#<- guy who is struggling to get to doctors and is at a breaking point but its also a little its fault bc it kept

[nixtorr]

eight and liv but they enable eachother’s murderous tendancies instead of their actual dynamic

[shawnxstyles]

the only one

DATE: JANUARY 2, 2024

summary: you go on your first date with peter, and it ends even better than you could have ever expected. ;)

request: yes!

words: 6.3k

warnings: SMUT (f-receiving [oral, fingering, multiple orgasms], protected sex, dirty talk), language, and the most gentlemanly man.

note: i cannot believe i’m finally writing another gyno!peter after all this time… anyway, this is NOT an actual series, simply just more situations/scenes of these two together!

gynecologist!peter x patient!y/n

–

Every date that you’ve been on in the past never made you this nervous. You didn’t spend two hours just deciding on what to wear and taking an extra hour to prepare yourself. You worked for a fashion magazine, editing and reviewing comments and critiques. You were surrounded by clothes and creativity all day, but struggled to pick a “first-date look” from your closet. You swore you read something about that before…

You never thought first dates were anything more than a simple introduction, a first impression of another human being. It was one of the foundations of the question, “Could I get along well enough with this person to go on a second date?”.

You had only been on two first dates: one with your ex, who you were with for four months, and recently with that guy from your work. The second one was mainly just a hook-up, and the first one obviously led to some type of relationship that didn’t work out in the end. Maybe you didn’t have enough experience in the dating world to be wondering if the amount of nerves you had right now was healthy.

Your hands were clammy as you strapped on your black heels. You noticed you were swallowing more frequently than normal, and you didn’t understand why. When you looked in the mirror, your hands flattened out your black dress more times than you could count, ridding wrinkles that aren’t even there.

After your appointment a few weeks ago, you had texted Peter. More specifically, you texted him the next day. Immediately after simply saying hello and your name, you thought of how many other people he may have given his phone number to. Or worse, how many people he had fingered in his office… You started worrying if you shouldn’t have texted him at all because he was a doctor. He was probably too busy for anything. It was just a nice gesture, maybe?

But an hour later, in the evening, he had texted you back with a short apology. He was working a little past the clock in order to get more doctor stuff done. Even his texts were sweet with a dab of charm. How do women control themselves around him?

Or maybe it was just you, and you were a fucking weirdo.

Yeah it could be that.

Peter and you went on to texting every now and then to texting daily. Texting him was something to look forward to after a long day at work. It also became pretty clear that he wasn’t texting anyone else because well, he was working throughout the day doing doctor stuff while you were doing editor stuff. He would even text you during his lunch break and that always made your heart skip to see his message in the middle of the day.

One night in particular, you were complaining to Peter (yes, you had gotten to the point where you could complain about little inconveniences) about your sink malfunctioning. Instead of asking you to send pictures of the pipes under the sink, he had you FaceTime him. It was the first time you guys have ever called and the second time you’ve ever seen his face, so your heart was a little race-y. But when that charming, wide grin flashed on your screen, he easily slipped into conversation. Peter helped you fix your sink with a little wrench movement along with replacing a broken screw through the phone.

It wasn’t awkward. It was relieving.

You didn’t have to force a certain personality in order to engage in a conversation with him. You felt more yourself than you ever have when talking to him, flowing easily like two streams into one. You hadn’t even realized how late it was by the time you guys ended the call until he was gone. The serenity of your place felt a little more emptier than usual without the sound of his beautiful accent from your speaker. It was nearly midnight by the time you went to bed, wondering how things would be if you and Peter took your friendship a bit further.

Would talking always be this simple? Would he always be this charming?

After that night, you would make excuses to call him. He never denied you, even after he told you he had a long day at the hospital. You guys were not only texting now, but calling daily. You would get excited for his texts and calls, looking forward to talking to him. That’s when you realized you wanted more with him. It felt like you knew each other forever, but it had merely been a few weeks. You wanted to go on a date with him, wanted to be with him in person again. And of course, your mind wandered to the thought of how he is in bed.

If he was that good with just his quick fingers, then how good was he with more space and time? You began to dream about it.

Then he finally asked you. It was so sudden, you honestly didn’t expect it.

You were debriefing your plans for the week and what you had to do at work.

“Sometimes, I feel like my life is on repeat,” You chuckle, but it sounds tired.

“You’re always doing the same thing every week?” Peter questions. He found that he loves just listening to you talk for hours about whatever. He prompts you with questions, and you always answer thoroughly. It’s like an unspoken routine for you two.

“I mean, it feels like that. I never have time to go out and do anything. And when I do, I don’t go out,” You half-smile to yourself as you look down at your lap. You sounded kind of lame, so you were trying not to cringe at yourself.

“You told me your agenda for this week, but what about Saturday and Sunday?”

“Oh, well, you know I don’t work on the weekends. Sometimes, I get extra stuff done at home, but only because I’m bored. I watch TV…” You squint your eyes, trying to think of things you do on the weekend when you’re not busy. “You know, I’m listening to what I’m saying, and I am so lame. God, I need a life outside of work.”

“You’re not lame. Just busy. Give yourself some credit,” he waves off your dig at yourself, and you don’t stop yourself from smiling. He’s just too nice. You can’t take your eyes off him through the small screen as he watches you back.

“Yeah, yeah. Enough about me. What are your weekend plans?” You definitely talk too much, so you always attempt to ask him questions back.

“Well, I was thinking of taking you out,” he very casually says, nonchalantly staring at you through the camera. “Unless you’re busy watching TV.”

“W-What?” Heat crawled up your neck and ears, skin flaming off of his quick words. He’s always charming and always confident with you, so why are you surprised he’s this smooth? You wonder if he’s been thinking about it for a while or if he just got the idea randomly. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Unless you don’t want to. In that case, I am joking…”

“I want to, Peter,” You smile with the words. It feels impossible to lower your cheek muscles because of the giddiness coursing through you. “If I’m honest, I’ve kind of been waiting for you to ask me.”

“I was a little slow, yeah?”

“Yeah, both the turtle and the hare beat you to the finish line,” His wonderful laugh echoes through the speaker of your phone, and it fills you with warmth.

While other people have belittled you and forced you to be one way, Peter naturally allows you to be yourself. Your wit flourishes, and your insecurities fade into unique parts of you. Whether you two are friends or more, you need more people like Peter in your life.

After you two had confirmed the plans for Saturday, you two both went to bed when the call ended. When your head hits the pillow, it’s instantly filled with scenarios of you and Peter. Mostly how your first date might go. Is he the type to pull out a chair for you? Definitely. Would he pay without a second glance? Probably, knowing he has that doctor paycheck. Would he kiss you after walking you back to your door? Maybe, maybe not.

But he did finger-fuck you in his office, so nothing is really that impossible.

So, you let your mind wander for the rest of the night while you sleep peacefully. Yes, you had some great dreams.

–

Instead of texting you that he’s here, Peter knocks on your door. The sound itself made your heart accelerate instantly as you stride quickly to answer it. You’ve been overthinking all the ways that this day could go bad, seriously hoping that it doesn’t.

“Hey,” Peter says, clearly eyeing you up and down. He sounds slightly breathless, but not as if he just ran to your door. No, more like he’s speechless. But you could just be overanalyzing every little detail.

“Hey,” As you repeat the word back, you’re both silent for a second. It’s not awkward as it is tense. You’re both just observing and taking in the appearance of the other, appreciating the time and effort in the looks. Peter’s wearing a navy button-up with black slacks. The first two buttons are undone, giving you a peek at his seemingly smooth chest. He’s not wearing a jacket, so you get a view of his arms. From the way the rich fabric stretches around his muscles, it’s obvious that he works out. He just keeps getting better. He continues to check more of your boxes. “Let me just go grab my purse really quick.”

You snatch your bag off of the coffee table after checking you have everything. What if his one flaw is that he won’t pay for at least half the dinner? You must prepare for all the possible outcomes.

“You look brilliant,” You can see him swallow before his compliment, and you wonder if he’s as nervous as you are. He never makes it a point to look even the slightest bit unsure, which you admire. He’s very charming, which takes a lot of confidence, and he’s very good at it. When he asked you out in his office, you saw that persona slip just a tad, enough for you to see that he is human and that he gets nervous too. You found him adorable. You still do.

“You as well,” You blush as you shut the door behind you. The two of you walk to his car, and of course, he opens the door for you. You can’t stop blushing. “Seriously, how do you make such a simple outfit look so good?”

“Unbutton it,” he answers before gently shutting your door closed. Your mind instantly went to places that it shouldn’t have, making your skin burn. You thought about unbuttoning his shirt slowly and sensually until it fell down his bulky arms. You thought about unbuttoning his slacks and palming his cock. He would be so hard for you, and you didn’t hesitate to get on your knees. God, you wished it was real because you truly would not hesitate for this man.

You shake your head, attempting to rid yourself of those dirty thoughts, so you can have a peaceful date. A first date with Peter.

–

When you guys get to the restaurant, that small voice in the back of your head expects it to be awkward the second you sit down. But once again, you were proven incorrect.

Peter instantly engages in a smooth conversation, asking how your week was overall. You told him all about work and the papers you’re reviewing, and he told you about some of his patients. Every time he mentions anything doctor related, it just makes you swoon. It’s impressive how intelligent he is, and even more so how hard he works. It’s obvious he loves what he does, and you never realized that loving one’s passion was a must-have in your partner checklist.

You also just love the way he talks. His accent makes your skin hot and your spine tingle. Your mind wanders to places it shouldn’t more often than not. And his gaze never leaves yours, only when talking to the waiter when ordering.

There is never a dull moment. Even as you were patiently waiting for your food, you still found things to talk about.

“What do you think they’re celebrating?” he asks, observing two people in the back corner with smiles on their faces.

“They’re dressed nicely, and they’re holding hands too much to be together for that long. I’m going to guess the three or four month anniversary.”

“What about them?” he nudges his head in the direction of the people not too far from you two, sitting with straight faces.

“Oh, they’re not celebrating. Probably breaking up.”

“Who goes to such a nice restaurant for a break-up?”

“I don’t know. Sounds like rich people problems to me,” You joke, and you both share a chuckle. It feels nice to casually chat and people watch with somebody else. When your food arrives, you both eat with more adding silence, slipping in words slowly.

“Did I tell you you look really good tonight?” Peter changes the topic, eyes fixating back onto you.

“Yes… Thank you,” You feel yourself blushing all over your body. You use your napkin to wipe your lips, but you’re really using it to protect your face. It was so obvious what his words did to you, that’s probably why he said them. Suddenly, the room feels a little too hot, even just in your dress. “Took me a while to find out what to wear.”

“You could have worn a garbage bag and still looked great,” Peter says, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Oh, stop it. You’re such a charmer. What’s your game? What do you want?” Your words are playful, but the look in Peter’s eye seems more serious. More powerful and heated. Eyes you haven’t seen for a long time in another person, and it freezes you still. The only thing that’s countering the lust circling his irises is the uprising smirk on his lips.

“To take you home.”

Boy, was he a charmer.

“Don’t ask if I’m kidding because I’m not,” he adds, setting down his napkin on the table. He leans over, a curl falling onto his forehead. A hand reaches halfway across the white cloth and rests delicately on your hand. Even his touch was warm and soft, not forceful in any way. “If you want, I’d like to.”

“I…” You were speechless. You knew what your answer would be, but you were just starstruck. How can one person be so gentlemanly yet hot? Cocky yet so sweet? God really didn’t give anyone a chance when making Peter. “Yes, I would like that a lot.”

Your thumb rubs reassuring circles on his thumb while you smile like a fool. Peter’s smirk only got bigger as the night went on.

–

You talked. You laughed. You smiled.

But as he drove you to his house, you got nervous again. Maybe you guys would do something as normal as watch a movie. Maybe even cuddle a bit. But you really, really hoped it was more. Especially after your first meeting, you knew Peter wasn’t too shy about sexual matters. However, maybe he didn’t want to do that with you yet and just wanted to take things slow.

But his office…

When his hand was on yours on the table, your memory was brought back right to the moment of his fingers inside of you in the chair. You remembered the feeling of him pushing his digit in and out repeatedly and how good it felt when he removed his latex gloves. Your core rumbled with lust, getting off on the mere fantasy of it all.

When you arrive at his house, you both silently get out of the car. Besides the sound of nature, you could only hear your racing heart and how it was racking against your ribcage in intense beats. He unlocks his door, keying jingling while the breeze flows past. You’re hyper-aware of every noise as if Peter could hear your choppy breath. When he finally opens the door, he lets you in first and you smile, trying to not let your obvious nerves surface.

But you clearly fail when he points it out.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Your eyes lock on his hands as he rests his key on his door side table and feet as he casually slips off his dress shoes. Everything about him was mesmerizing. You swear you could just watch a documentary of a regular day in his life and you could be starry-eyed.

“Bunch of things.” But it was really just one thing.

“Care to share?” Peter shifts to the kitchen and you follow him like a helpless dog, clutching your bag for dear life.

“I keep thinking about…the last time we were together,” the words fall from your mouth as you round the counter. You felt like you needed to create some distance between you two if you were going to admit something like that.

“What about it?” Peter’s knack to ask questions right now is making your face burn from embarrassment under his bright kitchen lights. He grabs two glasses and fills them up with fridge water without even asking if you wanted some.

“You know, the fun part,” You round the counter to reach the water, slowly taking a sip. When you set the glass down, your eyes don’t leave his chest. You’re too afraid to look into his eyes.

“I thought it was all pretty fun,” he says, placing down his own glass and taking one large step towards you “Especially the part where you came all over my hand.”

Your skin flames, eyes peering at him for a moment before dashing away. His finger slides beneath your chin to turn your face back to him. He could feel your radiating heat and could see the widening of your pupils under the luminous lights.

“Were you thinking of that?” His finger directs your chin upwards, forcing you to look at him. His voice was low and husky, only for you to hear. “Because I haven’t stopped since the day I walked out of that room.”

“Peter…”

“Just say the word, honey, and I’ll kiss you right now.”

You could just melt into a puddle on the floor of his kitchen. His words are so sensual, there is no way you could ever say no to this man. He’s irresistible without trying too hard.

“Please,” You mustered out seemingly breathless while your eyes were locked into his surely.

He doesn’t miss the beat. His head turns as his lips crash against yours. Your lower back hits the island of the counter of marble, but you don’t flinch. His lips electrocute yours, sending jolts of energy coursing through your body like a shock. Your hands naturally find his neat yet messy styled hair on his nape, fingers rummaging through the curly ends. One of his hands holds your waist down from moving as if he already knows you’re antsy to grind on him. His other caresses your jaw in a stable position, the type of dominance you’ve been craving since that day in his office.

His hand goes underneath your thigh, leading you to wrapping your legs around his waist. You thought he was going to sit you on the counter, but he walked all the way to a bedroom without breaking the kiss.

Peter gently lays you on the bed, causing you to depart from the kiss. He wordlessly goes to unbutton his shirt, but you quickly sit up to do it. You’ve been thinking about doing it since he picked you up, so it only seems right that your fantasy comes true, right?

Just like you imagined, you slowly flicked off the buttons and delicately removed the fabric until it was a bundle of cloth on the floor. On the edge of the bed on your knees, you stare up at Peter with a lustful glint in your eye. That glowy look caused Peter to kiss you again, hungrier than before. His force makes you fall onto the mattress again, making you gasp. He trails down your neck in sloppy kisses, touching every inch of your neck and chest with his lips.

“Where did you get this dress?” You didn’t expect him to ask you that while he was groping your breasts through the material. You moan at the feeling of his rough thumbs on your nipples. It’s very distracting while you try to remember where you got the dress that is currently in the way.

“Um Zara? I-I don’t remember,” You moan loudly, not having time to conceal it as he suckles a mark on your neck.

“Do you like it?”

“What?”

“The dress.”

“S-Sure, yeah. It’s-It’s not my favorite, though,” His tousled hair tickles your face as he gets closer to your boobs.

“Maybe you should have worn a garbage bag.”

“Why?” You pull back a little, moving his head up so you can see his face. You thought maybe you would see some expression of disgust, but he only has pure enjoyment. His soft smile turns into a smirk that you’re growing really fond of. It means he’s about to do something hot.

“Because then I wouldn’t feel so bad about ripping it off of you.”

Just like that, the thin straps are easily snapped from his large hands while he yanks the long dress down your body and onto the floor. His mouth instantly went onto your nipple, sucking until he was satisfied with the raw peak of it. He repeated the same movement the opposite one until you were a panting mess, huffing and puffing from just his mouth on your chest.

You can tell he knows how to do this. Yes, he works in gynecology so it’s a benefit that he knows the female body inside and out. But he’s actually skilled in his technique. Although he is hungry and nearly primal, he takes his time with certain areas, making your body want him more and more each time. It’s incredibly smart, and you’re wondering why every man doesn’t know how to properly treat a woman.

