxious and self-promote my bittersweet AU and series of artworks I have in which he survives and recovers... but at a price!

[funklorde]

can i get a andrew!peter parker with a spider women with a black reader😼

The crawling,

－𝐴𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑤！𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑏𝑙𝑘！𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

You struggled to put your locs in a ponytail trying to hurry. “Of course my hair wanna act crazy now!” Your hair band popped.

‘Fuck it it’s night nobody’s gonna see me’ you thought slipping on the rest of your suit. You looked in the mirror. You took a short breathe before hurrying out the window.

You don’t know what was up tonight. It just felt weird and it had been a couple days since there had been trouble to fix.

You swinged around looked for anything. None in sight. You latched onto a building.

You crawled up the wall avoiding all windows with people at all costs. Your mask held in your mouth just in case.

As you crawled up the building you looked around trying to find the problem.

Not paying attention you reached the top and bumped into someone almost falling. They caught you.

Their face looked more clear as they lifted you up with one arm.

“Are you ok?” They fasten breathed. “Yeah-I” you stuttered.

“Who are you?” is all you could ask. “My names Peter.” he still looked shocked.

“Y/n” you held his shoulders. He held your waist with his other arm.

“Peter?”

“Yes”

“Can you put me down?”

“Oh-um yeah.” he swayed over and out you down.

He had a suit on too. No mask either. “What were you doing?” you panicked. He probably seen you climb up there. Shit.

“What were you doing?” he looked as anxious. “I was up here then I seen you crawling up here!” He held his hands out. Fuck.

“You saw me?” You grabbed your mask out of you mouth and put both hands on your head. You walked around breathing heavy. Someone found you out! After months of keeping it a secret!

“Um-hey! It’s ok. See-“ Peter put his mask on. “See I’m Spider-Man! So- shit I shouldn’t have said it that so loud.” He whispered that last part.

You chuckled a little bit and went down on your knees still a little upset.

He laughed too. “This is really weird isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“So- what have you been doing because I have never seen you.” He took his mask off.

“I’ve been doing your dirty work. Not purposely I’ve just been very late.” Your hand went down to you side.

“Wow. Yeah. Thank you for that.” He went down on his knees with you.

“So like…same story right?” He asked.

“Huh?”

“Same story ya know. Bit by a radioactive spider?” He fumbled with his hands.

You nodded and laughed again.

“This has to be the most amazing scariest thing to happen to me.” You said. He turned his head.

“Well meeting you I knew was bound to happen but me meeting you is just-“

“Yeah.” He was as awkward.

There was silence. He smiled at you. You smiled back.

“So-like what do you do? Besides cleaning up my messes,” He broke the silence.

“Well I worked with my dad at his store.” You answered.

“Why didn’t you have your mask on?” He asked another.

You motioned your hand around you hair. “Oh-yeah.” He laughed. “Why didn’t you have yours?” “Well I was up here alone,” he looked at the sky.

“I didn’t expect to meet another spider person.” He sat down. “I’m usually a loner. Don’t really try to get attached to people.”

“Me too.” He was surprised by your answer. “Had to let go of my girls because of this Spider-Woman shit.” You sigh.

“Ya know, I’m kinda hungry. We can go to that pizza place down there.” He pointed down trying to brighten the mood.

“You asking me out right now?” You smile. “Well it wouldn’t be official if you don’t say yes,” he looked you up and down.

“Sure.” Your face light up.

“So, meet you there?” He got up and held his hand out.

“Yeah.” You grabbed his hand and came up.

You smirked looking over to him. “Meet you there Peter.” You kissed his cheek before webbing off into the night. He was suprised at first, then he smiled like an idiot and ran off.

A/n: might make a part two????

[colormepurplex2]

Your Guardian Angel | Slow Dance In The Kitchen

↳  Seokjin x f.Reader ⤜ Friends/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 8,698 ⚠️ Self-deprecation, talk of past abuse, physical altercation including punching/kneeing that results in an arrest, drinking, and some sugary sweet soft fluffy smut

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"I will never let you fall I'll stand up with you forever I'll be there for you through it all Even if saving you sends me to heaven"

Red Jumpsuit Apparatus - Your Guardian Angel

Last night was a blur. You don't remember falling asleep, much less being carried to your bed. Only it's not your bed. You wake to find yourself wrapped in unfamiliar sheets, a warm body pressed against your back. There is light streaming in from between the drawn curtains. It barely provides enough light for you to see your surroundings but after a few moments on the edge of panic, you realize you're in Jin's bed. Which only means the body you can feel so warmly pressed against your back must be your best friend.

Perhaps he can sense you're awake. Just as soon as the realization dawns on you, he's moving away. You curl tighter into a ball on your side, pulling your knees to your chest. You can hear him moving around, the blankets being tossed back and the mattress shifting as he gets up. If you concentrate hard enough you can still feel the phantom of warmth along your back. There is a dull ache behind your closed eyes and you can feel the subtle burn in your nose letting you know tears are not far away. But, you don't want to cry, not anymore. So, you try to will yourself back to sleep instead.

You're not sure how long you sleep for, as you drift in and out only periodically waking to Jin holding a straw to your chapped and cracked lips. It hurts to swallow, your throat raw from all the crying. At one point Jin offers you a few capsules, some aspirin maybe. Everything hurts and nothing makes sense. What did happen last night?

Maybe you're being dramatic. Perhaps it's ridiculous for a grown adult to be wallowing like this. Though, if you're being honest with yourself, you're not sure what kind of grown adult would let themselves go through what you have. It always seems that when you've been thrown out and broken up with is the only time you can see a little through the fog. You finally have a little clarity. It's a bitterness that makes you both love and hate yourself.

After all, if you know it's wrong, why do you keep doing it? Why do you keep going back? Oh, right. You've been so desperate for acceptance and love that you latched on to the first person to show you even the slightest bit of romantic interest. Sure, you could probably blame that on a loveless childhood or any other number of emotional ineptitudes. But, that always seems like the cop-out, the easy excuse.

Maybe...in reality, in some sick and twisted way, you enjoy it. The bruises are like a map across your skin, telling a story of where you've been and where you're going. Without them, you lose a sense of identity, purpose. The marks are an affirmation of love. They're like a poem, forever written on your heart reminding you that at least someone loves you. Because, after all, tough love is still love.

At one point, you find yourself absently rubbing your hands along your arms, tracing over your atlas of tender skin. You freeze, fingers digging in as your heart pounds, only now realizing that Jin must have changed you into one of his large t-shirts before putting you to bed. You fear for a moment what your boyfriend will do knowing Jin undressed you. The thought doesn't linger long, replaced by the hollow ache in your chest when you remember you no longer have a boyfriend so it doesn't matter.

The light coming in from the curtains is gone. Jin rouses you, prodding at your lips with the tip of the straw. "Wake up."

You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue before parting them and accepting the straw. At first, drinking while laying down caused you to cough and sputter. Now, though, you barely raise your head as you take a few small mouthfuls. "Thank you," you whisper, letting the straw fall from between your lips.

"You can thank me by eating something." This isn't the first time he's brought up food. You're just honestly not sure if you could stomach anything other than the periodic water right now.

You shake your head, ready to bury yourself back under the blankets and sleep some more. Jin makes a disgruntled noise which is followed by the soft clack of the glass of water being set on the bedside table. You count your breaths, waiting for him to leave.

One.

Two.

Three.

Fo-

"Hey!" you yell as the blankets are snatched off your curled-up form. "Jin! Stop!" Your throat is raw, making your voice come out like gravel.

"Come on, you need a shower and a good meal."

You stare up at him from beneath your lashes. He's dressed in a long-sleeve blue shirt and black sweats. The faint smell of beef broth soup tickles your nose now that it's not buried beneath the blankets. As if to accentuate his statement your stomach rumbles loudly. Traitor.

"Can't I just wallow in peace?" You mumble, wrapping your arms around yourself. You still feel like you might fall apart at the seams if you move too much.

You catch the slightest raise of his eyebrow before he's breaking out into a warm laugh. "I know you better than that. Tell me honestly, do you really want to be alone?"

You open your mouth to express that you, in fact, do...but your heart clenches at the thought. Do you? "I-...well, no."

Jin's weight dips the mattress beside you as he perches on the edge. "Come on, then." He opens his arms, hands gesturing for you.

As soon as you start moving, he's there. His arms come around you, pulling you up and against him. Large hands with warm palms you feel press against your back through the oversized shirt. He smells like chamomile and orange peel, a scent that floods in memories of your time in college together. Any time you were feeling down Jin would make you chamomile tea with a hint of orange. It was his way of saying 'it's okay, I'm here' and it always was okay after that.

"I'm sorry," you murmur into his chest, squeezing your eyes shut in order to try not to cry.

You can feel more than see him shaking his head. "None of that." He strokes your hair softly, letting the strands glide between his fingers. "You're going to get through this. I promise you will. I know it sucks now, but brighter days are ahead."

