#almost going to take matters in my own hands

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: This is part 2 to my Mama Riley au! Thanks for all the love on the first one. ❤ no content warning and I'm trying to keep this gender neutral. Enjoy!!!)

You never expected your angry rant to actually change Simon's behavior. But it has, based on Mama Riley's weekly updates. He's stopping by more, staying longer. He's actually telling her things, mainly about his coworkers, but she's just happy he's finally opening up to her.

While you believe her, you're not seeing the change yourself. Fridays are when you have dinner with Mama Riley, and now apparently Simon too. He just… stares at you, a permanent frown on his face. As if you're the one intruding.

Part of you is glad he doesn't talk much. The few sentences he does speak, the low timber of his voice makes your heart race. Behind the scars and unwelcoming attitude, Simon Riley is a handsome man. But your loyalty lies with his mom. He needs to be a better son, and some silly crush isn't going to change your mind that easily.

Ironically, it's said loyalty that makes Simon fall for you so fast. His loyalty is rock solid, a promise held steadfast, an ache he feels in his chest every morning. There's no one Simon cares more about than his mom, and to see someone else care so deeply and fiercely about her makes you so insanely attractive to him. On top of that, your concern for Mama Riley made you willing to say something to him, and Simon knows he's off-putting and scary.

What I'm getting at is that this man is so down bad, it's not even funny. He'd literally take you to the court house and marry you immediately, if you were willing. But you're not, and he's kind of clueless on how to convince you to give him a chance. He'd rather catch a live grenade bare handed than ask his mom.

His mom who clocked the crush immediately, and is trying to help him without helping him. Even if their relationship is strained (much better now thanks to you!), she knows her son, and she knows he has feelings for you. And while she's not trying to meddle, she is trying to create opportunities for y'all to interact and get to know each other.

Opportunities that Simon keeps fumbling because he clams up so bad around you. He's never been good around people in general, and his crush on you just makes it twice as bad. Plus, he's aware that you hate him, and that's not doing him any favors either.

Mama Riley gives him time to make an attempt, only to watch him struggle and usually fail. But the attempts he's making with small talk, bad jokes, bringing you small knick knacks from deployment; it seems to be working. You're both opening up to each other, growing a friendship.

But as the months pass, nothing grows beyond a friendship. You don't want to ruin things between yourself and Mama Riley. Plus, you're not entirely sure where Simon's feelings lie. He's just as weird and off-putting as he was in the beginning, just now he tells you bad jokes and calls you ‘love’.

And, while Mama Riley promised herself that she wouldn't meddle - Simon's a grown man after all, he should be able to handle this - it's almost painful for her to watch the way you and Simon dance around each other. Nobody here is getting any younger, and after almost a year of watching you two, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

Simon's two months into deployment, when Mama Riley invites you over for routine Friday dinner. You're barely one glass of wine in, when she drops the bombshell on you.

“You know, Simon's in love with you.”

[sinisternymphette]

everybody loves my baby

an historical au | 1930's florist!reader x dilfgangster!rafe (minors dni)✶

tw: v!olence, sex

✶ gangster!rafe, who makes sure everyone knows that you're off limits. Whether it is by gently placing his hand on the back of your soft neck and slowly caressing it with his calloused knuckles, using one of his large fingers to softly trail down one of your arms while the both of you are sitting next to each other in a restaurant, putting his muscled arm around you like a mantle, giving you warmth and comfort, and even taking your hand in his to plant a kiss on the palm as he closes his eyes and sniffs to take in your scent without the care of what others might think of your intimacy. You were his and he was yours, and that was truly all that mattered.

✶ gangster!rafe, who would do anything to protect you. Literally. If anyone ever laid a hand on his pretty little florist, they'd have to go through him, and it certainly wouldn't end so jolly.

"You dared to touch my woman, hm. Well, not so confident now, are you."

he said in a low, menacing chuckle as he shook his head slowly, cornering the man before him in the lonely and dimly lit corridor behind the bar. He had gone to the washroom for just one minute- one minute without you in his plane on sight, and a man walked over to you and started complimenting you before giving you a rose. That wasn't the problem though. When you thanked him kindly and smelled the rose, he pulled his arm up to brush a strand out of your face. And so, he had to take the matter to his own hands.

"Now now, i'm sure you're a good fella and understand that it was just a minor misunderstanding!"

the man quickly said in a pleading tone, obvious fear in his wide eyes, which were easily comparable to a frightened doe's, before proceeding to pat Rafe's shoulder with one of his shaking hands- almost as if they were old friends. Rafe shook his hand away in a swift motion, as if he had just been touched by a rat who had come out off a trash can. He punched the man on his ribcafe after his fake of a charming smile vanished and turned into a dark frown as if he was no longer who he was before. His other hand reached to the other's mouth as the man made muffled yowls of pain. He, however, didn't even flinch once.

"You're damn lucky i'm a generous man, so make sure to take this as a lesson for the future, yes? to keep your hands to yourself? wouldn't want to cut all your fingers off and make a mess on my shirt."

he then smirked almost playfully, his expression once again changing in a matter of seconds before moving his hand up and shaking it, then putting it inside the pockets of his brown pants and using the other in order to adjust his white, high quality long-sleeved shirt. The man was now practically on the floor, whimpering as he crouched against the stone wall behind him as he shamefully covered his face with his shaking hands. It was truly an embarrassing sight. Once Rafe was finished, he turned his back and opened the back door to the bar, tilting his head to the side and staring at him one last time.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to more important matters- the wonderful evening I was having with her before you, very rudly I might say, abruptly interfered."

✶ gangster!rafe, who likes giving you nicknames that represent your beauty such as 'dollface', 'peach', and his personal favorite, 'dandelion'. You absolutely adore them too- the way they always roll off his tongue so sweetly, like butter being spread on a slice of bread. He's a man who admires and cares for your body, your mind and very being as if you were a princess or a delicate porcelain vase with beautiful painted flowers.

"Look at you, m' pretty dandelion all dolled up for me." he murmurs as he carefully places his head over your shoulder, blue orbs looking into your eyes through the mirror of your bedroom while his hands found your waist and gently nestled around it. His lips were slightly curved upwards, making the hint of his smile shown to you. One of his fingers traced small circles on your waist, making you let out a small and flustered chuckle as you covered your mouth with one of your hands in a polite manner to hide it. You were wearing one of your newer dresses- a pretty light blue polka-dotted dress that perfectly hugged your figure. This, was one of the many dresses Rafe gifted you in the past two weeks. Your lips had red tint and your cheeks had a faint pink color on them- a little bit of makeup, but not too much. His eyes trailed down, all the way to the contour of your legs and to the white leathered heels you were wearing. in his eyes, you truly were a work of art- like a Renaissance painting that had come to life. Now, he was a man that firmly believed that actions spoke more than words, so as soon as his eyes met with yours once again, he planted sweet kisses on your neck alongside little nibbles. This, was his own way of letting you know that you looked absolutely stunning.

✶ gangster!rafe, who, despite having so much blood on his hands, is always careful with you and tries to avoid showing you his darker side as much as he can. Who doesn't want you to know all the sins he has done, all the people he had killed before, in fear of loosing you forever.

''Y'know how much I care about you, right kid?'' he asks after taking a long drag from his cigarette, voice almost a whisper as he's sitting on the sofa of your living room while you laid next to him, head resting on the armrest and legs over his lap while his free hand slowly massages one of your bare feet. He stared at you, blinking slowly. The sudden of a question made you open your once closed eyes and perk your head up to look up at him with an innocent, confused stare. ''Well, certainly. I always have.'' you replied softly, giving him a reassuring smile before it vanished as soon as it appeared. You sensed that something was wrong. After all, why else would he ask this? ''Why do you ask?'' you continued, now scanning the expression on his face, despite the fact that he was a very hard man to read. He swallowed, but maintained eye contact. ''Nothin'. Just wanted to let you know how much I love you all over again.'' He knew he shouldn't lie to you- that he should tell you the truth about where all his money comes from, how his family got as powerful as it is, what kind of person he actually is. But it was too dangerous. Luckily for him, he was a good liar, an actor- if you may call it that. He grabbed the foot he was massaging and placed it near his lips before he kissed each one of your fingers in a slow, sensual manner. This made you relax and soon enough, you were resting once again, breathing calmly as you felt safe in his presence.

✶ gangster!rafe, who tries to stop by the flower shop every single day to say hello. No matter how busy he was, how much trouble he had gotten himself into, what kind of business he was doing that day, he never forgot about you. Ever.

✶ gangster!rafe, who likes to take you back to where the both of you had first met every once in a while. The place, in question, is les deus magots.

✶ gangster!rafe, who might be rough between the sheets, but is as gentle as he can be afterwards and makes your comfort his prime priority.

you let out quiet mews as he pounded into you, you legs wrapped around his hips as your plush breasts jiggled up and down in rhythm with his thrusts. Your plump lips remained parted as you felt out of breath, feeling an intense flutter in your tummy that only got stronger as his movements picked up a speed. It felt so good- too good, in fact. You couldn't help but let out some tears that started to run down your cheeks, eyes closed shut as you listened to his grunts. The bed was shaking, making the crackling sound echo through the bedroom.

''There you go, shhh, you're okay.'' he whispers soothingly as he plants a soft kiss on the side of your cheek, both of you laying inside the warm bathtub. There were scented candles on the bathroom countertops, The lights on the pastel green walls turned off in order to enhance the ambiance of the room. Your muscles finally relaxed, and you felt yourself slowly start drifting into sleep while one of Rafe's hands massaged your shoulders. He seems content, blue eyes full of emotion as he looks down at you, hot breath against your neck and tiny droplets of water landing on your back from his wet and messy hair.

✶ gangster!rafe, who lets you spend his money on whatever you want, no matter what. All you have to do is ask, and he'll give you some cash- no questions asked.

✶ gangster!rafe, who loves the way your eyes brighten up whenever you're at the park and you find a pretty flower. Who later takes it from your little hands and places it on your hair.

✶ gangster!rafe, who gifted you a puppy one day as a surprise .

''So, I got you a little something.'' he tells you while he held in front of you a rather large red box with a big white bow around it between his arms. His tone was blunt, his expression the same as always, yet he was lightly tapping his foot against the wooden floor of your home. You were confused, to say the least, But of course- you accepted it, quickly taking it from his hands- perfectly manicured nails gripping it tightly. It was heavy- very heavy. ''Oh! I wonder what it could be!!'' you said almost in a lyrical shriek, excitement in your voice as you sat down on your sofa, legs crossed while you placed it right next to you. Suddenly, it moved, and your widening eyes drifted from the package to Rafe. ''No...no.. gosh, Rafe don't tell me it's what I think it is'' you murmured, placing your hands over your mouth. You were met with silence. Of course he didn't answer. Instead, he just tilted his head, almost as if he was attempting to hide the sly grin that was beginning to form on his lips. Not being able to control your excitement any longer, you carefully opened the box, taking the upper part away and revealing what was inside. You gasped, and your pretty shrieks of happiness filled the room. Rafe Cameron had gifted you a cocker spaniel puppy. A real puppy- not a plushie. ''Oh my goodness.. oh my goodness! oh wow- I have no words!'' you ran up to him and hugged him tightly- maybe a little too much. The puppy trotted towards the both of you and barked happily. ''Glad to be makin' you happy, peach'' he said before gently taking your chin in his hand to make you look up at him before kissing you on the lips.

✶ gangster!rafe, who wouldn't admit it out loud, but sometimes thinks that maybe.. you really are 'the one' for him...

✶ a/n : GUYS GUYS I DID IT!! I know this is a bit short, but tbh.. I might write more about gangster!rafe in the future :) if anyone wants to request something with him you can feel free to do so too. I tried to include a little smut, but eh.. this was my first ever fic (if you could even call this a fic) so it's probably a bit...meh. Either way, I'm glad I finally finished it, and I hope it was enjoyable to read!!

✶ creds : @amariisflossy for the gangster!rafe idea, @dollywons for the second header

@sinisternymphette 2024

[lilasamaaa]

Wicked games | Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Genre | Fluff, some light angst.

Word count | 1.5K.

Warnings | Some sexual innuendos, reader playfully gaslighting Max.

Summary | You love Max, you really do. But there’s just something about your brother’s teammate… as a driver, of course. 

Author's note | This piece was requested! Thanks to the lovely anon who came up with the idea, I had so much fun writing it! This is shorter than what I usually write, but I wanted to keep this one light and fun :)

"Babe? Max's voice comes from the living room. "Are you ready to go?"

This weekend, it's the iconic Monaco Grand Prix, and you're delighted not to have to take a flight and endure jet lag from the other side of the world for once. Not that you're complaining about having the privilege to travel so much, but you understand what flight attendants mean when they say that flying makes you age prematurely. Before the bustling week begins and paralyzes the entire city, you, your brother, and Max had agreed to go eat lunch at your favorite place before the boys had to attend their pre-race press conference.

"I'm almost done," you shout back, placing bobby pins in your bun, when you hear the footsteps of your boyfriend approaching until they reach the door.

"We're..." Max starts before his gaze lands on you. "Oh, no, baby. There's no way you're wearing that."

You arch an eyebrow, observing your boyfriend in the large mirror of the bathroom.

"What's wrong with my outfit?" you ask, tilting your head.

"You're not really going to wear that, are you? Not while holding my hand?" Max replies, starring at your white tennis skirt and red Ferrari polo while you let out a hearty laugh.

"I might be your girlfriend, Max Verstappen, but I'm a Ferrari fan first and foremost. You knew this when you first asked me out."

"Of course I know, baby, but there's a difference between supporting Ferrari and... walking around with their colors on the street. With me."

"Are you playing territorial right now?" you ask, putting both hands on his chest, struggling to suppress your laughter.

"If you're so set on wearing red, why don't you try something more... Discreet? Like the red dress I brought you from Miami?"

"I'm wearing the polo, Max. It'll make Charles happy. And Carlos too," you add, winking at your boyfriend before walking towards the living room.

"Huh? What's the connection with Carlos?" Max asks, following you. "Is Carlos invited to the restaurant?"

Ever since Max and you started dating, several years ago, this has been your favorite game. Never gets old. You just love mentioning the Scuderia and its drivers. It's not that he hates the team, no, after all, as Sebastian once said, everyone's a Ferrari fan. But while Max understands your attachment to the team in relation with your brothers, there's one thing he finds less understandable... Your fascination with the other driver.

"You didn't tell me Carlos was coming," Max says again, still following around while you put on your jewelry.

"I didn't think it was important," you shrug, smirking.

Let it be clear : you don't feel anything for Carlos. No attraction whatsoever. But ever since the Spaniard joined the team and became a close friend of Charles, your relationship naturally developed to the point where today, you genuinely consider Carlos as a member of your family. You've even met his own, spent holidays with them, and you've crashed at Carlos' place multiple times before. Sometimes, when you need someone to talk to and Charles and Max are too biased, too closely involved with you to provide good insight, you call Carlos. The same way the driver always comes to you when he's got girls troubles. Yes, the two of you share a beautiful, tight bond. And knowing there's no ambiguity between the two of you (Max knows it too, deep down), you love driving your boyfriend crazy by mentioning Carlos.

"What's the matter, Max?" you ask, turning around, smiling at him.

"Look, I don't say anything when you sleep on his couch, or when you spend hours on the phone with his sisters. It doesn't even bother me when you check his results, and I surely didn't say anything when you celebrated his victory in Australia while my car was giving me hell," Max continues, gesturing with his hands. "But isn't this a bit much?"