You don’t even know your body the way he seems to know it.

His mouth is at your panties before you could even process it. Right when you think he’s about to widen your legs like you so desperately want him to, he stops when his hands rest on your knees gently. He had been going at a fast pace, but now, he’s slow and controlled. Taunting in a way. Torturing.

“I’m going to remove these now, yeah?” He knows you want it now because he has you in his bed right where you want to be. His tone is not as shy as it had been in the office. It’s more controlling yet still soft. “Words, Y/N.”

That demand was all too similar to his words back in the chair with his hands on your waist. He was about to pull off your underwear then for professional reasons, and now, he’s going to yank them off for selfish ones.

“Please take them off,” Just like you had then, you clenched around nothing. Just his sensual words that make you spiral into horny oblivion. Your wavering tone makes him smile as he tugs down the thin material from your legs, tossing them somewhere in the room.

Then he finally widens your legs, facing your aching pussy that hasn’t forgotten about him since all those weeks ago. You were throbbing and leaking to the damn bed sheets, but you couldn’t give a fuck less. You wanted his fingers, his mouth, his cock–anything that he was willing to give you.

“That day,” he starts, “I really wanted to taste you. You were dripping all over my fingers. It was so hard to stay professional.”

He leans down and gets really close to your cunt, inches away from doing what he really wants to do.

“You’ll let me taste you, right?” he asks in an innocent kind of way, but there’s hints of taunt in there. It makes your core burn, and you almost moan at the way his breath hits your center.

“Yes, please. Do whatever you want,” You say that because it’s true–he can do whatever he wants to you, and you would be grateful.

“So polite. So eager,” he kisses your thigh, dangerously close to you now, “And so, so wet.”

“Peter, please,” You were begging now, but you didn’t care. You would beg all night for Peter to touch you the way he did in his office. You’ve tried to replicate it, but it’s no use. You’ve been craving that feeling for weeks now, and he seems to be the only one who can get you there.

“So polite. Good girl.”

To your luck, he doesn’t say another word. He finally puts his mouth on your pussy by slurping up all of your juices. You immediately moan, just by the mere knowledge that his mouth is on you. His tongue slips through your folds all the way up to your clit. Peter suckles on it, feeling it throb in his mouth.

“Taste even better than I imagined,” You don’t know if his whispered words were meant to be heard by you, but you heard them. They caused you to clench right as his tongue slotted inside of you, desperate to taste more of you.

His large hands are pressed against the insides of your thighs, forcing you to stay spread for him. You can feel them ache, but nothing feels as prominent as his tongue inside of you. And then, just when it starts to feel good, he makes it feel even better. One of his digits finds your clit, circling pressure until you’re a moaning mess.

“Fuck, Peter. That’s… so good.”

His mouth pops off of you for a second to catch a breath. But he could honestly drown in the taste of you. He smoothly slides a finger to replace where his mouth was, filling you up just like in his office. Now, his mouth is sucking on your clit, needing to make it throb. You feel that feeling you’ve been chasing for the past few weeks building up in your stomach, and you know it’s not going to be long at all until you achieve it.

“Come. Show me what only I can make you do,” Peter grumbles, his words cascading over your body. The deep rumble of his voice tips you over the edge, causing you to come all over his fingers again. After cleaning up some of your orgasm, he lifts his mouth, but doesn’t remove his fingers. He continues to pump them in and out, even though you’re sensitive.

“So fuckin’ tight, and I haven’t even given you a second finger,” one of his fingers taps of your clit, causing you to gasp at how sensitive you are. “Can you give me another?”

“A-Another one?” You’re panting and sweating from just one, but he wants to give you another? Who is this man, and where has he been all your life? “I can’t.”

“Oh, but you can. The body is an amazing thing,” he inserts another finger into your cunt and increases his intensity on your nerves. You gasp again, moaning without caring how loud you are. “See, your clit makes you do that. And I love that.”

“Oh, Peter,” You helplessly whimpered. As he thrusts his fingers inside of you with that charming smile and a hint of a smirk, you already feel your high approaching you again. The sight and the feel of him was just too overwhelming. With each thrust of his fingers, his arms bulged, forearm veins popping deliciously. He was a sight for sore eyes.

“C’mon, baby. Give me another. Want to feel you clench around my fingers. Imagine it’s my cock. Imagine how big my cock is going to feel in your little, tight cunt.”

His words oozed sex. So it only made sense that you came not long after. Your release coated his skilled hand once again, and this time, he seemed satisfied with your two orgasms.

When you could finally catch your breath, you didn’t see him reaching for his belt like most men do. But you really, really wanted him to reach for his belt.

“Are you tired? How do you feel?” The tone in his voice was soft. He was easily able to change from sex Peter to caring Peter. Your heart melted at his concern.

“Tired, but good tired. I’ve only ever had three orgasms, and you just gave me two of them,” You laughed breathlessly while he chuckled. “Would I be selfish to ask for more?”

That made him laugh. It was wholehearted and deep, echoing throughout the room. “Not at all.”

And then he reaches for his belt. You feel your organs twist in that lustful, horny way that they do when he does anything. When all his clothes are discarded and you’re faced with his raging cock, you’re practically drooling. He was right when he said he was big; thick and veiny all along the sides. It seemed unfair, really.

He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom, ripping it and rolling it on easily. You continue to watch him in awe as he strokes himself a few times over the condom. Truth be told, he’s already incredibly hard. The second he slips inside of you he fears he will come on the spot because of how tight you are.

But he leans over your body, elbows holding himself up. You can smell his fresh scent, full of pine and wood.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” he whispers next to your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, which gives you the shivers. Your hands trail up over his body until they’re resting on his broad shoulders. You can feel his tensed muscles working to hold him up right, even though it looks like an effortless task to him.

“Oh shush. But thank you,” His comment makes your face warm, like a candle right next to your cheek.

“You look especially pretty under me,” his cock brushes your cunt, sliding delicately through the folds. You’re not shy of gasping, trying to mentally prepare yourself for his impeccable size.

When he finally pushes the head in, you take a deep breath and release it in a small whimper. You know you’re tight because you haven’t been with anyone in a few weeks. The most you’ve taken are Peter’s fingers, which are nothing compared to his cock.

He waits a few moments before moving again, giving you time to adjust. But you don’t think you’ll ever be able to fully settle with his size. It seems like he’ll always be stretching you out, no matter how many times you take him.

“Breathe, baby,” his words are breathy and wavering, but so sweet. The small nickname gives you the butterflies you haven’t felt for a while. Not the nervous butterflies, but that tingling, excited feeling of fondness. It’s one of your favorite feelings, and you’re so glad Peter gives you them.

You listen to him, taking deep breaths. He takes the opportunity to push himself a bit further until he’s fully inside of you. He stays still, looking at your face as you grow more comfortable. He watches as your expression contorts into desperation, which is what he’s been waiting for.

“You’re so tight, honey. But you’re taking all of me. Knew you could,” Peter reassures you, even as you clench snuggly around him. It’s embarrassingly hard for him to stay still, given how warm you feel wrapping him.

“Please move. Fuck, I need to feel you.”

Slowly, Peter removes himself and then slots in again. You remember to breathe as his movements become less languid and more fluidly quick. Soon, his thrusts have a bit of speed, causing you to scratch his shoulders at the intensity.

“You’re so big… so deep,” Your moan bounces off the walls of the room, making Peter smirk as he continues to move. His cock pins your hips, shutting down your squirming.

“No one’s ever fucked you like this? Never been this good, baby?” A small huff of his breath hit your skin and you were awed. His words alone could get you off, and then he’s pumping himself perfecting inside of you too, just making you go insane. He knows where all the right spots are, lifting up one of your legs with ease to get a better angle. You love that you can just let him take over you without having to work for your orgasm like you’re used to. You’re used to being on top, but it’s evident that Peter just wants to take care of you. He wants you to be satisfied for once, and you’ve never felt so seen. You’ve never felt so… good.

“Y-You’re the only one,” You sigh as you bite your lip, loving the way he's speaking to you. He’s all sultry in tone and even sexier with his words. You believe he has no flaws that are worth noticing.

“S’right. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good. You can only take my cock like this, deep in your cunt,” All you can do is moan and shake as you feel your next orgasm approaching.

Just when you go to reach down to your clit to push yourself even further, he reads your mind and does it for you. His thick finger circles the throbbing bud until you’re arching your back. Your fingers play with the pebbled nipples on your chest as your insides grow more tight. You haven’t had an orgasm feel this intense yet, so it’s hard to anticipate the feeling.

“Gonna come, baby? Come all over my cock, I need to see it. Need to know I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

With one entire pump inside of you, you’re coming over Peter’s cock and showing him that he’s the only one. All you can see is his charming, fatigued smile surrounded by stars. His brown hair is tousled and a dash of sweat is above his eyebrows, but God, he’s never looked so fucking hot.

It’s not long after that he’s coming after you, his release filling the condom completely. Peter was trying his best to hold himself for as long as possible. But with you, he discovered it was very difficult. Like he thought, the second he was inside of you, he could’ve come. You’re so slick and warm, just so alluring.

He gets up from the bed to discard the condom in done trash while you lay there in naked awe. You already know that you’re going to be sore tomorrow like the day after the gym.

As Peter comes back, he has a wipe that he uses to clean you up.

“What are you doing?” You ask before he starts to wipe you.

“Cleaning you up. You know, like aftercare. You can go to the bathroom and even take a bath if you’d like,” Peter answers while you sit straight up dumbfounded. “May I?”

“Yeah, yeah go ahead,” You allow him to soothingly clean you while you just accept it. Your mind is still whirling with confusion. Are all guys supposed to do this? Or is he really just that great? “Thank you. I… No one’s ever done that before.”

“Really? God, you were really with some twats, Y/N,” he shakes his head and walks back to the bathroom while you chuckle. It’s funny that you had to go through those two guys in order to get to Peter. Third time’s the charm. “Want to take a bath?”

You ponder for a second. You were tired, but not like you would drown in the tub. Maybe if you had better stamina you would ask Peter to join you, but for now, maybe you just need to sit and think about what’s happening alone. Peter is too good to be true. He’s such a gentleman, he never misses a beat. You hope you’re not overstepping by accepting.

“Can I? Or is it too much—”

“Nonsense, I want you to be comfortable. Now, do you like the right or left side of the bed?” You stare at him in confusion. One, because that was a random question. And two, because when did he put on boxers?

“What?”

“Which side do you sleep on?” You felt your cheeks burn for some reason, and then you realize you’re still naked while he’s semi-dressed.

“Um right, I think. Why?”

“So you can sleep there. You are staying, aren’t you?” Peter’s cheeks tint rosy red, that peek of nervousness shining through. It made you smile because even if he seems too good to be true, there is a little human in there who’s just like you.

“Yes, of course,” You can visibly see his tenseness fade as a small smile grows on his lips.

“I’ll start the bath then get you some clothes then, or else you’ll keep me hard all night.”

Your skin burns, but you feel like that’s not the last time that will happen to you. Not with Peter. No, you know.

—

thank you all for being patient!! i also think this is the longest taglist i’ve ever had, so thank you again!! 💞

taglist:

-> @motheroffae @noa217 @nelly-belly97 @spidermanffh3000 @httpscomexe @mysticdaisy21 @emilyparkerholland @deathst9r @ellenita98 @ellabellabus07 @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz @eatshitanddiee @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3 @likeapplejuicenpeach @winuvs

crossed out= not able to tag

[tiddygame]

i’ve stared at this for so long that i now hate it and think ive lost all concept of how to write so take this and get it out of my google docs

the introduction is rough and the medical depictions (and accuracy/realism) could use some (a lot of) work but whatever! here it is, my vague yet still oddly specific idea of how the face reveal would go in @myriadblvck ’s streamer au:

tw: description of a panic attack? i think?

[this takes place post first irl meet but before they’re officially together]

imagine ghost has a glasgow smile but on one side they carved a little too deep and left some nerve damage. time and surgery helped, after which he could eat unimpeded and talk without a lisp, but there's still some facial nerve damage and/or skin contractures from scarring, specifically around the corner of his mouth.

now, everytime he smiles, be it shit eating grin or a full genuine joy filled smile that not even grumpy mcgrumperson could hold off, it always looks wrong because one corner doesn't raise fully like the other.

everything else is fine, there isn’t any facial paralysis, he just smiles… wrong. especially since only one eye properly squints when he smiles, giving him the look of someone who got stuck mid wink.

if he wants to look “normal” (or as normal as he could get it) he has to manually squint his other eye. still, it always felt weird; you don't realize how much those muscles affect the rest of your face until they're gone.

it's why he learned to always wear the mask.

when his expression is neutral, you don’t really notice it. if you can see his mouth when he talks however, it’s obvious that there’s something wrong. he wouldn’t say he’s necessarily ashamed of the scars and damage itself, but it’s the stares that are the worst. before he started hiding behind it, people would openly gawk or even glare at him as if he was some ne’er-do-well gang member that got what was coming to him.

he still remembers the cosmetic surgeon that had been talking to him about fixing the contractures— the whole appointment was a fucking nightmare. the cuts had healed nicely enough especially considering how bad it could have been; he was lucky to only need a little cosmetic help. the only reason he was there was so he could fucking eat food without struggling to open his mouth.

the doctor spent god knows how long breaking down everything wrong with his face like he was a fucking car mechanic lying about how dirty your filter is. the guy constantly mentioned that while he was under, they could also fix his jawline, do a rhinoplasty, trying to break him down to agree to more work.

he was already fuming my the time the doc brought up how kids would react. asking ghost if he wanted to scare children since “you cant expect the little youngins that are still learning about the world to not get scared by something scary,” and that “even some adults would cringe at the scarring.”

what stuck out most was the condescending smile he had when he said it. as if he was pointing out the obvious and ghost was being stupid and shortsighted by not agreeing.

he declined everything except what was medically necessary. the procedure went fine and after an aggravatingly long recovery period, he could eat solid foods again without issue. but the comments still stuck with him.

…okay, maybe he’s a little ashamed.

scaring kids with your face doesn’t feel good and being reminded of everything you’ve lost when you try to smile can really fuck you up in a way words fail to describe.

so yeah, he hates it. he’s gotten used to the mask, both skull clad balaclava and simple medical mask, being a permanent layer of armor. even now that he’s a bit more comfortable in his own skin it still feels wrong to pull it off.

when he gets close to soap, it still feels like a layer of vulnerability that he’ll never be prepared for.

the first time he let soap see his face, there hadn’t been any grandiose build up, no extravagant planning.

simon had arrived just a few hours earlier. he hated commercial flights with a burning passion but it was always worth it to see johnny.

with soaps twin out of town for the week, he had decided to take leave to spend time with his friend, a friend that he most certainly did NOT have a crush on (a disclaimer roach and gaz heard everytime they started snickering over ghost taking leave.)

johnny had cooked something nice and simple for dinner, saying that simon had spent too long with MREs and deserved real food (ghost only agreed if he was the one washing the dishes, soap had laughed and told him he's not so kind as to let him off the hook for chores).

when they ate, it was always in the living room with johnny taking care to always stay angled away from simon, never trying to catch a glimpse, regardless of how much he wanted to see what was under the mask. the obvious gesture of kindness and respect for his boundaries always left him feeling all weird and fuzzy inside. but, then again, johnny seemed pretty good at triggering that feeling in general.

their finished plates were on the coffee table and johnny was watching whatever dumb movie he had put on. he was pretty sure the man spent more time talking over it and making fun of everything than he did actually watching it (it was simon’s favorite way to watch a movie.)

ghost however, was watching soap. thinking.

in the end, it was an impulsive decision made after a strong three seconds of consideration.

“you uhm— you can look by the way,” ghost stared at the can of soda in his hands, immediately regretting the words.

“what?” soap didn’t fully turn, just shifted slightly to hear him better. a simple gesture to show he was listening without turning to face him. it normally made simon happy to see that johnny was more than willing to accommodate for his boundaries. now though it made him feel stupid for robbing johnny of a normal face to face conversation, a normal human interaction, just over his idiotic insecurities.

“my face, you—,” he felt his heart block his airway and tried clearing his throat before continuing, “you can look if you want,” christ he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. why was he getting so fucked up over this?

“are you sure?” he hadn’t turned yet, but ghost could see his pensive expression from here. this should be nothing. realistically, he knew johnny seeing his scars wouldn’t suddenly make him hate him… right?