He helps you stand, bracing you as your knees wobble from being bent up for so long. His eyes don't wander or linger where they shouldn’t as he helps you step into a pair of shorts. It’s such an apparent contrast to the way most men would be. You watch him, really taking in the way he moves. You're not sure you ever really noticed how attentive he is with you, hands hovering to help at the first sign of need. Have you really been blind to this all along?

You're silent as you muse over your friendship with Jin. You try to pick out similar instances, looking for any sign you may have overlooked in the past. He follows you down the hallway and into the kitchen, far enough behind you that he's not crowding you but still close enough to catch you if you stumble. How close to you does he normally walk?

Jin helps you sit on one of the barstools at the counter. The smooth wooden surface is chilly against the backs of your thighs, but it's not wholly unpleasant. You focus on the feeling, letting it be a reminder that you can feel something other than hurt right now. Your best friend moves around the tiny kitchen. He turns the knob on the stove, bringing the heat back up to rewarm the soup he made. He's quiet as he goes through the familiar motions of making you a meal and you continue to watch him.

Has he always given you larger portions of rice than he gives himself? He sets a steaming mug in front of you before going back to ladling the beef soup into bowls alongside the rice. Your hands cup around the mug, soaking in the heat it puts off. Your eyes finally leave Jin for a moment as they drop to the mug. It's the same mug you've had for years, the same one he served you tea in when you were in college. It's also the only mug in your cabinet that doesn't have some sort of chip in it. You both talk all the time about buying new ones, but the old ones hold far too many precious memories. Does he always give you the only mug without a chip in it? Surely he's used it before, too...right? You're trying to recall a time you've seen him use this mug but Jin setting the bowls of soup and rice in front of you pulls you from your thoughts.

"Have you ever used this mug?" You blurt out, startling him.

"What?"

"This mug," you gesture to it, "do you use it?"

He looks confused. "Umm...I don’t, no, why?"

You make a noncommittal noise, waving off his question. Not something you really want to explain right now...just in case you're wrong. He can't possibly...last night wasn't...

"This smells amazing." You nod toward the bowl of soup.

"It's your favorite." He smiles, setting his own bowl on the counter beside you. "There is plenty more if you're still hungry after that. Is there anything else you need?" When you don't answer he looks up at you, meeting your stare. "Hello?"

Has he always had such broad shoulders? When is the last time he got his hair cut? It's at just the length you think looks best on him, not too long but not too short, it frames his forehead nicely. "Hmm?" You realize he had asked you something.

"Do you need anything else?" He repeats.

You clear your throat, bringing your attention to the soup and forcing your eyes from assessing him any further. "No, no, I'm fine. This is fine."

"You feeling okay?"

You shrug a shoulder, studying the chunks of beef and potato floating in the bowl in front of you. "Yeah. 'm okay."

He snorts a soft laugh. "You'll be better than okay once you actually eat. Hurry before it gets cold."

It tastes as heavenly as you remember. The slight tang and saltiness from the broth make your jaw tick slightly and you silently curse yourself for not eating anything sooner. The last time this happened you locked yourself in your room and didn't eat for three days straight. Your spoon stops halfway to your mouth as you recall it, just a few months ago actually. Was it really so recent? The soup tastes slightly bitter as you complete the arch into your mouth. Bitter thoughts breed a bitter taste. You drop your spoon back into the bowl and blow out your cheeks in frustration, this soup deserves better than your dark mood.

In an effort to focus on something else you ask, "did you get the beef from the market down the street?"

Jin settles onto the barstool next to you. "I did. They were having a sale so I picked up a few things. Would you believe they actually had kiwis this time?" he looks at you with a sparkle in his eye but it quickly dims. "I'm sorry, I should have thought to grab you some, I know how much you like them." His eyes drop to his soup and he ladles a spoonful into his mouth.

No. No, he shouldn't have. He was right in not buying them for you. He used to, though. He used to buy all of your favorites every week at the market. Until he got tired of throwing it all away because it would spoil since you were never home to eat any of it.

You chew your bottom lip, thinking. "It's okay. Maybe they'll have them next time we go," you offer.

"We?" he mumbles under his breath. You barely catch it. In fact, you probably wouldn't have if you weren't trying to hang on to any and all sounds coming from him now. "Yeah, maybe." He glances up at you for a second before going back to his soup.

A few more absent bites go tasteless down your throat. Why do you feel so terrible? Not even about your breakup, but about...Jin? You cut your gaze to the side, watching him out of the corner of your eye. Has his tongue always peeked out between his lips after every few bites of food he takes? A stray drop of broth escapes the corner of his mouth and you watch as it traces a line down his chin. Before you realize what you're doing, your thumb swipes at the errant drop before it can drip onto his shirt.

He flinches back from your touch as if you burned him. "Sorry, you had...broth."

"Thanks. It's okay, I was just so lost in my thoughts that you kind of scared me." He chuckles softly, fingers of his freehand tapping against the countertop in a nervous way.

You chew a bite of rice before asking, " want to share your thoughts?"

Jin snorts another laugh. "Yeah, that's not happening."

Now you're really intrigued.

"Hey, friends don't have secrets."

He looks pointedly at you. "Not happening."

You poke out your bottom lip, giving him your best pout. "Come on, Jinnie, it'll make me feel better."

"That...that might not be true," he huffs out in a rush. He abandons his spoon in the soup bowl, bringing his hand to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose like he's warding off a headache.

You don't know why your heart beats a little faster and you feel slightly lightheaded by his statement. What exactly is he thinking? What about it wouldn't make you feel better?

"What is it?" You need to know. You have to know.

He licks his lips nervously, pushing aside his soup and rice before turning on the stool to face you. You mirror him, turning so your knees are pressed against his. Jin reaches out and grabs up both of your hands in his. His hands dwarf yours, completely closing around them in a soft embrace of somewhat unexpected warmth.

"Last night. What do you remember about last night?"

You're confused. "Well...I mean, I guess-" you pause, thinking, what do you remember? The breakup, obviously. Coming home, yes. Yelling at Jin, yup. You wince a little at that last thought. Jin said...he said...well, friends can love each other right? "Everything? I think? Is there something, in particular, I'm supposed to remember?"

"Do you remember what I told you?"

"Well, yeah, and I love you, too, of cour-"

"Stop." He releases your hands, shoving his into his hair as he shakes his head.

You slowly close your mouth, waiting.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to talk about it. It's not right...it's too soon." He sighs, smoothing out his hair and dropping his hands into his lap. "I love you. I've realized that for a while now. What I'm thinking about is despite how much I love you, I know you don't love me." you open your mouth to protest but he throws a hand up, silencing you. "I know what comes next, I know how this story goes," he continues, "and even though I know you won't choose me, I'm still going to be here for you. I'm still going to choose you because that's what you deserve. You know exactly how I feel about him and what he does to you, what he puts you through. In the end, there is only so much I can do because ultimately you're your own person, a person I care about, but a person who has to make their own decisions. You will always be my best friend, you will always be the girl- woman, that I think of when someone asks me if I believe there's such a thing as perfection."

"I'm not perfect," you utter meekly. You blink back the tears welling in your eyes and your fingernails dig into your palms as you clench your hands into fists in your lap.

He gives you a sad smile. "Don't you see? That's exactly what he wants you to think." Jin takes a deep breath, schooling his features back into a neutral state. "I'm sorry, can we not talk about this anymore?"

You swallow thickly, still fighting the burn in your nose and behind your eyes that says tears are coming. "Sure, yeah, of course."

Jin turns in his seat, going back to his abandoned and probably cold-by-now meal. Your heart aches as you watch him, your knees oddly numb without his pressed against them. You can tell he's intentionally not looking at you, focusing on his food just as much as he's focusing on not continuing this conversation. He doesn't want to get hurt...again.

________________________________

The next week goes by in a fog. Each day you feel a little better, but your head is still full of cotton most of the time. You're lucky Jin seems to bounce back to his normal self. If it wasn't for him you probably wouldn't have finished your marketing presentation on time.

You slump down in your office chair, staring blankly at the computer screen. It was hard to breathe, standing in front of your boss and colleagues trying to act like nothing was wrong as you mindlessly recited your parts of the presentation. But, it's done with and Vaughn signed off on it and had it sent for publication.

It was agreed everyone would be going out after work to have drinks. It's Friday night and your boss just thumbs up'd what could be a career-changing project. You should be more amped, excited...yet, you're just floating. You're tempted to cancel, tell Mina and Linny you're not feeling up for it, but you know it'll be hot office gossip next week if you do so. And honestly, you'd rather avoid that than the discomfort of going out tonight. Besides, Jin will be there, as it's just as much his big night as it is yours. He's made you chamomile and orange tea every night this week, just a single cup, in the same non-chipped mug as always. There have been few casual and cordial conversations between the two of you at home, but otherwise, it's been nothing but business.

That hasn't stopped you from creating and keeping a mental log, though. You've made note of each and every little thing Jin does for you...or just in general. The way he stops mid-laugh to put on a serious face just to melt back into laughter is one of your favorites. You don't know if you've ever really appreciated just how funny and quirky he can be.