"What is?"

"You said we were going out... As a family? Like, your brother, you and me?"

"Carlos is family," you reply, playing dumb.

"You..." Max starts, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, yeah. Whatever." your boyfriend says, throwing his hands in the air.

As Max and you arrive hand in hand in front of the restaurant where Charles and Carlos are waiting, you don't miss the look your brother gives you upon seeing you dressed in the red polo.

"You're fucking impossible," Charles mutters while kissing your cheek.

Once inside, as the four of you walk over to your table, you still see the opportunity to drive Max crazy by sitting across from Charles. Next to Carlos. Diagonally, your boyfriend watches you, eyebrows furrowed, a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

"Miami was so fun," you start, taking the menu.

"You and I must have a different definition of the word" Max says, rolling his eyes.

"Well, it's not so unpleasant to see someone else cross the finish line before you, for once," you reply teasingly.

"Like in Melbourne?" Max asks with an ironic smile.

"Like in Melbourne," you nod, winking at your boyfriend before turning your attention to the Spaniard. "You did so good, Carlos. I'll have you know that I was rooting for you from the start."

"Yeah," Charles interjects, rolling his eyes. "We know."

The table is engulfed in a heavy silence, and you enjoy yourself so much, your eyes sparkling mischievously.

"There's some tension in here, am I right?" Carlos asks after some time, looking at all three of you in turn.

"She's been bugging me about you all morning," Max replies, taking a sip of his coke. "She thinks it's funny."

"Why would you do that?" Carlos asks, looking at you, eyes wide. "You know he's going to push me off-track because of you, next time."

"You're better than them, that's all," you reply, eyes fixated on the menu in front of you. "They just can't admit it."

"Now, that's just nasty coming from my own sister," Charles says, laughing. "Take that back."

"Leave her to it," Max says to your brother, giving you a meaningful look. "She's decided to be bratty today. She knows it drives me crazy."

"We should all know less about each other," Carlos says before gesturing for the waiter to come over, while Charles tries to hide the red from his face with his menu.

The meal goes well, the false tensions easing over a succession of delicious dishes. But you're not done with your little game. Not yet. As the server clears your plates and refills your wine, you lean in towards Carlos.

"What dessert do you recommend? I'm in the mood for something sweet," you ask Carlos, fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

Across from you, your brother sighs, running a hand across his face, while Max stares at you in a way you know all too well. A look that tells you that once the two of you set foot back in your shared apartment, you're going to pay for your behavior. Big time. But for now, you don't care, leaning over Carlos' menu, your shoulders pressed together. The Spaniard is so innocent, so far from imagining that you're using him to lead your boyfriend exactly where you want him.

"Their crème brûlée is delicious," the driver replies mechanically, eyes still looming over the piece of paper.

"Crème brûlée it is, then," you reply, setting back in your chair. "I just love to make them crack," you finish, locking eyes with Max.

That's it. You're fucked. Max's usually clear eyes are dark with annoyance and desire. Feeling the heat in your lower belly, you lower your gaze, finding it hard to meet your boyfriend's eyes. You can't wait to get home, knowing that with the afternoon of interviews ahead of him, your boyfriend will have to suppress his desire until tonight, amplifying his frustration. After dessert, the four of you head to the cashier, where Max pays for everyone before leading you all outside.

Carlos gives you a quick hug before heading back to his car, promising to call you soon, knowing that the other two drivers will follow him in a few moments. Charles approaches you, and you throw yourself in his arms, pressing your nose against his neck.

"You've got to stop doing that," your brother mumbles playfully in your ear. "You're not the one who has to deal with his awful mood in the paddock afterward."

"He's just so easy to rile up," you say, as both of you let out a laugh.

Charles pinches your cheek before waving to Max and joining Carlos in his car. You find yourself facing Max and give him a radiant smile. Perfectly innocent.

"You're the worst," your boyfriend starts, crossing his arms against his chest.

"You just love me," you say, sticking out your tongue.

"I'm going to ruin you tonight," he concludes, pulling you towards him before kissing you passionately, his hands grazing your buttocks, barely covered by your short skirt. "Show you who's better than who."

"I can't wait," you mutter against his mouth, softly biting his lower lip before taking the keys from his car in the back pocket of his jeans.

"Can't wait," you repeat, watching your boyfriend walk away until he disappears into the backseat of Carlos' car.

[hairmetal666]

NSFW; Modern AU

Eddie feels like the luckiest man alive, that he gets to count Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley as his best friends, but he wasn't sure about it at first. No matter how often his new little sheepies praised Steve, Eddie remembered high school. He remembered the Steve that was a grade-A, top-choice asshole. But then--Robin comes out to him. And Steve knows. Steve knows and he's cool about it. So, Eddie comes out to them and Steve is cool about that too.

It fucks Eddie up a little, if he's being honest. Like, Steve, objectively, is hot, but Eddie's only ever been superficially attracted to him. He thinks the whole jock archetype just doesn't do a lot for him. Too much negativity attached to their whole thing. But he'd be lying if he said part of him isn't intrigued.

He doesn't develop a crush on Steve, though. Somehow, through all the charm and bitchiness and not-so-secret kindness, his heart remains unmoved. It must be the jock thing.

And then he's scrolling on Twitter. He's scrolling on Twitter and he's not looking for porn, not even in a "Oh no, I never look at porn on the internet" way, and there's this video.

The first thing he sees is the lowered waist band of a pair of 90's-style basketball shorts, Pacers logo just visible. Then it's the long fingers, the broad hands. They're skimming down a tanned, toned torso, not a six-pack but it's somehow sexier this way. Their path draws Eddie's eyes to the dot of moles, the spread of freckles. They're so kissable, Eddie's mouth waters. Those fingers, they linger against the trimmed thatch of dark hair just peaking out over the elastic, before pulling that waistband lower.

Eddie's hard. Rock hard. Fuck, he's so hard a wind gust could make him come.

The guy on screen, he's got his gorgeous dick in hand, giving himself slow strokes and thumbing at the tip to collect the obvious slickness beading there.

It's not really a decision when Eddie unzips and shoves his jeans just low enough to take himself in hand. On screen, the hand speeds up, the stomach shivering, breath coming in soft bursts, somehow almost more intoxicating than the jerking off.

Eddie times his strokes with the video, coming apart faster than he ever has watching porn. He can tell the guy is close, his grip goes tighter, his breath shorter. Eddie's about to go off like a fucking rocket.

The hand stills, the guy's cock fucking quivers, and he's ready for the money shot, will totally come at the same time, except--it doesn't happen.

The screen goes black.

Eddie comes all over himself.

"Fuck, shit, goddamnit," he hisses. He flails around trying to find something to clean himself up with and pause the video so he can read the fucking text.

As wiped up as he can be without showering, Eddie runs the video back a few seconds to see the words, "want the full experience? Subscribe to my OnlyFans."

He's never clicked a link so fast in his life. He's never really explored OnlyFans before, but he signs up for the free trial without a second thought.

The guy's username is KingJock016 and under usual circumstances, Eddie would be disgusted, but it's too late for that. He's already scrolling through thumbnails of hands and dicks and asses and butt plugs and dildos, pausing briefly at a preview of one where KingJock is bent at the waist, perfect ass--dotted with freckles-- framed by the bands of a jock strap. He's deliciously hairy, deliciously ripe, and Eddie is firming up again.

Without fully meaning to, he hits play, and the video starts with KingJock already rocking his cock into his fist. He's moaning in this one, full throated, almost desperate. And there's something about it, something that catches in Eddie's brain, but he can't focus on that when he's watching KingJock trace a finger around his own asshole.

It's insane that Eddie is this far gone without seeing the guy's face, that his toes are curling at the mere sight of KingJock fucking himself. The sounds are obscene, the slick and snap of skin on skin, the throaty moans, the creak of the bed as KingJock rocks into his fist and back onto his fingers.

Eddie's not even touching himself, and he's already standing at complete attention, a heady ache already starting in his balls.

And then KingJock flips his head back, revealing a shock of chestnut hair, the taut lines of a mole-kissed throat, the hard line of a jaw. One eye flashes open, looks directly at the camera, at Eddie.

It's fucking Steve Harrington.

Eddie comes all over himself again.

It's Steve. His best friend, Steve. His straight best friend. Making content clearly targeted for queer men? I mean, Eddie can't fault him. Like, nice work if you can get it, but Steve???

He hasn't done anything to clean up because his thoughts are spiraling too hard. How long has this been going on? Does Robin know? Should Eddie subscribe ? Leave a comment about how this video made him come untouched? Join a live? No, no, of course not. Steve was his real life friend. He couldn't hang out with him and then watch him fuck himself on a wall-mounted dildo.

He hits subscribe though. He'll hate himself for it later. It's only for the trial period, anyway.

He wipes himself off, but the come is already drying, sticky, against his skin and in his body hair. He needs a shower. He needs to practice being normal around Steve now that he--

Shit, Steve. They're going to the movies tonight. Steve's supposed to pick him up in, shit, fuck twenty minutes.

Eddie hurls himself into the shower, moves so quickly he doesn't really have time to think about Steve having an OnlyFans, about how hard he got off to his friend, about how he keeps having flashes of Steve's perfect body play through his head.

It's hard to ignore it when Steve is standing at his door in his form hugging jeans and little t-shirt and Eddie's done for, a dead man; here lies Eddie Munson. He's just standing in the doorway, smiling at Steve and he knows it's manic, but he can't slip it.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks. Eddie hears the words but all it does is remind him of KingJock's breathy moans.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He keeps smiling.

Steve's eyes narrow. He leans into Eddie's space. "Did you drop acid again? We told you not to do it alo--"

"I didn't! Nothing's wrong."

"Your face is all flushed. You feeling okay? You could have a fever."

Before Eddie can react, Steve's resting the back of his hand on his forehead. Eddie flinches, swatting Steve away, which devolves into a brief slap fight.

"I don't have a fever, man. I'm fine. Hot shower, is all."

"If you say so. Ready to get going?"

Eddie nods. He can totally do this. He can pretend he doesn't know about the OnlyFans and the face Steve makes when he's about to come.

The drive is quiet. Too quiet. He thinks his bones are trying to rip through his skin.

He starts talking, isn't even tracking what he's saying. Dnd and then suddenly it's hobbits and then Star Trek for reasons even he doesn't comprehend. He glances over at Steve, and he's burnished golden from the light of the setting sun. He's so beautiful. How did Eddie miss it all this time? Why did he--

"Get any new subscribers lately?" He hears come out of his mouth.

Steve slams on the breaks, sending Eddie careening into he dashboard.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck," Eddie shrieks. The car behind them lays on the horn, then speeds past when it's clear they aren't moving.

"Why are you saying what the fuck at me?" Steve hisses back. He hits the gas, pulling the car to the side of the road. "Eddie--what the fuck?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he chants. He hides his head in his hands. "I didn't mean to--I'm so fucking sorry."

"How'd you find it?"

Eddie snorts. "One of your videos showed up on my TL. That's the algorithm for you."

"Jesus christ," Steve mutters. "You weren't supposed to--it's--"

"What are you even doing, man?"

"My Family Video salary won't cut it, if we're moving to Indy."

"You're not even gay."

Steve mumbles something, but he's looking out the window and not at Eddie at all.

"What was that?"

"Maybe I am!" Steve doesn't shout, but it's forceful.

Eddie's mouth drops. "Does Robin know?"

Steve stares forward, hands tightening on the wheel.

"And you didn't tell me?" It hurts, he's surprised how much, so much it takes his breath.

"It wasn't like that, Ed."

"Oh, no? Then what was it like?"

"It doesn't matter."

"The fuck it doesn't! I'm the first person you should've come to! I know exactly what it's like."

"No, you don't." Steve explodes. "You don't because you made me realize. And I couldn't talk to you about it because I like you. And, yeah, maybe starting an OnlyFans as part of my gay awakening is weird to you, but it's done a lot for me, okay?"

Steve said a lot of stuff just there, a lot of important things, but Eddie's glitched out on one part. "You like...me?"

"Yeah, like. Have you met you?" Steve slumps in his seat, like he's defeated. "You're fucking beautiful, dude. And smart and funny and passionate. Nerdy as hell. I didn't stand a chance."

"But I'm--" Eddie shakes his head. "I mean, look at me."

"I have." Steve nods. "A lot. I really like what I see."

"When I realized it was you in those videos, I came all over myself. Untouched," Eddie blurts. He flushes deep crimson immediately. "Oh my god, I can't believe I just--"

Steve is laughing, hands pressed over his mouth.

"Shut up, shut up," Eddie swipes at him. "It's not funny, oh my god."

When Steve gets it together, he finally looks at Eddie, and there's pink in his cheeks and a shine to his eyes. "That might be the most gratifying thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Yeah, well. It was humiliating."

"It's hot, Eddie."

His blush hasn't cooled even a bit. "Yeah?" His voice comes out deep, husky.

"I wouldn't mind, uh--that is, if it's cool with you--seeing it for myself?"

Eddie giggles. "You wanna make me come untouched, sweetheart?"

Steve shifts in his seat. "I'd really like that. Will you let me?"

"Uh-huh, absolutely, definitely. If you don't put this car in drive and get us back to my place, I'm going to literally die."

Steve laughs again, a bright, free thing, and he swings back onto the road. "Not yet, you aren't."

That sends a shock of pleasant shivers down Eddie's spine, right to his dick.

"Maybe we can even make a video together sometime."

Eddie, much to his deep embarrassment, whines, hips shifting with the sudden need for relief. "Oh, you didn't want me to die before because this is how you're planning on killing me."

Steve turns to him, a smirk on his lips and a devilish glint in his eye. "You have no idea what I'm going to do to you."

[haerni]

OH MY GOD, “who is he? ”

summary: feels like you’re fallin’ deeper & maybe you’re going crazy, right? does he want you or not? he’s so confusing!

ft. park sunghoon (based on ‘OMG’ by newjeans!)

content: fem! reader, tooth-rotting fluff, a lil bit of hurt comfort, sunghoon is that confusing guy, mutual pining, reader is a bit embarrassing i think? sunoo your support system! 1.8k words

— very very minimal proofread and editing bc ive only done this in one sitting (help me).

( 🍃 ) notes: this took me so long omfgsbks but here we are with my very first content on this blog, please be nice TT sunghoon might be ooc saur.. theres that! can u tell i love sunoo, i have to sneak him in. maybe the story will jump for awhile so sorry for that also.

you've probably liked PARK SUNGHOON for almost half of your life.

ever since he sat with you at the swing from the park you used to go to when you were kids and offering his own comfort when you were crying on that day, to this day forward when he offers his shoulder for you to cry on.

he never questions the reasons behind your cries, he never pushes and all he does is sit there and offer you whispers of solace that you take to heart.

because your best friend wouldn't want the worst for you.

because all he does is care for you.

and maybe—just maybe—you hate him a little for it, for doing things that make your heart flutter, for simply just touching your hair and pulling you closer hoping that it will quell the sadness that consumes you. or when he would walk with you home after his practice despite being tired and run down to the bones, he would never miss a day. or when he would call you such sweet things like you are together when you aren't.

or when one time he heard through jay how someone was making passes on you and disgusting comments about you, he comes home with a bruised lip and wounded knuckles. he refused to let you see him, not until you forced your way to his room with the first aid kit his mother let you borrow, because he also wouldn't let her treat him.

or when you can't even pretend to be okay in the sea of bodies in a party and he notices right away. he drags you by your hand and drags you out of the party without a care for anyone. he only tells you that he hates the party and would rather eat out in a convenience store nearby.

he holds your hand tightly, you knew that night you loved park sunghoon more than you could ever imagine.

a decade into your friendship, you fell in love with your best friend, park sunghoon.

you did your best to hide it, to keep these emotions at bay and lock away into the very bottom of your heart. you swallow the bubbling feeling in your throat whenever he's close. you did your very best to preserve the relationship the both of you built together. even if all you wanted was just ruin it and become something more.

loving park sunghoon was easy, it was easy as the breeze that touched your hair, it was easy as falling into a routine of living and looking forward to days when he's with you. the prospect of loving sunghoon comes naturally and you don't know how to stop it. it just grows more everyday and suddenly you find yourself in garden of flowers blossoming in your heart, so much that's its starting to flow out little by little and you're slipping, you're heart is becoming unguarded, the walls you've spent all your life building is chipping away slowly.

it's becoming suffocating, it's hard to breathe around him.

the passing touches, the stolen glances and brief silence has been occurring more and more.

it's only a matter of time, before someone catches on. unfortunately, that time is right now.