“yes.”

but it was more than the fear of hatred, wasn’t it? he was scared that johnny would see him. see more than just the scars, see all of the ugly idiosyncrasies and insecurities laid bare. afraid that johnny would see the truth of how unlovable he was.

jesus he was getting so fucking worked up and dramatic over nothing.

ghost didn’t look up. he made an effort to not focus on his peripheral vision. he heard soap turn, heard the intake of breath. the silence was loud only for a second. then, deafening white noise surrounded him, inescapable, suffocating.

fuck.

he didn’t regret giving permission but god did he regret everything else; the stupid scars, the stupid nerve damage, the stupid way he had managed to fall for someone so fucking good like johnny while he was unequivocally unworthy of his love.

stop being so fucking dramatic. you are not together, never have been and never will be. reality was blatant in front of him but it didn’t stop his heart from foolishly hoping.

he heard soap stand and walk closer. saw from where he was still staring a hole in the can his feet step in front of his. saw johnny’s hands raise. he took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and with a great deal of effort didn’t flinch when soaps fingers grazed his cheek.

both of his hands came up to cup his face, holding him and ever so slightly tilting his face up, giving him the chance to pull away. he didn’t. he may be a coward but he wasn’t backing down.

ghost eventually opened his eyes to see soap staring at him with wide eyes. he looked away, staring off to some point on the right. he hated not knowing what soap was thinking.

they stayed there for a while before soap broke the silence, muttering, “i fuckin knew you had freckles.”

it was stupid but it shocked a laugh out of ghost. he meant to drop his head, embarrassed that something so dumb made him laugh, but accidentally just pushed himself further into soaps hands making him blush.

he looked up and saw soap staring even harder than before. the chuckle died in his chest.

“do that again.”

ghost just gave him a confused look.

“smile.”

such a simple request, a one word sentence, but it set his face ablaze. his breath caught in his throat, somewhere around where his heart was still trying to choke him.

…he hadn’t thought it was that bad but soaps reaction indicated otherwise. fuck. was his it that awful? he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. this was stupid. he was stupid.

“simon,” of course, one word from johnny and it felt like he could breathe again.

“please?”

fucking goddamn soap and his stupid fucking puppy dog eyes and the way he has ghost wrapped around his fucking finger without even realizing.

ghost smiled. there was no real mirth, more a grimace than anything else. he just wanted to get this over with.

soap was still staring at him, his thumbs tracing his lips, following scars, drawing imaginary lines between freckles… if he wasn't so terrified it might have felt nice.

“Christ,” ghosts heart cracked more, “you weren't lying when you said you were beautiful.”

ghost huffed a laugh and went back to staring off to the right, the fake smile dropping. of course soap would try to lighten the mood with a joke.

his panic fled as quickly as it had consumed him, now just left sitting in soap's living room, face still cradled in caring hands, resigned to his mistakes.

he felt so tired and johnny's hands felt so inviting.

“i wasn't joking,” soap looked…upset? angry? wait— fuck, what’d he do?

ghost stared back at soap, confused and tired. soaps nails felt the grooves of the scar, catching where the skin was raised and lowered.

“you don't have to lie, soap. im a grown man. I'm not fragile. you don't need to coddle me,” ghost said it like it was a joke, hoping soap would laugh along and that this would all just blow over. that tomorrow morning they could forget this ever happened.

“are you calling me a liar?” soap’s brow furrowed. great. instead, he had managed to make everything worse and piss off soap as well.

ghost took in a deep breath, giving himself another shot at calming things down, “no, I'm not. I think you're lying, but you're not a liar,” he stood and stepped to the side, grabbing their dirty plates and walking them to the kitchen sink, “you just don't want to upset me, it's fine. I get it. you're a nice person but you don't have to lie to spare my feelings.”

“I am not fucking lying!” as per usual, all ghost had managed to do was make things worse. there’s a reason he had decided to stick to the battlefield and give up on domesticity.

“well alright then. agree to disagree,” he turned the kitchen tap and started rinsing the dishes, waiting for the water to heat up. just walk away. end it there. let us forget about this stupid blunder and move on. please just leave it. please, please, please—

“no.”

the force behind it damn near made ghost drop the plate he was holding. he managed to set it in the sink carefully and turned to face soap, who was now in the kitchen as well.

“i— I'm not just gonna fucking— simon,” soap took in a deeper breath and went to continue but ghost was faster.

“johnny,” he interrupted, walking forward with his hands up in a gesture of surrender, approaching slowly.

one last chance to not fuck everything up.

“the fact is they're called deformities for a reason. they're not cute. they're not pretty. they're your body’s way of healing what it can and protecting what it can't. it's not meant to look nice, it's just—”

“bullshit they’re not pretty! says fucking who?” the genuine distress in soap’s voice and force behind his words caught him off guard. “simon—”

he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair roughly, pulling slightly at the strands. christ, ghost needs to shut the fuck up. every single time he speaks he just upsets soap more and more.

he needs to retake his hostage negotiations courses. clearly he has forgotten everything about how to diffuse a situation.

johnny takes another second to breathe and collect his thoughts before he speaks.

“simon. I know that— that ‘this’ isn't something that's going to fix itself overnight and I don't expect it to. but, ‘the fact is,’ I think you're pretty.”

ghost opens his mouth to disagree but johnny doesn’t let him.

“no no,” johnny put his hand over simon’s mouth, shocking him into silence. he blinks twice, stupefied.

“i think— no. I know you're pretty. cute even. beautiful is a given but obviously worth mentioning.”

his hand moved to cup simon’s cheek. ghost grabbed his wrist but didn’t stop him, wether it was a warning or encouragement he himself didn’t know.

johnny continued, unperturbed, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right?”

there was a pause and simon realized he wanted an answer.

“johnny-”

“ah ah!” his hand moved back to cover his mouth, grabbing his face and shaking his head back and forth, over accentuating his words, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right? yes or no.”

he stopped shaking him and moved his hand back to simon’s cheek. simon sighed, defeated, “yes. you are right.”

johnny looked smug, “good. and what do you say when i give you a compliment you don’t agree with?”

simon sputtered, “wha— i don't fucking know—”

“nothing! you don’t say anything!” soap looked way too proud of himself and he continued, “or thank you if you feel so inclined.”

“that was a trick question,” simon replied eventually.

johnny thumbed over his scars once more, again tracing them, “sure it was. now go take a shower.”

he patted his cheek twice and walked to the hallway.

“wait,” johnny probably shook the few remaining brain cells out of his head. “this whole conversation ends with you telling me that I stink?”

“yes. rancid,” johnny opened the door to the linen closet. simon was still in the kitchen. the tap was still running.

“no dipshit, do you not remember telling me that commercial planes makes you feel gross?” johnny threw a towel at him, which he caught just in time for johnny to hit him with a bath rag.

ghost had mentioned that… ages ago, he thinks. on facetime with each other, discussing the merits of bathrooms on public transport. he had said that enclosed, crowded spaces like commercial planes or buses made him feel, well, gross. how—or why—did he remember that?

“but… I’m supposed to wash the dishes?” a weak argument against the stubbornness he was faced with but simon had officially lost track of his mind and this conversation.

johnny shot him a weird look as he walked back towards the kitchen sink. simon still hadn’t moved.

“did you think i was being serious earlier?”

“yes???” he felt like he had been given a lobotomy.

johnny decided to take pity on him and explained in a soft voice that felt out of place, “i was being sarcastic. i’m not going to make you wash the dishes, simon.”

“but that was the agreement: you cook and i wash the dishes.”

johnny laughed as if he remembered something funny, “yeah, i lied.”

simon still stood there, trying to figure out if he had a stroke. johnny had been angry, completely pissed at him, but now was letting him off the hook and calling him pretty? what the fuck is happening?

johnny turned him and pushed him towards the hallway. simon could have resisted but his resolve always seems to crumble around johnny mactavish.

“now go shower, you beautiful bastard,” soap grabbed one of the plates out of the sink and started washing it with water that had probably heated ages ago.

ghost walked towards the bathroom, feeling like he was on autopilot, limbs disconnected from his brain. his cheek still felt… odd? weird? tingly?

it felt something from where johnny had grabbed it. ghost thinks… he thinks he likes the feeling, whatever it is.

he needs to sleep.

[emilysholster]

Satisfied (David Rossi x BAUAgent!Reader) Pt. 2/2

Summary: the tension building between you and Rossi becomes hard to ignore when he invites the team over for dinner

Tags: NSFW, oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected PinV sex (let’s assume reader’s on the pill), couch sex, dirty talk (praising, pet names), (fem!reader)

Translations: stella (star), bella (beautiful), gattina (kitten), dolcezza (honey)

A/N: this ended up being so long omg but something about this man gets my [creative] juices flowing

Read Part One

You made your way over to an empty seat next to Emily, desperately trying to ignore her knowing smile. Thankfully, the rest of the team seemed to be none the wiser, much to your relief.

“Alright, let’s play,” Rossi said, taking a seat on the couch across from you, next to Hotch. “As long as boy genius over there agrees to be dealer.”

Spencer sighed, once again banished from playing because of his ability to effortlessly win every time. However, the young doctor did enjoy keeping track of everyone’s cards nonetheless, trying to determine who would win before the round was even over.

And so began a friendly but competitive game of poker. Your head wasn’t exactly present as you kept replaying what had happened in the other room. It also didn’t help that you kept catching Rossi’s intense gaze throughout the game, the smirk on his lips indicating he knew exactly where your mind was.

Rossi won the first round (“nothing beats years of experience” he claimed, with a pointed look at Reid). Emily won the second, after which Hotch and JJ went home to their respective families as it was getting late.

Penelope won the third. You weren’t doing great at the game and also took pity on Reid, so for the fourth round you were the dealer. After he inevitably won, he also headed home. Another round later (which Rossi won again) and the rest of the team decided to call it a night. Derek offered to drive Penelope and Emily home, as the two winners had had more than their fair share of drinks.

Penelope and Emily chanted a drunken rendition of “We Are The Champions” as they struggled to put their shoes and coats on. You nearly bent over from laughing as they sang loudly in an exasperated Derek’s face. Rossi, fighting laughter himself, offered to help the poor guy. Taking hold of Emily’s arm while Penelope grabbed Derek’s, he walked them out to Derek’s car, leaving you inside.

Smiling to yourself, you began clearing up the glasses and the remainder of the plates, walking them over to the kitchen. You tried not to think about how it was going to be just you and Rossi left in his house, but you couldn’t help the butterflies low in your belly. After placing the dishes in the sink, you noticed a bottle of wine off to the side, still half full. Why not?

You pulled two glasses from the cupboard and opened the bottle as you hummed along to the music that played. Caught up in your own thoughts and with your back turned, you hardly noticed that Rossi had returned to the kitchen.

“What’re you up to, stella?” He asked, making his way over to you.

You turned and handed him a glass, staying leaned against the kitchen counter, almost mimicking your position from earlier. “Did you manage to get the girls in?”

“Barely,” Rossi chuckled, accepting the glass gratefully. “Morgan’s going to have his hands full.” He placed himself directly across from you, leaning against the island and studying you with dark eyes. There was a moment of silence as the two of you sipped your drinks, each watching the other.

“Now, tell me something, Y/N,” Rossi said, breaking the silence and slowly approaching you. He gently took the glass you were cradling and placed it on the counter along with his before his hands came to rest on either side of your hips. “What exactly was missing from my dinner that left you less than satisfied?”

It was impossible to ignore the heat between your legs now, your body thrumming in anticipation. You took in the sight of Rossi’s parted lips and slightly dilated pupils as he waited for your answer.

So you gave it to him. “This,” you stated simply, before closing the distance between the two of you and pressing your lips to his. Rossi immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. Soft sighs and moans escaped both of you as your tongues explored eachother’s mouths.

You pulled away to catch your breath and Rossi effortlessly moved to place kisses along your jaw, not wanting to take his lips off you for a moment. “Dave,” you sighed as he reached the sensitive skin of your neck.

One of his hands remained wrapped around you while the other gently kneaded your breasts through the fabric of your dress. He brought his mouth back to yours, mumbling “Beautiful,” before capturing your lips again.

Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair as you pushed yourself tight against him, feeling his erection pressed between the two of you. You reached your hand down and rubbed him over his pants, making him open his mouth against yours in a sharp gasp. “Y/N,” he groaned. “Couch, now.”

Giggling, you let go of him and walked over to the couch, pausing as you reached behind you to tug the zipper of your dress down.

Rossi beat you to it, coming up behind you and unzipping your dress. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night.” His breath tickled your neck, leaving goosebumps behind as he helped you out of your dress.

He all but pushed you onto the couch, your back against the arm rest as he knelt on the couch in front of your legs. You could see his breathing was erratic as he admired your figure, scantly clad in your matching underwear set. You trailed a hand down towards your panties, spreading your legs while Rossi watched you like a hawk.

His breath hitched as you pulled your panties to the side, exposing your glistening folds. Unable to help himself, he palmed his hardened cock through his pants, watching as you slid a finger down and collected your juices before bringing your finger to your mouth. “Mm,” you moaned, sucking on your finger earnestly. Rossi’s mouth parted in surprise at the salacious act.

“You dirty girl,” he grinned before he quickly moved to position himself over you, his mouth back on yours in a deep kiss. His hand pulled the cup of your bra down so he could pinch and tease your nipple with his fingers, making you moan against his lips.

Rossi moved his mouth down, pausing to unclasp your bra and free your tits before attaching his mouth to your nipple, sucking and biting as you threw your head back. As he alternated between your breasts, you found yourself lifting your hips to grind your mound against him.

Rossi moved to press his mouth against your ear. “Desperate, are we?”

You whimpered as he nibbled at the shell of your ear. You were desperate; your clit throbbed and you could feel your wetness slowly leaking into your panties.

Rossi moved himself off you suddenly, making you whine at the loss of contact. He unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it to the side before bringing his hands to your hips and sliding your panties off. He lowered his head between your legs, placing kisses up your thighs until his mouth was inches away from your centre.

“Dave, please,” you moaned, lifting your hips to get him to give you attention where you needed it. You could feel his breath against your clit and it was driving you crazy.

Rossi used his fingers to spread your folds apart, allowing him to admire the way they glistened with your juices. “Please what, gattina? Use your words.”

“Please eat me out,” you practically begged, unable to handle more teasing.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he hummed before bringing his mouth to your centre.

“Fuck!” You groaned. His tongue was nothing short of heavenly; circling your clit before sucking it into his mouth. He alternated his attention between your clit and your opening, using his tongue to slurp up the juices that collected between your folds.

You could feel your orgasm approaching as Rossi continued his ministrations. You buried your fingers into his hair, pushing his face against your core. You could feel him moan against you as he sucked your clit back into his mouth, his eyes focused on you panting above him. Your legs clamped around Ross’s head and you cried out as waves of pleasure rocked through you.

When you finally relaxed, Rossi brought his mouth back up to yours. “I love the way you taste,” he mumbled against your lips. You moaned into his mouth, already feeling warmth pooling low in your belly once again.

Rossi lifted himself from between your legs and stood in front of the couch. He helped guide you onto all fours, your hands now gripping the back of the couch while he stood behind you.

You were practically dripping in anticipation when you heard the sound of Rossi unbuckling his belt and his pants dropping. His hand gripped your hip to steady himself as he slowly rubbed his cock along your slit. “You’re so wet for me, bella,” he husked as his cock dragged through your folds, pressing against your clit.

“Please, Dave,” you pleaded, making the agent’s cock twitch against you. Your grip on the couch tightened as he nudged your clit repeatedly with his cock. “I need you in me.”

You gasped as he suddenly slid into you, his thick cock filling you right away. “God, Y/N,” he hissed as your walls clenched around him. “It’s like you were made for me.” Both of his hands now gripped your hips as he let you adjust to his cock before starting to thrust into you slowly.

You groaned at the feeling of him sliding in and out, and he picked up the pace as you relaxed around him. Rossi seemed to know just how to make you cry out, his cock repeatedly hitting the sweet spot inside of you.

One of Rossi’s hands left your hips to grab your shoulder, pulling you flush against him. You were now kneeling on the couch as he continued fucking you from behind, the new angle even more pleasurable.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, your bodies sticking to each other as they became slick with sweat. “Fuck,” you cried out, your voice shaky as he pounded into you. “Your cock feels so good.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say those words out loud Agent L/N.” Rossi husked in your ear. He was close, and judging by the way you were milking his cock, so were you. He pulled out suddenly, grinning at the frustrated sound you let out.

“Come here, gattina. I’m not done with you yet, don’t worry.” He sat down on the couch and pulled you over so that your legs were on either side of him, your dripping cunt hovering over his cock.

Rossi guided his cock back into you and you sank down until you were completely filled by him again. You leaned forward and placed your hands on his shoulders for support as you began moving your hips up and down his cock.

Rossi began matching your movements, thrusting upwards into you. You watched with pleasure as he groaned at the feel of you clenching around him, the knot within you tightening with every thrust.