He's put on muscle. Not that you've really been particularly paying attention to that. Not much, at least, that's what you tell yourself. But, you can't help but not notice the way his shirt tugs at his shoulders when he moves his arms or the way the muscles in his thighs pull tight the fabric of his slacks. No, you absolutely do not really notice those things.

You're lost in thoughts of black slacks and button-downs when a knock sounds at your office door. "Sorry, yep, hello? Come in!" You quickly straighten up in your seat, smoothing the front of your shirt and dress pants absentmindedly as the door swings open.

"Hey, Vaughn said we can head out early if we want, so we have time to change before meeting at Reno's in a few hours," Jin explains, peeking just his head into your office.

You nod. "Okay, great, I'll gather my things."

He purses his lips for a second. "You okay?"

Clearing your throat only seems to add to his suspicion. "Y-yeah, uh- yeah, I'm great. Just a little tired is all," you lie.

You know he can tell you're lying, but he doesn't press any further. "Hmm, alright. Well, the first round is on me. Meet me out front in five?"

"Yeah, that works."

It doesn't take you long to gather your things, shoving everything into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. You're glad you decided to wear a pantsuit and flats today, not sure you'd be up for the walk home in anything else. In all honesty, you really are kind of tired. Sleep has been pretty elusive, except instead of staying up thinking about your ex and the breakup, you've found yourself lying awake at night thinking about...Jin.

After a few nights of this, you finally admitted to yourself that you have feelings for him. Or rather, you did at one point. Growing up, he was your first crush, your prom date, and your first kiss- despite how awkward it was, spin the bottle in Danny Lee's basement still counts. Jin never showed any interest in you, though, always treating you like a sister as opposed to someone he wanted to date. You both joked about it, even through college, but that's all it ever was...a joke. Until it wasn't...isn't?

You can admit that had you known about the way he felt, you might not have started dating him. Though, that train of thought seems like a derailment waiting to happen. If you hadn't started dating him would Jin have ever actually been honest in his feelings? Would you have been? At what point did Jin realize he liked you? Only after the fact? After it was too late? When did you stop having feelings for him? Did you stop?

The thoughts drift away as you push open the front door and step out onto the sidewalk. Jin is waiting for you. He has his hands in his pockets, turned slightly away from the door so he doesn't notice you at first. Your eyes trace along his side profile, filing away the curve of his lips and the slope of his nose. Just another note to add to your mental log.

"Oh, hey!" He finally turns and notices you. There is a momentary pang of guilt as you realize what you were subconsciously doing. You feel weird sometimes, thinking about Jin the way you do...but ever since your conversation a week ago you can't seem to shake it.

"Hey." You smile at him, willing some warmth into it. It works, bringing his own smile to his face. A handsome smile. "Ready to go?"

"Absolutely!" Without even asking, he takes your bag, slinging it to mirror his over his other shoulder. Something he's done every day you've ever walked home together from work. It was something you had almost forgotten about, until this week, since it had been so long since you'd walked home together before that.

You fall into a comfortable pace beside him, listening to him talk about wanting to try a new mixed drink that Reno's is supposed to have tonight. Something that Mina told him about which apparently tastes like sour skittles.

The conversation and ease of being around Jin have you feeling a little better about tonight. Though, as you're digging through the clothes in your closet, that feeling begins to diminish rapidly.

"Fuck," you huff under your breath as you get to the end of your clothes for the fifth time, still coming away empty-handed.

"Having some trouble?" Jin asks, startling you, from your doorway.

You flick an annoyed hand at your closet. "Why don't I have cute clothes?"

Jin rolls his eyes before stepping into your room. "You do, you just have to actually want to wear them." He stops beside you and begins to peruse your clothes. A few items get pulled out and tossed on your bed. You watch as the filmy black material of a dress flutters onto your duvet.

"Jin, I can't possibly wear those things." You snatch up the dress, shaking it out. It's a simple black dress, but extremely short and strapless. You've worn it before and it looks great on you. But now? Now...you can't possibly. It's just not right, women shouldn't dress like this.

He glances at you over his shoulder, hands stilling on your clothes. "Why not? It looks great on you."

"It's not appropriate," you mumble, tossing the dress back onto your bed.

That brings him around to face you. For the first time since he walked into your room, you're actually able to take in his full outfit. He's wearing a pair of tight black slacks, black leather boots, and an emerald long-sleeve knit sweater. He looks unbelievably handsome.

"Not appropriate? Says who?"

"Oh, well...umm...," you fumble for an explanation. It just is, isn't it? "It's just too short and stuff, y'know?"

"Too short?" he parrots back. "It's not like your ass is going to be hanging out. It's a perfectly fine length and makes your legs look amazing."

Your cheeks color at his words. "Really?"

"Yes. Now, put it on so I can prove it to you."

You pick up the discarded dress, rubbing the fabric between your fingers. “Fine.” You look up at him expectantly. He raises an eyebrow at you. “Well?” You flutter your fingers in the air at him. “Are you going to just stand there?”

He laughs, a delightful and tickling sound that makes you smile. “With as many times as I’ve seen you naked?”

“That…that’s different!” You object between laughs. Drunk you and sober you are completely different situations. He turns back toward your closet, shoulders still shaking with silent laughter.

“Hurry up, we don’t have much more time before we need to leave,” he comments, hands going back to browsing your clothes.

You quickly strip off your work clothes, pausing with the dress in your hand. You glance down at your plain tan bra and panties. The bra will have to come off, but should you change your underwear, too? Maybe something a little sexier, to go with this dress, would be good. You giggle at the thought. You feel…naughty? Liberated? Free?

Stepping over to your dresser on the other side of your bed you grab out a cute but comfortable strip of black lace. It doesn’t take long for you to redress yourself. You clear your throat as you settle the dress over your hips. “Well?”

Jin turns and looks at you. A slow smile turns up the corners of his lips. “Amazing, just like I said. Your legs look a mile long and absolutely delectable.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Okay, okay, okay. You win.”

“Of course I win, I get to spend the evening with you.” His reply is stated simply, but it does something to you. Your heart stutters and you feel…butterflies?

Your brain can't really form a response so you just smile and continue getting ready. Jin hands you a cropped gold blazer to go over the dress along with a pair of black Mary Jane pumps with a gold chain accent. He helps you add some gentle waves to your hair, his hands moving deftly with the curling rod. You watch him chat animatedly, about how fun it's going to be seeing Vaughn in a 'normal' environment, through the mirror in your bathroom as he finishes your hair and you put the final touches on your makeup.

You're glad most of your bruises have faded. The darker ones are easily covered with concealer and makeup. Jin's eyes narrow as he watches you dot and pat the liquid along your neck and arms. You haven't talked about it since before and you're grateful he doesn't choose now to try to. Tonight is supposed to be all about fun.

"Thank you," you whisper, leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek once you're both ready and standing by the door to leave.

He winks at you. "Let's go have some fun. We earned this!"

You're not sure you would consider it fun, surrounded by sweaty bodies and music so loud you can barely hear yourself think. But, Jin makes it feel not so bad. He keeps his word by buying the first round of shots. The small and seemingly innocuous shot glass packed a bit more of a punch than you were anticipating. It really does taste like sour skittles, but you're certain it's to blame for the warmth you feel in your cheeks.

Drinking, going out as a whole for that matter, isn't exactly something you've done in a long time. Well, ever since...no, we're not thinking about him. Not tonight.

"Having fun?" You ask a breathless Jin as he slumps into the booth beside you. You had volunteered to table-sit, keeping an eye on drinks while everyone else enjoyed a round on the dance floor.

"Mmm, would be loads more fun if you'd join us." He nods toward your other coworkers still dancing. Jin snorts a laugh. "It's weird, huh? No tie, no business suit, he almost looks like a real person."

It really is something else seeing your boss, Vaughn, in a setting outside of work. He's old enough to be your grandfather, but he seems to have lost at least fifteen years while on the dance floor. He insisted he'd only stay for one dance, one drink, and then he'd be leaving. Apparently, his wife is none too keen on him being here. If his loud cheers and obnoxious laugh are anything of an indicator, you can kind of see why.

You shrug. "He's just having enough fun for the both of us."

Jin is about to make a snarky comment about fun when he's cut off by Vaughn slapping his hand on the table. Under his palm are a few large bills, definitely enough to cover drinks for the remainder of the night. He leans in and projects his voice so you can both hear him over the music. "You've all earned it, but especially you two. Without your hard work, we wouldn't have gotten the Armon deal off the ground. Thank you, have some fun for me tonight. Gotta get going, Joi is out front waiting for me."

He shimmies his hips and shoulders as he makes his way to the door, waving to your coworkers as he passes them on the dance floor.

"You heard the man, boss' orders. You have to have fun now." Jin grabs your hand, pulling you out of the booth behind him.

"Wait! What about our drinks?" You tug futilely against his grip as he leads you closer to the dance floor.

He glances back at you over his shoulder. "We'll just get new ones!" he shouts.

You don't have time to try and argue as you're suddenly engulfed with bodies. Your grip tightens on Jin's hand, holding him as tightly as he's holding you. It feels nice, your hand secured within his, it makes you feel safe.