"what's with you and sunghoon, lately?" your friend, sunoo asks, "did you guys have a fight?"

a second passes before you answer him, "we did not. why do you ask?"

sunoo sits closer to you and puts his face on his palm, "you have been avoiding him."

you stopped, "no, i'm not."

"it's lunch and you're sitting here with me in the library, working on an assignment that's not due until next week, when you usually never miss eating when he comes by our room to eat with you." he pointed out.

too specific. were you that predictable? and when you don't answer sunoo realizes something. when his eyes widen too much for your comfort that's when you interject from whatever train of thought he had.

"or maybe—"

"i don't know what you are talking about, sunoo."

"you're avoiding him.."

"i already told you, i'm not—!"

"sure, keep telling yourself that." sunoo snorts at that, "i know you like him and not how a best friend should."

you can't breathe again, you were absolutely done for. because sunoo was right, he got the answer right and you couldn't find it in yourself to quip back at him. you can't find it in yourself to deny and brush it off, because it's simply not real, it's not what your heart is telling you. maybe, that was your last straw.

maybe that was all it needed for you to let out your heart just for once and face the reality.

you don't want sunghoon as a best friend.

the realization hits harder when someone utters it out, because you have lived all your life hiding and suddenly, it pours out like rain after a long unending drought.

now here you are. in the porch of your house under the moonlight with you encased in sunghoon's arms, because you were stupid enough to go out and try to forget about him, to go see other people and hope that you can lose all these feelings you have for him. it didn't, maybe it never will. a boy, somehow he's the same height and stature as sunghoon it was enough for you to agree for a dinner out.

it was stupid to begin with. you didn't even know this guy's name (you can't even bother to remember). because while you sat there and tried to engage with him, your mind drifted far on how he does not have the same moles as sunghoon, he does not make you laugh like sunghoon does, maybe he would've took you out to that ramen place you always go to after a long day instead of this fancy restaurant that you don't even know. quite sure enough that guy only talked about himself, you didn't listen.

"so are we going?" he gives you an all-knowing smile and as you try to turn him down a voice comes in.

"she's not going with you." you look behind, and there he stands one hand in his pocket wearing a white button-up shirt that you haven't seen before, a cold gaze accompanying it and his hair done all too perfectly—like he was on a date.

"hey! who do you think you are?" sunghoon ignores him as he offers his hand to you. tilting his head in question. you did not hesitate to grab it. it's almost a curse for him to know when you need him the most.

you can feel the heat rising up in your body as he intertwines both of your hands and gives it a squeeze.

he brings you home, like how he promised your dad when you were sixteen.

you bite your lips in hopes of suppressing all the emotions running down on you. but you can't really do that in front of sunghoon, can you?

you broke down.

and sunghoon was there—it was enough. it was enough for everything to pour out.

"i'm tired, hoon." his arms tighten around you, burying his face to your hair, almost as if he's kissing it in comfort.

you're tired? is it because of that guy? should he beat him up? you wouldn't like it anyway, so he erase the thought. park sunghoon has never hated anyone more than that jerk right now. he curses that stupid guy who made you like this.

"i hate you park sunghoon."

"you don't mean that."

you don't.

"i really really hate you." you were probably the worst to utter such words to him. to your best friend, to sunghoon out of all people. but you can't stop. "you're so stupid, stupid."

it takes him back, he didn't expect for you to be mad at him. he's silent for a moment as he continues to hold you like you're going to disappear.

"how am i stupid, baby?" there he goes again with those stupid nicknames.

you refuse to look at him, burying your face to his nape. and when you don't answer he talks for you.

"do you hate me that much for you not to look at me?" you really hate park sunghoon.

he sighs at the lack of your response. he sighs before he turns his face closer to your ear, "what am i gonna do, baby? you hate me, but i like you so much."

what? what the fuck?

that makes you widen your eyes processing what he just said as you sit up straight and facing him. and it makes him laugh a little, he probably shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. not when you're this adorably looking at him like you can't believe it.

"don't joke about things like that park sunghoon!"

wow, using his government name? "you don't believe me?" you don't answer. "why do you think i came to that awful restaurant wearing this shirt?" you knew it was new, you've never seen him wear it.

"because you want to fit it?" you answer.

"that too," he laughs, "and because you didn't eat lunch with me, you didn't walk home with me. i heard from sunoo, that you were out with someone and you didn't dress up because of me. you were on a date and it wasn't me. you were avoiding me, baby."

he looks at you and it hurts because both of you are a fucking idiot. all this time, sunghoon liked you.

park sunghoon likes you.

"how long?" and you can't help it, you have to know.

he thinks for a second, "hm.. since when you were on that swing? i thought you were pretty." he smiles so easily.

oh my god.

you buried your face once more, not really knowing what to do, because for the longest time you thought you were the only one feeling this way.

but sunghoon understands, he continues to talk, "jay thinks i'm obsessed with you. he's not wrong, you know? you don't have to say anything right now, i know you're having a har—"

you kissed him. park sunghoon is really an idiot. how can you not like him? how can anyone not even like him? he's so stupid. sunghoon's eyes widen a bit, but melts into your touch as quickly.

god, was this really happening? please don't ever wake him up if this is a dream.

you pulled away for a breather and he reached for another one causing you to block his lips with your hand.

feeling the blood in your cheeks, flustered as sunghoon kisses your palm instead. his hand coming up to yours to remove it.

"can i kiss you again?" you were going to die, "please?" you're sure of it.

"no!"

sunghoon laughs at that. you can't feel it, but his cheeks are really hurting now from smiling. maybe one day you'll let him kiss you more, but for now this is enough.

he has loved you almost all of his life.

𖹭 likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! i hope he is not too out of character :')

[shysuccubusstuff]

zayne's bunny

Content: Established relationship, pet names (kinda corny?), consensual, non-proof reader (as always).

Note: This is based on the Heartfelt Paradise date in which he sort of calls the MC bunny.

A few minutes after you called him, Zayne appeared at the door, his face as calm as always, but his body language showed how he was a bit anxious after your friends had to call him, as you refused to move if he didn't go to pick you up. You suddenly felt how two strong arms took you, lifting you as if you were as light as a feather and making you a bit more dizzy.

"I'll take her home, sorry." Zayne lost no time, simply explaining how he was a childhood friend of yours, quickly leaving some of his own money on the table and leaving shortly after his arrival.

He got you on the passenger seat, allowing you to rest and putting a small blanket he had inside his car, almost chuckling at how you tried to clinge to his body heat.

"My cute girlfriend has turned into a little bunny?" He let a soft smile escape his lips, but he got focused and entered the car, driving towards your home while avoiding the traffic that was around that hour.

A few minutes later both of you had arrived to your house, once again, Zayne took your body in a bridal style, putting your password into the door and entering your house, closing the door before letting your soft body on top of your bed. He thought about changing your clothes, as you still had your formal clothes on, but as you hadn't done anything of that type, he simply opened the sheets, covering you with them. Just as he was about to get out of the room and perhaps sleep in the living room, your hand stopped him, your fingers tightly clinging to his shirt.

"What's the matter, darling?" He got close once again, his hand on top of your forehead, making sure that you didn't have any fever caused by the rain that had got both of you a bit wet (not enough to worry, but maybe your health was a bit weaker than his).

"Zayne...don't leave me..." Your words were sluggish, making you sound almost too cute to bear. He smiled, trying to get your grip to soften, as he knew he wouldn't have the heart to leave you after you begged him with such an alluring tone, almost making him way too weak for his taste.

"It's quite late at night, so both of us should rest a little, we can spend as much time together as you want tomorrow, it's that ok?" He tried to act as calm as possible, he knew you were still a bit drunk, so it was obviously not ok for him to do anything that you could regret the next morning. As soon as he got up, ready to leave the room he was pulled, making him fall on top of you. "(name)! Are you ok? You should be careful, I could have harmed you after falling on top of you." While he was complaining about your boldness and lack of self-awareness, you curled around him, your arms surrounding him and even having the nerve to get on top of him, cosying on his chest and smiling just like a small cat would do. He was about to complain once again, but he simply sighed, taking off his shoes and getting both of you on the bed, starting to dooze off as the time went on.

By the time you woke up, it was around five in the morning, suddenly feeling certain warmth under you, as you checked, you realized it was Zayne, who was still asleep, hair undone and his shirt with a few buttons open, allowing you to touch his bare chest. You were about to get out of the bed, but his hands stopped you, pulling you into his chest and whispering against your ear "Dear... why are you moving? You didn't move during the whole night but now you're all lively all of sudden? Are you trying to rile me up?" While he was saying that, you realized that there was something a bit too close to your lower half, you tried to move with even more agitation, causing his grip to strengthen and hearing him grunt.

"(name)... why are moving so much? Do you want to let go that badly? But you were the one that invited me to your bed." Zayne finally opened his eyes, locking eyes with each other.

"Zayne!... your thing is..." You tried to explain it, trying to get up and sitting on top of him, the face of Zayne reddened a bit, suddenly feeling his bulge even more prominent against you. Instead of what you expected, his grip changed, moving his cold hands to your hips and sending shivers all through your body. He got up, sitting in the bed and putting your foreheads together.

"Are you trying to test me...? I'm not made of ice, I hope you know that..." One of his hands moving his hand upwards, getting some of your hair out of your face and kissing your lips, bitting you a bit and making you whine, the heat starting to rise up.

"Zayne... I want to..." Your hands thrilled up his body, kissing his neck and collarbones his lips parting and allowing soft moans to leave his mouth. "No fair." As he said that, his hands got under your shirt, lifting it up and getting rid of it in the process and tossing it to the side. He made a trail if kisses, starting on your soft lips and moving until he reached your bare chest, almost causing you to melt on the spot. As he heard your pretty moans, he got even more euphoric, finally being able to touch your bare skin without any type of contemplation. His hands started to play with your nipples, caressing them without applying too much force and kissing them, giving them subtle nibbles, teasing you while his member was starting to grow bigger under you.

"Darling..." His deep voice resonated in your ear, almost making you whine from goosebumps that were caused just by his voice. While you wrapped your arms around his back, he got you up, switching your positions, allowing you to truly see the great size difference between both of you, as he was clearly towering over your frame. He lowered, kissing your soft lips and letting his hands run around your cushiony body. His hands finally reached your pants, slowly getting rid of them and throwing them just as he had done before with the rest of your clothes, he got his hands on your knees, opening your legs and seeing the wet patch that was easily perceived in your underwear. Your face flushed, causing you to try to close your legs, but Zayne kept them open, smiling as he saw your flushed face. He wasted no time, getting his face close to your underwear and peppering all over it, his hands slowly drifting towards your special place. His fingers moved your panties to the side, sending butterflies to your tummy, Zayne was already playing with your clit with his mouth, while his fingers were preparing your entrance, making your head feel as light as a feather.

"You look so pretty like this, baby, all open and ready for me. Be a good girl and stay still, yeah? I will take care of everything." His deep voice sending shivers down your spine, moulding your mind and cohering you into becoming his pretty girlfriend, always ready for him.

You felt how he entered you, the stretching being painfully slow, but when he was finally balls-deep into you, you couldn't help but let out a soft whine, hugging his broad back as you tried your best not to cum on the spot. He waited a bit, making small movements until he finally felt you were relaxing a bit, then he started to create a kind of rhythm, your eyes rolling to your skull, did sex ever feel that good?

Suddenly you were moved, his big hands took your sore body and putting you on top, his hands being wrapped around your waist. Just as you were about to complain, he moved you a little, using just a tiny bit of his strength, with this new position the tip of his dick was almost piercing your cervix, making you go dumb on top of him

"What's wrong, baby? I though bunnies loved to jump, that's why I changed you, can't handle it?" Zayne was looking at you, eyes hazy from the pleasure, his calloused hands moving you up and down, grinding you against his dick, making you mewl with tears falling down your cheeks, making you cum on the spot, digging your nails on hid shoulders and causing you to lose the poor strength you had left.

He smiled as he felt your body shiver, your cunt holding him even tighter than before. He caressed your head, making small circles in your hips as a way to make you melt, his arms making you feel completely safe.

[eternity-111]

A special little break time!

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Barbatos just can't seem to relax and take a break, fine. You'll have to do it in your own way. (AFAB x dom barbatos)

NSFW! minors scroll down ⊹

nsfw, blow job, tears, creampie 𖹭

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reblogs, likes are appreciated! If you see any grammar mistakes, feel free to tell me <3

You receive a message from the young Lord asking you a favor to help him convince Barbatos to get a break. He can't think of anyone else but you.

"I'm not exactly sure why Barbatos always follows your command, it is like your superpower! you can tell him to touch a rat and he will gladly do it" said Diavalo while giggling.

No really, it's so hard to convince him to take a break. Even when the young Lord himself told him to. His excuses are always "This is my duty" or "I'm your Butler". And technically you agreed to help Diavalo.

firstly, you open your phone and text Barbatos to meet you at the cafe.

"Is this something important? If not, I will not come." Barbatos replied to your text. But no, you won't give up that easily. You are determined that you can do it! so this time, you call him.

"Let's do something fun Barbatos! aren't you tired of working?"

"I'm honored that you asked me, but no. I am not tired since this is my duty to keep an eye on the young master."

ugh. why isn't he agreeing to go out with you? how dare he say no to you. He rarely says that!

"Fine! I'll come over there then. wait for me Barbatos!" although he declines any offer, you are still determined to get him to take a break.

you are now inside of the castle, trying to find Barbatos but since it's so big, you almost got lost! even though you have been visiting the castle almost every week, you still managed to get confused about the layout of the castle. It's pretty huge after all. Searching for him makes you exhausted and really thirsty. walking around that castle is like an exercise for you. So you head over to the kitchen to get something to drink, and that's when you find Barbatos. Washing the dishes.

"Barbatos! I'm so glad I found you" smiling when you finally found him.

"Why hello there Mc, you seem to be panting a lot. Are you okay?" Looking back at you while finishing up his duty.

"yeah I'm fine dont worry." you replied while grabbing yourself a drink. Not long after that, you head over to the counter where Barbatos is drying his hands off, Again.. Trying to get him off work but he simply declined. No matter what you do or what you say he just won't.

"pleaseeee..?? pretty please? I'll do anything for you to get off from work!" You said to him while holding his hands with a pout.