“That’s it, ride me, dolcezza. Ride my fucking cock.” Rossi grunted as your hips snapped against his, tits bouncing in his face. He took one of your nipples into his mouth while his thumb began rubbing circles around your clit. Your head was cloudy with pleasure, making it difficult to speak. “Dave,” you cried out, the wave building inside you on the brink of crashing.

“Come for me, gattina. You can do it. I want to feel you come all over my cock.” Rossi panted below you.

His words were all you needed to go over the edge; you let out a groan, rocking your hips against him as your hole clenched around his cock. You moaned his name over and over, your nails digging into the bare skin of his shoulder as your orgasm rocked through you.

“That’s it, Y/N, good girl.” Rossi moaned as his cock twitched inside you. He captured your lips with his, groaning into your mouth as hot spurts of his cum shot into you.

You slumped against him, both of your foreheads pressed together and damp with sweat. Rossi pressed a soft kiss against your lips before gently helping you off him.

He stepped back into his boxers before disappearing. In that moment, the couch felt like the comfiest place in the world and you felt your eyes closing.

Rossi returned with a damp cloth and a glass of water. “Up, bella,” he said, handing you the water as he helped you up. As you soothed your parched throat, he used the cloth to wipe down your skin and between your legs.

Satisfied with his work, he pressed a kiss into your hair. “You were amazing, Y/N.”

You smiled up at him before meeting his lips in a kiss. “So were you.”

Rossi took his shirt from the floor and gave it to you to put on before walking with you upstairs. You used his bathroom, smiling to yourself at your ‘just fucked’ reflection: hair messy, makeup smudged, and lips swollen.

You returned to the bedroom and joined Rossi in his bed, sighing as he pulled you close. Your head rested against his chest, his own head over yours while his arm was slung over your waist.

As you closed your eyes and snuggled into him, you heard his voice from above you. “Well? Are you satisfied now?”

You laughed into his chest at the question. “Yes, Dave. I’m satisfied.” You answered, pressing a kiss against his skin before the two of you gave in to the pull of sleep.

[pinkhairswagtourney]

i need some serious help/guidance. i feel like a failure. i don't know where to turn – my family is part of the problem and they don't care about helping me, i don't have any IRL friends that i can ask for help from, and i've been so busy dealing with all my IRL shit that i've drifted away from any of my online friends. i've applied everywhere in my town that's hiring, and i mean EVERYWHERE. either i get aired from the jump, or i get a call back, ask for accommodations during the interview, and then never hear back from them. i feel like a lost cause. i can't continue to ask you guys for help forever, but i don't have anywhere to turn to IRL. without donos + commissions, i would actually be dead by now. i'm not kidding. my family doesn't give a fuck if i'm struggling or not, in fact they put me in positions where they KNOW i will struggle. they don't care. my parents never taught me how to do ANYTHING. every practical skill that i know how to do is self taught. they've literally set me up for failure in every aspect. they didn't help me with homework when i was younger, they didn't help me learn how to read or write, they didn't teach me how to socialize and make friends, they didn't teach me how to drive, how to cook, how to clean, how to apply for jobs, how to do taxes, how to do anything at all. and when it comes to the physical aspect, they knew that i was toe walking from a young age and didn't take me to a doctor because it was "cute" and "funny" how i walked on my tip toes all the time and i was so "clumsy" because i had no balance. the window for non-surgical remedies has closed, and now the only thing that can fix it is surgery, that i definitely can't afford, even on insurance, and i'm going to fall off of my parent's insurance next year when i turn 26. the toe walking has led to chronic pain in my feet, legs, hips, and back, and that, coupled with my fibromyalgia, makes just existing feel impossible sometimes. there are days where i don't want to move from my bed because my entire body feels inflamed. even if i were to get hired, how am i supposed to hold a job like that??? i don't know how to file for disability but i know that i need to, as soon as i can. i genuinely don't know what to do. i'm stuck in this house full of people who use me as a personal punching bag, mentally and verbally and physically. i have to keep my room locked at all times or people will steal from me or destroy my belongings. i can't even keep my insulin or food in the public fridge because my brother has destroyed my insulin with a hammer before, and my food will get eaten even if i label it, so i had to buy a mini fridge for my room. my brother shoved me down the stairs last year and my knee is permanently damaged from it, and that was somehow my fault. the only time anyone is talking to me in a kind way is when they want me to do something for them, and if i don't agree to do it, then all hell breaks loose, i've been screamed at, slapped, kicked, had things thrown at me, spit on, belongings destroyed, holes punched in the wall beside my head with a threat that next time it'll be my face. to the point that i just agree to run their errands and do their chores most of the time anymore. in fact, even though i pay my dad car insurance money every month, 9 out of 10 times he won't let me use the car for my personal reasons (doctor, store, pharmacy) unless i'm also doing something for them. they treat me like a child. no, they treat me like an object. but i'm supposed to be an adult. to be honest, i don't feel like an adult. i don't feel like a real person at all. i don't exist outside of this house or these blogs. i could disappear and only a handful of people would actually notice.

i want to do more than just survive by the skin of my teeth. i want to live, i want to thrive, i want friends, i want a sense of community, i want to feel loved and cherished, i want to be hugged. i can't remember the last time i was hugged. i don't know why i wrote all of this. i think it's a cry for help. i need someone to hold my hand through the process and tell me what to do because i have no idea where to turn. i don't know what the next step is. i know the things i need to do, but i don't know how to do them. i need to pay off my court fees, i need to buy my own car, i need to file for disability, i need to file for food stamps, i need to apply for a tax credit apartment so i can finally get out of this house. i'm just too stupid to figure it out on my own. with the constant swath of bills and no consistent income, it feels like i'm drowning and i'm never going to be able to get out of this situation. i can't do this alone. i need help. i'm so tired guys

[oneshotnewbie]

heyy!! can i request athena grant x reader where in reader is a doctor and maybe there was some emergency in the hospital that required the police to be involved?? thank u and have a good day!!

Authors note: Unfortunately, I didn't know if you wanted Athena and the reader to possibly be together because you didn't describe it further, so I just went with the idea of the two being together. I hope it's okay ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

You stood nervously in the middle of a secluded examination room, your expression focused as you quickly put on the disposable gloves and prepared yourself for the task at hand. You were assigned an aggressive patient, tormented by pain and under the possible influence of drugs. His gaze is wide open between the gathering of nurses who are trying to hold him down on the stretcher, his pupils dilated and his movements uncontrolled while gesticulating wildly. The man seemed out of control and full of anger, sending a shiver of fear down your spine.

Various utensils were scattered on the floor, and the medical ultrasound machine lay overturned on the floor and yet you approached the patient with calm determination but caution, trying not to be intimidated by his aggression. A tense atmosphere filled the room as you struggled to take the necessary medical measures.

Drawing up a syringe with your shaky hands and keeping it ready to calm the patient down, you knew you had to proceed with caution to avoid escalating the situation as the man uttered unintelligible profanities and tries to break away. In a state of delirious rage, he vehemently resisted the touch and in a sudden rush of aggression, he reached for you and hit you with a powerful punch in the stomach. "Go away! Leave me alone!"

You stumbled back, feeling the sharp pain in your side, but despite the shock and injury, you remained calm and focused. With practiced hands you continued to try to treat the patient, still holding the syringe in your fist, while at the same time he tried to protect himself. "Please calm down, Mr. Johnson. We just want to help you." Another push from him made you fall violently into one of the standing cabinets, the needle of the syringe piercing your thigh.

“Damn,” you groaned, looking down. Luckily the sedative had not come loose due to the impact and was still completely in the syringe, so you had nothing to worry about. However, the relentless beeping of the machines near you worried you.  With a short scream, you quickly pulled the needle from your leg and threw the used syringe into the sink before standing up and looking at your colleagues. "Get the police in here. They should put the guy in chains, it is too dangerous for us.“

One of the male nurses nodded at you and let go of the guy on the lounger. He quickly ran out of the room and let the other sisters fight the man with all their might. Without further ado, he came back with two officers and surprisingly, you looked into the face of your girlfriend and her long-time partner, Officer Rodriquez. „Doctor, how can we support you?“ she asked professionally with a smile on her lips, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you pointed at the young man. A small grin appeared on your face too at the sight of her. She was wearing her uniform, the taser holster already open just in case while gloves were up to her wrists to intervene safely whenever you needed her. "He is very aggressive. We have to give him an injection, but he fights back with all his might."

It was only when you pushed yourself up from your leaning position and hobbled along to the syringes to put on a new one that she noticed that a blood stain had formed on your thigh; showing through your blue pants. "You are hurt, are you okay?" There was concern in her voice that you could clearly hear. Both Athena and her partner cautiously approached Mr. Johnson, trying to calm him down while you prepared the injection of a sedative. However, Athena's gaze was focused on you, demanding an answer. "I am okay, nothing happened."

The police officer was not really convinced by your answer, but would deal with you later and care for you. Officer Rodriguez spoke soothingly to the man, diverting his attention as he helped the nurses hold him on the gurney while you cautiously approached him behind Athena. With the help of the two police officers, you finally managed to calm him down and give the injection. Slowly, Mr. Johnson relaxed, twitching briefly before his anger subsided and his thrashing became weaker until he finally fell into a more peaceful sleep.

Your people exhale in relief as you continue to keep an eye on the patient, watching his heartbeat slow down. "One of you must remain here with the nurses to provide them with protection should he wake up again," you stated as you freed yourself from the utensils you had been using and successfully threw your gloves into the trash can. Before you left the room, you addressed your employees. "He needs to be monitored around the clock. Call me as soon as anything changes in his condition. Give him fluids, a liter of saline to start with."

The door closed behind you and you walked towards a free room to treat your wound. However, before you had even reached your destination, an arm sneaked around your waist as a kiss was planted on your temple. "Hey, 'thena." You whispered, giggling and leaning against her side. Supportively, she helped you into another room where she ordered you to sit down while you told her what you needed to patch yourself up. "How many times have I told you that once you get an aggressive patient, you do not do anything until you call the cops into the room?"

“Often enough,” you admitted, placing a hand over your furrowed brow before standing up and gently brushing your pants down your thigh. "But the work must be done, even under these extremely difficult circumstances." Her head shook several times as she walked towards you and placed the things you needed on the cupboard. Athena took a seat in the chair in front of you and began cleaning the wound with disinfectant.

You clenched your teeth, let out a painful hiss, and squeezed your eyes shut as the cotton pad dipped in alcohol glided over your skin. "'thena, you know that I am actually the doctor, right?" you muttered under you breath and clawed into the foam with all your strength. "Babe, but you know I do not care, right?"

[angel-of-the-moons]

Trick or Treat

Miguel x Curvy!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None, other than Miguel being a bit thirsty (haha pun intended you'll see what I mean)

A/N: Thanks to @obi-mom-kenobi for the fic idea for spooky day™! (I'm sorry the plot got off track, though asdfghjkl)

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

He should have figured something like this would have happened.

He should have figured that he would do this.

Goddamn Deadpool.

Of course he caused a ruckus in one of the other universes, just to hop to this one to avoid Miguel, taunting him the whole time.

And naturally, it had to be fucking Halloween of all nights in this universe.

Among the Michaels, Jasons, goblins, ghouls, and witches and werewolves there were superheroes.

Iron Man, Doctor Strange, and half a thousand Spider-Mans.

This universe didn't have things like superheroes, not for real. All of that was Hollywood magic for the silver screen; the colorful fevered dream of a comic book artists.

He spent four hours trudging through the crowds, shouldering past drunkards and women dressed in far too little to be classified as clothing...

He finally spotted a Deadpool. The costume was very accurate, right down to the texture of the suit and how many pouches were on his belt.

But he was wrong. It was just some... Guy. Dressed in a "screen-accurate" cosplay.

But it was around the fifth hour (and twelve, terrified innocent Deadpool cosplayers later) that he got so frustrated he actually decided to take a break.

"Puta madre it's like Mardis Gras..." He hissed out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He'd long abandoned wearing his mask, wanting complete unobstructed range of his sense of smell and hearing. Neither of which have been particularly helpful with the smell of vomit, liquor, perfume and sweets littering the air.

"Wow! Buddy, you look like you need a good time!" A man dressed in some macabre clown suit said to him. When Miguel fixed his crimson eyes on him the man seemed to deflate, the gulp in his throat audible as his posture shrunk and he struggled to keep his voice collected at the imposing sight of the larger man.

He pointed at the door to a bar that seemed full to bursting, crowds chattering, and a group of obnoxious women clucking like drunken hens as they left, shouting rather inappropriate things at Miguel as they walked by.

Miguel sighed and decided to just say fuck it, one drink or so. Deadpool probably already hopped to another dimension already and this could be a pointless waste of time.

The patrons parted around him like the sea for Moses, too intimidated by the man who towered over them to stay in his way as he made it over to the bar.

The seat to the barstool creaked under his weight as he sat down, burying his face in his hand

This is the last time he'd ever chase down a Deadpool. Next time, he would pass it off to Ben or hell, even Hobie...

"Wow! Miguel, huh?" A bubbly voice giggled out.

His head shot up as she mentioned his name, and hi blinked at her.

Uncharacteristically, he felt his mouth go dry at her costume.

The black dress was cut down to the top of her underbust corset, revealing delicious amounts of her marshmallowy soft-looking cleavage. Honestly, if the woman sneezed, she'd probably spill right out of it...

Her hair was... Off. A kind of black beehive atop her head, sharp makeup accentuating her cheekbones and eyes. Bright, crimson lips smiled at him, dimples in her cheeks.

She wasn't rail thin like the other women who had come onto him all night, her body was soft, and squeezable; warm and looking as though he would get decent handfuls of her sweet soft rolls in his hands--

"Wow! You even look like him, too!" You giggle.

His mouth opened and he blinked.

"Ah... El... Elvira. Right?" He tried. He remembered Peter showing him that movie one of the times he'd visited him and MJ's place.

"Ah! Ding ding, my dear!" You grin, tapping your nose. "Some people keep saying I'm Morticia Addams."

"Ah..." He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter.

Even in your heels, you had a feeling that if this man was standing on his own two feet he'd tower over you.

"Wow! You really do look like Miguel!" You gasped, your ruby red lips parted in a sweet "O".

They looked so soft, just like the rest of you--

"Well! What's your name, big guy?" You ask, your long, wispy (maybe fake?) eyelashes batted at him.

"Uh... Miguel." He said stiffly.

You giggle again, a sound he was quickly focusing on, a sound he found he liked amongst the hustle of the other patrons in the bar.

"Pff, no, silly. Your name."

"...Miguel."

Your smile falters a bit as you blink up at him.

"Oh. Oh! Oh gosh, that's your actual name? I'm sorry!" You laugh awkwardly.

He decided that maybe, just maybe... His night wouldn't be spoiled after all.

"Well, I don't think it's bad enough to apologize for..." He said, flashing a smile, his fangs poking out just past his lips.

You giggle a bit girlishly. "Oh! Oh, that's not what I meant... But I mean! At least you're... Well, uh. In character! You got the looks, the height, the name!"

Miguel shakes his head with a deep chuckle.

"I suppose I do." He fixed you with a soft gaze as his fingers tapped the bar top. "What's your name?"

You grinned at him and tapped the name plate on your breast, drawing his gaze downward to your cleavage.

He felt his face heat up a bit as his eyes lingered on the soft swells, until his brain finally processed the name written.

He repeated it back to you, his voice just barely shaky.

"Yep! Don't wear it out!" You wink, leaning on the bar.

Once again, your cleavage on full display, just begging for him to--

"So, no offense but you look absolutely miffed 'bout something." You chuckle.

"You... Could say that." He struggled, clearing his throat. "I was... Supposed to meet somebody but they... Bailed."

"Oh, god, I haaaaaate that for you, bud." You say, leaning back with a click of your tongue. Your long acrylic nails tap on the laminated bar.

"So! What'll it be?"

"Uh... I don't have any money on me. Sorry."

"Hah!" You point up at the whiteboard sign above the tap.

'Those in costume -- First two drinks are free!'

He blinked up at the sign. "That's... Generous."

"Yeah, my boss is big on community. And I'm the one who told him that promising two free drinks instead of one will draw our competitor's clientele away." You wink.

"That's awfully... poachy of you." Miguel smirked.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Capitalism is capitalism and you gotta make a buck somehow. And besides! Halloween and other holidays are the best nights for tips!"

You looked back at him with a twinkle in your eye.

"So! What'll it be mister Spider-Man?"

"...Hell. The strongest drink you have."

"Ooooh! Risk taker! I like it." You laugh in a sing-song as you turn to start gathering what you needed to mix his cocktail.

The gaze of all the male patrons were drawn to you when you started shaking, humming to yourself as you did, looking at the list of things for the drink you were making, not paying mind to the prying eyes ogling your breasts. Miguel was, abashedly one of them. But he stopped himself once he realized what he was doing, the others?

