#and that was just a few hours after my therapist was basically like

[haechannabelle]

ok personal venting in the tags time. giving u my TMI like stray kids said

[earth-gay]

I am caught constantly between oversharing about mental health stuff online so I can talk about it with others and maybe feel less like I’m the only one who feels like this, and never wanting to say anything ever and never be perceived by another living human.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Fifteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader AO3 - 4.7k words Tags: 18+ mdni, nurse!reader, hospital setting, domesticity, feelings of anxiety, self doubt, anxiety about sex. PTSD. Tiny bit of a panic attack. Tiny smidge of Simon's past if you know where to look. Comfort. Cockwarming. Barebacking, anal fingering, masturbation, praise kink, daddy kink. Basically the guys fuck while Bunny watches.

You’ve been having dreams about the hospital.

It’s always the same one.

You’re running a code with an intern and a fleet of baby nurses. No one is moving as fast as you are, no one is following direction. You’re on fast forward, they’re on rewind.

Every time, the dream starts and ends the same way. For some reason, you can’t see the patient’s face. You work on them for what feels like hours, and then only once it’s been called does the mental block disappear, you look down-

To see yourself.

Intubated. Bruised and broken.

Dead.

“Bunny.”

“Hmm?” You glance up across the counter, feeling the focus of Simon’s eyes before you see them.

“Everything alright?” Pen babbles ‘moremoremoremore’ while making the sign at the same time.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He mimics Penny’s sign, and then gives her a yes, spooning more yogurt into her mouth.

“You’ve been standing in the same spot for the last ten minutes, staring into your coffee.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry… I’m just a little… scatterbrained this morning.”

“Still having that dream?” It’s been a week and a half since it started, and a few days since you finally confided in Simon and Johnny it was bothering you. “Do you think it might be related to going back to work this week?” You shrug.

“Maybe? I don’t know… I’ve never dreamed of working on… myself.” His jaw flexes, and then he sighs.

“I’ve been thinking…” Penny squawks, demanding the attention of the room, and you pull some blueberries from the counter and put them on her plate. “My therapist is taking new patients. I don’t want to push you before you’re ready, but I’d like you to consider it.” The grimace slides onto your face without preamble. Sure, you’ve considered therapy in the past, but it’s a risk. Mandated reporting, paper trails, everything you don’t need.

“I don’t need therapy right now.”

“You have PTSD.” He says point blank, and you blink. Your mind fractures, little pieces twisting and turning, trying to knit together a larger picture.

“No- I- I’m not… it’s…” You’re a medical professional, don’t you know what PTSD looks like?

“It’s hard to see, in yourself.” Simon senses the confusion and tries to soothe it away, cool balm on a burn.

You suppose he’s not wrong. It’s not unrealistic, you having PTSD, but you’ve never been confronted with it. Never been forced to face the truth.

No one’s ever known you well enough, to see.

It stings. It stings for some reason, and you don’t know why.

“I’m sorry.” He stands, moving around the counter to stand in front of you. “I want to help you, bun, but I should have approached that differently.” You shake your head, relenting into the steady hand at your back, and tip your face into his chest. The confrontation of the truth aches, but there’s comfort in Simon’s touch, understanding, and you relent to it, drifting away inside his tender hold.

“What’s goin’ on?” Johnny’s close, appearing in the kitchen after sleeping in. He was deep in his own dreams when you woke up, sweet like angel in the clouds, buried in the pillows, and you couldn’t stand to wake him.

Simon rumbles something over your head. You can’t make it out, ear covered by his bicep, and you turn your head to peek, reaching for Johnny.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

“Hi.”

“Why don’t ye come lay down wit’ me on the couch?” He coos, stroking a hand over your hair. “’m not quite awake yet.” Simon gives you a squeeze, and you nod.

“Yeah, okay.”

Johnny holds you close. His nose in your neck, fingertips carefully tracing over your skin, heat at your back, he calms you, comforts you, lulls your stiff muscles languid. He’s so good at it, pulling and kneading until you settle, and it dawns on you he’s had practice.

“Would you tell me about you and Simon?”

“What do ye want to know?”

“What was it like… in the beginning. When you got together.” He kneads your hip, thoughtful for a quiet moment, and then takes a deep breath.

“He was difficult. Didnae wan’ to let me in, no matter how hard I tried. Had to corner him in his room on base just to get him to kiss me.” Johnny chuckles low, rubbing your shoulder. “Took him forever, to break down, let me see him, really see him, for the first time. I had glimpses, here and there. Moments in the field, on base, at the bar with the team when we’d decompress but… it took a lot of work. He tried to push me off, hide away.”