There isn't much use in having a conversation, the music drowning everything out. So, you just follow Jin's lead. He stops near Linny and Mina, offering them a smile before holding up your clasped hand and shaking it in victory. You can't really hear their laughter, but you see their smiles and for once, it seems like any animosities between you and the other ladies in the office have been put to rest for the night.

You're not really sure what you were expecting, but Jin's hands on your hips definitely weren't it. It's only awkward at first, as he tries to move your hips one way but your body pushes the other. He giggles, shaking his head. You finally get the rhythm, hips moving in sync with the music and his hands. You haven't danced like this since college, but it eventually becomes familiar again and you start to enjoy yourself.

Jin is a good dancer. He's all long limbs and broad shoulders but the way he moves his body, hips rolling and feet moving to the beat, entrances you. You find yourself moving with him, body flush to his. He's taller than you, even with your heels, but you still seem to fit perfectly against him.

Jin grabs your hands and laces his fingers with yours, twirling you around so your back is against his front. "Whoa!" You let out a startled laugh and you catch a glimpse of a smile before you're facing the other direction. He brings his hands, still holding yours, to rest on your hips. Your fingers tighten within his as he begins to sway your hips from side to side, intimately aware of how your ass brushes the front of his slacks.

"This dress really is amazing on you." Jin's breath is hot against your neck as he leans in close enough so you can hear him. Even with flushed heat beneath your skin, you shiver.

You're just about to thank him when suddenly you're being snatched to the side. A hand fists into your hair, making you crane your neck painfully to the side. Tears instantly threaten to ruin your makeup as you whimper. Your heart thunders in your chest, staring up into the cold and menacing eyes of your ex.

You hear Jin yelling, his words lost on your ears. The only thing you hear is "Whore." The word is laced with so much venom it curdles your insides. "I knew it! You stupid fucking bitch," he roars, voice echoing well over the music. Or maybe you're just so used to these words your brain doesn't need to actually hear them in order to know what his lips are forming.

Your world shifts again as your ex is pushed by someone. Jin. You cry out as fingers are ripped from your hair, taking strands with them. The force knocks you down, your knees biting hard into the wooden dance floor. You scramble, trying to stand as you're jostled more by the bodies surrounding you. People are moving, yelling, trying to get away from what you can catch only glimpses of.

Your ex has a fistful of Jin's shirt. Another flash. Fist connecting to a jaw. You scream, fighting hard to gain your feet. Another flash. Knee connecting to a midsection. Finally, you stumble upright, throwing yourself past the few people in your way. A punch meant to catch Jin in the ribs catches you instead, right to the chest. Air leaves your lungs in a burning whoosh.

"No!" Jin catches you as you're knocked back from the hit, his yell echoing too loudly in your ears.

"Let me go! Fucking let me go!" You can hear your ex roaring even louder.

You cough a few times, throat feeling raw and lungs burning as you try to suck in air. Jin cradles you against his chest, eyes frantically searching your face. You see his lip is busted, blood dotting his chin.

A security officer places his hand on Jin's shoulder. His eyes drop to you. "You okay, m'am?"

"I'm fine," you choke out. Over the officer's shoulder, you see your ex being hauled away by two other officers, their muscles straining as he fights them the whole way. Suddenly the music is cut and the lights come up.

"Come with me. Please." The officer smiles apologetically. Jin nods, slipping an arm around you to help you follow the officer. You're led toward the front entrance, where they took your ex as well. "Police have been called, do you want to explain what happened?" The security officer asks as you step out onto the sidewalk. You catch a glimpse of your ex with the other officers further down.

You dart your tongue out to wet your lips, which you notice are trembling. "Umm," you start but have to stop to clear your throat, you nod down the sidewalk toward your ex, "he's ugh, m-my ex. We split a week ago...not on good terms," you trail off, trying to think of what else to say without saying too much. The last thing you need is to incur more of his wrath. No. Why does that matter!? Never again.

"He's an abuser," Jin states sadly. All the sweating and dancing made the concealer cover your arms and neck fade a little. Jin pulls the collar of your blazer aside gently. "The guy is a monster. We were dancing and the next thing I know he's ripping her away by the hair and screaming that she's a whore. Then he punched me, kneed me in the stomach, and tried to punch me again but ended up punching her instead."

You can still feel the ache in your chest every time you take a breath. You're pretty sure nothing is broken, except maybe your pride. "M'am, is that true?"

It's embarrassing. You're not sure if you should be mad at Jin for telling someone your secret, but part of you feels...grateful? Grateful that someone else finally knows, too. You take a slow, calming breath, drawing up your strength and resolve. "Yes. That's true." You state with more power and conviction than you think you ever have uttered before. He is an abuser and you're no longer a victim, you're a survivor.

You have to wait for the police to show up. It seems like it takes forever to give your statement and exchange information with the authorities. The entire ride home you keep playing the scene of your ex being loaded into the back of a squad car over and over in your head. Part of you got into that car with him, you know that. But it's the part of you that you no longer want, the victim, the helpless girl afraid of the big bad wolf. No, you no longer want that to be part of who you are...you have a new story now.

Jin has you sit on your bathroom counter so he can get a proper look at your chest. The fist connected just below your collarbone on the left side. The only indicator of anything having happened is the slight tenderness you feel when you touch it. You know it'll bruise over the next few days, but at least nothing is broken. You and Jin both had waved off the offer of medical assistance, though you wish Jin hadn't. His lip looks pretty bad.

"I'm sorry," Jin breaks the silence in the bathroom after he's satisfied your chest is okay.

"What do we say about apologizing?" You tease, trying to lighten the mood.

You see him roll his eyes before he drops down to grab the first aid kit from under your sink. "Not funny," he mutters into the cabinet.

"Seriously, don't apologize. There is no way anyone could have known that would happen tonight."

"Yeah, but if I would have just hit him back, maybe he wouldn't have been able to accidentally hit you," Jin huffs as he sets the kit on the counter beside you.

You shake your head. "No. Absolutely not. As much as I hate that you didn't defend yourself, in a way I'm glad you didn't. Had you actually punched him back, you might have been taken in, too. Just as guilty of assault as he is...the justice system is weird like that sometimes, you know."

Jin scoffs but nods begrudgingly. "I know." He opens the kit and begins to grab out a few small things to clean up his lip.

"Ah, hey, no. It's my turn to play nurse." You hop down from the sink and pat where you were just sitting. "Come on, take a seat."

He stares at you for a moment before complying, legs long enough he can almost still reach the floor. He relaxes, leaning forward with his hands resting on his knees. "You think it'll leave a scar?"

You begin by cleaning away the dried blood dotting his chin, slowly moving up to the split in his lip. "Scar or not, you'll still be just as handsome," you murmur, eyes trained on your hand. He winces as you gently clean his lip. The split isn't nearly as bad as you initially thought, but it's still tender and will take a few days to heal. "I'm sorry this happened to you." You whisper sadly, feeling tears well up in your eyes. This is your fault...isn't it?

"Hey, hey, no." Jin cups your cheeks, bringing your face up so you're looking at him. His thumbs softly brush your cheeks, catching the tears that escape. "I would accept this a million times over if it means you're safe, if it means it's me and not you. That, I swea-"

"I love you." It escapes from you before you can stop it.

Jin stares at you, mouth still open mid-word. "-r it. What?"

"It's true. I do. It's all I've been able to think about." You ramble, words tumbling so fast.

He shakes his head. "Don't say something you don't mea-"

Your lips silence him. You need him to know you mean it. You mean this more than any words can even begin to express. Perhaps it's a mistake to be kissing your best friend. Or more so a mistake to be kissing someone who just recently got punched in the mouth. But damn if it doesn't make all the problems seemingly disappear.

You're pushed up on your toes, hands gripping Jin's as they cup your face still. His lips are soft, just as lush and inviting as you remember from Danny Lee’s basement all those years ago. Even with the split in his lip, they're the best lips you've ever kissed. There is no tongue, no raging inferno. No, not really. Instead, there is passion, a simmering and pulsing softness that has you melting against him.

"I mean it," you breathe the words, a soft exhale as your lips part from his.

You can hear him swallow audibly. His warm breath fanning over your face, still just inches from his. "That's...I mean...". You can tell he's now fumbling for words, trying to make sense of your confession. One he surely thought he would never hear.

"Shh." The sound barely escapes you before your lips are on his again.

Your hands move from on top of his, sliding into his hair to secure him closer. You tentatively run the tip of your tongue along the seam of his lips, a wordless question. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he parts his lips in welcome. The softest moan is shared between you as your tongues meet for the first time. There was definitely no tongue during spin the bottle.

The simmering passion morphs into a searing heat. There is a faint sweetness on his tongue. You explore his mouth, mapping it out in your mind. It’s the perfect map to replace the atlas on your skin, the one you thought once represented who you were. This new map, complete with a legend of all your favorite things, emblazons itself on your heart.

This…this is true love, true happiness.

Right?

You can tell it takes effort for him to pull away. He sucks in a few shallow breaths, tongue swiping over his lips as he tries to gather his thoughts. “This isn’t right.”