He wanted to strangle all of them. Especially the three men next to him who were making bets on who would convince you to go to their car with them.

They clammed up when Miguel leaned in when you turned away.

"Keep staring at her like that, and I will gouge out your eyes, pendejos." He growled, flexing his talons in the face of one of the men for emphasis.

They all freaked out and ran, not wanting to piss off some 6 plus foot whatever guy with what looked like retractable blades on his fingers, and glowing red eyes.

When you turned back around, the cherry red drink topped with strawberries and a black cherry in hand, you grinned at him, and saw the money on the counter.

"Oh!" You hum, handing Miguel his drink and placing the money in their proper places.

"So... What's in this?" Miguel asked, sniffing the drink lightly.

You smile again at him, a cheeky glimmer in your eyes. "That would be telling, sweetheart. But I will say I put some sour grenadine in it."

"Hah. Fair enough." Miguel said, taking a sip of his drink.

The burning in his throat caught him off-guard. As did the heavy taste of the alcohol, that was quickly snuffed by the fruity flavor as he swallowed it down.

"It's... Good."

"Your cringe says you weren't expecting the punch." You smirk, crossing your arms and pushing up your soft breasts.

"It's... Surprising." He conceded, plucking the black cherry up out of the top of the glass.

He decided to make a bit of a show as he curled his tongue around the cherry, bringing it into his mouth and snapping off the stem, chewing lightly.

Miguel couldn't help but notice the way your cheeks flush a little bit and you busy yourself with wiping down glasses.

Maybe tonight wasn't such a bust, after all.

[punishme85]

How Would They React To You / MC Telling Them Theyre Pregnant - Surprise!

Lucifer

- His brain would stop working momentarily

- The inner struggle is real!

- How did you get pregnant? WHO'S THE FATHER? Wait he was the only one you were sleeping with... panic!

- On the outside he would first be shocked then would be calm.

- After a few moments he will stop panicking and start thinking practically again.

- Would he be excited? Eventually

- Would his sin rule him? Absolutely he will be proud and boastful.

- Protective? Over the top!

- He will hover over you, he will make sure to do his research and there's no way in hell you'll be drinking coffee or eating anything that will not be good for you or the baby.

- Will be at every appointment! He will not miss anything whatsoever! Every class, every appointment, every ultrasound.

- At the birth, he will either be the best damn coach helping to get you to breath like the classes taught you both or he would be kicked out waiting in the waiting room because he threatened too many nurses and the doctors!

- You will have to fight him to hold the baby! This man will be the one who is up for 2 am feedings and will carry the little one around with him constantly.

- Will be a good but strict dad and will secretly hope more babies are conceived in the future.

Mammon

- He would faint! Absolutely passed out on the ground!

- When he wakes up he will need time to process it!

- He will be overjoyed to say the least! He loves you, even though he has a hard time expressing it with words, he love you so much!

- Then the pure panic will occur when he realizes you don't have the necessities for the baby.

- This isn't his first rodeo! He had a hand in raising the younger 'siblings'.

- Would be be happy? Absolutely he would.

- Would his sin rule him? Yes! He would want only the best for the baby and he would go to any lengths to get it all for them.

- Protective? He wouldn't leave you side! The casino, the money making schemes, everything goes to the sidelines when it comes to taking care of you and the baby.

- Will be at every appointment without fail!

- You will have to assure him that he will be the best dad! This boy has the self esteem if a cucumber, we need to build it up!

- At the birth he is either passed out on the floor in the corner because he couldn't help but 'peak' or he will be sitting behind, breathing with you and letting you break his fingers through each contraction.

- Once the baby is born, you qould hold the baby and he would hold both of you! You and the baby would be his whole world.

- He will be a great dad but he will spoil the baby rotten! He will clean up his act, just to make sure none of his messes affect the baby or you!

Levi

- A complete and utter mess!

- He will inwardly and outwardly panic!

- He will freak the fuck out! What do you expect!

- It will take him a long time till he stops his panicking and starts acting like a damn adult!

- Lucifer and the brothers will most likely have to kick his ass in order for him to stop acting like a child.

- Will he be happy? Eventually but I think it will take him most of the pregnancy before he actually will smarten up.

-Will his sin rule him? Nope! He is a more why me kinda guy at this point.

- Protective? Not until he starts being involved and it is closer to the due date.

- He will not believe it's real until you force him to go to one if the last ultrasounds and he sees the baby with his own eyes. THEN he will begin feeling protective.

- During the birth he would be panicking in the waiting room. Most likely will opt to be in the waiting room. This boy would be passed out on the floor if he wasn't in the waiting room.

- Once the baby is born, he will suddenly change. You're suddenly amazing for what you've went through and he will fall in love with the baby.

- He will be an OK dad. He won't change diapers, doesn't like the germs the kid carries around but once their old enough to play games they will bond like crazy.

Satan

- This man would be terrified and angry.

- Terrified hes gonna be a shit parent (like Lucifer was) and angry at himself for not thinking of the possibility of this happening.

- Can a human give birth to a demon baby? Are they born with horns, wings and tails? What do you do with the baby?

- He will begin researching and has no problem signing up for classes on anything and everything.

- Will he be happy? Absolutely once he stops beating himself up for putting you in this position.

- Will his sin rule him? Nope, instead he will be on his best behavior so he doesn't stress you out because he read somewhere stress is bad for the baby and mother!

- Protective? Absolutely Protective and terrifying to anyone in your general proximity.

- Will not allow most demons around you, will make sure you eat healthy!

- He will be the one scheduling the appointments and making sure you her to all the classes together.

- At the birth, he is the calmest person in the room! He will be there coaching you, holding your hand, making sure you and the baby are safe from beginning to end.

- After the birth, you'll have to fight him for the baby but he will happily share with you! You had his child, he would worship you!

- He would be a great dad! Reading books to the baby before they were even born and the baby would have all the age appropriate books he could get his hands on.

Asmo

- The man would be ruined!

- He would have to share you with the baby! You always paid the most attention to him!

- What if you loved the baby more than him? Could you imagine?!?!

- He would get over himself eventually once you mention you wished the baby had his beautiful eyes or would be just as beautiful as him.

- He would then obsess about baby skin care and pretty clothes. HOPE FOR A GIRL WITH THIS MAN! He would make sure to buy matching outfits!

- Will he be happy? Yes

- Will his sin rule him? Yes, especially as he watches the changes going on with your body! The man would be obsessed!

- Protective? Somewhat, he wouldn't be as protective as most.

- He will be at some of the appointments but will be grossed out by the whole birthing process when explained.

- At the birth, he will not be in the room! Instead he will be making sure to book spa treatments for you for after the birth! Giving birth is not sexy and he would rather not know all the gross details.

- After the baby is born he will dress them up like his own doll. He will love them and fawn over them but you get the diaper changes and 2 am feedings.

- He's an OK dad. The kid would have the best skin and outfits though!

Beel

- Oh our good boy would be happy!

- Hes the family man out of the bunch!

- He will have the best reaction out of everyone because this man screams good father!

- He would be so excited when he hears about wierd pregnancy cravings and he will be the most understanding when you ask him to get deep fried bats with ice cream and pickles at 3 am.

- Will he be happy? Over the moon happy!

- Will his sin rule him? Absolutely it would! You're eating for 2 remember!

- Protective? Oh yes! He will make sure no one messes with you and half the time, you won't be walking anywhere, he will demand to carry you around.

- He will as Satan and Lucifer every question he can about babies and pregnancies.

- He will be at every appointment, every class, everything. He is so supportive.

- At the birth, he's right there with you! He will most likely want to watch the baby being born. CHILD BIRTH IS A BEAUTIFUL THING!

- After the baby is born he will be with you through it all. He will be scared he might hold the baby too tight or drop the baby but he will be a natural!

- Beel would be the best dad out of the brothers! He would also have so much love and appreciation for you! He wants more kids!

Belphie

- This man would be the least phased.

- He would not get excited or anything, he would just go back to bed.

- Would need Beel to make sure he actually gets involved. Babies are hard work and Belphie wants nothing to do with this.

- Belphie would give in when he sees Beel excited with you. The jealous bitch would get involved more at that point.

- Would he be happy? He would be on the fence.

- Would his sin rule him? Yup, it's just another day at the office for this brat.

- Protective? Not entirely, unless someone insults you or the baby.... then they're dead! But will go back to sleep after like nothing happened.

- He would be at every appointment because Beel would be at every appointment!

- At the birth, he would be there sleeping in the corner or out in the waiting room asleep.

- Once the baby is born he will love the snuggles and naps. That baby is his and they will sleep together. He will suddenly be completely protective!

- He will be an good good dad once he bonds with the baby. Let's just hope the baby isn't completely like his daddy.

Lord Diavolo

- This man would be joyous but wouldn't be surprised by the news.

- Barbatos already informed him of the news weeks prior to you finding out.

- What do you expect when you're with a man who has a breeding kink?

- He would be moving you immediately and Barbatos already has the wedding planned! No illegitimate royal children here!

- Would he be happy? Very very happy.

- Would his sin rule him? No his royal bloodline would! You will marry him immediately, you will live in the castle, you will be his queen!

- Protective? Completely over protective! No walking for you, the royal doctors will see you on a regular basis, you will be subjected to only healthy food because Barbatos demands it and you will have private tutors instead of going to RAD. The less demons near you, the safer you are.

- He will be with you, supportive and excited through the whole process. Appointments and classes? Check! Pregnancy cravings? Check!

- At the birth he and Barbatos will be with you! Probably a home birth with a royal doctor overseeing the process. He will talk you through the whole thing.

- After the child's born, he will show that baby off! He would be up at 2 am with you, will take him or her with them everywhere he can and can't wait to get you pregnant immediately when the doctors okay it.

- He will be an amazing dad! He will make sure you and the baby are always taken care of, but when the kids older you'll have to watch out for the pair being mischievous together.

Barbatos

- This man was the one who told you that you were pregnant!

- The moment it happened, he knew and to say he was pleased was an understatement.

- He walks you through your shock and the instant fears that pop in your head.

- He already knows you'll be a fantastic mother and do his excitement is contagious and you both look forward to the coming months.

- He makes sure you eat healthy, makes sure your at your appointments and goes to every class.

- Would he be happy? YES!

- Would his sin rule him? Yes! He would make sure every location the babu and you would be in properly prepared, baby proofed and safe!

- Protective? Insanely Protective! He would not let anything happen to either of you!

- During the birth, he's in there with you, coaching you, making sure the doctors keep on task and excited for the baby to finally be here.

- Once the baby is born, he takes the time off that's necessary! He will not leave you or the baby for anything, including the young master.

- This man would be a fabulous father. A little on the strict side but you'll have the most well behaved children in all 3 realms.

- He would already have a team of staff to take over jobs he normally does for Diavolo. They would have been trained for this moment for centuries before you were even born!

Simeon

- Oh our poor angel would be shocked, potentially cry and would most definately would panic.

- He wings might just instantly burst into flames at that moment! He would fall for you and his child.

- He wouldn't regret it for a second and would be happy once the panic settles.

- This man would be so supportive through it all after all his craziness with the potential falling and all.

- Would he be happy? Hell yes

- Would his sin rule him? He's an angel lol well unless he falls.

- Protective? Extremely protective of you and his baby, you will not be alone without him.

- He would be proactive with all the appointments and everything! He has been through this before with Luke!

- During the birth he will be another one behind you, holding you and making sure you're ok through the whole way.

- After the birth he will be up with you at 2 am for feedings, will change diapers snd will show off your baby to everyone he could! He will be such a proud daddy!

- He will be an amazing dad, he already is with Luke!

Solomon

- This many would just smile when you tell him.

- Inside he might be nervous but outside he will only show you how calm he is.

- He will accept it even if he is freaking out.

- He would be the type to do research and try to come up with potions for you to take for your morning sickness... Barbatos will stop him from actually giving it to you though, last thing anyone needs is an accidental potion incident.

- Will he be happy? Yes

- Will his sin rule him? This man is human but he's sinfully good at getting into trouble.... I'm sure the brothers will watch him for you!

- Protective? Yes but not as Protective as some of the others.

- He will be at all the appointments and be completely fascinated by the entire process.

- During the birth, he will most likely want to be right in there watching. He will not be out in the waiting room but you might need Simeon ro coach you through it since Solomon will only be concerned with this great experience.

- After the baby is born, you might want to take the lead. He would want the baby tinkering in the lab with him or some shady shit.

- He will be a good dad, but seriously he would try cooking for the kid! DONT LET HIM!

Luke

- He would be so excited! He is going to be a big brother?

- He would want to be there for everything except the birth!

- Shopping for the baby? Cooking healthy food for you? Making sure everything is ready before you have the baby? Yes to all!

- He would be so protective of you, even if you're having a demon baby! To him it doesn't matter because he's going to be the best big brother he can be.

- During the birth he would be panicking and pacing or stress baking to keep his mind off everything.

- After the baby is born he will be mesmerized by the little one. He will want to hold the baby as soon as he is allowed.

- Best Big Brother Ever!

[mychlapci]

In a simpatico brainrot rn but what if sparkeater eggs were bigger than cybertronians eggs?

Sparkeaters are naturally large predators and their bodies have adapted to be efficient with egg laying to use the least amount of energy as possible. Percy being one has absolutely no problem passing that big egg through his ovipositor.

Brainstorm on the other hand feels like he’s getting split apart every time they transfer eggs. An absolute sobbing mess as his gestation chamber is pushed to its limits. Poor guy has an even tougher time pushing them out with his too small ovipositor. It just drags on where it’s overload after overload for hours. Afterwards his sore throbbing valve is being soothed by Percy’s tougue

When the time comes, Brainstorm ends up being the one to lay the eggs. Percy’s instincts are on overdrive, demanding him to protect his mate and his brood at all costs, making him quite snappy towards the medics. While Brainstorm is whimpering and moaning in their nest trying to push the stubborn eggs out.

ah, looks like Brainstorm bit off more than he can chew... The moment Percy's eggs push into his valve for the first time, he immediately knows something's off, that they must be larger than average, and his suspicions are later confirmed to be true in the med-bay... they're still fresh so they're small, but they're going to grow, and he's been strongly advised to let Perceptor know he won't carry for him before they get too big for him... but Brainstorm isn't afraid of a challenge, and if this is how he can pioneer his recently started research on sparkeater biology, then so be it...

The eggs grow so quickly inside of Brainstorm, and Percy is very insistent on transferring them regularly... mhmmm Brainstorm clawing at the floor, his small, tight ovipositor pulsing inside of Perceptor's monster valve, whimpering everytime Percy clenches down around him. They hurt even more going out than they do going in- Percy's ovipositor is big and fat and perfectly sized for the eggs, so it doesn't even take as much time, but this way Percy is pushy, constantly grinding his valve down against Brainstorm's, their anterior nodes rubbing together. By the time he's laid the last egg, Brainstorm is lying on the floor all flushed and limp, only whining when Percy dislodges, and for a moment he's completely still, not wanting to irritate his worn ovipositor anymore, when suddenly Perceptor starts gently licking his own fluids off of Brainstorm's valve...

Oooh, Brainstorm being the one to lay the eggs when they're ready... Percy's tentacles snapping at anyone who dares come close, not caring whether it's a doctor or not, he keeps Brainstorm close, licking the tears off of his face, rubbing his contracting belly... poor Brainstorm, his ovipositor is on fire, the eggs so big they're barely able to pass through, stretching it to the point of breaking, the agony mixing with the intense bliss of the eggs pressing into every single node in the cable walls of his valve... when he struggles with a couple of particularly large eggs, ovipositor bulging, and Percy helps him by squeezing it until the egg is basically forced out by the pressure... Brainstorm probably can't walk for a while after the monster eggs have been laid <3

[lokiforever]

🖤Love in the dark 🖤

Mafia! Loki x Reader

A/N: Hello, my darlings. This the first chapter of a new series. This one is more of a intro/story-building chapter. But I suggest you to read it before starting the series. I will start with the series next month.

Summary : After Loki was banished from Asgard he landed at some place in midgard. Now that he didn't have his powers and magic he was just like another mortal. After a few years of struggle and rejection he became a mafia boss. A billionaire. Yes, he was a trader ...but of lives. His heart didn't feel much emotions now.Can a girl whom he met accidentally be his remedy ? Will she be able to break the wall he had built around his heart? Will she be able to bring light in his dark world?...

Warnings: a slight bit of angst, mentions of blood. VERY Short chapter.

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

How They Met

He pulled into a driveway of a club. As he stepped out and strode forward someone ran into him "Watch where-" he wanted to snap at the person but stopped as he looked into those eyes. He saw fear in them. Normally, he wouldn't actually mind if the person feared him, as they should. But the fear he saw in those eyes was not because of him.