God, You look so fucking adorable and he can't resist you. He tried to not look down at you because you were wearing a tight-fit dress and he didn't want to get a boner while working. But he can't. Looking down at you with that face makes him want to just fuck you. I mean.. it's your plan after all. You know he can't resist you with that dress and that is why you wear it.

You took advantage of it, tip-toeing over for a light kiss, teasing him. Your lips were as soft as a cloud and he needed more. He holds your waist to let you know that he doesn't want your pretty, soft lips to leave. A soft moan slipped out of your mouth as a response. His kisses slowly go down, from your lips, chin, and then your neck. He was so gentle and soft.. Gosh, you started to feel hot, and.. he was hard too. You felt his pants hardened, it's like he's asking you to unzip his pants and just.. suck it all.

"Well, I maybe perhaps need a little break don't I? Could you take care of me darling?" looking seductively at you, he asked you to help him and you knew exactly what to do, you are a good girl after all.

"Don't worry, I'll help you." you look at him innocently but you know deep down, your intention is not as innocent as your eyes.

On your knees, you started to unzip his pants. His dick was so excited that it just bounce right out, twitching as if he was so impatient, waiting for your next move. He was in fact, impatient. He needs your pretty little mouth to suck him deep. but.. why are you not doing it? Being impatient, He grabbed your head and pushed you so deep into him. Eyes widened, you didn't expect him to make the first move. You were gasping for air.

"b-barbatos.. calm down!" you choked on his dick, taking his dick out of your mouth.

"take it back, I didn't allow you to take it out."

after calming yourself down, you started to suck his dick again. It's so big that you can feel it hitting the back of your throat. Moaning when it did. Looking at him with pathetic eyes while sucking his dick off, it's like you're asking for his approval. Are you good enough? or are you not? He didn't say anything so you thought he was not satisfied. So you position your hands on his hips, sucking him way more quicker this time and you heard him grunt. Is he finally satisfied?

"i-is this good enough?" you asked him. Moaning as you say so.

"Yes. You're so good at this. keep sucking me." head tilting back while breathing heavily. Finally! he's satisfied.

He felt that he is about to cum. he didn't want to choke you with his precious cum so he take his dick out and release it all over your face. breathing heavily and moaning as he did that. Your face was all ruined now aww :(. Some of it was in your cheeks, hair, eyes, and lips. You licked some of it off while he stroke his dick. You smiled at him, what a good little girl. He needs more of you. and I mean. more.

He helps you stand up and then he lifts one of your legs to the counter and the other is at his shoe. Kissing all over you while he did. He kisses you as his hands guide his dick to your entrance. You were so wet by now. He is teasing you with his dick and he knows you want it.

"Barbatos please..? please put it inside. I can't wait anymore." whining and wiggling your ass as you told him, Gosh you were so needy for him. And he gladly does it.

He covers your mouth with his hands and slowly puts it inside. Eyes rolling and moaning when he did, your cunt was so tight and wet.. making him moan. He begins to fuck you slowly at first but as time went on, he got faster and faster. nghh his dick feels so good inside you and as for your legs? it was shaking. You were whimpering and moaning so much that he had to put his fingers inside of your mouth to calm you.

He was breathing heavily too, sometimes squishing your ass or your boobs when you were too loud. His hips begin to go quicker and tears are rolling down your face as you tell him to slow down. he didn't listen of course. Feeling that both of you are at the edge. He circle your clit to make you feel more pleasure.. kissing your neck while he did so.

"h-ha! barbatos~!" Hearing that makes him go more faster and sooner, and you both release at the same time. Your body trembling when you release, but still trying to suck his dick even deeper so that no cum of his is wasted. I mean, who wouldn't? his dick always hits your G-spot after all.

Your body was so weak that you couldn't stand up anymore. trembling so bad that you have to sit on the floor. It's not your fault, after all, It's his!

"Barbatos...I-i can't stand up anymore." while breathing heavily and letting his cum go out of your pussy to the floor. such a waste :( but you really try not to let anything spill out but you just can't.

"Don't worry darling. Since you helped me relax, I'll take care of you next. Maybe I should ask Diavalo for more breaks so I can just fuck you again hm?"

[entropyvoid]

So anyway my hot take about the bit where Sunday is taking you on a guided tour through a dramatic play about the history of Penacony is that the confusion of him narrating over the story so you can’t parse what’s goin on is that it’s actually an EXCELLENT creative choice in interactive storytelling actually, because that whole scene isn’t really about Penacony’s past, present, or future, it’s about cult programming. Sunday’s goal is not for you to witness a dramatization of Penacony’s history and form your own thoughts and opinions about it, his goal is a last ditch effort to get you to share HIS specific perspective.

He talks over the story to tell you what’s happening, giving his conclusions from the get-go and sometimes even saying things that seem to directly contradict what he’s speaking over, but by the time you can even parse it, it’s gone and you’re left with little to do but move on. It’s overwhelming and makes it very difficult to form a coherent thought about it, much less a proper refutation to his arguments. It is a tactic intended to melt your brain and repeatedly hit it with a hammer of his view - the only reasonable view. So reasonable that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him that someone might have an opposing interpretation that’s logical, (more on this later,) he’s not open to new ideas, he is so completely and utterly set in his philosophy that he takes a chance in trying to hold your hand through it and explain it to you because he believes that if he just talks you through it, you’ll see the light. He is trying to convert others into to accepting the Order. Inducing mental exhaustion combined with repeating a specific philosophy, backed with an narrative to make it feel credible over and over again until your brain is too fried to do anything but accept if is a pretty common brainwashing tactic. For the devs to actually manage to induce that direct feeling in the players within the safety of fiction is actually a really impressive feat.

And he probably isn’t even really taking the specific approach he does consciously, rather, he is likely repeating some of the tactics that Gopher Wood put him through. Gopher, probably the closest thing Sunday had to a parental figure after his mother’s death, is an entity with no physical form that’s practically nigh omniscient and omnipresent within the dreamscape, is able to take over the bodies of anyone within the Oak family (possibly without their knowledge or without them remembering it?) and has been looking after Sunday from a young age. Firstly, we see them employing very similar (conversational? Argumentative?) styles. From the scene about the rehabilitated bird, we see Gopher giving a very scientific but ultimately leading explanation of natural selection (and the inherent cruelty of nature that Sunday heavily internalizes and repeats further down the line,) then poses a question that seems very open: what do you want to do about it? What do you want to do with this fucked up little fledgling that can’t fly? In his inner world, Sunday presents you with this, and several other personal experiences intended to lead you to a particular answer, then calmly asks you what decision you would’ve made in his place, in a way very reminiscent of how Gopher himself spoke to Sunday and Robin.

Sunday’s answer, to build a cage for the bird so it could live”no matter what,” happens to have aligned pretty well with the philosophies of the Order, and the quick unfortunate end the bird met when it was later released solidified his desire to protect via control, and proved to be a very formative experience for him. I think it’s highly plausible that this an early illustration of Sunday’s cult grooming already taking root, or at the very least, of Gopher fishing for a kid who’s open and susceptible to it. Gopher, seemingly being Sunday’s sole direct conspirator, is almost certainly the one who guided him on the path of worshipping the Order, while also making Sunday feel like it was his idea.

We don’t see too much in the way of interactions between Gopher and Sunday beyond that, so we’ll have to fill in the gaps - but Gopher is shown to be constantly watching over the schemes Sunday is involved in via possession of birds long before we actually learn who he is. He is always there, always watching, he can instantly overtake the will of others (so long as they’re in the Oak family - but that’s abt 1/5th of Penacony’s population and the group Sunday is a part of and thus most surrounded by,) and despite seeming very calm and reasonable, he’s clearly not above shutting people down through direct metal suppression if their questions start to pose any kind of a threat. When Welt’s questions became too direct and poignant, leading to him and Robin realizing that Gopher and Sunday were followers of Ena rather than Xipe, Gopher quickly commands Sunday to use his own mental suppression powers on them (since they’re both outside of Gopher’s control,) and Sunday does not hesitate. I have to wonder - how many times has Gopher potentially used this on Sunday, or any of the people around Sunday who got a little too close to presenting him with ideas that challenged the Order’s philosophy? It would not only be extremely easy for him to isolate Sunday intellectually while retaining his status as the sole voice of reason, but also likely, given that protection through control and domination is kind of the whole theme of the Order. (Or at least - Gopher and Sunday’s interpretation of it.) We can thus extrapolate that Gopher may’ve likely used other tactics of manipulation and control on Sunday that we haven’t seen, but which Sunday may imitate, such as in the segment with him narrating over the play about Penacony’s history.

And Sunday, clearly, is extremely isolated, long before he tres to pull his little stunt that ends in him as the lone awake person in an eternal dreamworld. Aside from Gopher, who can’t really be called on and only shows up when he feels like it, the only person he has to confide in is his sister Robin, but Sunday has long since internalized his whole “the strong protect the weak, and they protect the weak through control” bit to the extent that he tries very hard to shelter her from the things he sees as dangerous and painful. He doesn’t tell her about what happened to the bird (though she figured it out on her own anyway,) he doesn’t tell her a damn thing about his lil Ena cult, and he most certainly does not tell her about his doubts, his troubles, or the emotional weight of hearing about the worst of humanity (like that guy who sold his kids for a ticket) through the confessional booth day in and day out with a script that just says “Xipe forgives you.”

And Robin is, frankly, way stronger and smarter than her brother seems to give her any damn credit for. She’s left Penacony to tour the universe, and she headed into a warzone to help in the process, got shot in the throat, and kept singing after recovery. She’s experienced so much more of the universe than Sunday has, she’s had actual conversations with people about their problems that were not one-sided and driven by some sort of ulterior motive. She’s been the first to pick apart his faulty logic or catch on to him hiding something every time, (whether she mentions it in the moment or not,) she was the first to realize something was wrong and wake up in the end, and she ultimately rallied everyone to save her brother from himself. Had Sunday confided in her, talked about deeper life philosophies with her, shared his thoughts and feelings with her, not been isolated or isolated himself from her, treated her like she was just as strong as he was, things may have turned out very different.

Who’s really more sheltered? Robin, or her brother who tried to protect her from it all?

[mattluvsmarni]

Fishing

Matt sturniolo x reader

warnings & a/n: suggestive(??), cursing. I don’t think there’s any warnings really just something short and sweet💗

Matt chuckles at your sour face as he holds his hand out waiting for you to take it. "Come on it will be a good experience, this one was your idea anyways." 

you hate the noise your every step causes, but you're just relieved to finally be under shade.

You and Matt had created a bucket list during the summer and it was your pick to do one thing the other has never done before. So when Matt found out you've never been fishing before. He decided to take matters into his own hands and to teach you how to fish.

"OW" he yelped, that's when you noticed you went from gripping just the material of his shirt to digging your nails into his skin out of fear. "i've got you, you can chill''

"sorry" you say, smoothing your hand down the spot.

"isn't this where leeches and things like that are" you ask as you carefully start to scan the trail with your eyes.

"yeah..." he stops, pulling you back. "Wait I think..." he trails off staring into a spot, pretending he's seen something.

"Quit fooling around and take us where we need to go" you insist, tugging on his arm to move him.

-

After Matt's assured you that he's 99% sure leeches or any of these little bugs wouldn't get into your things, you start to set them down.

"WAIT I GOT ONE" he exclaims, hooking and reeling it back quickly 

He looks back to see if you’re watching from your squatted position only to lose it just as quickly "fuckk" he huffs out clicking his tounge “I almost had it too”

You break out into a fit of laughter at his genuine disappointment. He had the goal of catching 5 to the thought of just 1 being a maybe.

he acts out a walk of shame towards you

“no i saw it, don't worry” you try to encourage even if you can’t help the small laughs you let out. 

“Hahah funny” his voice monotone, but his face deceives him because it’s evident that he’s holding back the biggest smile

“Okay let’s see what you’ve got” he says motioning you to go over to him 

“Hopefully a lot better than whatever’s got you” you remark, as you walk towards him

Chuckling, he hooks an arm around your waist pulling you closer. 

“You’re gonna press this button as you pull it back” he steps aside to demonstrate. “And let it go as soon as it hits the water, alright?”

“Okay I think I’ve got” you say, but more so to yourself. Mirroring his exact actions, you press the button, pull the rod back, and pull it down towards the water. 

"nice cast!" he says, his face beaming. Your just as surprised that it actually landed instead of it getting stuck in your hair when you pulled back 

“Now reel it in” he reaches in beneath your arms and positions your hands correctly. “Nice and steady” he instructs, you can feel his hot breath on your neck brushing his fingers over yours as he hold them in place

“A little more speed so we don’t get hung up at the bottom” he leans in closer towards you as you subconsciously, but slightly tilt your head back. “But slow enough so that a fish can catch on.” His body is pressed directly behind your own, his leg in between yours for balance and you can feel your heart beating faster

You liked the way he made you feel, like you could do anything. Things you’ve never thought of doing and still end up enjoying it.

“Good girl, you’re already a natural” he whispers in your ear and you smiled as you took your bottom lip between your teeth

“You think so?” You ask looking up at him

“I know so” he’s smirking, until something starts tugging on the rod

"OKAY LOOK I think we got it!””look!” He says, practically shouting at you

"i'm looking!” You shout back 

He places his hand on yours helping you reel it back. You’d think this was a whale by how hard it is to pull it out 

"yeahh" you say smiling wide as you finally see the medium sized fish that fell for the bait 

He unhooks the fish from the rod "oh my god a long time coming fish" 

"can i hold him" 

"yeah here" pulling it off his finger for it to latch onto yours 

"im holding it, im holding it" you say, giggling, as you hold the fish inches away from yourself.

He laughs finding your excitement amusing 

“Nice” he praises, taking it to throw it back into the water

You go to squat next to him as you both watch it swim away.

[wrathofrats]

Mushy May Day 12- first time/ wound tending/first aid - zephrit.

Thanks to @forlorn-crows for the prompts and @gothdaddyissues for the divider!

Ifrit is stupid and Zeph just wants to bandage him up (and fuck him)

2.3k Featuring: homoerotic wound cleaning, idiots in love, zephs first time, first kiss too but-, I was only a little weird about blood, only a little I was good this time. But be warned there’s a couple sentences where I’m weird about blood. Also possessiveness. Also being weird about virginity. Did I mention that I promise this is fluff.

“Why didn’t you think to wear gloves!?” Zeph tried not to shout, gingerly looking for a place to grab Ifrits arm so they could drag him upstairs, “why didn’t you let go when it hurt!?”

Ifrit cradled his free hand into his chest, attempting to stop the bleeding with shirt. Both hands were covered in small pin pricks that oozed drops of blood down his skin as he attempted to keep it from dripping onto the floor.

“I didn’t know roses had thorns until I had already grabbed them” ifrit attempted to defend himself. The roses laid discarded with blood around their stems on the table for another ghoul to find later. “I’m fine I promise, I can go clean up myself”

It was a sweet gesture that Zephyr wishes they could have appreciated more if it wasn’t for the fact that ifrit had attempted to hand them the flowers while blood freshly streamed down his forearms.

“Absolutely not. I didn’t trust you to know how to tend to your injuries if you don’t even know that roses have thorns”

“Zeph I’m fine,” ifrit whined, trying to hide that he was wincing every time he had to move his hands. He was shoved through the door of zephyrs bathroom with a small growl telling him to sit on the side of the bathtub. Zephyr rummaged through the cabinet under their sink, pulling out gauze and tweezers.