Your muscles go rigid, fingers aching as they try not to twist in his hair at that utterance. Movements sluggish and fractured you separate from him, choosing to fist your hands by your sides instead. His drop from your face as you take another step back from him, your back hitting the bathroom wall bringing you up short.

There is anguish in his face like he wishes nothing more than to be able to reach out and snag his words back. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, scrubbing a hand over your eyes lest he see the tears threatening there. “I shouldn’t have…I thought you wanted…no, no, I’m sorry.”

Are you mistaken? Did you dream up his confession from a week ago? The revisited confession over beef broth soup? You shake your head, trying to dispel the confusion but it just lodges in harder. The bathroom is too small, you feel like you might crawl out of your own skin if you don’t get out right this second. Casting one last glance at Jin sitting on your sink, you lunge for the door and throw it open. You spill into your room, shrugging out of the gold blazer and letting it fall to the floor. Your skin is on fire, thoughts swirling like a wildfire.

Of course you’d somehow fuck this up, too. Worthless as always. You’re trembling, standing in the middle of your room. Your thoughts are so loud you don’t hear Jin walk up behind you. A cold chill runs through you, dousing the inferno…the cold realization that you may have just very well ruined the one good thing in your life, the one consistent thing that has always been a beacon in the darkness.

Your hand flies to your mouth following a ragged breath that turns into a muffled wail. How could you be this dense…this thoughtless! Selfish. That’s right, selfish. Foolish…and utterly heartbroken.

“Shh, shh.” Jin coos, his strong arms wrapping around you from behind.

His actions just make you cry harder. Your eyes are squeezed shut so tightly they ache. The hand over your mouth turns into a tight fist and you latch on, teeth grinding against your own skin. You feel your knees give out and if it wasn’t for Jin’s arms around you, you’d be a puddle on the floor.

“I—don’t—deserve—you,” you choke out between sobs that rattle your chest.

“No, you deserve so much better than me,” he whispers into your hair. Oh, the audacity of this man. How can he say that? “I should have protected you better, I should have whisked you away from that nightmare a long time ago…but I was too much of a coward, scared of rejection, so much that I let you fall into the hands of a monster.”

You want to tell him he’s being ridiculous. None of this is his fault, none. But as you turn in his arms to do so, he envelopes you. Swift hands, hard chest, strong arms, and soft lips. The words, the thoughts, cease to exist. He kisses you like it’s the first time. Like it’s the last time. Like he’s trying to erase the last two years, kissing away the pain and hurt. His lips say he’s sorry and he’ll never let you go again.

“I love you,” you gasp out, breath stolen by the intense and hungry kiss.

He pulls back, just for a moment. His eyes are glowing coals, shining with so much compassion and unfiltered adoration…for you. “I love you.”

You’ve never heard those words uttered with so much fever or certainty. A new chill runs through you, one that is both hot and cold, one that makes your toes tingle and your heart hammer hard in your chest. Do you dare? Is this real? Maybe another kiss, just to be sure. Yeah, a kiss sounds perfect.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, fingers threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. It doesn’t take much encouragement, none at all really, to bring him back to your mouth. He is the embodiment of hunger, passion, and desire as he consumes you. Maybe it’s the dizzying way he kisses you or the years of suppressed wanting, but before you realize what you’re doing, you’re pushing him back onto your bed. You follow him down, bouncing softly as his back hits the mattress and your chest goes flush with his.

The filmy black dress rides up your hips as you bring your knees to either side of his hips. So much for your ass not hanging out. As if that realization were an invitation, Jin’s hands slide along your thighs and come to rest just where they meet the underside of your ass. His hesitation is clear but it sends a little shiver down your spine that he’s even contemplating it.

“Touch me, please,” you encourage, lips parting from his to trail soft kisses along his jaw.

Permission granted, his hands grip you. His fingers knead gently and he lets out a surprising groan. He never applies too much pressure, never makes it hurt. Jin is slow, methodical, and oh so sweet as he tenderly explores to create a map of his own.

It’s endearing how fumbling his hands are as he helps you take off your dress. You both giggle breathlessly as you fumble just as much trying to pull off his sweater and unbuckle his slacks. You’re drawn to him, eyes always searching and yearning for his gaze. A gaze that pierces through you, filling up all the hollow crevices within. He’s not just a smooth spackling trying to cover up your cracks, only to flake off in the future. He’s the hot iron that melds your pieces together…making you whole again.

Tentative touches turn to familiar connections. His body is warm, inviting despite the hard muscles and planes. He’s divine, a treasure to behold. Never did you imagine his skin would be so flawless, so smooth and sumptuous. You take turns worshiping one another. Everything is soft, sensual, and utterly, utterly perfect.

He draws you to him, arms caging you in. One hand cradles the back of your head and the other is secured around your waist. His back rests against your mountain of pillows, legs splayed across your bed. There is no fight for power, no struggle to not drown in someone else’s dominance. It’s a slow dance of equals. He leads, but you follow without floundering.

There are no words. None are needed. Your body communicates with his, he knows exactly what you want before you do. Answering every beckoning from within. The moment you settle against his lap, the feeling of his naked body beneath you, everything goes fuzzy. It’s not the fuzziness of disassociation, but the fluffy clouds of contentment.

You move slowly, letting your bodies learn one another. The moment his hard length is pressing into your heat you’re both gasping, your breaths mingling between you.

He utters your name. It’s soft, barely heard, but it’s all it takes. You’ll do anything to hear it again. You begin to undulate your hips, rocking against his lap so your walls rub and squeeze around him as he’s buried impossibly deep. You know it won't be long, the slow build is almost more than you can handle. You’re so in tune with him, making you ache and crave more at the same time.

“Fu- uh,” a soft half-curse escapes with his next breath before it morphs into a moan of your name. You can tell he’s close, the way his arms flex around you and pull you closer still. Your thighs tremble with the resistance you’re trying to maintain, you want this to last…to never end. But, you’re also focusing on making more mental notes. You watch the way his pulse flutters, the way small drops of perspiration glide down the column of his neck. The soft pants and moans that emanate from him are a symphony now forever ingrained into the soundtrack of your life. Just where it belongs.

Your hips stutter, orgasm imminent. It only takes a few more rolls of your body against his before you’re both coming undone. Jin’s groan is something you’ll never forget. There is a primal and untethered way that he kisses you through your orgasm, lips locking against yours as he swallows your cries of ecstasy.

This is only the beginning. Well, a beginning. One of many. Really, it��s just a continuation of your already existing story. A story that goes farther back than any other in your life. Jin is familiarity, comfort. A true beacon in the darkness. He’s the wind that chases away the smoke, the water that quenches your parched throat…the slow dance in the kitchen when you’re 80, the happy ending- your happy ending.

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◅ Back to Master List ©️    2022-01-09   ColorMePurplex2  

[bkwrm523]

Debriefing

Title: Debriefing Rating: Explicit Pairing: Bruce Wayne/reader Word Count: 2986 Warnings: Smut, batcave sex, table sex, oral, vibrators, daddy kink, feels confessions. Summary: Bruce and the reader have an argument after patrol Author’s Note: As usual, this is about no particular universe’s Batman.  You get to see whichever one you want.

The car pulled to a stop inside Bruce Wayne’s garage, and you exhaled a sigh of relief as you turned the car off.  You’d almost stopped to pick him up, but Alfred over the coms had assured you that he would drive the Batmobile home.  Probably a better idea than you picking him up, anyway.  It would have been hard to explain.  With all the punishment you’d put Bruce’s car through, you were a bit surprised it had managed to limp all the way home.

“Alfred,” you said aloud, your voice picked up by the com unit in your ear.  “Is-”

“Master Bruce is already here.”  Alfred answered, not needing to wait for the rest of your question to know what you were asking.  “He’s currently in the cave, if you wish to speak to him.”

“Thanks, Alfred.”  You signed and shut your eyes for a minute.

Bruce had almost died tonight.

You could tell something was wrong with the supervillain he just charged into, and tried to warn Bruce to take it slow and careful.  He hadn’t listened, and you’d had to rescue him.  By stealing one of Bruce Wayne’s cars and trying to run the villain over.

You finally pushed the car door open, heaving yourself out of the car and walked into the house.  It felt like it took an hour for you to reach the batcave, so massive was the house.

“So, that went well.”  You spat sarcastically as you descended into the Batcave.  You could see the top of Bruce’s head around the desk and monitors, and walked slowly towards him.

“It could have been worse.”  He replied, not turning towards you.  “Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.”  You told him calmly.  “It wouldn’t have been necessary if you’d just listened to me from the start.”  Your voice was clipped, not afraid to make your annoyance audible.  You finally walked around the computer, and his form came fully into view.

And damn was that a mistake.  He was shirtless.

You’d been working for Bruce for months, and had been suppressing your feelings for him the whole time.  He was miles out of your league.  You could never quite tell if he’d figured it out or not.  Bruce wasn’t the easiest person to lie to, but the way he behaved… it was either totally innocent, or he was enjoying toying with you.  It made you frightened and excited all at once.  