Before he could ask the reason for their fear he saw two men running towards him. "Sir, hand her over to us." one of them said. "And why exactly do you think I would do that ?" he said in his smooth velvety voice. "Cuz if you don't-" he pulled out a knife and the other guy pulled out a gun and pointed it towards him and the person who ran into him. "Oh, that's what we are doing now. Don't you think knives are a bit out of fashion?" he let out a seemingly dark chuckle and turned towards the girl "Get in the car. Now. Rolls-Royce. Black." He said giving the keys to her.

One has to be completely crazy to handover his car keys, that too a luxury one to a stranger....yet here he was...He himself didn't know why he was doing what he was doing.

She took the keys and ran towards car after giving him a court nod.

"What do you think you're doing, huh?" said one of the goons. The answer he gave was ......a punch. Right in the goon's face. The other one flew a punch at him but he grabbed his hand in the air and twisted it.

~~~°~~~

You were running for dear life. Running from those men- no- monsters. They were monsters. Accidentally you bumped into a man, he was tall and was wearing a black attire. Before you could say anything or apologise, two of those men/ monsters came running behind you.

You thought that it was finally the end. No where left to run. But then the man wearing the black attire gave you his car keys, "Get in the car. Now. Rolls-Royce. Black" he said .

You must be an utter idiot to jump in a stranger's car... yet a part in you believed in him. So.....you did what he said. The last sound you heard before entering the sound proof car was a gunshot.

~~~°~~~

"You should consider yourself lucky that I feel generous enough to spare your lives today" he snapped towards the goons one of who's leg now had a bullet in it. They ran. Like rats.

He was now walking towards his car and as he opened the gate he found the girl had fainted ( or dozed off). As he looked at her, she was looking weak and had bruises at several parts of her body. He gently shook the girl and she stirred and woke up. (Ok, so she dozed off)

She let out a small yelp as she saw him. "Hey, hey don't worry you're safe."he assured her. "What's your name?" he asked her "Y/N" "A name suiting a gorgeous being like you" he replied making you blush. As you looked at him you saw that he had a cut on his forearm "You are injured!" you exclaimed. He let out a small chuckle and said "Don't worry, it's just a cut" "It's not 'just a cut' it's an injury. Let me see it" you protested. "You think you can check it? You're not a doctor, Y/N" "I am. I'm a trainee doctor and I 'can' address such injuries" you replied. "Oh, it seems like I've helped someone useful" he said and removed his shirt from that side. "Um...ok, it's not that deep but it'll still take a few stitches. The blood flow is also not too high....Do you have a handkerchief?" He nodded and handed it to you a dark green silk handkerchief, you tied it on the wound and looked up, only to find him looking at you intently. "Uh...umm... it'll um.. work for now" you stuttered out. "Thank you, Y/N" he said

"Why were those guys after you?" he asked when you both had covered a certain distance after he started driving. "They kidnapped me and wanted to sell me to someone" you replied. "Where do you live?" he further inquired "Not in this country." "I'm taking you at my home for now. Your lfe is still at risk." he said "Thank you so much-" "Loki" he completed. "Thank you so much, Loki"

You were extremely weak as you were literally kept hostage for about a month and to be completely honest you were a bit scared, even from Loki.....he saved you, yes. But you didn't know him even the tiniest bit and yet going with him seemed the safest thing to do. Where else would you go at this time of the night?

"Loki, stop at a hospital. You must get the stitches." you said "It's okay. I don't need it." " Yes, you do. If you don't want to go to the hospital, just arrange me a medical kit, I'll do it" "That's better." he replied.

Once you reached his home .....it was a mansion. Several luxury cars were standing in his personal driveway. He got out first and then held the door open for you to follow.

There was seemingly no one else in that big mansion. He led you towards the living room and made you sit on the couch. " Water?" he asked "Yes, please" he called someone through the telephone - "Bring me two glasses of cold water in the living room" he said- no- ordered.

No five minutes later, a guy came with two glasses of water. He placed the glasses on the table and turned towards Loki, "Anything else, sir?" the boy inquired. "You can go" the boy bowed a little and exited the room.

*phone rings*

Loki picks up the phone and answers..

Hello?

What? Fuck it! You are of no fucking use. Hold on, I'm coming.

Taglists;

@holdmytesseract @jennyggggrrr @dishahaldar @lotsoflokilove23 @eleniblu@gruftiela @wolfsmom1 @jaidenhawke

[crispin-kreme]

cause in this city's barren cold,

i still remember the first fall of snow

and how it glistened as it fell

i remember it ...

ALL TOO WELL . . . ZAYNE

notes: truth of a break up- angst no comfort. self indulgent because im struggling to move on atp

snow fell upon linkon city. the cold weather reminds you of someone, reminds you of something. you know to yourself you shouldn't even try to remember him. you shouldn't be remembering your past with zayne.

the cold was a significant weather for you and zayne. for you, the cold reminded you too much of your former lover. for zayne, he remembers you as snow fell onto his windowsill.

you had the most dreamy relationship with zayne. a doctor who loved you so dearly- so much that it choked you at a point. you loved him, you adored him so much.

but fate wasn't on your side– you had to separate one way or another. you left him, god that was a sin for you. you fought one stormy night. maybe both of you were stressed, both of you were riled up because you guys were tired. maybe you shouldn't have pushed him away, maybe you shouldn't have pushed his buttons.

zayne was willing to keep you after the argument but you left a message saying that you've made up your mind to part ways. you started feeling lonely anyways with him.

and that feeling as it snowed, it was so familiar, you remembered it all too well.

zayne's cold hands, eyes, his evol, all that crap. but his words were warm- they were so warm.

as snow fell on your clothes as you passed by akso hospital– you and zayne lock eyes.

the feeling came back, you feel your surroundings slow down, your heart getting weak or just thumping hard. zayne breaths hitches.

you never knew his side. maybe he was casually looking at you. all you know is, he doesn't care. he doesn't bother at this point.

so, you avert your gaze and you continue walking away. you continue as you walked with a heavy heart, with your chest filled with unsaid words, with your eyes brimming with tears. you just wished he cared, hm?

you need to move on– that's all you have to know.

[chicken-fifi]

Lost Connection (pt 6) | Leeteuk (SuJu) Imagine

Pairing: Park Jeongsoo x Fem!Reader

Requested by @bokkibunny: Hi Fifi, I’m here requesting part 6 of Leeteuk’s Lost Connection imagine, please! First of all, thank you so much for writing this, my heart has been breaking so much for Jeongsoo 😭 Now, onto the request: Since that day she remembered something about their relationship—and since she’d been dismissed from the hospital a month ago—Jeongsoo has felt nothing but hope. Hope for her recovery, and yes, hope for their future as well, now that she was back at their place. Per her request, he’d spent the next several months telling her stories about how they met, their dates, their fights, and all those little details he’d never thought mattered, in the hope that she’d remember them… There had been very little progress, unfortunately. One day he returns home and finds her on the floor surrounded by photo albums and in tears because, despite everything, she still can’t remember a thing. He tries his best to comfort her and, amidst their closeness and vulnerability of that moment, they share a short, sweet kiss. Was it wrong of Jeongsoo to let his emotions get the better of him? Did he ruin all the progress she’s made so far with a single moment of weakness? Up to you if you want to include her reaction to the kiss or save it for the next part! Thank you! 💚

Genre: angst, fluff

Word Count: 1,278 words

A/n: i'm actually a day ahead of schedule! hurray for me! as always please refer to this reaction as well as the previous three parts of this expansion series (1, 2, 3, 4, 5). happy reading and please reblog or comment!

Tunes: spy x family. gosh this show is hilarious af. i love this chaotic little family

You made your way around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets trying to find the pans and some plates for the dinner you wanted to make. Since being discharged from the hospital a month ago, memories had been coming and going frequently. For every memory you remembered, it seemed you forgot a recent one that you were currently making - hence your struggle to find the cabinet with the right contents.

It’s all part of the process, the doctors had assured you, once you’d set up an appointment with them. It’ll happen in due time. Just don’t force it.

“Ah-ha!” you cheered as you found the pans and plates. Pulling them out carefully, you began getting dinner ready, finishing just as Jeongsoo entered the apartment.

That was another development. Despite only having been discharged a month ago, you’d spent countless months with Jeongsoo at the hospital on the island prior to being discharged. During those months you found quite a lot about your relationship with him. He’d recalled and shared memories about the more mile marking moments in your relationship. From the most memorable date - for him - to the ground shaking fights that changed your relationship for the better, he shared all the little details that he’d never really focused on upon your request, describing everything to the point you swore you could see everything happening in your mind, and maybe you actually were…but you weren’t entirely sure. Sometimes he would even bring up the conversations about the future the two of you had had, only for his mood to dim and the topic be dropped almost as quickly as it had started.

Though little and sparse, the progress was a bit more noticeable than one would think. Having company over seemed to help a bit as well. Your body seemed to remember every single one of the guys that came over even though your mind could not. Tonight, however, was one of the few nights that it would be just you and Jeongsoo eating dinner - something you were glad about. You loved having people over and listening to them talk about the past even if you couldn’t remember it, but you also loved just being with one other person who knew you the best - well pre-plane crash you.

“Do you want help with dinner?” Jeongsoo asked, as he set his things down on the counter. “I’m more than happy to help.”

You shook your head ‘no.’ “I think I’m good. You should go and wash up, I know you went to the gym after your dance practice.”

He gave you a sheepish look before walking off to the master bathroom. You heard the shower start and quickly began cooking, wanting to finish just in time for when he got out. Now what to cook was the question. Not wanting to struggle to come up with something to make, you walked over to the bookshelf in the living room and picked out a random cookbook, pulling another book out with it and onto the floor. Said book opened as soon as it had fallen onto the floor, making you freeze in place as you looked at the content.

It wasn’t an ordinary book, it was a photo album. Your’s and Jeongsoo’s album by the looks of it. Placing the cookbook back, you sat down on the floor, looking at the image with a focused gaze. It had to have been taken a few years ago, at best - especially given how young you looked. Your eyes were trained on the camera, mouth open in what looked like the middle of a word, finger pointing at whoever was holding the camera. Jeongsoo on the other hand, had his face turned in your direction, looking at you with the dreamiest gaze known to mankind, completely ignoring the fact that someone was trying to capture that moment in time.

Turning the page, you allowed your eyes to train on the wedding photo. It was Jeongsoo’s sister's wedding. The two of you stood directly behind her sitting figure in the room with bright smiles on your faces. Jeongsoo was once again looking at you instead of the camera.

Page after page, you kept flipping through the album - dinner long forgotten. You weren’t entirely sure why you continued to flip through the photo album as none of the events captured in those pictures seemed to come back to you, but you did. Maybe it was wishful thinking that one of these singular images would somehow kickstart the montage of the years you’d lost. Maybe you genuinely thought that after you saw the last photograph everything would come back, like some soap opera where the female lead’s luck is finally starting to turn around.

But it didn’t happen.

None of those things happened.

Instead you found yourself grabbing another album as you wiped the tears from your eyes hoping that this one would be the one. Only for the same thing to happen and for the actions to repeat themselves over and over and over again. You were so overwhelmed and frustrated that you failed to register the sound of the water cutting off and Jeongsoo's voice as he spoke whilst making his way to the kitchen.

“Did you finish cooking that quick-” his words cut short as he took in your appearance as well as the scattered photo albums around you. “What’s wrong?”

You finally looked up at him, noticing his presence as he began making his way over to you. “Why can’t I remember?” you choked out. “Why can’t I remember?”

The pitch in your voice as well as the thickness of the oncoming tears that worsened had Jeongsoo falling to his knees pushing aside albums as he brought them as close to him as he could. One hand cupping the back of your head, the other pressed against your back rubbing it in effort to soothe you, he made attempts at whispering words of reassurance into your ear. Your sobs calmed as you pulled away, not meeting his gaze as you pressed your forehead against his.

“I’m so sorry,” you breathed out. “I know it’s hard on you to be here with me, without me remembering anything. And I’m trying to remember, I really am, but I just-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he stopped you. “I’ll come in due time. Don’t force yourself to try. Okay?”

You didn’t answer as you looked up, finally meeting his soft gaze. The two of you held eye contact for a while, before your eyes flickered down to his lips, your teeth involuntarily biting your own. Jeongsoo’s hand moved to cup your face, angling it toward him as he inched closer pressing his lips to yours for a solid minute before rushing to pull away, apologizing profusely for the unconsented action, only for you to turn his face back towards you leaning in and repeating said action. The sweetness of the kiss seemed to cancel out the sour tears you had shed, if only for a few short moments, before you too pulled away pressing your forehead against his.

There was a warm familiarity in the action and feel of his lips against yours, shards of memories of the simple action flooding into your brain. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye as you looked at him smiling softly.

“We did that a lot didn’t we?” you questioned, already knowing the answer.

Jeongsoo nodded, wiping the tears away, “We did, and I know we’ll do it a lot more someday.”

You could only hope that he was right and that that day would soon come, along with all of the memories you were still missing.

[bengiyo]

Love in the Big City Part 2 Check In

I’ve been struggling to start this essay for a few days. I sent the discussion questions to Shan Sunday evening after reading all of part 2 the day before because I wanted some time to sit with it and spend the day interacting with other people and reckon with what stood out for me. Like with the last section, I remained worried about how isolated the narrator (who I will now refer to as “Young”) has been and was unsurprised to see that connected to his experience with his mom.

We read through some pretty heavy sequences in this section, including Young being hospitalized by his mother as a teen when she discovered him kissing a boy under a street lamp, only to have the doctors classify him as a victim of PTSD and requesting that his mother enter treatment instead. He felt like he could never understand Hyung, and noted that he seemed to only be a booty call. He reached his breaking point and almost killed Hyung. He spiraled and almost killed himself.

When reading stuff like this, I always have to back away emotionally from the narrator, because otherwise I feel like it’s easy for me to get lost in the spiral of their emotions, particularly because Young seems to have mostly repressed his feelings about these situations if not the memory of them. It’s a bit difficult for me to read Young because I understand a lot of what he feels, and I am lucky that I was able to build relationships with other queer people in my 20s and avoid the spiral he’s fallen into.

With Hyung, I think @doyou000me provided some useful context for the level of paranoia Hyung deals with, given the living history he’s part of. He remembers people being disappeared. Even though he may have been a leader in a small organization at one point, it’s clear that his progressive friends at the time had no concept of their own homophobia and how it might impact other people in their movement. Like Young noted, he and Hyung are just doing regular jobs now, and Hyung’s rude friends are living a wealthy existence. For Hyung, his homosexuality is a barrier within himself, and his need to intellectualize everything means he cannot come to terms with it as he views it as the result of some sort of external influence on his being. There was never any way for him and Young to be happy because he hates himself too much to be anything reliable to Young.

Something else that continues to linger with me about Young is that he’s aware of how visibly gay he is to people. It doesn’t always come across in his writing, but the dialogue he shares with others indicates that he gets suspected or clocked a lot, and often resents how people treat him as a result. It happened with the guys in college when he stood up for Jaehee, and it happens here with Hyung fighting with Young for being so obvious about it. Hyung may try to pass and stay closeted, and that’s never going to work when you’re only able to chase after guys who can’t pass.

Regarding his mom, I get the sense that the mom’s paranoia about the dad and her controlling nature have forever ruined Young’s ability to have a wide array of meaningful relationships in his life. It seems like he can only really have one. No other people in his life get much mention in either of the first two sections except for Jaehee, Hyung, and his mom. It’s hard to see Young recognize that he’s messed up and possessive and be unable to do anything about that. He ends up spinning his mother’s remaining  years caring for her and being jerked around by a closet case.

I’m struck by the audacity of Hyung in the end. He edited that man’s diary and then sent it back years later asking to meet up one last time. That’s absurd in the extreme, and yet I get it. Being right is all that man has. He has nothing else to offer. It’s such a sad existence. I am glad the two of them didn’t work out, and I worry so much about what I know is coming for Young since it seems that there’s a tendency to punish himself in so much of what he does.

[thesimulationswarm]

Balsam, Chapter 5: Mountain Chickadee

This is a story about trauma. What trauma does to a person, and what trauma does to a community. And how, in the midst of it, people find their way to joy, delight— even love.