“Why?

“It’s his story to tell ye, bunny. An’ he will, in time.” He sighs. “He’s always been like this, strong, steadfast, more serious than me, but he buried a lot of things, deep. Always was very aware of it, jus’ not willing to show it to anyone else. Wanted to be a ghost.”

“But… he’s okay."

“He’s okay. Has some moments where he gets lost, still, but works through ‘em, wit’ me or on his own.” He kisses your neck, soft enough to tickle, and you shiver. “He’s really good at this, bein’ a da, takin’ care of a family. Treats us all like his little unit. I miss him too much when ‘m away. Pen too.”

“I’m sure.” His lips graze your shoulder, humming.

“An’ ye. When I go back, I’ll be thinkin’ of ye all the time.” When he goes back. The idea is chilling, a douse of cold water. It’s felt so far away, the idea of Johnny returning to his job, the thing that brought you to him in the first place.

“But that won’t be for a while, right? I mean, you’re still healing.”

“It won’t be for a while.” He assures, though there’s something in his voice, pinched and pained. You don’t ask, don’t push, choosing to close your eyes instead, nestled in his arms, safe.

“This is the worst.” You’re whining. You know you’re whining, know you sound like a child, but it spills out of you without stopping.

“I know sweetheart.” Simon screws the cap onto a travel mug, giving you a sympathetic smile. They’re both up with you, before the sun, listening to you moan.

You shouldn’t be going to work at this hour. You should be awake, puttering around, working your rhythm back to normal, getting oriented to working at night.

You’ve never hated your manager more. She insisted she was sorry, that she had no choice but to fill the overnight shift. She assumed, she said, the new nurse would want to go to days when you got back, but she’s taken a liking to it.

She’s taken your shift.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad? An’ ye’ll see me tomorrow when I come in for therapy.” That is an upside at least, knowing you’ll be able to see him, see them both, at work.

But the rest of it, simply put, sucks.

“We should probably get going.” Simon kisses Johnny goodbye, and you’re drawn to them, sidling up in their orbit. Johnny wraps an arm around you, mouth to your temple.

“Have a good first day back, bunny. I’ll be thinking of ye.” You turn, grazing your lips on his, and he seals the kiss, drenching it in care, sweetness.

“Bye.”

Simon walks you all the way to the door.

Your resistance at the initial idea slowly fades as the sun peeks over the city. It’s different with Simon at your side, the paranoia and rampant fear infecting the atmosphere wherever you go is farther away.

You trust him. You’re starting to believe they may be able to keep you safe.

He holds your hand for most of the trip.

It’s… nice. Once you make it to the door, he turns and tucks his fingers under your chin, holding your gaze like a magnet. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” He presses his lips to your forehead, and you lean into it, eyes closed.

“Have a good day, bunny.”

Work is absolute hell.

Dayshift is so different from nights, and you have trouble adjusting. The turnover rate at the hospital is fairly high, so when you badge in and get started, you hardly recognize anyone.

Except, Marshall.

He’s standing outside the pit when you round the corner, devilish grin aimed at one of the nurses you don’t recognize. New probably. Sheep in a lion’s den.

You clear your throat. His head snaps up.

“Well, well, well… looks who back from vacation.”

“Marshall.” You greet, barely looking at him, tapping through your tablet. “I wasn’t on vacation. I was out on medical leave. Big difference.”

“Right.” He takes you in from head to toe. “Rotator cuff, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

“Surgical?”

“No.” The other nurse watches you with interest, before scurrying away when a bell chimes. “Still having inappropriate relationships all over the hospital, I see.” He raises an eyebrow.

“You’re one to talk.” Ice cracks across your forced smile. He smirks. “Heard you’ve got yourself two boyfriends.” You suck your teeth. Nia.

“Considering he’s no longer my patient, it’s hardly inappropriate.” With the best timing, his phone rings, pulling his focus, and you slip away.

Fucking asshole.

Simon opens the front door for you and is careful not slam it closed.

“Penny asleep?”

“Johnny’s trying now. We’ll see if he has any luck. She’s been fightin’ it.” The kitchen smells like garlicky lemon, and you peek over his shoulder to see a large saucepan filled with linguini, capers, and shrimp. Your mouth waters.

“That smells amazing.” He takes your bag from you and hangs in on a hook from the hall tree.

“Scampi. We remembered you said it was one of your favorites, and we thought we’d spoil you a little bit. Celebrate your first day back.” Your cheeks burn hot, and to your horror, tears build up through your nose to your eyes. His brows crinkle together. “Hey, what is it?”