Ifrit sat palms up on the lip of porcelain. There was a small feeling of embarrassment that bubbled in his chest watching zephyr almost angrily gather their supplies. He truly was fine, ifrit wasn’t known for having a low pain tolerance, and knew enough to keep the wounds from getting some kind of nasty infection, but it was the scared look in zephs eyes that allowed himself to be dragged behind the smaller ghoul and into their bathroom in order to be taken care of.

A warm wet washcloth brushed over ifrits hands, earning a hiss from him at the stinging sensation. He instinctively pulled his hands away as zephyr reached to pull them back into his lap so they could wipe the drying blood away.

“Shit- Zeph don’t you have numbing cream or something?” Ifrit winced, tugging once again against zephyrs grip on his wrists.

“I do, but then what will you have learned?”

“That you love and care for my well being and the fact that I’m in pain?”

Zeph snorted in response. They tried to hide the small smile on their face as they lay the scarlet stained cloth on the tub next to ifrit, reaching for the tweezers. There were still small bits of dirt and plant matter in his hands, enough that couldn’t simply be washed out with running water. Black asymmetrical specks littered his palms while ifrit took a deep breath to try and prepare for zephyr digging them out of his skin.

There was a tenderness in the way zephyr worked. Knelt in front of ifrit with his large hands practically taking up both of their own, to cradle them and delicately pluck the splinters from his skin. Ifrit was easily twice their size. Broad and tall, cowered on the side of a porcelain tub while zephyr, who could easily be engulfed by his frame, had him making himself appear smaller for them to work on.

Ifrit couldn’t help but breathe heavily and grunt whenever zephyr dug out the deeper pieces. His skin was tender and raw from the cleaning, and every poke of the metal tweezers felt like another stab into his hand.

“You have to be almost done right?” Ifrit asked, jumping again from another poke.

“If you’d stay still this would go a lot faster ifs”

A part of zephyr didn’t want to admit to themself that they were absolutely drawing it out a bit. It’s not often they got the fire ghoul in such a vulnerable position. They tried to make their heart still everytime they had to look up at him. His sweet smiling face staring back down even if he was in pain. Only the word beautiful came to their mind whenever ifrit would look at Zeph in reassurance that he actually was ok.

It didn’t help that ifrit was making noises that had zephyr blushing like an idiot.

Small whines and grunts that could easily be taken for moans fell from his lips as zephyr spread the neosporin over the cleaned wounds. He’s sweet, stupid, but sweet and hearing him make such pretty noises has zephyr about to rip through their own skin to get on top of him. The way he looked down at Zeph through hooded eyes, softly whimpering, was truly more than they could bear.

The lewd sounds only got louder as Zeph wrapped his hands in gauze. It almost sounded on purpose, the painful edge lessening with every moan.

Finally zephyr stood up to look him in the eye. Their arms crossed, a frustrated red tint to their cheeks while ifrit gave them a shit eating grin. It was hard not to get lost in his eyes, no matter how distressed they were with the current situation. A warm orange red hue, like he contained the sun in his eyes himself. They were kind in nature, comforting and safe. Streaks of magma danced in his irises.

“You’re cute when you blush wisp.” Ifrit muttered, giving a quick glance down to their lips, before returning their eye contact.

This could feel the heat radiate off of him, hear how his breathing hadn’t slowed down even though Zeph had long since bandaged him up.

“Shut up”

Zephyr leaned into ifrit, using their arms to steady themself on the tub, before encapsulating his lips with theirs. They could feel ifrit smile into it, as if this was somehow his masterful plan all along. The motions were almost too easy as if they had been ingrained in both of them all along, fated to end up like this.

Their movements feel slow and sweet like molasses. Only opening their mouths to quickly take a gasp of air before diving back in for more. Ifrit grabbed at zephyrs shirt first, using the fabric as leverage to stand up and pull them closer. An air of passion surrounds them, like they’d die if they ever had to stop touching each other.

Ifrit carded a bandaged hand through zephyrs hair, tugging lightly at the white and gray strands. He bit along their lip as he backed them up into the sink, using the newfound control to lick into their mouth as they gasped with the sharp pin prick of pain in their scalp. Unconsciously ifrit moved his leg in between zephyrs, pressing onto their rapidly hardening cock through their jeans.

“Wait- Zeph, '' ifrit panted, pulling away to take a chance to catch his own breath, “is this what you want? Are you sure?

“I’m sure, please ifrit” zephyr pleaded. They already looked a mess, hair sticking up in all directions with kiss swollen lips.

“This is your first right? I just don’t want to-“

“If you don’t fuck me right now I will put the thorns back in your hands”

The message was received loud and clear as ifrit took his turn to drag zephyr wherever he wanted them to go. He pushed them onto their bed, taking a second to take in the image of the air ghoul beneath him.

The usually grumpy and semi aloof nature completely drained in favor of a look of desperation and want. The usual upkeep now turned disheveled in ifrits wake. If ifrit thought that Zeph wouldn’t tear him to shreds he would’ve taken a picture so that he could savor it for a lifetime.

“Is there something wrong?” Zephyr asked, brow furrowed in confusion as to why ifrit hadn’t climbed onto them already.

“I just think you’re beautiful Zeph”

Ifrit straddled zephyrs waist, leaning down to kiss them once again, just to savor the taste of their lips. A mix of mint and his own spice from moments ago. Large hands tugged at zephyrs clothing. It’s meant as a suggestion, only if zephyr wanted to actually expose themself for him.

Ifrit wants to be a gentleman so badly, to go slow and take care of zephyr like they did for him. Soft touches and careful looks to ensure that they still look needy and not like they had changed their mind at any point.

“Wait ifrit your hands-“ Zeph struggled as ifrit reached to palm at the front of their jeans. “Shit- you really shouldn’t-“

“Let me do this for you darling, I can handle a little pain”

Zephyr could see the blood seeping through the bandages as ifrit looked for permission to undress them. It was dizzying, a weird arousing fear at watching him remove their clothing with blood soaked palms. If all the blood from their brain wasn’t currently aching in their cock they probably would’ve made him stop so they could patch him back up again, but with the hungry look in ifrits eyes as he admired zephyrs naked body, they couldn’t bring themself to care.

“Am I the first that gets to see you like this wisp?” Ifrit rubbed his hands over zephyrs exposed thighs, pushing them up and open for himself to admire. “Am I the first that you’ve allowed to touch you properly?”

“Let me see you ifrit come on, don’t tease me” zephyr whined. They threw their hands over their face in an attempt to hide their blush.

“Relax, I’ll take care of you Angel”

Zephyr opened their eyes to watch ifrit undress in front of them. Slow with a bit of a cocky smirk like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Zeph. Miles of toned muscle beneath his shirt, just leaving on a chain necklace he rarely takes off. Zephyr could drool at the sight of it if they had any less dignity at the moment.

They gasped when ifrit finally unbuckled and shimmed out of his pants. He was big, a lot larger than anything Zeph had ever put inside themself. Their own cock twitched on their stomach the thought of ifrit being inside them.

“You seriously just had that with you?”

Ifrit had reached into the pocket of their discarded jeans to pull out a small bottle of lube, beaming at zephyr’s obvious distress at knowing this information.

“You never know when you’ll need it” he laughed

He dispensed a small dime size amount onto the tips of his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up while he settled between zephyrs legs once again. Their thighs moved out of the way instinctively, giving room for ifrit to smear some of the lube around their rim.

“Gonna go slow, let me know if anything feels bad”

Zephyr almost whimpered in pure anticipation when ifrit finally pushed two fingers into their hole, giving them a second in case they needed to adjust, before slowly pumping them in and out in an attempt to work them open. Ifrit littered kisses alone zephs pale skin, worshiping any place on their body that he could reach. He had never seen zephyr so vulnerable. Completely spread out, almost begging for what they want, all just for him and no one else.

“You can give me more ifs, stretch me out wildfire”

“ Don’t want to hurt you” ifrit pulled his fingers out to add a third, slowly letting zephyrs hole stretch around them. It was a bit awkward as ifrit attempted to work around the bandages on his hands, but watching Zeph practically writhe around his fingers was reward enough for the bit of pain.

“You’re not going to hurt me, but I will hurt you if you don’t fuck me already” zephyr grumbled, thrusting their hips down to try and fuck themself on his hand.

“Just can’t wait for me to claim you huh? Mold you around my cock before anyone else can?” He practically growled, shoving zephyrs thighs up higher in order to line his cock up.

“Make me yours ifrit”

It took all of ifrits self control to not immediately shove his cock in zephyr at their words. He tried to go slow, watching as zephyrs mouth fell open and their eyes screwed shut at just the tip. They were fucking tight, warm and wet and perfect.

A high pitched whine escaped Zephyr's throat once ifrit bottomed out. They had never felt so full, there was a painful pleasure in the stretch as Zeph tried to breath and adjust to his size. Ifrit trailed more small kisses along their torso, waiting for a sign that they were alright.

“Move” Zeph whimpered. Ifrit rocked into them slowly, taking his time to really watch his air ghoul come undone beneath him. Zephyrs hands flew to claw at Ifrits back as he started moving in earnest, digging their nails in while their vision went blurry at the edges.

“Shit- ifrit fuck touch me please” their voice shook as they begged. Ifrit slipped his hand between their bodies to grab at zephyrs cock, stroking it in time with his own thrusts. They were wet, tip sticky with the pre that had dribbed down their shaft and onto their stomach. A pretty pool of arousal on their skin.

“Doing so well for me wisp, so fucking beautiful underneath me”

“Close” Zephyr gasped, attempting to rock their hips up into ifrits hand. A warm desperate feeling radiated through their stomach, tears forming on the tips of their eyelashes.

“Cum for me darling”

[foxgloveprincess]

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Summary: Dr. Rogers has a problem.

Word Count: 1,308

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: Dark (Soft Dark), Bets/Wagers, Medical Themes, Smut (implied Masturbation, Video Recording with Dubious Consent, Fingering, Squirting), Infatuation, Obssessive Behavior, Possessiveness, Yandere Vibes. Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: While he’s happy to make house calls, Dr. Rogers works mainly in his clinic. Like Breakable Girls, this is a side story for A.W.A. that I wanted to peek into and I can’t guarantee any more parts. But Enjoy!

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics. 

This is unBeta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

“Good morning Dr. Rogers,” follows him down the hallway to his office. Sweet, sincere. The new receptionist not too distracted by work to greet him with a smile. The most adorable thing he’d ever seen. By the time the door locks behind him, he’s hard as steel and aching for relief. Just the thought of his new girl laid out on his exam table enough to take him right to the edge.

He grumbles to himself and sits at his desk, grabbing a towel and some lotion from the bottom drawer and taking care of business.

An hour of paperwork later, a soft knock interrupts the quiet.

“Dr. Rogers, Mrs. Carter is ready for you.”

That voice. Again. His cock twitches and he has to direct his mind back to the matter at hand. Zipping himself up, he stands and opens the door to find you. So innocent and kind. The ways he could ruin you.

“I sent her file to the computer,” you say, oblivious to what your voice does to him. “And I had her strip under her gown, so there shouldn’t be anything obstructing the exam, just like you asked.”

“Thank you,” he replies, compelled to reach out a brush his fingers over your shoulder. At your questioning look, he merely says, “lint,” before turning toward exam room 4.

Mrs. Carter waits for him on his exam table. She grips the bottom of her gown in tight fists, ready at a moment’s notice to hitch it up to her waist. But her expression remains cool and collected, almost aloof. He swallows a sigh.

You wouldn’t act like that. Not for him.

“Mrs. Carter,” he greets, tossing his white coat aside and sitting on the rolling stool, “it says you’re here for a pelvic exam.” His sleeves roll up his forearms, her eyes lock on each inch of revealed skin. “Have you noticed anything different or out of the ordinary?”

“Yes, doctor,” she purrs. Mrs. Carter leans her body back and spreads her legs, ready for the stirrups, eager. “I’ve noticed some tingling that I can’t quite explain and some discharge.”

Steve hums, lip pressing together to suppress a frustrated sigh. Such an inane dialogue, one repeated for every yearly check up and ever monthly ‘emergency’. A dialogue indicating she’s all ready for him. Under his control. Trusting him to do whatever he wants. So he does.

Feet in the stirrups. Gloves snapping onto his hands. Lube uncapped and dripping. Set before his subject. He begins his work. Prying her apart with the speculum to take his samples. Listening for the gasping hitch in her breath as the tool opens. He craves it. To know their pain. To soothe them after.

His thoughts drift to you. How would he play with you? Break down your walls until you crumble. Build you back up. Would he even need to? A girl as sweet and soft as you? Maybe you’d melt for him.

“Doctor?” Mrs. Carter gasps, nails digging into the flimsy medical paper covering her seat. High pitched and whining, close to her release.

You distracted him. He can’t have that. His attention turns back to the labia before him. Plump and sensitive. His fingers poking and prodding her vaginal canal until he finds the Gräfenberg spot. Her whole body tenses, her breath hitches. He curls his fingers against that slightly spongy texture inside, hoping to further his research. His chin tilts to the camera and he nods, an indication for later. A timestamp. To document his findings in this appointment.

It doesn’t take long. The muscle contracting and her body straining. The stimulation prompting female ejaculation. It spray out and coats his shirt. From the nearby table, he grabs his specimen cup, catching as much as he can to study. He must be thorough.

Mrs. Carter’s chest heaves with her breath. Deep lungfuls trying to revive her sense of reality. Her legs twitch. He makes a mental note. Like previous appointments, her labia minora pulses with her heartbeat. He’s pleased with the consistency.

His thoughts drift back to you. Would you fit his standards? No—you’d exceed them. The perfect subject to test and analyze. He could spend hours with you. Documenting each reaction, each sensation. Finally find the answers to all his hypotheses.

The gloves rip when he pulls them off his hands. Mrs. Carter tilts her head up, a question in her eyes.

“Are-are we done already?”

“I’ve taken all I need,” he replies, curt and a little too gruff.

She recoils, nodding and pulling her legs from the stirrups. Clutching the gown closed, she shifts, the paper sticking to the wetness on her upper thighs. She doesn’t meet his eye.

“Once you’re redressed, you may go. You know the way out.”

Steve turns and exits the room. Steps sharp in the hallway. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—complete their usual appointment. You filled his thoughts too full. His body unresponsive to the usual stimuli. He didn’t even experience the slightest tumescence with Mrs. Carter. Unacceptable.

He stops short, almost to his office. You’re there, leaning against the wall, his colleague by your side. Chatting, merry. A deep, possessive instinct sparks to life. Wanting to grab you, snatch and bundle you away from all prying eyes. He tamps it down with the thin, fraying threads of logic left to him.

And like a magnet finding its mate, your gaze turns to notice him.

“Dr. Rogers,” you greet, smile sunny and bright. “Dr. Kemp was just telling me about your research.”

“Was he?” He turns to his colleague, a suspicious furrow to his brow.

“I didn’t think you’d be done with your appointment yet. Mrs. Carter give you the results you need?” Steve Kemp asks, brow cocked in a smarmy sort of gibe.

“Everything went according to plan.”

Kemp hums, smile breaking over his features. “Always the man with the plan.”

You shift on your feet and pipe up, “Well, I should go back to man the front desk. Just in case someone’s early for an appointment or the phone rings.” You duck out of the hallway toward the waiting room.

The door to room 4 slams, heels clicking brisk and clear toward the exit.