Pairing: Joel Miller x original female character Summary: After the events of tlou, Joel and Ellie try to establish a “normal life” in Jackson, but neither of them are any good at normal. A town doctor tries to care for residents who have experienced unspeakable trauma, and struggles to overcome her own past at the same time. Joel finds himself drawn to her, as their lives become increasingly intertwined. Meanwhile, outside Jackson, troubling things are happening… Rating: explicit 18+ MDNI Wordcount: 5.5k Warnings: some problematic language around race/ethnicity that would be expected from characters whose understanding of social justice stopped in 2003, condomless PIV sex, v brief mention of infertility, angst, trauma/PTSD symptoms, painful adolescent social dynamics, LGBTQ issues, the Miller clan trying to figure out how to be a family, Joel struggling with getting old

Series Masterlist

It was 6 AM and Ellie was sitting in the dark, looking out the front windows, as Joel’s figure disappeared down the street. The faintest light was coloring the sky to the east and starting to extinguish the smaller stars. She’d been curled up there for a long time, feeling the chill radiate through the pane of glass, her eyes adjusting to the lack of light. There were a surprising amount of animals out there as the dawn started to break— rabbits, squirrels, little birds. She saw how they stilled suddenly when Joel walked by.

She could imagine how the little animals felt, holding themselves like statues, tiny hearts twitching furiously against their ribs. Not daring to breathe until the threat disappeared around the bend in the road.

She hadn’t gone downstairs to say goodbye, and she wasn’t even sure why. Maybe just that she didn’t want him to know she was awake still, didn’t want him to worry. He’d stuck his head in around midnight and told her to stop reading and go to sleep. He’d fallen asleep on the couch for a while after dinner, and his hair had been a wild, off-kilter mess. Standing there like that, bleary-eyed, in a ratty pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, made him look different— older, more…domestic. Like a hapless dad from a cheesy old movie.

He’d pointed at the creased paperback she was holding. Stephen King’s It, borrowed from the eccentric little Jackson Library.

“Sure you should be reading that before bed?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” She gave him a hard look.

“’S just— I’ve never read it, but it’s pretty scary, ain’t it? And you’ve been havin’ trouble sleeping…”

Ellie raised her eyebrows and flipped to the copyright page. “It’s from 1986. It’s about an evil clown. Not exactly the kind of thing that haunts people’s dreams these days.” It was true— the book felt quaint, almost cozy. Hard to imagine what it would be like to live in a small town in Maine and run around with a band of misfit kids. The guy who wrote it thought he was pointing out how everything had a dark underbelly, but a dark underbelly sounded pretty fucking good to her. She was used to towns that were just plain dark.

But Joel looked skeptical. She could see the pinched anxiousness in his eyes, and it made her squirm. She didn’t want him to feel guilty. She didn’t want him to think she was sick or fucked up or weak, and she didn’t want him to pity her.

She’d sighed, tossed the book aside, and turned off her lamp. Curled on her bed, turning her back to Joel.

But she didn’t sleep. Not because of It, but because she was sick of nightmares. She’d had nightmares her whole life, but over the past year or so they’d only gotten worse. There were just more and more things to have nightmares about. Recently, it was like some kind of switch had been flipped in her head, and the only dreams she was allowed to have were nightmares. She felt weird and sad about Brandy and Chuy, but that wasn’t it, really. Maybe that had just been enough to tip her over the edge.

She worked so fucking hard not to think about her bad memories. Not to talk about her bad memories or to acknowledge them in any way. But as soon as her higher brain shut off, they were set free, and she had nowhere to hide. Nothing she could do except stay up as much as possible, until her body ached and her eyes felt gritty and raw. Until, eventually, the dark tide of unconsciousness overpowered her. And hopefully by then she would be too exhausted to even dream.

The morning was pleasantly quiet, especially compared to Nina’s last patrol with Isaac. Joel had barely spoken a word to her as they packed their gear and tacked up the horses, but she was keenly aware of his presence. She watched him in her peripheral vision, appreciating how, despite the substantial shape of him, he moved with a sort of grace.

The sun was just rising above the hills when they road out of the gates, the horses huffing clouds of steam in the cold air. Joel was reserved but polite, following her lead when they hit territory that was unfamiliar to him. As they went deeper into the mountains and further from Jackson, she felt a tension melting away that she’d only been partially cognizant of.

She needed Jackson. The life she had now would not be possible anywhere else. And yet, she was trapped there. Dependent on it, and on its people. She’d lived in other places and in other ways before, and it wasn’t something she wanted to experience again— ever.

That left her vulnerable in a dizzying, sickening way. And instead of doing what the other, sensible people of Jackson seemed to do— instead of leaning into it, letting herself soften into that web of dependency— she chafed at it.

She’d wanted to lash out all week. At smug Linda Hayes, who looked at her like some kind of witch when she picked up supplies at the butcher shop. At chatty old Jack Auden, who came by her clinic to get a tonic for his sister, but clearly just wanted to check up on her, draw her out of something she didn’t particularly want to be drawn out of. At Brandy Burkholder, with her grating adolescent tough-girl posturing.

Her jaw hurt from clenching it shut, from the effort of fixing her face into something like neighborly politeness.

She’d even restrained herself from starting shit with Marisa Robinson, yesterday in the dining hall, when she’d ladled up a bowl of soup for her and then loosed a fat glob of spit right in it, before setting it roughly on her tray. The girl had stared right into her eyes the whole time, her message clear as day. 

But Nina had just walked away, picked at the rest of her lunch, and gone back to her clinic.

She had no doubts anymore about who Starkey had been fucking. Which presented another problem— how to get Marisa treated for gonorrhea, when she wanted Nina’s head on a pike. Maybe when they got back she could talk to Maria, get her to have a heart to heart with the girl.

They stopped for food around noon in a sunny patch on the edge of a pine thicket. Nina watched Joel pace around, shaking out his stiff, cold limbs, before sitting down on a rock a few feet away from her. She passed him a packet of jerky and dried berries, and he nodded a thanks. 

The sun was high now in a cloudless sky and the air was starting to warm her face. She leaned her head back and looked up at the wide expanse of blue, edged with scraggly tree tops. A round little bird darted from one branch to another and whistled a sweet, three-beat song.

“Mountain chickadee,” she said, pointing at the branches.

“Hmm?”

“They’re a good omen. At least according to the Shoshone.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess.” Joel paused, chewing the tough meat. “Is that what you are? Shoshone?”

She couldn’t help it— she burst out laughing. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his expression darkening. “None of my business.”

“No, no,” she said. “I don’t mind. But that’s the wrong kind of Indian. I’m the dot kind, not the feather.” She took a sip from her canteen. “At least my mom was. My dad was Irish Catholic.”

Joel nodded slowly. “I’m half too. Dad was white, but my mama was born in Mexico. Michoacán.” He looked at Nina and didn’t exactly smile, but he stopped frowning for a moment.

“You and Tommy have the same problem I do. White name, brown face.”

She studied him for a moment, appreciating the warm, deep eyes and strong nose. The rough, wary good looks. He was watching her, with that simmering intensity he had, and she had a sudden urge to run her hand through his untidy curls.

She had a feeling he would let her.

But they had a long day’s ride ahead. Maria’s face flashed in front of her, that warning look she’d given her when Joel had agreed to come on this trip. She knew her friend worried about her taste in men. And she knew Tommy’s brother had a reputation--irascible, violent, unfriendly Joel Miller. The kind of guy she shouldn’t be drawn to, and yet always, despite her best judgement, was.

“I found a book about Shoshone beliefs a while back, on the old University of Eastern Colorado campus.” When she mentioned the campus, Joel’s brow furrowed. “It was full of details on the traditional medicines they used, which was huge for me. It’s not always easy to get medical supplies around here, as you might have noticed.”

“You’ve been to the university?”

She nodded. “I came up through there, when I first came to Jackson.”

He looked down and shook his head. “Pretty rough area.”

“Believe it or not, it used to be worse. I heard that after the Fireflies arrived they cleaned things up a bit.”

Joel stood up abruptly and wiped his hands on his jeans. “We better get movin’ again.”

Tommy watched Maria’s strong fingers gliding expertly over the deck of cards. She riffled, she bridged, she did a series of rapid overhand shuffles with a percussive flourish, all while barely glancing at the movements of her hands. The way she handled the cards reminded him of guys he’d known as a teenager, the sort of macho shit they pulled down in Burnet, Texas, to impress the girls. The sort of shit he’d tried to pull, sometimes successfully and sometimes not— shooting coke cans, throwing knives, hitting the baseball out of the park.

Maria, though— she was the real deal. That finesse wasn’t an act, and neither was her toughness. And instead of impressing Dee Ann Schaefer after homecoming, she was impressing him and Ellie.

The girl’s eyes were sparkling as she followed Maria’s moves. He could practically see the gears turning in her head, and he had no doubt she’d be asking to practice with the card deck tomorrow.

Good.

She needed something to do other than mope around in her bedroom all day. She hadn’t wanted to go to the dining hall for a single meal today, instead opting to hang back and read some old X-men comics that Tommy had scavenged. Maria’d made her promise she would eat something at home, but there was only a single empty can of pears in the sink when they came back after dinner.

Joel’d warned him that she wasn’t doing so great, but he’d been too distracted by everything going on lately to pay it much mind. She’d seemed a little quieter than usual when he saw her around town, and apparently she’d stopped hanging out with the other kids. Some kind of falling out.

But now he could see there was more going on than just that. Ellie had lost a few pounds and was walking around with dark circles under her eyes. It reminded him of when she and Joel first came back to Jackson. He knew only the rough outlines of what had happened out there, but what he knew was awful. And it made him feel terribly guilty, knowing he’d sent Joel out there with the her all alone.

“Kids really didn’t play poker in Boston?” Maria raised her brows as she began to deal.

Ellie shook her head. “I’ve heard about it. But all we ever played at FEDRA school was euchre.”

“Euchre?!” Tommy almost spit out his drink, and a wide smile cracked across Maria’s face.

“What’s the matter with euchre?” Ellie fixed them both with an indignant stare, as Tommy choked back a laugh.

“Sorry, kid. It’s just— my gramma played euchre. Never knew it to be popular with young folks.”

Ellie rolled her eyes at him. “Sorry we weren’t cool enough for you.”

“No, it makes sense,” Maria said with a thoughtful nod. “You probably never had a full deck of cards, did you?” Ellie shook her head no. “They’re surprisingly hard to come by.” She looked down fondly at her yellowed old deck. They were classic red Bicycle cards, the kind with naked cherubs riding down the backs, and Maria was very protective of them.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Tommy felt like he’d missed something.

Now it was Maria’s turn to roll her eyes at him. “If you’d ever payed attention to your grandmother, Tommy, you’d know you only need half a deck to play euchre.” She gave him a fond smile, reaching out to run a hand through his curls. “With a marker and a little creativity, you could use any random set of 26 cards.”

He smiled at her back, getting lost for a second in her rich dark eyes. She was so much smarter than him it wasn’t even funny, but she didn’t seem to mind. I’ve known a lot of men who couldn’t handle a smart, strong woman, she’d told him once. But you don’t have a problem with it. I love that about you.

The doorbell rang while Maria was in the middle of a discussion of which hand beats which. Tommy got up to answer it, not wanting to interrupt the two of them.

He wouldn’t have noticed the path if Nina hadn’t shown him. It was narrow and unmarked, and blocked from the road by strategically placed brush. They carefully arranged the boughs behind them to hide the path again, and walked their horses single file, below the low branches, into the darkening woods. The little A-frame cabin was about a mile in, down a rocky ravine and back up to another ridge.

Nina swung the door open. “It’s probably not wise to make a fire this close to the road, but we’ll be out of the wind at least. The loft is rotten so we’ll have to stay down here.”

Joel looked around at the room, small but clean, with an ancient four-post bed on one end and an enamel wash basin on the another. A pile of heavy blankets was heaped on the floor. “I’ve slept in worse, that’s for sure. I’ll take the floor.”

She looked at him and cocked an eyebrow. “No you won’t, old man. I’ve seen how stiff you are when you get up in the morning after a night on the ground.”

He winced at the ‘old man’ comment, even as he knew it was true— his body wasn’t what it used to be, and she’d certainly feel the effects of the floor much less than he would. But he didn’t think his pride would let him sleep on a mattress while Nina curled up on the floorboards. He paused, still standing by the doorway.

“Look,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “If I was a guy, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. If you’d let Tommy take the floor, there’s no reason not to let me.”

She was right, but he didn’t like it. And he felt embarrassingly disappointed to hear her call him out for his age. Jesus, what did he expect? Like she wasn’t gonna notice he was pushing sixty.

He exhaled heavily, took a few steps forward, and threw his pack down on the bed. “Suit yourself,” he huffed. If she wanted to treat him like an old man, then fine— he’d at least enjoy a night in a bed after a long day’s ride.

Ellie didn’t want to talk to Chuy, but Maria wasn’t budging. She put down the deck of cards and refused to go on with their game until Ellie at least went to the door and thanked him for coming by. As if that was something people actually did. Maybe in nineteen forty or whenever the fuck she’d grown up.

Chuy looked a little awkward, standing on the front stoop with Coco, talking to Tommy. His dark hair flopped over one eye.

“Hi Ellie,” he greeted her with a small smile.

“Hey,” she offered. Her voice sounded weird to her ears. She didn’t know what to do with herself, so she knelt down to rub Coco’s head, scratching the soft fur behind her ears.

“Do you wanna come out for a little walk? It’s a full moon tonight.”

“Uh, sure.” She tried to look casual as she stood, shoving her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. She wasn’t sure why Chuy was here, and the whole thing was making her feel very weird. But part of her was happy to see him, in spite of herself. She’d enjoyed having friends for, like, three weeks.

“Good to see ya, Jesús, “ Tommy said, giving Chuy a pat on the shoulder before he turned back inside. “Ya’ll don’t stay out too late.”

As the door closed behind her, Ellie raised her eyebrows. “Jesús?”

“It’s my full name. Usually just go by Chuy for short.” They fell into step beside each other, walking down the walk and into the empty street.

“In what world is Chuy short for Jesús?”

“Same world where Billy is short for William and Jack is short for John.”

“Okay, that’s a good point.” Something about walking side by side was making things easier. She didn’t have to look at him, for one, and it was much less awkward that way. And when they both fell quiet, she could occupy herself looking at the stars and the luscious silver disk of the moon. They walked a few blocks without talking, just listening to the rhythmic brush of their shoes on concrete.

Coco found a particularly interesting-smelling bush, and they stopped for a minute to let her sniff around it.

“We’ve missed you at the barn,” Chuy said cautiously, turning to look at her face. Ellie looked down at the ground, rocking her weight back and forth on the thin soles of her shoes.

“I’ve just been busy.”

“That’s fine. But you can come by any time you’re free, you know?”

“Mmhmm,” she replied noncommittally.

After a few moments of silence, Chuy spoke again. 

“I’m really sorry.”

Ellie turned toward him, startled. “What do you mean?” Her voice came out sharper than she intended, and it was Chuy’s turn to look away.

“Maybe I’m wrong, but… I guess you know that Brandy and I…” He trailed off.

“Yeah, so?” Ellie gave her best impression of nonchalance. Her heart was pounding against her chest, and she had a fleeting urge to just take off running into the night.

“Well, you like her, don’t you?” He must’ve seen the panic in her face, because he quickly added, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell her. Or anyone else, I promise.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and slowly let out her breath. Fuck.

“Was I that obvious?”

Chuy shook his head emphatically. “No, not at all! It was just because I felt the same way about her, you know? You looked at her the same way I did.”

They were both silent for a moment, then Chuy laughed. “Holy shit, I’m so relieved I was right. This would’ve been so weird if I was wrong.”

“Oh, you think this isn’t weird? Because this is pretty fucking weird for me.” Her heart still felt like it wanted to leap out of her throat, but she found herself smiling at Chuy. Grateful to him for being so chillabout this. 

But, god— would he really not tell anyone? Her smile faltered.

“Hey, um, I actually haven’t told anyone... about me.  So please don’t say anything, okay?” She looked at him pleadingly, biting into the skin of her bottom lip.

“Of course not.” His voice was soft and sincere.

She looked up at the sky again, feeling the cold wind brush the hair back from her face, watching a thin stream of clouds blow gauzily over the moon. The relief crackled through her like an electric current. 

When Joel closed his eyes, he felt like he was still swaying on top of the horse. He lay there, warm under the wool blankets, waiting for his exhausted body to give into sleep. But it wasn’t coming.

He felt like an idiot. Nina’s voice echoed in his head: old man, old man, old man. Yes, he was old, and getting older. His body never let him forget it anymore— stiff joints, spasming muscles, bone-deep aches when the weather changed. Those spells he got sometimes, when his ears rang and his breath stopped and it felt like his heart was gonna fucking explode. He should probably ask Nina about those episodes, but he’d rather swallow glass than admit to her how feeble he got sometimes. Not that she couldn’t see for herself.

She could see just fine. Old man, old man, old man. And what was he thinking coming on this trip? He’d had some good reasons to do this, but there had been a lot of good reasons not to.