“That’s just… it’s really nice. You don’t have to.” Someone celebrating something with you, for you, is alien. The memories of the beginning of your relationship with Phillip are long gone, twisted and gnarled into black rot. It’s how he charmed you, wooed you, brought you closer and closer until they all but faded and you were left with only the darkness. The vice grip of his hands. His satisfied, sickening smile every time you closed your eyes.

“It’s not a ‘have to’ thing, sweetheart. We want to.” He skates his fingers over yours, pulling them to his mouth. “I know it’s hard to get used to.” You’re a little bewildered by it, the care, the consideration, even the memory of something you mentioned off hand.

“I… thank you.” He kisses your temple.

“Go shower. You smell like a hospital.”

“This was so good. Thank you again.” Your hands are woven together under your chin, rich wine sauce still present on the back of your tongue.

“Aye, thank ye.” Johnny winks at Simon, who rolls his eyes.

“Here, let me-“

“I got it.”

“No, you cooked.” You protest with a pout as they both rise.

“Johnny, sit.”

“Can wash dishes, ye know. I’m not helpless.” A sliver of twilight passes over Simon’s expression, not quite darkness but still full of a looming shadow until he sighs, relenting.

“Alright.” Your lips purse.

“What about me?”

“Ye jus’ sit on the couch and look pretty, bun. Willnae take us more than a few minutes.”

‘Just sitting on the couch’ lasts for all of five minutes before you’re antsy, rolling to your feet and padding into the kitchen.

You stop dead at the corner of the counter.

They’re making out. More than making out, Simon is swallowing Johnny’s whines with big breaths, his hand down the front of his pants. You buzz, thighs pressing together without permission, spine tingling heat awakening in your blood with zeal.

“Ah, shite-“

“Shhh. Be good.” Simon admonishes, but smiles into the kiss, wrist working a rhythm in Johnny’s sweatpants. He pulls away, chin tilted, looking down his nose with an eyebrow raised, almost condescendingly, but still grinning. “Feel good? Just need some relief?” Johnny’s moan is strangled in his throat, and you’re about to turn the corner in the shame, mortified you’re essentially spying on them, when Simon looks at you like he knows you’ve been there the whole time. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” You whimper. It slips out, unbidden, and Johnny turns, forehead pressed to Simon’s cheek. His hips are trying to jerk into the grip that has slowed, and he groans.

“Si.”

“Relax.” Simon stills him, pulling his hand free. “Maybe bunny wants to play too.” You give them a nervous smile, butterflies building in your stomach. You’re scared, there’s no other emotion to describe it. There’s fear, bad memories, anxiety building in the back of your throat, but at the same time, desire pushes you forward. You trust them, and it’s reached a critical point. You want to try.

“I… maybe if we s-started slow… I’m not sure…”

“That’s okay.” Simon coaxes, wrapping an arm around Johnny’s waist, hand splayed possessively on his stomach. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Their bed is an enchanted place.

There’s love in it, beguiling affection that transfers to you, dots down your throat to your chest, your clavicle, ass pressed into the hardened swell of Johnny’s cock.

It’s enough to strike down your fear, pry you open, lecherous want infiltrating your mind, your soul.

Their dynamic is crystal clear. Simon is natural in his mastery of both Johnny and you, the leader, the maestro. His forbearance at slowly peeling you free, layer by layer, puts you at ease, calms you enough you let him take your pants off, leaving you in only your underwear and the t shirt you put on before dinner. He folds you up against Johnny, careful to mind his sore spots, the pieces still healing, lips finding the plush fold at your ribcage.

“Sweet little bunny.” He glides careful fingertips over your panties. “Can I touch you here?” You draw a deep breath.

“Yeah.” Johnny’s lips graze your neck, and he sweep up over your belly towards your nipples, under your shirt.

“An’ can I touch ye here?”

“Mm- mhmm.” You buck into them, sensation building between your legs, lust cascading to where Simon’s fingers slip into your underwear and down the seam of your pussy.

“You’re wet, sweetheart. Is this for us?” You nod, Johnny tickling circles across your breasts, playing back and forth, pinching and stroking gently.

They’re both taking it slow, cautious, and there’s one half of you wanting to rip into them, and vice versa, while the other half is terrified. So far, the reckless abandon side is winning, but when Simon grazes over your clit, the crest of your fear bottoms out in the pit of your stomach. Johnny flexes his hips, the weight of his cock between the curve of your ass, and the combination of it, the touch now overwhelming, stream of thoughts turning panicked and unstoppable like a bolder rolling down hill, steals your breath.