“Doesn’t sound too happy to me,” Kemp chuckles. His hands shove in his pockets, hips thrusting forward subtly. “Able to give her the full treatment?”

“No.” The growl in Steve’s voice grates against his throat, an aftertaste of frustration lingers on his tongue. “I was distracted.”

Kemp puffs out a lengthy breath of air. “I know what you mean. What were we thinking, hiring a sweetheart like her?”

“We were thinking she was qualified and interviewed well over the phone.”

“Well, I’m having a hard time keeping it in my pants,” Kemp confesses before nodding toward Roger’s trousers. “Looks like you, too.”

Rogers adjusts himself and grunts.

“I mean,” Kemp continues, a taunting jab lacing his words, “I guess that doesn’t matter as long as we do our jobs.”

“I can do my job,” Rogers snaps, glare fierce toward his colleague and long-time friend. “I have it under control.”

“If you say so,” Kemp challenges. He steps away from the wall, hand extending from his pocket to shake. “How about a little wager, then? One month and the most orgasms gets her first.”

Rogers contemplates a moment, already knowing he’ll take the bet. Of course he will. “Just the patients,” he asks, “or do others count?”

Kemp’s fingers flex, folding toward a fist as he thinks. His head tilts. “It has to be documented,” he finally says, clicking his teeth, “and it should be in the clinic only. To make it fair. And we are allowed to try to win her over for ourselves first. Whoever does it quickest gets bonus points.”

Rogers shoves his hand in Kemp’s without another thought.

“Deal.”

[whumpsoda]

Seeing Me in You - Part 1 Delivery

Wrote this on a whim :3 pretty short but who caresssss… might write more??? Might also delete later

cw: pet whump, threat of recapture, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, institutionalized slavery

——————

He shouldn’t have opened the door. Checked the peephole at the very least, as if that would have done him any good.

He could never have escaped them.

August stared ahead into the corridor of his apartment building, jaw falling slack as his mouth went wide and eyes stuck agape. A lump formed quick in his throat, tightly wound with sick acid burning a hole through his neck. His organs flipped and churned over one another, brain filling with flooding nausea.

WRU employees. At his house. August was going to be sick.

Were they speaking? Their voices reduced to a muffle inside his mind, hearing going blank. An itching sensation flared over his arm, just the spot where his tattoo was carefully shielded by his sweater. He lifted a hand to scratch at his throat, the place where a cheap collar had once sat and rubbed around his neck. The memories stung, yet not worse than the sight of such specific uniforms.

No, this was much worse.

His pulse was quickening my the second, heart beating in and out of his chest. He couldn’t breath. Warm, thick bile was slithering it’s way up from his stomach, twisting his insides in contorted knots.

They found him. After so long of comfort and faux personhood, they had found him. Come for him even, to take him back as their property. To refurbish him. To sell him and beat him back into shape, and to train him yet again-

Before August could so much as collect his scattered, bleeding thoughts of past horrors and tortures, one of the employee’s lips parted. “Would you like us to bring it inside? Or leave it here?” He muttered, so casual August almost couldn’t digest his words.

August, body filling ever so carefully with disbelief and panic, trailed his vision down to his feet where his eyes stopped. A large, nearly-fit-for-a-human sized box sat at the workers’ feet. He knew that box well. Very well. He’d been inside that box.

They weren’t here for him.

August could have jumped and squealed from a mixture of terror and joy that he was still safe, never to be recaptured and refurbished. At least, not yet, anyway. But there was a boxie in the process of a delivery at his apartment doorstep.

How could that be? How? What disgustingly cruel, rich asshole’s boxie was sitting inches away from him? Just waiting to be claimed as his own? And why?

His mouth moved swift beyond his own accord, mind gradually catching up with his quivering lips. “You… um, you can leave them there.” August croaked out, voice meek and continuing to waver no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“‘Kay.” He shrugged, and that was that.

They didn’t suspect a thing. No idea they dropped the order to the wrong person, let alone a former boxie. How impossibly lucky for the poor thing. August could barely believe it himself.

He watched with intense focus as the two employees calmly and quickly left, keeping an intense eye on them just until they finally turned the corner. As if at the last moment they would realize their mistake, and either take the boy back, or end up taking him as well.

Careful and terrified, as soon as he heard the pitter patter of their steps dissipate, he turned to the box.

August, still standing rigid in the doorway, with intense fascination trailed his vision over each and every little ridge of wood and nails, eager yet terrified to open it. He swallowed, thick and juicy saliva that rolled it’s way down his throat.

What just happened?

—————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

My Home Is You Part 3/3

A/N: Thank you so much for everyone that has read the first two parts and left a comment or some type of feedback. I really appreciate all of it.

Thank you to @kingliam2019 for requesting.

Thank you to: @jellybeanstacey0519 & @mrsyixingunicorn10 @peyton-warren @affabletimelady @arctickat2400 @luftmenchz @mrsevans90 for commenting and leaving feedback! :D

Fandom: The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare

Pairing: Gus March-Phillips x Female Reader (she/her)

Warnings: 18+ for language, Nazi's, canon typical violence, possible spoilers for the movie, and mentions of sexual assault.

Part One Part Two

There is no time to bring up what Gus said with the mission looming so close, and in the morning as the sun streams through the gaps in the wood, you observe the man beside you. He looks so peaceful in sleep and you run your finger over his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before you go to climb out of bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he grumbles sleepily pulling you back into his arms and pressing his cheek to your own.

“I wanted to make a cup of tea,” you giggle, leaning back in his arms and turning your head to kiss him, “but someone won’t allow me.”

“That’s right,” he nods giving a little hmph, “I’m the mean old man who keeps you trapped in his bed, so he can have his wicked way with you. No tea for you, darling, just debauchery day and night.” He gives out a fake laugh like the Wicked Witch from that Wizard of Oz movie.

“Gus!” you shout, laughing when tickles your side with a laugh. He stops, keeping you close as you catch your breaths. “You’re ridiculous,” you chastise playfully.

“Ah yes,” he agrees with a smile, “but that’s why you love me.” You tense in his arms and he rubs his hands up and down your own, “what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you let out an awkward chuckle, “I just need to use the ladies room.” He lets you go with a raised brow as you almost trip over yourself trying to get away.

When you’re alone, you lean against the wall and take a deep breath. Everything he said the night before comes back and you give a soft smile realizing that yes, that is why you love him. The man who liberated you from a living hell twenty-three days prior, who held you through your nightmares, that taught you how to shoot, and make you laugh till you cried. Fuck, you loved Gus with all of your heart. But now was not the time to make such declarations. Not when the fate of the British Empire was at stake.

“You alright, my little Tiger,” you nearly jump out of your skin as Anders comes to lean against the wall beside you. “You seem to be deep in thought.”

“No,” you shake your head with a sigh, “no deep thoughts. I’ve just come to a realization.”

“Do you care to share it with ze rest of the class?” he smiles sitting down on a barrel and patting the spot beside him.

You sink into the seat with a sigh, “I love Gus.”

“Yes,” he nods, “we know. Now what is the realization?”

“That was the realization,” you gape at him, “what do you mean, we know?”

“Oh, it’s obvious, both of you are madly in love with the other.”

“Gus loves me?” you wrap your arms around your waist and lean back, looking at the sea repeating the words back to yourself, “he loves me.”

“The first night we met,” Anders grabs your hand and holds it gently, “Freddy told us that Gus looks at you like he just realized what love was. We live a life filled with blood and death at every corner but somehow in all that mess, you found each other. A love like that does not come every day. But when it does, you need to seize it my little tigress, seize it, and don’t let it go.”

Tears stream down your cheeks and he squeezes your hand and leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead before walking away leaving you with your thoughts. Neither of you notice the figure in the corner. Gus clenches his fist and glances away before marching back below deck to prepare for the meeting with Heron.

The rest of the day passes steadily by and you drop anchor just as the sun begins to set on the coordinates. You’d spent the day tucked away, watching the sea go by as you thought of Gus and how the hell you were supposed to tell him you loved him when he might die the following day. “Someone’s coming,” Henry shouts, and you stand, taking unsteady steps as the pins and needles attack your legs.

Gus stands at the front, his shoulders drawn tight and you move to stand beside him. He quickly glances down at you, his jaw clenched before he looks away. You shrink back from him falling into place beside Apple. He looks between you both with a raised brow. But you don’t have an answer for the icy treatment from the man who's been nothing but kind since the beginning.

“Heron my old pal,” Gus grins, reaching across the two boats to shake his hand.

“Gus,” Heron replies, “may I introduce the Prince of Fernando Po, Kambili Kalu.”

“Don’t I know you from somewhere,” Gus puts a finger to his chin, “I could have sworn I’ve seen you before. Perhaps…do you play cricket?”

“I used to, at Eaton,” Bili poses and Gus laughs.

“Yes! I knew it, I remember seeing your portrait in the hall. Great to have you aboard old chap.”

“Glad to be of service. These Germans, they’re bad for business. I heard you could use a few more men,” he shouts something in another language and men come pouring out of every crevice of the tugboat. “Fourteen of my best men.”

“We have additional weapons,” Gus turns going to help Freddy hand over a box when Bili raises a hand with a laugh.

“I think we’re covered. You might want to borrow some of ours.” Bili shouts and the covers unveil an arsenal of weapons and bombs.

“Jolly good,” Gus grins, putting his hands on his hips. “Let’s get everything moved around and discuss the plan before it gets much later.” He turns back to you and the boys and gives the order, everyone moving to do a job but you.

“Gus,” you step towards him but he turns back towards the front of the boat to pull out the map laying it down on the small table. Heron comes aboard and pauses giving you a raised brow when you quickly say your name, “The boys found me with Appleyard.”

“Ah,” he nods, “well glad to have you with us, miss. Marjorie, my associate will be glad to have another woman around for company.”

“Where is she now?” you ask looking around, “did you bring her with you?”

“Oh no,” he shakes his head, “she is getting ready for the party tonight at my Casino. Her mission is different from our own I’m afraid. But we all have the same goal.”

“I see, well I look forward to meeting her when this is all said and done.”

He smiles, shaking your hand, “I’ll be happy to see you again, miss.”

“Heron!” Gus shouts, looking over at you but not keeping contact, “Come on. We have work to do, you can smile at the pretty girl later.”

That does it. “What the hell is your problem?” you shout, putting your hands on your hips. The rest of the men fall silent looking between the two of you. “What did I do wrong, Gus?”

“Nothing,” he lets out a tired sigh, “you did nothing wrong. It’s me that should be sorry.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” you throw your arms up exasperated.

“I shouldn’t have pursued you, made you uncomfortable when all you wanted was Lassen.” Gus drops his shoulders, “it was wrong of me. You can move bunks and we never have to talk abo-”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Gus freezes watching you step over the ropes and boxes that litter the deck. “No seriously, did you hit your head?” You reach him, putting your hands over his head feeling for a bump.

“Uhm, no,” he grabs your wrists gently, lowering them back down. “I saw you two together.”

“What did you see? Hmm? What is it that you saw between me and Lassen that made you think I would be in love with anyone but you?” His eyes go wide but you’re on a roll, “and for that matter, when something is bothering you, you talk to me. You don’t ignore me and sulk like a child, do you understand me-”

He puts a hand to your mouth with a grin, “sorry darling, but could you repeat that last part?”

“Get off me,” you push his hand down, “what did you see between Lassen and I that would give the impression that I wanted to be with him?”

“That’s not what you said,” he frowns.

“Tell me!”

“I saw him kiss you on the forehead and hold your hand!” Gus shouts pointing back at Lassen.

“He was comforting me because I realized I was in love with YOU, you idiot!” Gus freezes, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“You said it again,” he grins, cupping your cheeks, “you said you love me.”

“I do, you buffoon,” you say quietly, “I do love you, Gus. I just didn’t know how to tell you and then Lassen talked to me and I was planning to do it but you ignored me. You hurt me, Gus.”

“Darling,” he runs his thumb over your cheek, brushing away a stray tear, “Darling, please don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you. I was hurting, thinking you were choosing Lassen over me. God, I love you so much, woman. You are my sun and stars and everything in between.”

“You love me?” you whisper, moving closer to close the distance between you.

“More than you’ll ever know,” he presses his lips to your own and you melt into the kiss. The boat erupted in cheers from both sides and Bili slapped him on the back.

“Good show, old boy,” he shouts, breaking the two of you apart. Gus tucks you into his arms, a smile beaming on his face as he presses several kisses to your forehead. “Now,” Bili grins, “let’s kill some Nazis.”

As the night descends the chill sets in and you shiver, watching the harbor lights glow. A jacket drapes over your shoulders and you smile, as Gus puts his arm around you. “It’s a beautiful evening,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “shame it’s going to be ruined by bloodshed.”

“Hopefully none of ours,” he holds you tighter sitting down and you turn wrapping your arms around his neck, straddling his waist. “I couldn’t bear to live without you, Gus.”

“I know Darling,” he runs his hands up and down your back, “the feeling is mutual. It kills me to know you could be in any danger tonight.”

“I chose this team,” you run your fingertips over the nape of his neck, massaging, “I chose to fight alongside them. To fight alongside you.”

“You remember the plan? You’re in charge of the boat, you have an arsenal of bombs to deploy if needed, otherwise when we give the signal you get the hell out of here.”

“I’ll be away from all the action, Gus. I’ll be safe.”

He nods, “I know, but can’t blame a man for worrying about the love of his life being in harms way.” You smile and he kisses you softly, pressing his forehead to your own, “I meant everyword of it darling. I love you and one day I’m going to make me your husband.”

“I like the sound of that,” you giggle, kissing him softly, “not you making me your wife but you my husband.”

“Well we both know who the boss is in this relationship, my love. You tell me where to go and I follow. Till death do us part.”

“Till death do us part, Gus. But please don’t let that be tonight.”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he kisses you again, “but I dare them to try to take me away from you.”

“The lights should be out any minute now,” Bili comes to stand beside you, “we should get ready.”

“We’re ready,” Gus stands putting you on your feet. Suddenly a bomb goes off, and the lights of the harbor fade into darkness. “Show time.”

“Wait,” you grab his arm, pointing in the distance at a series of flashing lights, “what’s that?” Suddenly the wireless goes off downstairs and you follow behind Gus down below deck, Bili hot on your trail.

Gus sits at the controls, taking notes and cursing with each word. “Shit,” he whispers, before looking up at the men and clearing his throat, “they’ve reinforced the hull, the ship is unsinkable.”

“We can’t sink it?” you repeat, sliding into the seat beside him.

“Not with the amount we have,” he shakes his head, “goddamn it.” Gus reaches for the headset and switches it off so we can all hear, “M? Come in M?” Static meets them before the signal clears, “we have a situation, the tin has been reinforced, the corned beef cannot be cracked, do you copy it cannot be cracked.”

“Copy,” a voice says from the other end, “standby.” We all wait on bated breath before a new voice sounds on the radio. “Gus March-Phillips, this is Admiral Parker, I order you to abort the mission, do you copy? Abort mission and return home at once. This is an unsanctioned, unauthorized mission. Do you understand?”

“S-ssorry,” Gus pretends to cut out the signal and you grin as he makes noises like static, “can’t hear y-y-you, please fu-fuck o-off.” With that, he turns off the radio and puts his head in his hands, “well, what do we do now?”

“When did they reinforce the hull? Like between the last report and now, when did they have time to do that?” Freddy asks, scratching his head.

“That’s not important,” Gus interrupts, “the problem is, they did it.”