After Nina mentioned the University of Eastern Colorado, he’d been dogged by unwanted thoughts as they rode into the woods: visions of being shanked and the religious nut jobs and Ellie running hard across the bloody snow.  The drive of his knife through skin and sinew, the frantic fear that he would always be too late to save her. As much as he bristled at being trapped in Jackson, at least he could keep an eye on her and do what he could to keep her safe. Now he was a full day’s ride away, and soon he’d be further still— the furthest he’d been from her since that day in the QZ when Marlene had talked Tess and him into smuggling the girl. What felt like a lifetime ago, in a whole other world.

He had to remind himself that Jackson was safe and that Ellie was in good hands with Tommy. She’d be just fine when he came back, aside from her attitude and her foul mouth. Which weren’t likely to change any time soon.

He shifted around, adjusted his pillow, sighed heavily.

He tried not to think about Nina lying a few yards away, and what he’d dreamed about the last time they slept in a room together. He felt a heavy pulse of blood in his groin, at nothing more than the memory. Well, at least his dick still worked right.

He could hear her breathing, turning occasionally as she tried to get comfortable on the floor. He felt like an asshole for letting her sleep there, although he also would have felt like an asshole for insisting on giving her the bed. Goddamn her.

He heard her shift again, then the rustling of blankets falling to the floor. Then the creaking of floorboards.

She was getting up.

He sat up halfway, on alert, tilting his head to angle his good ear toward the window. Had she heard something or noticed something he hadn’t?

His rifle was within reach, and his arm slid silently across the bed toward the wall where it rested. It was dark, but he could see her remarkably clearly by the moonlight coming through the windows. 

His heart was beating in his throat as she walked toward the bed and stood beside him.

“What—what is it?” he stuttered in a whisper, confused.

“Can I?” She asked, as she leaned down, pulling on the hem of his blanket. At first he thought, dumbly, that she’d changed her mind about taking the floor. Then she pressed her palms against his chest and gently eased him back down into the mattress. She slid under the blanket, moving her body top of his, until she was straddling his legs.

Oh.

“Yes,” he breathed, and she dipped her head down toward his.

It was so much like his dream that he wandered briefly if he’d fallen asleep. But no, he could feel every little thing too acutely: the scratch of the wool covers moving across his skin, the salty taste of dried sweat as he pressed his lips against hers.

They started out tentative. He sampled her soft lips and gently parted them with the tip of his tongue. She tasted like the baking soda she used to brush her teeth, like salt, like something animal and wild. She tasted good.

His hands had moved up to cradle her face. The cut of jawbone, the whorl of ear against his palm. There was something teetering inside him, a thread perilously close to breaking. All the want he’d been holding in around her, tamping down, was rising up. He felt like he might snap.

He dropped his hands, ran them down the dip of her waist and the wide flare of her hips. Dragged her body up against his until her strong thighs were split open above his groin and his hardening cock could find friction on her. She felt him and rutted forward, moaning softly into his mouth.

Not enough. He flipped her over, his weight spreading her legs wider and pressing her down into the old mattress. His hand snaked up below her sweater and skated across belly, ribs, and there— the soft mound of a breast filling his palm, and she was arching into him, groaning.

“Joel,” she moaned against his ear as he slid rough kisses down her neck. Her voice shook something loose, the nagging thought in the back of his mind— Why the fuck was she doing this?

He broke himself away and sat up on his knees. His chest heaved as he looked down at her. His eyes traced the soft curves of her splayed body. Her words echoed in his head again: old man.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“I’m sure, Joel.” She sat up a bit, propping herself on her elbows to look at him. It was dark, but not too dark to see her expression: eyes narrowed, studying him. She looked, like she usually did, fully in command of herself.

“Are you sure?”

He almost laughed. He wanted to say, I’ve been sure from the moment I first saw you. He didn’t say anything though, just slid down onto his belly between her legs. He nuzzled his face against the fabric of her pants as he started to unfasten them, and she gamely lifted her hips to help.

And—fuck—her underwear was drenched, her arousal turning the pale fabric translucent. He rubbed his finger along the cloth, tracing the dark shape of her cunt underneath. She mewled, pushing herself against his hand. Then he was yanking the underwear roughly, scraping them down her thighs and away.

She tasted amazing there, too— like he knew she would. Sweet and musky, with that electric tang that always reminded him of licking a 9-volt.

She gave him instructions— right there, harder, again, faster— and he complied. He liked a woman who knew what she wanted. And she wanted this, he could tell, as she gripped his hair harder and her thighs shook against him. He worked his jaw frantically, trying to get it right for her. He needed to make her feel good.

When she finally came she called out his name. He slowed down but kept going as she shuddered, coming apart underneath him, until finally she pulled him away from her over-sensitized clit.

He rose up and she grabbed his face to hers. She licked her juices hungrily from his lips and chin, her breath fast and hot against his skin.

“Baby,” he said, running his hands through her thick curls. “I want you so bad.”

She grabbed the waistband of his jeans and peeled down his fly, pulling him loose from his boxers. He was painfully hard, desperate to be touched. And she obliged. When she wrapped a hand around him, he couldn’t help thrusting into her grip, feeling the shuddering relief of her palm stroking down his length.

“I can’t get pregnant. In case you were worried about that.”

He stared at her for a second. Actually, he hadn’t been thinking about it at all, although he should’ve fucking been. He had a sudden flash of how reckless he was being.

But there was no way, no goddamn way he was going to stop now.

He was pressing into her sweet cunt almost before he realized it, his hips drawn into her heat like a moth before a lightbulb. She was arching up to meet him there. Her muscles contracted snugly around him and, Jesus fucking Christ, it had been too long since he’d felt this.

“That’s it,” she breathed as she lifted her legs to bring him in even deeper. “Now fuck me.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. He started out slow— he was too excited and he wasn’t ready for this to be over yet. Holding himself up on one arm, he looked down and watched how his cock slid beautifully in and out of her, the length of him glistening with her arousal. He looked at her face and saw she was watching too, the two of them mesmerized by the machinery of their bodies.

He grabbed her hand and pulled it down. “Touch yourself while I fuck you, baby.”

She obeyed, rubbing rhythmic circles against her clit. Biting her lip as she looked up at him.

She began whimpering with each thrust and he couldn’t hold back. He fucked her harder and faster and she lifted her legs even higher to accommodate him, driving him home.

He was getting there, and he knew he couldn’t hold back for long. “Nina, you feel so good. So fucking good,” he panted. He looked at her pleadingly, trying to will her to come again before he lost control completely.

“I want it, Joel,” she gritted out. “Come for me, baby. Don’t stop now.” She moved in tandem with him, snapping her hips up to meet each thrust.

That was it. He slammed against her roughly, faster and faster as he felt his orgasm bloom outward from the base of his spine. “Fuck, oh— oh baby,” he groaned and buried himself deep inside, the first pulse shooting out of him so hard it was almost painful.

“That’s it, yes, yes,” she moaned, rubbing herself even harder as she felt him throbbing against her.

When the waves of pleasure finally ebbed, he was spent, exhausted. But he held himself up by his shaky arms and stayed inside her, watching as she brought herself to orgasm. Watching how his come leaked out around him and slicked the tips of her fingers, as she circled them hard and fast against her swollen clit. He wanted to burn the image into his brain so he’d never forget.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he whispered hoarsely.  “Make yourself come for me. That’s so fuckin’ beautiful.” He coaxed her until she let out a jagged cry and he felt her contracting around him.

He collapsed down to the mattress and pulled him to her, wrapping his arms around her soft body. 

Nina sat up straight, spine long, feeling the smooth slide of her horse’s gait as they moved through the woods. Watery morning light slanted through the branches, catching on clusters of new green leaves. She felt fucking amazing. Better than she had in a long time.

This was their forth day on the road, and she and Joel had been going at each other madly for the past three. Her cunt ached with it, pressed against the hard leather of her saddle. She knew she would enjoy Joel, but she had not anticipated how much. How enthusiastic he would be, and how focused on her pleasure. Doing things like eating her out on a bed of pine needles, on the forest floor, during their lunch break. He’d barely climbed off his horse before he was kneeling in front of her, licking a stripe hungrily down the denim that covered her crotch, unfastening the button at her waist. And she’d felt herself already soaking through her panties as she looked down at his dark unkempt curls, buried between her thighs. They had found a rhythm with each other that undeniably worked.

When she dissociated, she left her body. In sex like this, she became her body. Today, she was here. She was alive to the world. She knew it wouldn’t last forever— it never did— but for now she basked in it.

When they weren’t fucking, he was just as quiet as he ever was. He was a man of extremes— taciturn and careful as he groomed his horse, built a fire, hunted a rabbit for their dinner. Then whispering sweet filth in her ear as soon as they’d crawled into a shared sleeping bag. And that was just fine with her. She wasn’t looking for attachment. 

Even without attachment, things could get complicated, she knew. Tonight they’d be in Lava Hot Springs, with Mo and his men. An excess of men— men with guns, men with knives, men with pride and schemes and swinging dicks. She was acutely aware of the danger in this. Of the danger in taking her current lover along for protection, as she orchestrated a trade with her charming, amoral ex.

Taglist: @anoverwhelmingdin @blueseastorm @wannab-urs

[dragonsarecool]

Febwhump Day 8 - Why Won't It Stop?

A/N: The time travelling may have finished, but the nightmares certainly didn't. Set after Part III.

The first night back in his own bed was pure hell.

Considering that the night he spent at the lake with Jennifer was peaceful, he was extremely unnerved to find himself almost tumbling out of the bed, placing a hand over his mouth to stop him from awakening the house with his screams.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He couldn't stop himself checking his calendar each time he jolted awake, just in case he'd somehow done another trip to the past in his sleep. Marty desperately wished Doc was still around to provide some insight, even though he wasn't a medical doctor. But he would have more idea of what the hell is going on than I do.

What also troubled him was that every night seemed to produce some new horror.

Sometimes Tannen was successful in hanging him, and he would watch his deceased body tumble to the ground as Doc roared with anguish. Other times Doc was the one being hung, and Marty was forced to watch the life leave his eyes while struggling in the grip of Tannen's goons.

Some nights it was being trapped underneath his seventeen-year-old mother as she excitedly kissed him. She would moan his name and keep his arms pinned below him as they made out in the white Packard. Sometimes he would see his dad standing behind her, glaring at him while his mother caressed his face.

That was the only one that always made him vomit. He'd learnt to keep a rubbish bin near his bed that he could grab in case those unholy images greeted him during the night.

Occasionally the Delorean would fail to reach the target point, and instead of travelling back to 1985, he would watch himself crumpling into the wall of the cinema.

After the first six weeks he seriously began considering the notion that he would have to tell his parents. Although they hadn't asked any prying questions so far, it was clear to him that they had noticed he wasn't sleeping well. He would retire early in the evening, only to be rudely awoken by his brain at around midnight, and often didn't fall asleep again until the early hours of the morning.

His dad had once pointed out the dark circles under his eyes, and that had hit a little too close to home for Marty's liking.

It's not like I fought in a war or anything either! All I did was go back in time.

I mean, I did get shot at. And punched. And hung. And nearly erased from existence.

He eventually did enough snooping through psychology textbooks at the library to work out that he had some form of traumatic disorder, though that became the extent of his mental health knowledge as the terminology grew longer than ten letters. The obvious problem, however, was that he couldn't go seeking an official diagnosis, as he knew they would have him in the mental asylum by the end of the first appointment. Right. So getting official help is definitely not an option.

He spent about a weeks' worth of sleepless nights pondering if he even should begin to approach the subject with his parents. How the hell am I supposed to say it? Hey mom and dad, I'm the guy who made you guys fall in love 'cause Doc invented a time machine?

Ultimately, the more he thought about it, the more he decided that he couldn't tell them. He was now the sole reason that they had even laid eyes on each other; if he hadn't dragged George to meet Lorraine face to face, he would've had no reason to seek her out or take her to the dance. What if it breaks something in the space time continuum? What if they disown me? What if I fade out of existence or some shit?

Although he had no concrete scientific reasons why he couldn't tell them, he'd come to a very simple realisation: they would never believe him. Considering that there were no photos of him from when he was Calvin Klein (that he was aware of), and how much time had passed for them since they last saw 'Calvin', he was pretty convinced that they'd dismiss his story. Perhaps it's best this way anyway. They've finally got a happy marriage and I don't want to risk derailing it.

He came to the ultimate realisation that he had to tell Jennifer. After all, he was already planning how he was going to propose - she deserved to know what had happened to the man she loved. The other part of him felt that she shouldn't have to know. If he couldn't handle the memories of what he'd gone through, how did he know she could?

But on their next trip to the lake, Marty decided he couldn't bear it alone any longer; eighteen weeks of insufficient sleep had finally wore him down. She has to know.

When they were tucked up in their sleeping bags under the stars, he swallowed hard and whispered cautiously into the darkness. "Jen?"

Jennifer shifted slightly. "Marty?" When he didn't answer, she rolled over in her sleeping bag, noticing how Marty was avoiding her gaze. "Is everything alright?"

"…I think I have a problem," His voice shook as he whispered, his eyes welling with tears, "and I…I don't know what to do."

Jennifer gazed at Marty with concerned eyes. She gave him a small smile in the darkness, stretching her hand out to cup his cheek and turn his face towards her. "Oh, Marty…I was wondering when you'd finally tell me."

She leaned over to give him a gentle kiss, and Marty allowed the last of his resolve to crumble as he cried. Jennifer pushed herself out of her sleeping bag to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, stroking his hair soothingly as he cried in her embrace. "It'll get better, Marty. It will."

[doiefy]

fuck it, why not, nct 127 as engineering students

it's midterm season and i needed smth fun to do lmao. partially inspired by dumb shit i’ve seen/done

taeil: social butterfly exchange student studying something super obscure like petroleum or mineral engineering. on his first day of school (after getting run over by a roomba), he made up some stupid lie about his home country in an effort to appear more interesting. shit escalated, the lies continued, and now four years later he’s sir moony dal tae-1-methyl-cyclohexane-il from the glorious country of kwangya on planet mars. he’s actually from korea.

johnny: biomedical engineering student who will literally never shut the fuck up about going to med school. drinks redbull for breakfast, lunch and dinner. brushes his teeth with redbull. puts redbull in his diffuser. smokes redbull. did i mention he’s drinking redbull right now so he can stay up studying for the mcat? and that he’s trying to get into med school? in all seriousness he’d be a great doctor. but he’d also prescribe redbull.

taeyong: overworked mom friend studying electrical engineering. in a perpetual state of panic, sleep deprivation and electrocution; but he always has essentials on hand for his kids. be it bandaids, tampons or condoms, all you have to do is ask. oh also he modifies roombas to chase people down hallways while singing the thomas the tank engine theme song. he’s like michael reeves but giggly and with good intentions.

yuta: part time chemical engineering student, full time drug dealer. accepted his offer to the program because he watched one episode of breaking bad while stoned out of his mind, so it's all over for you when he figures out how to cook meth in the lab. the only issue right now? yeah he failed the lab safety training like six times and thought hydrofluoric acid was edible. he's not allowed into any undergraduate lab, much less onto campus at all. yeah he got expelled.

doyoung: obnoxious industrial engineering student. won't shut up about optimization and how his very optimized schedule has allowed him to maintain a 4.20 gpa, do 50+ extracurriculars and get multiple bitches. eventually his extensive spreadsheets creep out every girl he gets with and he has a crisis over his sexuality. gets suspended for public indecency with jaehyun two days before graduation.

jaehyun: goes into civil engineering thinking he can convince everyone he's straight by working with straight members and supports in infrastructure. resident hetero fuck boy up until he learns about bending moments in his second week of school, at which point he comes out. often struggles to finish exams because he's too busy thinking about how the pipe or beam he's analyzing looks too much like a penis.

jungwoo: the nicest mechanical engineering student you'll ever meet. is so sweet and innocent that people are constantly mistaking him for a freshman. mentors younger years, has the most cracked linkedin, brings coffee and donuts to class, generally just a good guy. oh, and the guy who looks exactly like him, who gets fucking hammered at every event and once did a line off a portrait of Isaac Newton? pfft nah that's not jungwoo. no way.

mark: aerospace major and music minor, but he spends so much time in the music faculty that no one believes him when he says he's in engineering. makes a "it's not rocket science" joke at least once in every conversation. probably giggling like a fucking buffoon in the back of a class, so loud that you can hear him in lecture recordings. he also can't go anywhere without recognizing 30 people and fist bumping all of them in turn like "brooooooo."

haechan: stinky computer engineering student who only ever wears the same two hoodies in slightly different shades of grey and considers walking in the rain to be an acceptable substitute for showering. claims he's grinding league and valorant during exam week so people underestimate him. everyone's surprised when they find out he's been on the dean's list since year one AND knows how to do laundry. again his laundry is two hoodies in slightly different shades of grey.