In the wrong way.

“S-stop.” You freeze, immobilized, muscles turned from molten lava to stone, eyes wide, lungs rasping. Simon immediately creates distance, while Johnny jerks backward, palm steady on your shoulder, but separated otherwise.

“Ye’re alright, bunny.”

“Take a breath.” Simon coaches, maintaining eye contact, and you nod shakily, anchoring yourself to Johnny’s tender hold. You manage a breath, not so far gone you’re spiraling, and it’s deep, without a hitch or a studder. “That’s great. You’ve got it.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, disappointed. You’ve let yourself down, let them down-

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He murmurs, understanding and slow. “We’re done. There’s no rush.”

“No!” You blurt. He raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I just… I don’t want it to end I’m just not sure I can… do it.” His head tilts, surprise contained with a slow smile, and Johnny hums.

“Do ye wantae watch, pretty girl?” You nod shyly.

“Is that… is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay.” Simon rasps, stroking your cheek. “Sit up against the headboard.”

The two of them move into position seamlessly, sweat and breath thick in the air, a wet fog blanketed around you. A bottle of lube discarded on the mattress, a pillow under Johnny’s hip to cushion him. He’s settled on his side, arranged carefully to avoid pressure on his injuries, and they both face you.

Simon kisses his neck, sucking urgent marks into his skin before he palms Johnny's ass, hard and then slips between his cheeks. You’re unable to see his hand, but when Johnny’s eyes go wide and he groans hoarsely, your clit throbs.

“There you go.”

“Simon.” He whines, high pitched and needy.

“Bloody tight, Johnny. Been so long since I’ve taken care of you, huh?”

“A- fuck, aye.” He presses backwards into Simon, and pants. The scene makes you drool, the eagerness on Johnny’s face, the slow movements of Simon at his back, his lips against Johnny’s cheek, neck, murmuring gently. You’re nearly shivering, ache screaming between your legs, and instinct takes over as your slip your hand inside your underwear. You’re slick, so wet it dampens your curls, and your fingertips slide over your clit, zaps of electricity echoing through your nerve endings.

Simon looks up at you through heavy lids, mouth obscured by Johnny’s shoulder. “Are you touching yourself sweetheart?” You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid it will come out a garbled mess. “You want to come when I fill our boy up?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Keep going.’ He orders, and then shifts, pressing his cock to Johnny’s entrance. Johnny moans, and your own hips jerk.

Simon pushes slowly, focused on Johnny’s face, cataloging every expression. “Y’alright?” Johnny nods, lip tucked into his teeth. “Christ. You’re strangling me.” He thrusts sharply, sealing his hips to the soft curves in front of him, and Johnny cries out in a high-pitched wail, eyes slamming shut. He fumbles with his cock, squeezing at the root, but Simon pulls him away. “Not yet, sweet boy. Need you to last for us.” You’re trapped in a shockwave that hasn’t quite reached shore yet, tension building with each swipe over your sensitive bud.

“Bunny…” Johnny rasps, and your apprehensions wane.

“Does it feel good?” you whine, and he nods, groaning. Simon builds his thrusts into an unrelenting pace and cups Johnny’s belly, stroking down, pushing against the strain of muscle there, Johnny’s eyes rolling into the back of head. You wonder if Simon can feel it, the pressure, the bulge of his hard cock, shoving deeper and deeper.

“Daddy-“ Johnny shrieks, and Simon’s mouth curls into a satisfied smirk.

“That’s right, good boy. Fuck… perfect little hole f’me. All mine.” He practically growls it, and you writhe, flicking down your pussy and back up, breathing hitching in a frantic pace. Johnny’s delirious, hands scrambling across the sheets, half reaching for you, half reaching for nothing. “Isn’t he perfect, bunny?”

“Ah- yeah.” Your tongue is numb, body burning. Sweat slicks down the middle of your back, and you ride your hand violently.

“Please.” He’s begging, frenzied, fingers twisting, and Simon reaches for his cock, wrapping his fist around his length. It doesn’t take long until Johnny’s back bows, and your toes curl. You hiss. They move together wildly now, a push pull in a frenetic dance, and your eyes slip closed, sinking into the slick sounds of Simon fucking Johnny open, Johnny moaning, whispers passed back and forth. Simon cups his jaw, tilting his face towards you, and they both watch, drifting from your eyes down to where you’re trying to make yourself come, clit swollen and throbbing.

“She’s such a good girl, isn’t she? Touchin’ herself, watching you take my cock.”