Bruce still wore the pants and boots of the Batsuit, but he’d discarded everything above the waist.  Your mouth went dry, and you suddenly forgot how to form words.  You swallowed, an effort of will keeping your jaw from dropping to the floor.  It was quite difficult to remember why you’d been angry.  There was a large bandage on his shoulder from where he’d been grazed by a bullet.  The rest of his torso was a mass of bruises.  It was hardly a secret how much Bruce worked out, and damn did it show with the view of him without a shirt.  You couldn’t take your eyes off his chest.

“I’ve faced skilled opponents before.”  Bruce said calmly, turning to face you.  Somehow, you managed to force your eyes off his chest and back to his face.  Was that a smirk?  Shit, his face wasn’t any better.  You took in a breath, looking away from him and down at the desk, searching your brain for the arguments that had been so clear before he’d taken his fucking shirt off.

“We… uh, we needed a plan.”  You stuttered out, sounding anything but convincing.

“I’ve been doing this for years,” Bruce replied, sounding amused.  He stepped closer to you, and you felt your breath catch.  You didn’t think you could handle this.  “I know what I’m doing, and I felt I could handle the situation.”

“You wanted me to be a part of this team because you wanted my advice.”  A full sentence!  Fantastic!  And all that went out the window when your eyes flitted over his still bare chest again.  Fuck.  “If - if, uh, you don’t listen to me, then… then I’m not - not sure what I’m, uhm, doing here.”  Look away from his face.  Look away from his chest.  Fuck, just look away from him in general.  You quickly dropped your eyes back to the desk.  Safer that way.  Bruce moved again, stepping into your space until you could feel the warmth from his body.

“I won’t always agree with you, but don’t underestimate your contributions.”  Bruce replied, smooth and comforting.  He rested a hand on your arm, and you nearly moaned aloud at the touch of his skin on yours.  He rubbed a thumb gently against the skin on your inner arm, and you swallowed again.  His other hand gently grabbed your chin, lifting your head to force you to look at him.  You had to fight the urge to let out a squeak, feeling trapped under his gaze.  His eyes… the best you could describe it, was predatory amusement.

“I, uh…” you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry.  A smirk curled his lips as he stared at you.  “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”  Bruce said, his voice filled with amusement as his smirk grew smug.  He stepped forward again, forcing you to stumble backwards until your ass hit the desk.  His steps were slow and measured and confident, where you were an undignified scramble, nearly falling before you hit the desk.  You could feel his breath on your lips, making your own breath catch.

Finally, after months of teasing, your patience snapped.

You leaned into him, crossing the last of the distance between your lips and his.  Bruce growled, and this time you couldn’t stop the squeak that emerged from you.  A small smile curled his lips briefly.  The hand that had been on your chin moved to cup the back of your skull and hold you in place as his tongue pushed into your mouth, ravaging your lips.  You moaned, leaning into him, overwhelmed with sensation.  His stubble was starting to grow back, making the kiss pleasantly rough.  His hand on your head, his other arm on your back, the warmth of his bare chest pressing into you.  He kissed you aggressively, leaning you back against the table.  You lifted your arms to wrap around his shoulders, clinging to him as he dominated the kiss, trapping you against his form.  A thigh pushed between your legs, pushing one leg out of the way.  His pants were armored, so you couldn’t tell if he was erect under them, but you’d be willing to bet he was.  You tried to mumble around his lips and tongue, but everything came out muffled, and all you could do was surrender and moan.

When Bruce finally released your lips, you dropped your head back and gasped for air.  A moment later, the breath left your lungs when you felt Bruce’s lips on your neck.  The stubble that had been pleasant during the kiss was so much more stimulating on your neck, and your knees simply gave out.  The hand on your head dropped to your back, and his grip tightened around you, holding you aloft.  He lifted you a little, setting you down on the desk.  The elevated height brought your face about level with his, and he finally stood up straight.  Your mouth went dry again, trying to take everything in at once, for about a second before he was on you again.

Your legs went around his waist, his chest pressed against you again.  One arm went around your back, and the other lifted to tilt your head to the side, giving him access to your neck.  You whined and squirmed in his arms as his lips stole your ability to think.  He leaned into you, his hips making little thrusts into you.  Your head rolled back on your shoulders, and your fingers scratched at his bare shoulderblades.  You whined his name, panting and trying to find the breath to plead.  He gave a groaning growl and leaned into you.  You whined more and ground into him, wishing he’d just take off his pants already so you could feel him.

One of the arms on your back went lowered, until it was practically around your ass.  He pulled your hips into his, holding you tightly to him and ground back into you.  You cried his name as his teeth bit into your neck, biting and sucking just where you were most sensitive.  He rubbed against your clit until your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Bruce,” you breathed, your hand unconsciously lifting to bury in his hair.  Another growl came from your neck.  His hips rhythmically rocked into yours, making you whine and moan and plead.  You tried to squirm away, but his grip was a vise, and you weren’t escaping any time soon.

Bruce ripped away from you, stepping back and withdrawing his heat from you as suddenly as he’d attacked you, leaving you dazed, breathless, and confused.  He held your gaze for a long moment, before dropping his eyes down to his pants as he undid the latches.  You almost leaned forward to help him, but resisted the urge; his pants were armored, and bound to be complicated.  However they were designed, he’d be much more efficient at removing them than you would.

A moment later, it occurred to you that his hands were busy.  That they would be for a few moments, at least.  You pulled your shirt off quickly, tossing it heedlessly to the side.  Your bra was discarded an instant later.  You leaned back a little, dropping your head back on your shoulders, sliding your eyelids partly shut and cupping your breasts with your hands.  You tweaked your nipples, giving a soft sigh at the stimulation.  You kept your eyes on him, and so you saw the exact moment he heard you sigh, and saw his eyes snapped up to you.  They narrowed when he saw what you were doing.  A small growl escaped his lips, and you bit your own lip to suppress the noise that tried to escape you.  His movements on his pants were swift and clipped, and in no time he had removed the rest of his clothes.  He took a swift step forwards, and you dropped your hands to the desk and smirked at him.

“You realize you’re going to pay for that, kitten?”  Bruce asked, giving a crooked, confident smirk.

“Worth it,” you giggled.  Bruce held your eyes for a moment, then produced a zip tie from a drawer.  He didn’t give you time to speak, but pulled your hands behind your back, and secured them in place.  He pulled the zip tie tight, but looser than you expected.  You wiggled a little, testing it; it was tight enough to keep your hands there, but loose enough that you’d have no trouble pulling them free if you really wanted to.  Bruce waited for you to finish testing it, until you looked back up at him.  He kissed you again, gentle this time, cupping the back of your skull again with one hand and planting the other behind you.  You squirmed a little, struggling fruitlessly against the bonds and his hands, but got nowhere.  Bruce leaned forward, slowly pushing you back.  You leaned into his arms, letting him support you as he carefully pushed you down onto the desk, lying somewhat awkwardly on top of your bound hands.  He released your lips with a parting nip, letting you gasp for breath as you tried to guess his next move.

You half expected him to attack your breasts, but instead you felt his hands at your pants.  He undid them, pulled them off, leaving you lying naked on the table.  You could suppress the small ‘meep’ that emerged when you saw the way he ogled your naked pussy ravenously.  Bruce turned his torso around, looking around the small space you were both in, until he spotted the chair.  He grabbed it, pulling it over next to the space of counter you were lying on, and sat.

Oh.

He intended to take his time with you.

You swallowed reflexively, nervous and excited all at once.  It must have shown on your face, as Bruce gave you a smirk with eyes full of mischief.  From the angle you had, you couldn’t really see much more than his face.  But you suddenly felt his fingers tease your opening ever so lightly.  You gave a loud moan and dropped your head down on the table with a thunk.  When you felt a vibrator teasing around your clit, you gave a yelp and your legs jerked.  Where the ever living fuck had he gotten that from?!

Bruce didn’t show any mercy, continuing his teasing of your clit as he leaned in.  You felt his breath on your pussy lips, and your eyes slid closed as your breath came in short, quick pants.  His tongue pushed into you, and you felt as much as heard his pleased groan at your taste.  A small whine left you at the noise, the vibrations from him and the vibrator teasing you more than stimulating you, leaving you desperate for more.

“Bruce,” you gasped.  “Please.”

The vibrator grazed your clit then, and your legs shot straight up.  Bruce leaned into you, burying his face in you and devouring you ravenously.  He rested his free hand on your hip, holding you steady as he tortured you with tongue and vibrator until you screamed.

Two or three orgasms later, you’d lost count, Bruce sat back and removed his stimulation, finally letting you come down.  Your legs (you hadn’t quite registered it, but apparently they’d been sticking out totally straight while he’d been working on you) fell back down to the counter.  You panted hard, trying to catch your breath after the marathon he’d put you through.

Bruce stood, leaning over you and resting his arms on the table to support his weight.  His expression was tender, gentle, in a contrast to the pleasurable torture he’d just put you through.  One hand stroked a lock of hair out of your face.

“Can you do one more, kitten?”  Bruce asked you softly.  You didn’t even have to think, you just nodded.  