“No, it is important,” Freddy argues, “I’d like to know when in the twenty-something days we’ve been sailing did they manage to reinforce the hull?”

“He’s got a point,” Henry agrees before Gus shouts, shutting them both up.

“It’s not important right now! We have a mission to complete and I have no idea what to do.” The boys shout out ideas, each one more ridiculous than the last before Apple speaks up.

“If we can’t destroy the ships, let’s steal them.”

“Say more,” Gus encourages, pulling you into his lap and running his hand comfortingly over your waist. You all listen with bated breath at Apple’s plan. “It’s just crazy enough that it might work.” Gus looks at you with a grin, “And we all know what a mad bunch we are.”

Mad they may be but their professionalism wins out when it comes to pulling a plan out of their ass. In minutes, Bili was filled in on the plan and the boys sprung into action. “You remember what I taught you?” Henry asks, gently touching your shoulders, “the boys and I won’t be here to help you.”

“I remember Henry,” you nod, brushing off his hands, “I got this. I know the plan.” Henry nods before giving you a quick hug. The young Irishman was almost like a brother to you, and you’d hate to lose him. You tighten your arms before letting go. “Eh, do me a favor?” He nods, waiting expectantly, “Don’t die.”

He laughs, “I’ll try, but what are you always telling us? Don’t make a promise that ya can’t keep.” Henry lifts his cap before walking to the tug boat and climbing inside.

“I guess this is the end,” Freddy yawns, “It’ll be a terrible bore if we came all this way and died.” Freddy gives you a tight hug before pressing a device in your hand. You glance at him quizically and he winks, “You’ll know if and when to use it.”

“I’ll try to keep an eye on the old boy,” Apple takes his place giving you a quick squeeze and a kiss to the cheek. “Keep yourself out of trouble, won’t you?” You nod, feeling the tears well up, before a Danish Hammer forcibly pushes Apple aside.

“Oh, my little lamb is now a fierce tigress,” Anders chokes up, pulling you in for a hug so tight you’re sure some of your bones crack.

“Let her go, Lassen,” Gus pushes him away, “If you harm a hair on her body I don’t care if you’re my friend you’ll go for a dip in the Atlantic.”

“Gus,” you chastise, before turning to Anders, “take care of yourself, my friend. Though I know you don’t need it. I wish you luck.” He smiles, turns to the tug boat freezing, and turns slowly around when you clear your throat, “Don’t have too much fun.”

He grins like a child, caught with his hand in the cookie jar, “I’ll try for you.”

“It seems they have all fallen in love with you as much as I have,” Gus grinningly wraps his arms around your waist. “It’s hard to imagine them not.

“You’re biased, my love,” you press your forehead to his own, taking in a shuddering breath and closing your eyes over the sting of tears. “Gus…I.”

“Shhh,” he runs his fingers down your back, “let’s not do the dramatic goodbye. Let’s just say I’ll see you soon. Because I will,” he pulls you back, one finger on your chin, tilting your chin up. You blink your eyes open and the look in his eyes renders you speechless, utter devotion and love shine back at you. “I will see you again, either in this life or the next.” He leans in pressing his lips to your own, he’s warm and the scent of leather and cologne invades your senses leaving you drunk on him. He licks inside your mouth, tangling your tongues together as you grab the collar of his coat, tugging him closer. Before he pulls away with several small kisses to your lips, his mustache twitches with a smile, “I’ll see you soon, my love.”

“See you soon, Gus,” you reply breathlessly, releasing him and watching till he disappears into the tugboat and they pull away.

The waiting is infinite and you jump with every pop of a gun. The sea sways like a mother trying to calm her young, and you tighten your hand on the control Freddy gave you. It’s almost impossible to follow the figures of Gus and Henry as they move on the dock, taking out as many soldiers as possible, but you follow like a hawk, stalking her prey.

“Come on, come on,” you whisper, waiting for the anchor to blow. It seems to take forever but when all falls silent, and the boats move into position the blast comes. It’s loud, sending a ripple through the waves and the dock becomes a fury of activity. Soldiers come pouring out of the only lit warehouse, like champagne pouring out of a bottle. “Oh fuck,” the shooting starts and you clutch the remote tighter. The lights are almost blinding and you stand going over to the wheel and holding yourself steady with the other hand.

The tugboats strain under the heavy weight of the ship, and bullets ricochet off the side. You can hear the shouts of the men, begging the boat to move and a pained cry has you on your tiptoes trying to get a glimpse of the injured party. The situation is grim and you look between the controller in your hands and the scene before you, take a deep breath, and press the button.

The blast is almost powerful enough to knock you over and you have to look away as the light from the explosion threatens to blind you. You slowly open your eyes, standing straight and mouth agape at the sight of the large ship coming straight toward you. “Fuck,” you manuver out of the way, falling into position behind them as you all make a mad dash out of the harbor.

“Those S-boats are gonna be on us soon!” One of the men shout from Bilis crew. Suddenly a second explosion rocks the boat and you turn wide eyed at the collection of S-boats exploding high into the sky.

The men cheer and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, taking the helm and leading the boat out into open water. You try to catch sight of Gus but it’s dark and the boats are moving at full speed. You turn to see the burning harbor when you notice one of the tugs waiting, a familiar head of hair, standing at one end looking off in the distance.

Lights appear across the water and you fumble for the gun Gus left you. You aim, looking down the barrel as the boat gets closer, you can hear Bili shout that they need to go but something gives Gus pause. “It’s Heron!” he shouts, “don’t shoot!” You let out a gasp and lower the gun, adrenaline humming.

They pull alongside the tug and Heron and a beautiful woman in a white dress climb aboard before the tug starts moving closer. When they get about two feet from the edge, Gus runs across the deck of the tug and jumps aboard.

“We did it!” He grabs you, throwing his arms around you and spinning you around with a laugh. He lowers you to the ground, kissing you with his arm wrapped around you with his right, and attempting to steer with the left.

“If you crash, my ship, I’ll kill you boss!” Henry shouts and you break apart, gasping at the blood soaking through the cloth wrapped around his shoulder.

“Henry! You’re hurt!”

“Eh, it’s just a scratch,” he shrugs with a smile.

“Nice timing sweetheart,” Freddy shouts with a smile. “I was worried you weren’t gonna press it.”

“Freddy, I’d blow up a hundred harbors to keep my family safe.”

“Your family?” Gus smiles, “I like the sound of that.”

“Do you?” you ask, wrapping both arms around his waist. “How about another title.”

“What’s that?” He grins.

“My husband.”

Gus keeps his arm around you the entire time, the clock ticking on your time together as the small blip that is the destroyer becomes larger and larger. The ants atop the ship become humans, all standing in crisp white uniforms in a row, one more decorated than the others with a scowl on his face.

“I see we meet again,” the Admiral puts his hands on his hips, “you disobeyed a direct order-”

“We have something for you,” Gus interrupts, “found this ship just abandoned in the Atlantic. Thought it might be helpful for you.”

The Admiral raises his brow looking around your ragtag crew, “I see you’re in cahoots with pirates now?”

“Excuse you,” Gus shouts, “show some respect, you’re in the presence of royalty!”

Bili lifts an imaginary hat with a grin and the Admiral seems less than pleased as he scoffs. “All of you are under arrest by her Majestys government. Come aboard at once.”

“Gus,” you whisper, holding tighter around his waist as he presses a kiss to your head.

“We knew this was coming, Darling, just follow my lead.” He unwraps from your hold and moves around the ship, helping his men aboard the ship till the last one is loaded. Bili’s men stay aboard the tugboat, awaiting his orders.

“Admiral,” Bili bows, “my men and I have finished our work here. Your army will regain control of the Atlantic. I just ask for me and my men to return home to Fernando Po so we may begin the cleanup. We have a nasty bug, that I would very much like to stamp out.”

The Admiral raises his head, his mouth agape from reading the manifest of the ship and two tugs before coughing to clear his throat. “Uhm, yes,” he nods, “I suggest you and your men leave before I change my mind.” He turns to the rest of the crew with a frown, “as for the rest of you, it’s the brig for you.”

Everyone bids Bili goodbye as they are slowly ushered below deck to the brig to await arrival back in England. “This one doesn’t belong,” the Admiral stops the progression pointing to you, “you’re not in the report as a part of the mission. Who is she? What is her purpose here?”

“She’s not a part of the mission,” Gus hurries, halfway pushing you behind him, “we saved her from a Nazi garrison, she was being held captive with Captain Appleyard. I couldn’t leave her behind on that island so we brought her along until we could safely return her to England.”

“Did she have any role in this nonsense?” the Admiral gestures to the three ships floating nearby.

“No. We kept her below deck, away from the action. She’s just a civilian.”

“Gus-” you interrupt but go silent when he gives you a stern look before he masks it with a charming smile.

“She had not role in the plot sir, she’s innocent.”

“Very well,” the Admiral nods, “find her a room. But you go to the brig, March-Phillips. I’ll see you locked away for the rest of your life for this.”

“Gus,” you reach toward him but one of the soldiers holds you back, “let me go!”

“Get your hands off her,” Gus shouts, brushing off the soldiers trying to usher him below deck. “Admiral,” Gus turns towards the man, looking back and forth between the two of you. “Are you able to perform a wedding ceremony?”

“What are you bloody on about March-Phillips?!”

“You said I’m going to be locked away for the rest of my life, right? Well if that’s the case, sir, I’d rather leave my home and all my belongings to someone that needs it. Since I won’t be needing it where I’ll be going, sir.” Gus locks eyes with you, “that is if you’ll have me, darling?”

“Oh Gus,” you shake off the soldier's arm, “yes, a million times yes.”

“This is utter madness,” the Admiral scoffs before turning to his second, “Go to my quarters and get the bible off my bedside.” The man runs off and Gus steps closer, reaching out for your hands.

“One more request sir,” Gus turns, “would our friends be able to attend? I would very much like Captain Appleyard to be my best man.”

“And I’d like Anders Lassen to stand at my side,” you add, turning back to Gus with a smile.

“Very well,” the Admiral says, less than pleased with the whole situation.

In ten minutes the entire crew, your friends, and the Admiral stand at attention as you and Gus say your vows overlooking the Atlantic ocean. Anders stands at your side, holding the makeshift bouquet one of the soldiers fashioned out of knotted rope. “By the power vested in me by the United Kingdom and her Majesty’s Royal Navy, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Gus beams, pulling you close and dipping you into a passionate kiss as the ship explodes into thunderous applause. Anders sobs loudly, Marjorie handing him a handkerchief as he tries to muffle his tears. When Gus rights you, he presses another quick kiss to your lips, “I love you, and I’ll continue to love you for the rest of my life.”

“I love you too,” you cry, wrapping your arms around him, “I’ll be waiting Gus. I’ll wait forever for you to come home to me because my home is you.”

“Sorry to interrupt this happy moment,” one of the soldiers cuts in, “but you need to go back to the brig, sir.” Gus glares him down and he drops his head stepping away as Gus gives you a dozen more kisses before going with the soldier. He holds your gaze till the last second and you can’t help but feel a part of your soul go with him.

The rest of the journey feels endless, knowing the man you love and friends are below you locked in a cage awaiting trial. The men that call this vessel home are kind, bringing you meals and escorting you around the ship for a walk. And when the boat docks a week later you wait after disembarking hoping for a glimpse of your husband.

“Miss,” a man comes up beside you, “I’m Lieutent Fleming, I’ve been instructed to bring you home.”

“I want to wait,” you frown, “I want to see him.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, they’ve been instructed to wait till you’re gone before unloading the prisoners.”

You glare, “those prisoners, are the most loyal soldiers I’ve ever known. Do you have any idea what they’ve done for this country?!”

His eyes widen, “I assure you, I am well aware of their sacrifice. Please, let me get you home and safe and I’ll explain everything. We have a plan to get them out. Please,” he holds out an arm towards the waiting car. You glance back at the ship one last time before biting your lip to hold back the tears and follow him into the car.

As he drives the tears stream down your face and you try to keep the sob clawing at your throat at bay. “Don’t worry, miss,” Lieutent Fleming assures, “we will get them out.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you whisper, burrowing down into the seat and closing your eyes.

The next six weeks pass in a blur of cleaning, coffee, and meetings with Ian. Lieutenant Fleming kept to his word and he’s been working alongside his boss, the mysterious M to get the boys and Marjorie from the military prison.

The day comes seven weeks and two days since you married Gus. “It’s time,” Ian quickly phones before the car arrives. You lock the door, pocketing the key and getting in.

“Good Morning Ian,” you smile, buckling up, and freezing when you notice it’s not Ian Fleming sitting across from you.

“Expecting someone else, were you?” Winston Churchill smiles across from you and you visibly swallow your mouth going dry. “Mrs. March-Phillips, I presume?” You nod, speechless, and he chuckles pleased, “you may call me Winston.”

“Oh, Mr. Churchill, I could never dream addressing you so informally,” you stumble over your words. “I just want my husband back, sir.”

“I understand,” he nods, putting his cigar back in his mouth and grinding down on one end while he talks. “You’re husband is a hero, and we need more like him. Men who are willing to take orders and give their own spin on them. Less yes sir, and no sir and more thinkers. I wish I had a hundred like him.”

You giggle, “I think theres no one out there quite like Gus.”

“Touche,” he grins, “I understand he’s been quite vocal about allowing visitors. The guards tell me they have a bag of letters for you upon arrival. He writes several daily but with the trial he was unable to send them. Another point he is most vocal about.”

The gate of the prison looms and your eyes widen as the car glides through and around the back out of view near the service entrance. “We can’t have anyone knowing I’m here.” You nod, following behind him as he gets out of the car and puts his hat on his head. A truck pulls up behind you and several soldiers disembark with baskets and silver tray ladden with rich foods. “I have to honor them somehow,” Mr. Churchill gives you a wink before he sets his face in the trademark scowl you’ve seen in the papers.

You follow as he walks down a dark corridor, his cane tapping on the floor almost soothing. “Stay here,” he stops just before the door, “you’ll be my last gift to them.” You pause, almost running around the corner but you know the anticipation is worth it. Mr. Churchills speech leaves tears gathering at the corner of your eyes and you ring your hands together as the soldiers carry in the food spreading it out on the table before them.

“And one last thing,” you perk up when you hear the chairs scrape across the floor as your friends prepare to dig into the feast. “Although this one is for you Captain March-Phillips than the rest of you. Come along, dear,” Mr. Churchill calls and you step around the corner, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

Gus’s eyes nearly bug out as they trail over every inch of you, the tap of the cane fading as the silence grows. His hair has grown out and his facial hair is unkept but he’s still as handsome as ever. “Hello,” you whisper, your hands clenching at your side nervously, “did you miss me?”

Freddy snorts, “Miss you?! God woman that’s all he bloody talks about!” Marjorie slaps him up the back of the head and you laugh before Gus launches himself at you.

“Darling,” he shudders, holding you tight and putting his face in your neck taking deep inhales, “god, I was going mad without you.”

“Can confirm,” Freddy shouts.

“Shut up, you wanker!” Henry hits him in the shoulder, “They haven’t seen each other for seven bloody weeks.”

The room fades away as they quarrel at the table, but you only notice Gus. The feel of his muscle through the prison jumpsuit, the scratch of his facial hair against your skin, the warmth from his mouth pressing kisses to your neck. “Gus,” you whisper, running your hands through his hair as his mouth seeks your own, and he presses a kiss to your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

“Fuck,” he groans, “I missed you.”