Bruce dropped a short, soft kiss on your lips, then nuzzled his face into your neck.  Your overstimulated nerves jumped at the feeling, and all you could do was give a weak moan and squirm a little.  He leaned his hips into yours, until you felt his erection against your pussy, sliding against your clit.  The orgasms he’d given you made you still wet enough that it felt amazing.  You groaned, and Bruce stopped his teasing of your neck to sink his teeth into your skin and growl.

“‘M ready.”  You gasped out.  “Please.”  That drew another growl from Bruce, and he let your neck out of his teeth, resting his forehead against you and panting into your wet skin.  One hand left the table, going between his legs to position his dick as he pulled back.

When Bruce finally slid into you, it was so painfully slow that you couldn’t help but squirm and whine.

“Stop.  Moving.”  Bruce growled, his voice dropping into his Batman voice, only arousing you further.

“Please, daddy!”  You cried, then froze.  The words just came out without thinking, and you didn’t know if he was into that.  Bruce stopped moving for a moment, as well, and for a horrible moment you were terrified that you’d killed the mood.

“Be patient, princess.”  Bruce growled into your ear, nipping at you.  Lust filled his voice, soothing your worry that your exclamation had been unwanted; far from it.

Bruce kept pushing his dick into you, continuing until he bottomed out.  Then he just sat there, frustratingly patient, waiting and panting and nipping at your neck while he waited for you to adjust.

“Please, daddy, just fuck me!”  You finally cried, unable to wait any longer.

And boy, did he.

Bruce’s hands on the table moved, grasping the far edge of it with both hands to hold it steady as his hips thrusted into yours.  Your head rolled back, arching your back into him.  You were utterly unable to speak, tiny unintelligible noises emitting from you.  Bruce buried his face in your neck, alternately sucking and nipping hard at your neck as he made the table shudder from his thrusts.

You were still overstimulated from the earlier orgasms, and he was so aroused already, it didn’t take you both long to climb to the precipice.  Your vision whited out and you screamed, feeling him orgasm inside you moments later.

When you came to, you were still in the batcave.  Your hands were unbound, and your shirt and pants had been put back on you.  Judging by the feel between your legs, he’d taken a damp towel or something and wiped you clean, and then apparently set you in the cot he had set up down in the batcave.  You made a small inquisitive noise, stirring, and Bruce suddenly came into your line of vision.  He walked over to you, and sat on the side of the bed next to you.

“Hey,” you greeted him, your voice rough and groggy.  Bruce looked… uncertain.  Nervous.  You pulled a hand free of the blankets and held his, wanting to reassure him.

“Hey.”  Bruce replied, a small smile emerging at your action.  His thumb rubbed the part of your hand it could reach soothingly.  “This… this wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you how I felt.” “Really?”  You teased.  “It seemed perfect to me.”  That startled a laugh out of Bruce, and you warmed at the sound.

“Be that as it may, I’d… I’d really like to take you to dinner sometime.” “I’d like that.”  You smiled back up at him.

[chuckbass-love]

hii! I have a request for prompt 71 with Andy or ransom ☺️

Hey lovely, thank you so much for waiting this long for me to post this and i really hope you enjoy reading it just as much as i enjoyed writing it.

Prompt #71: "I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Warning: Swearing, unprotected sex, rough sex, ass spanking, vagina spanking, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, daddy kink, breeding kink and angst.

Word Count: 3,486

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @sergeantbuckybarnes go check them out💜

In The Mirror

Standing in the middle of the master bedroom, you start to fold the freshly washed clothes before putting them away neatly in the closet. You start off by putting shirts away, Andy’s and then yours before moving on to jeans. Sometimes you wonder how he even has the room for his own clothes since you take up the majority of the space. But you just put that down to shopping trips he's so insistent on treating you to.

As you’re just finishing up, you hear the front door open before it slams shut so hard that the anger fuelling the slam of it can be felt even upstairs where you are.

Looks like Andy is finally home...

You decide to finish up with what you’re currently doing, taking your time before approaching your husband with caution. It was probably another run in with Neil, something you’ve grown accustom to dealing with ever since you met him. Doesn’t mean you don’t run out of ways to handle it occasionally though, your best option is to just allow him to vent before you distract him. Usually distracting him requires an old movie and takeout but other times it requires rough and needy sex.

“Andy” you call out as you pad down the stairs and into the kitchen, only to find him practically chugging a beer way to quickly. It must be bad if he couldn’t even wait until dinner to drink alcohol.

“You know sometimes i think why do i even bother going to work. I mean, Lynn sure seems to enjoy screwing me over for that fucking prick Neil and i’ve had just about enough of it”

Okay, now he’s really angry. You have no idea what to do or even what to say to him, you’re rendered speechless by his cursing and boiling temper.

“I was just about to make dinner, uh, lasagne perhaps. Or maybe we could order takeout again and rent that movie you were telling me about. It’s up to y-“

“Did you not listen to a goddam word i said? I don’t give a shit about dinner, do whatever. I’m going to take a shower” his decibels rise, his tone scolding as he storms past you and up the stairs taking two at a time until he reaches the top. You hear his heavy footsteps stomping to the bedroom and then suddenly it all turns quiet until the shower water starts to run.

Rather than leaving him to cool off, you decide to head up to check on him.

In a way, he was right. You practically ignored his annoyed state and changed the subject, in fact you couldn’t have changed it fast enough. But that’s only because you didn’t know what to say. When he gets like that, there’s not a lot you can say.

“Andy, i’m sorry” you squeak, stepping into the master bedroom to find him stood with his back to you as he removes his dress shirt and tie. His back muscles tense as he stands still for a second before turning around and tossing his clothes to the floor before starting on his belt.

“Andy” you mumble, desperate for him to acknowledge you.

“What?” he snaps, slipping out of all clothes until he’s in nothing but his birthday suit, his impressive size dangling between his legs.

“I’m sor-“

“I heard you”

You gently step closer to him, examining his face for any tell tale signs of discomfort before you rest your hand on his right forearm, “please, just talk to me. What happened today?”

“Like you care, all you seemed to give a shit about was dinner, so how about you go focus on that like a good little house wife and leave me to deal with the tough shit... does that sound like a deal?”

“That’s not fair, Andy. I didn’t know what to say to you, that’s all. You’ve had that many run ins with Neil lately that i lose sight of how to help you. But i’m here now, just talk to me. Tell me what i can do to make it better”

Silence.

His hand pulls from your touch, but before you can even understand what’s going on you’re back is already touching his toned tatted chest. His arms rest on your shoulders, keeping you pressed against him.

“Well, there is one thing...” he starts, moving your hair to the other side of your neck, freeing up some skin for him to feast on. His mouth nears closer, his hot breath fanning you torturously as his nose nudges at you. That’s when you feel his hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt teasingly, slowly lifting it up your torso with ease. You lift your arms in the air, allowing him to remove it before he discards it behind him without a care.

“Such a beautiful body, honey. Be a shame to waste it fretting away about dinner in that kitchen” you gulp in response, feeling his lips barely grazing the nape of your neck, the action causes a shiver to dance down your spine as his beard scratches you.

“Andy” your voice is nothing but a breathless whimper as you turn to face him, his hands instantly rest on your waist at the band of your booty shorts. Of course when he tugs at them, you know what he’s after now and you also know that no matter what you do or say, he’ll take it regardless.

He drops down to his knees, surrendering to your body and dragging your shorts down your legs as he sinks to the floor. You step out of them for him, even going as far as to kick them to one side before he pushes you back to the wall.

The palm of his hand gives your calf a soft squeeze as the other lifts your leg up to drape over his shoulder, your aching sex on show for his lustful orbs to focus on. The insatiable hunger is starting to drown out his mind, body and soul, he’s incapable of thinking of anything else but you, craving anything else but you.

He’s starving, desperate to taste you.

A couple more minutes pass with him peppering kisses along your ankle at first before moving up to your calf and then your thigh. You try to push him away due to the sensitivity there but he only forces you off him, he’s so much stronger than you could ever be and you know now that you’ve lost.

He presses another chaste kiss to your bundle of nerves before pausing and feeling your body react to his touch. Your shaking body begs to be worshipped and devoured whilst he begs to drink and breathe you in like you’re his only lifeline.

“Smell so good” he coos, poking his tongue out to give your clit a kitten lick as his nose nudges at your mound, the action causes you to roll your eyes to the back of your head. Whatever you did to deserve this agonising torture, you will make sure to never do it again. This is teasing at its peak.

“Please, Andy. I need you”

“Oh you’ll have me, alright” his response is quick yet snappy as he dives into you. His mouth latches onto your sex aggressively, sucking, slurping and biting. His beard scratching your inner thighs and it's sure to leave a burn there.

The tip of his tongue points all the more as he winds it around your clit rapidly and even with one hand gripping your hips roughly whilst the other strokes your leg up and down before settling on your ass, you still feel unsteady as if the smallest wave of pleasure could knock you to the floor.

His mouth right where you want him comes and goes as he takes breaks in between to come up for air, but right when you feel yourself getting lost in the feeling, it comes to a complete halt.

You glance down at him, eyelids heavy, chest rising and falling, only to find him rising to his feet.