“The feeling is mutual. Home is too quiet without you, and I can’t fucking sleep without you, Gus. I’m not sure I ever want to again.”

“You won’t,” he nuzzles your cheek before closing his eyes and keeping you pressed into his arms, “I won’t ever leave you again, darling.”

“Did you say home?” Henry interrupts, a mouthful of meat pie filling his mouth as he talks between bites.

“Yes,” you nod, “I moved into Gus’s home while he’s been away. Ian Fleming helped me.”

“Ah-ha!” Food splatters across the table as he points at Freddy, “You owe me ten pounds!”

“The bet was, she would go home with him at the end of the mission! He never went home, so actually you owe me ten pounds!”

“You bet on us?” you ask, with a chuckle, Gus leading you over to the table and pulling you into his lap.

“Ja,” Anders nods, “there were several bets actually.”

“And this bet was if I would go home with Gus at the end of the mission?” they both nod digging back into their dinner. “Well then, Henry would win,” Freddy opens to his mouth to argue but you hold up a hand silencing him. You take the fork out of Gus’s hand feeding him bites of pie as he leans against your chest with his eyes closed, a smile stretched against his face. “Because as soon as you completed I went home with Gus. Maybe not physically but I’m his wife and he’s my husband and wherever I go he’s in my heart and I his.”

“That’s not how it works,” Freddy pouts.

“Don’t bet on me then, if you don’t like the outcome,” Gus laughs opening his eyes and pulling you down for a kiss.

His eyes are warm as he rubs his hand against your cheek, his friends laughing and teasing one another surrounded by good food. All's right with the world and in an hour they’ll be free. Gus pulls you in for another kiss his lips lingering a second longer as he whispers against your lips, a smile splitting his face, “that’s my girl.”

Requests are open. Got another idea for this fandom? Send them my way! Thanks for reading!

[this-corner-is-my-safe-space]

"oh no. i think i'm catching feelings"

(this is what i do instead of my very important assignments.

Suggestive near the end, but not descriptive

title from 'sex' by eden)

Freelancer can practically see the steam rushing out of Gavin's ears.

His face is red and his eyes were glaring holes into them. If they didn't know any better, they'd say he was mad at them.

But they saw the way Gavin's lips fought a smile. The corners of them tugging up without his approval, entirely giving away his facade.

They've grown awfully fond of him, and it almost scared them. Almost. No one could really be scared of such beauty, in their humble (and very correct) opinion. And if that didn't convince them, Freelancer would take any and every opportunity explaining how wise, endearing and kind the man in front of them was.

"Are you even listening to me?"

That snapped Freelancer right out of the clouds. They paused for a second, before coming clean.

"Nope. Sorry, handsome."

If Freelancer said Gavin's face managed to get even more red, he would deny it.

"You-" he starts, putting his face in his hands, breathing in and out to calm himself, "I am going to kill you."

If Gavin meant that, he didn't show it. Perhaps one could argue the blushing, smiling and wide eyes filled with adoration were all a ruse to hide his murderous intent. If that was the case, Freelancer had definitely fallen for (him) it.

Unfortunately for Gavin, Freelancer had one last card up their sleeve.

"And what are you going to do, Gavin? Fuck me to death?"

What were they here for again? Magic history tutoring? A movie date? Finishing the leftover pizza and wings they ordered the last time Gavin was over?

It didn't matter anymore, because Gavin was forcing them out of their seat, grabbing their face and kissing them breathless. All while maneuvering the both of them into their bedroom.

When Freelancer took a breath, they were on top of Gavin, legs on either side of his waist, one hand pinning one of his arms down while the other was resting on his chest. They stared at him as they felt his chest falling and rising, his heart beating beneath their touch.

They remembered what that meant, when a demon took the time to form a heart beat with magic. Slowly, they leaned down to kiss his chest, right where a real heart would be if he was human.

They looked up at him, and in their brief eye contact, Freelancer thanked him. For his help with DAMN stuff, for trusting them enough to be this vulnerable with his emotions.

For being in their life.

If Freelancer was asked if they started to cry in that moment, hiding it from Gavin by meeting his lips with their own again, they'd say it was drool.

[angelofsmalldeaath]

wasteland, baby! — a.h.b.

cw: mentions of food (cake), kissing

“is that…” he trails off, coming to a standstill at the threshold of the kitchen. i freeze, spoon halfway to my mouth and give him a sheepish smile. 

“you weren’t supposed to be awake!”

“neither were you!” he accuses, walking in, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the sleep. his hair is matted on one side, his big old sleep t-shirt almost sliding off his shoulders. 

“you heathen,” he sits next to me on the kitchen floor, placing a quick kiss on my lips, “that cake was for tomorrow.”

i shrug, stuff another spoonful of the chocolate monstrosity in my mouth. 

“i was feeling existential. the cake helped. besides,” i scoop some more on the spoon, hold it in front of his mouth, “when did you even get this?”

he smiles and shakes his head, then takes the bite of the cake and sighs. his face relaxes, soft and pretty in the dim moonlight shining into our kitchen. “oh, that is good! i timed it for after you’d have gone to bed. so it would be a surprise.”

“it was,” i giggle, “i was absolutely delighted when i opened the fridge.”

he snorts and takes the spoon from me. just as i’m about to protest, he scoops up some of the chocolate frosting and shoves it in his mouth. then he smiles at me—a proper chocolate covered toothy grin to match my own until we both burst out laughing. 

“weren’t you calling me a heathen just now?!”

“that was before i tasted the cake,” he holds his hands up in defence. a moment later, he sobers up, clears his throat. 

“why were you feeling existential?”

“mmm, maybe because in—” i sneak a glance at the clock on the microwave, at the glowing 23:57, “—three minutes i’ll be another year older.”

“and is that so bad?”

i toy with the spoon in my hand, absently carving a circle around the cherry on the cake. “i don’t know. i wish i did though.”

he’s quiet for a bit, thinking maybe, staring at me—my face and my eyes and my lips until i shy away from his gaze. “what if it’s really really good? the happiest year of your life?”

“and after that?” i giggle “does that mean it’s all downhill from there? the beginning of the end?”

he tsks, lightly flicks me on the forehead. “why does that matter now? today?”

i shrug, eat another spoonful of cake. he takes the spoon from me and takes another bite too. 

“i suppose it doesn’t. maybe future me should deal with that existential dread. sat here on this same kitchen floor, two minutes before midnight.”

“is future you also stealing your own birthday cake?” he snorts, teasing me affectionately. 

i blow him a raspberry, and when he laughs i take him in, take in the crinkles around his eyes and the chocolate on his lips. i take in his sleepy hair and the softness of his old t-shirt—all of it so familiar, all of it made of love and love and love and—

“need me to kiss you until you forget everything else?”

“yes please!” i set the cake aside and jump in his arms.

his soft lips somehow taste sweeter than the cake. his body is warm—firm and so so familiar that i melt like there are no bones in my body. as if my body is made to fit against his, moulded to match the hollows and crevices of him, made to fit together. he caresses my cheek, smiles softly against my lips. and when he holds me close, i know he never intends on letting me go. 

“happy birthday, my love,” he whispers when i pull back to catch my breath. the clock on the microwave reads 00:00—the start of a new day, a new year too. 

“it’s a good way to start it,” i laugh and press another kiss to his lips.

“better than eating stolen cake?”

“you ask tough questions,” i tease. 

he rolls his eyes but picks up the cherry, nudges it against my mouth. “go on, you get the cherry on top.”

i bite into it, sighing at the sweetness. “i think you’re right. maybe it will be really really good.”

“you think so?” he picks up the spoon again and takes one more bite. 

“i do.” i take the spoon back from him, take my last bite. “and if it isn’t, well…at least i can be back here with you, eating stolen cake on the kitchen floor.” 

[anti-catradora-collection]

TRANSLATING AND GIVING MY HONEST OPINION ABOUT THIS TWITTER THREAD:

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️ DO NOT GO AFTER AND DO NOT HARASS THE CREATOR OF THE THREAD I'LL BE COMMENTING HERE. thank you.

"it pisses me off when ppl say they love enemies to lovers and then say that catra//dora is toxic.

like, ENEMIES is not when one person steps on another's toes and gets angry towards them"

keep reading under the cut:

yeah, "enemies" certainly is not when one person steps on another's toes and gets angry towards them. even google knows that. enemies to lovers is completely different from rivals to lovers.

however, c//a aren't enemies either. they have never been.

they were simply abuser x victim. and that's mainly because adora never really felt any hate towards catra. she even tried to make catra join the rebellion multiple times.

additionally, adora knew how to defend herself, but wouldn't do more than she needs.

catra, on the other hand, would relish on BRUTALIZING adora. she even tried to end the whole universe out of spite to adora, willing to kill them both in the process.

and let's not forget: catra did all this with a smile in her face, proud of being able to manipulate and control adora.

they were never mutual enemies. adora mostly viewed catra as someone to fear. most of the time, she felt powerless when the matter was catra. to be honest, even when the matter wasn't her, it's shown that she felt that way. damn, she even had a panic attack because of catra.

and let's not forget how catra and adora's fights are always viewed as "flirtatious/sexy" and, surprisingly (or not), they are always with catra on top while adora is unable to fight back for any reason (be it for an emotional or physical reason, temporarily or not).

the only exception for what i said above is this scene, where i don't even believe adora is being flirtatious (for me, she's simply being smug) and where she's not even talking to catra in person.

of course, there's times where adora physically hurts (or tries to hurt) catra back, but it's solely to DEFEND HERSELF/OTHER PEOPLE. catra takes advantage of adora's kindness cuz she knows she won't be able to cause the same harm as catra does.

NEXT:

"enemies to lovers is ALWAYS toxic in the enemies part. a relationship where you are the other person's mortal enemy is not even possible.we ship catra//dora precisely because they get to the lovers part, and when they get to it, there is no more toxicity."

I'm so sorry to break it to you, but C//A has been toxic before, during and after they were in opposite sides of the war. here is an example of this. catra always made it seem like it's adora who's always abandoning her, but it was catra's CHOICE to stay in the horde.

C//A relationship occurred on an existing pattern: adora accidentally says something that makes catra mad -> catra hits/insults her -> catra runs away, expecting adora to chase after her and feeling like she's rejected if that doesn't happen. it even happened while they were KIDS.

and let's also not forget about catra gaslighting and slapping adora in that one episode while she was going through another panic attack. "catra didn't know something was going on!!!" she literally had "flashbacks" about things that did happen and adora was clearly not okay.

catra could've been a good friend like glimmer was for adora in the hot springs episode, listen to her, try to help and properly calm her down even if she didn't know what was happening, but catra didn't. she insisted on her own view that everything was perfect instead.

catra also makes it seem like adora is the abandoner multiple times in season 5. like girl you're the one who literally abandoned her even in S5 plsss-catra CHOSE to stay in the horde, adora tried to make catra come with her since forever. catra was the one running away.

she even framed adora as being the violent one in their relationship with this scene:

"how am i supposed to fight my own friends?"

"it never stopped you before."

it's almost like catra wasn't the one always trying to hurt and murder adora all the time... lol.

NEXT:

"apart from the abuse that catra (and adora) suffered throughout her childhood AND her fear of abandonment, the only reason catra treated adora the way she did was because she suppressed her feelings in such an absurd way that she was even violent."

uhhh.. no?

you're telling me catra tried to kill adora multiples times and destroy the universe because deep inside her heart catra LOVED adora?

this is honestly giving me "he hits you because he likes you!" vibes. i bet if catra was a man, you wouldn't be saying stuff like this.

plus, shall i say something that may sound a bit... harsh:

THIS. IS. NOT. ABOUT. CATRA.

of course catra is traumatized.

of course catra is also abused.

of course all these facts helped building up catra's character.

but nothing justifies the way she treated adora.

"but catra was abused, she was raised in a harsh way, she doesn't know any better!" what about we stop making adora's abuse about her abuser...? everyone kinda seems to forget how catra was also a w4r crim1nal lmao. of course catra deserved love. but not in the way she got.

catra also needed to be held accountable for her actions, which she didn't. "she was brainwashed by horde prime which made her suffer a lot!" okay, and? catra also brainwashed and put adora into a lot of pain and that fact was never once brought up again.

i mean, catra literally was a gen0c1dal w4r crim1nal. she killed lots of people (including glimmer's mother). again, she tried to end the universe. she destroyed villages. she attempted to kill adora multiple times. was she even questioned about it?

no. the princesses immediately take catra in with them as soon as adora says "she's with us now". there was not even a proper discussion about it.

NEXT:

"as soon as she gets sufficiently comfortable in being vulnerable and admitting what she feels to adora, there's no reason for her to be violent because there's nothing else to suppress. the acception of her "true self" breaks the cycle of abuse and that's WHY +"

not gonna comment on it cuz i already said how catra has been abusive during the entire series - even after she has been rescued. "she was going through a lot" and adora was too. It just wasn't fair for catra to treat adora that way simply becuz "adora doesn't want mee! :(".

like, girl, this isn't about you. you ASKED adora to save the world but then you get angry when she decides it's something she NEEDS to do and states that no one else can do that. like ???

NEXT:

"they turn into a couple.

double trouble themselves tell catra exactly what she has been doing during all seasons to hide and deny her own feelings for adora. because these feelings made her feel uncomfortable."

excuse me, double trouble was also wrong about that. starting by the way they said "left you" while turning into adora when we know it wasn't what happened, there's also the fact that their speech wasn't only about catra's "feelings" for adora.

it was also about catra feeling abandoned and rejected by EVERYONE she knew: shadow weaver, scorpia, hordak... or are we going to forget the fact all these people were also in the scene?

but even the show itself tries to make it seem like adora was the abandoner only for the "just this once, stay" quote to make sense. another reminder: spop's writing is very far away from being the best.

NEXT:

"I would NEVER ship catra//dora the way i do if they haven't got a redemption and if the "enemies" part hadn't come to an end. at most, I'd think they have chemistry and potential for making out, but their healthy relationship is only possible due to their happy ending."

i don't even know what to say- this person lost me at "I'd think they have chemistry and potential for making out". why the hell do you think catra abusing adora would be hot, SPECIALLY in a scenario where they keep being "enemies"???? 😭

also, yes, they got a "happy ending". but at what cost?

catra lied to adora and insulted her even during her confession;

catra never really changed, this series simply tried to make it seem like she did (and failed to do so)

adora is now in a supposedly "happy relationship" with her own abuser and sister, while both didn't at least got therapy BEFORE that.

catra didn't need a romance with her victim in order to be happy. she simply needed time to HEAL, just like adora. "but can't they heal as a couple?" no. it just doesn't work like that. you can't love someone else without fully loving yourself first.

NEXT:

"that being said, catra is open to therapy with perfuma, already sees bow and glimmer as besties, says sorry with ease, happily participates on princesses hugs, isn't afraid to show love and care for adora. and that's when a good relationship is born."

catra may be "trying" to be a better person in canon, but she's far from achieving that. you all say "someone needs time to heal before turning into a better person", but then look at catra, whose "redemption arc" was up for half of the last season and applauds it as "the best character development ever". it also doesn't work like that. it doesn't matter how many times catra saves the world if she keeps treating adora like dirt while doing that (guilt tripping, insulting and beating her up, for example).

basically, saying "I'm sorry for everything" once doesn't mean anything if catra, herself, doesn't truly change.

the last tweet of the thread finished with the following sentence:

"kisses and go to therapy"

all i can say is: thanks, op. you too.