“What the hell, Andy?” you ask, your entire body heating up.

“You sound angry” he cocks his head to the side as he grazes his hand across your hardened nipple.

“I am”

“Now, that’s exactly how i felt when i came home. Yet instead of comforting me like a good little wife should do, you made me feel worse. So therefore, you don’t deserve to cum”

What the hell is wrong with him tonight?

He shoots you a wink before padding into the bathroom, the shower water still running and steaming up all of the mirrors in your eye-line until he closes the door, locking it to prevent you from entering and leaving you standing there perplexed at his actions.

He did all of that on purpose. He built you up to the edge of ecstasy before leaving you to come crashing down all alone, all in the name of proving a point.

You reach for your robe off the hook on the bedroom door before storming out, brimming with frustration as you make a start on the dinner. Lasagne will do for tonight.

You prep it as fast as you can whilst the oven preheats to the correct temperature before putting it in and setting the timer. Now you can relax.

As soon as you throw yourself down onto the couch and flick the tv on, you hear the bathroom door open. You’re almost certain that he expected you to wait for him like a lost puppy dog but you refuse to play into his petty games of revenge. All because you didn’t comfort him. It was silly and unnecessary.

So for now, you’ll indulge in some reality television whilst you wait for dinner to cook and if there’s one thing that’s for certain, it’s that you are most definitely not putting out for him tonight. No matter what he says or how much he sweet talks you. It’s not good enough for him to treat you like that.

Whatever Neil did or said, that’s a work problem.

Andy can’t believe his eyes when he comes back into the bedroom only to find it empty. He wraps his white towel around his waist, covering up his modesty before heading out into the hallway and down the stairs. As he reaches the bottom of them, he spots you watching tv in the lounge, giggling away at whatever The Kardashian family are doing now, but whatever it is, he doesn’t care.

Instead of leaving you be, he stomps over “what do you think you’re doing?” he inquires, voice bellowing more than he intended “i’m waiting for the lasagne to cook, it’s in the oven. Enjoy your shower, honey?” you probe sarcastically, a rhetorical question. However your sarcasm infuriates him further as he picks you up with ease.

“Andy, put me down. NOW” you shout, kicking your legs and slapping his upper back as he drapes you over like you weigh nothing.

“Dinner is in the oven” you remind him, desperate to avoid burning it. But that’s when he puts you down before walking over to the kitchen and turning the oven off.

Your eyes widen as he approaches you once again, picking you up and carrying you up the stairs, taking them two at a time as he always does.

“Andy” you groan until he places you back onto your own two feet, his hands practically rip your robe off to expose your naked body before he does the same to the towel covering his manhood up.

“I’ll tell you what’s about to happen, honey and you’re going to listen” he informs you, stepping closer and moving you to stand in front of the mirror. You correct your abysmal posture as you look back at him in the mirror. A sinister glint in his eyes becomes crystal clear as a wicked grin graces his handsome face. His beard full, his hair still wet from the shower as droplets of water drip down his chest.

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me” the pure filth has you holding your breath in shock before exhaling dramatically.

He’s always been kinky but sometimes he still manages to leave you shocked. Although it’s times like these that you love him the most, the whines and whimpers he draws from you so effortlessly, the way he causes your body to tremble raggedly and most of all the way your entire world stops turning as he brings you to that cliff edge, pushing you off of it with his two large menacing hands.

He kicks your legs apart further before pulling your arms to the back of you. He hooks his arm inside of them to prevent you from moving away from him whilst his other hand massages your puffy petal like folds before circling your dripping entrance.

Once his tip is resting directly at the tight hole, he proceeds to move forward, the skin around your entrance catching onto him as your walls welcome him inside.

“Oh, fuckkk” he draws out the word, groaning and gasping for air as he drives home, the feeling overwhelming you to the limit.

How can one man have such a firm and tight grip on you like this?

How did you end up here, unable to utter out a single word as his pace picks up before he’s fucking into you so violently, snapping his hips with no signs of slowing down.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, honey, do as i say” he warns, and the moment you look up at him, you see the darkness and it causes you to look away, focusing back on yourself just like he instructed you to do.

The feeling of his cock dragging along your walls so fast is enough to cause the knot in your stomach to tighten painfully. The pleasure is almost too intense to bare, too much for your fragile body to handle. Yet you continue to take it, allowing him to fuck away his anger, channeling it into this moment.

His arm and hand tightens around your arms, holding you in place as he keeps his sights on you, watching as your mouth hangs open in the perfect O shape. Fuck, you look perfect like this with him bending you to his will, using you for the sole purpose of his pleasure and his pleasure only.

How did he get so lucky to be graced with you’re beauty?

The harder he snaps his hips into you, the more the coil tightens and the all too familiar feeling builds all the more inside of you. An ongoing reminder of your impending orgasm.

“Andy, i-i’m gonna c-cum” you tell him, begging for him to allow you the privilege of releasing, the privilege of creaming all over his rock hard cock.

A dark chuckle erupts from his throat, mocking your pleas for a release before tutting at you, the torment continuing.

“Please” you beg once again, only to be reprimanded with the harsh sting of his hand landing on your ass cheek “keep your eyes on the mirror, honey. You’ll come when i tell you to, quit being a brat”

The need to release is almost unbearable, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes and drowning out your vision before you blink, allowing them to stream down your innocent looking face for him to see. It only spurs him on more as he moves his free hand in from of you, kicking your legs further apart before smacking down on your sex brutally. Your body jerks in response before somewhat relaxing at the feel of him rubbing briskly at your pulsating clit.

“That’s it, honey. Taking that cock so fucking well”

“I need to c-cum, A-Andy” your voice trembles frantically in hopes of him taking pity upon you.

“Shhh, baby. Just let daddy fuck the frustration away, gotta fuck it all away” his words are pure filth but his tone is gentle and needy. He just wants to take his anger out on your body, channel it into something.

You can imagine that with the field of work he’s in that he finds it hard to keep his cool with Neil every day. Which is a shame because they used to be close.

Granted that was back when Neil first started and Andy mentored him, whipped him into shape and taught him everything he knows. And Neil is a better lawyer because of it. However, it also means that he’s just rude, obnoxious and cocky towards Andy, pushing him to the edge and taunting him a little more every day.

“Hold yourself back for daddy, you’ll cum when i give you permission to. Is that clear, honey?”

“Yes” you mumble, barely audible.

“What was that?”

“I mean, yes daddy” you correct, watching his eyes intently, searching for any sign of him letting up his tight hold and hard thrusts.

“Good girl, being so perfect for daddy and taking this fucking like a pro, huh?”

“Yes daddy”

Your eyes glaze over as you struggle to keep yourself in tact, the hold you have on your orgasm is slipping from your control slowly but surely and you know that if he doesn’t give you the go ahead soon then you’ll end up breaking the rules.

Something that will surely earn you a painful punishment.

“God, fuck. I’m gonna cum, you gonna cum with me, honey?” he asks, gasping. You throw your head back onto his chest, arching your back into him further. You nod your head as quickly as you can as you feel your knees turning weak.

“Count down with me”

“10’ you say in unison, his fingers rubbing furiously at your sex.

“9” the sound of your skin slapping together bounces off of the walls.

“8” the feel of his mouth latching onto the sweet spot on your neck, pearly white teeth sinking in to mark you up.

“7” the moans he’s eliciting are now flowing out of your mouth uncontrollably.

“6” deep grunts escape him as he pushes you against the mirror, causing your cheek to push up against it.

“5” the feel of him fucking into you tightens the coil for the final time, the feeling agonising.

“4” you scrunch your eyes closed, seeing stars as you arrive at the cliff edge.

“3” you say in unison as his thrusts turn from fast and rough to slow and hard.

“2” his cock twitches inside of you, your walls flutter around him over and over.

“1”

“That’s it, baby, cream all over that cock for me”

You let go, body shuttering as you stand up onto your tip toes. His grip on your arms lets up, causing you to fall forward, hands resting on the wall either side of the mirror.

“Oh god” he growls, hands splaying across the soft globes of your ass before he fills you with hot ropes of cum, breeding you unofficially.

He remains seated deep inside of you for a minute or two whilst the two of you struggle to regain control of your breathing, both of your hearts beating so fast that it feels as though they are on the cusp of exploding out of your chest.

“How are you feeling now?” you ask as he pulls out, turning to face him.

“Hungry for Chinese takeout and a night filled with fucking that tight cunt”

“Was that not enough?”

“I’ll never get my fill of you” he says, pulling your naked body flush against his “i want you all of the time and besides, that was just to channel my anger into something. The next time will be to make a baby”

“W-what?” your voice shaky as you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You heard me, i’m gonna spend all night breeding you, honey. Gonna make you all nice and round with my child. Gives me a chance to take my mind of that cunt Neil”

You nod your head, humming your agreement before pressing your lips to his.

Sure, you’ve had chats about kids before but this is the first time he’s openly suggested trying and even after his outburst, your love for him remains.

You can’t wait to spend the night tangled up in the crisp white sheets of your bed, filled with his cum.

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