“Pretty girl.” Johnny slurs through his gasps, body shaking with the power of Simon’s thrusts. He’s close, judging by the fevered look on his face, little gasps and whines tumbling from his mouth. Simon squeezes him, thick thumb rubbing over his slit.

“Come, bunny. Be good for daddy.” Simon coaches, and you tighten, cosmic explosion streaking behind your closed lids, the same time Simon grits out something under his breath, jaw tight, tugging relentlessly on Johnny’s cock until he’s crying out too, cum splattering up his belly and chest, Simon milking every last drop from his cock as he lazily strokes inside him.

Immediately, you gasp. Shocked at yourself, but not scared. Not nervous just… emboldened.

They both read it on you, and Johnny’s head lolls with a satisfied, lazy smile. Simon pulls free, rubbing Johnny’s hip sweetly, ducking into the bathroom to get a towel. He cleans him up carefully, gently, and Johnny’ reaches for your hand. You don’t turn away.

And when Simon urges you to tuck in between them for sleep, you do. More than willingly.

“He looks good.” Hot tea wafts from the cup in front of your nose. You’re on break, somewhat, watching Johnny work through his last few minutes of physical therapy, his face broken out in satisfied smile. His biceps flex. “Really good.”

“He’s been workin’ out at home, a bit. In the garage.”

“He shouldn’t be pushing it.”

“I know.” Simon squeezes your good shoulder. “He’s okay, bun. He’s strong. A bit too stubborn for his own good sometimes, but strong.”

“Dada.” Penny smacks an open palm against Simon’s chest, and he covers it with his own, bouncing her slightly.

“Look, Pen. Is that your Da in there? Is that him?” The therapist smiles at Johnny and pats him on the back, rubs his shoulder down to his elbow with wandering fingers. She’s pretty, and fit, tight ass, tiny hips. A sliver of self-doubt, self-consciousness pokes at you, and then jealousy nearly turns you green. Simon cocks his head with a laugh. “Easy, bun. She’s just doing her job, you know.”

“What? I know that. I’m fine.” You immediately blurt, and it does nothing for your cause.

“It’s cute. That you’re jealous.”

“I’m not,” you roll your eyes, “whatever.” He chuckles, and then starts to pass Penny to you.

“Can you hold her while I help him get his stuff together?”

“Sure, c’mere girlfriend.” You tuck her up into your chest, playing with her hair as she curls into you. “Sleepy huh? It’s past your nap time. I bet Dada keeps you up for an early bedtime tonight.” She coos. Her fingers tighten in the collar of your shirt.

And then a freight train rams itself in the deepest parts of your heart.

You lean against the wall to keep your balance.

This is not your baby, but she feels like yours. Her weight is familiar now. Her routines. Her signs and sounds.

It’s easy to close your eyes and imagine she’s yours.

It’s been days since you touched yourself in bed as Johnny and Simon had sex, and the scene, the desire, is burrowing itself in your brain.

You want more.

You want more so badly you wind up touching yourself in the shower, fingers stroking your clit until you're muffling a moan in your elbow when you come.

It doesn’t soothe the ache. You’re not sure what will.

So, when you’re done, and find them relaxing in bed, Johnny in boxers, an idea abruptly runs through your head.

Could you?

Your fingers twiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” Simon raises an eyebrow. Johnny stops his sketching to smile.

“I um. I wanted to… see… or ask for something.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I just… I was wondering if I could… sit on you.”

“Sit on us?” Simon’s brow furrows, but Johnny’s face lights up.

“Like, ye wannae sit on one of us?” He emphasizes the word sit, and Simon murmurs.

“Ah.”

“I just… I really want to… I want to move on.” The words take you by surprise. “I want to feel like a human again, like how I used to feel. Before I was like this. I think…”

“Taking back control of your body will bring you closer to healing.” Johnny looks at Simon, and there’s desperate sadness in their eyes. Their hands intertwine, gripping onto each other so hard it looks like it hurts.

The moment passes, gone like it was never there in the first place. Johnny turns back to you.

“Ye’ll have to sit on me, pretty girl.”

“But... your hip.”

“I can take it.” You nod. Not that you prefer one to the other, but you’re curious.

“Is there a reason why…”

“I’m too big, bunny. Especially if it’s been a while for you. We’ll need to ease you into it.” Johnny smirks, and you hide an excited shiver.

“Okay.”

You stretch yourself out with your own fingers at first, the process made easier by your orgasm in the shower, all the while both Simon and Johnny encourage you, coo at you, praise you.

You stay present. Focused.

“Take it slow,” Simon coaches when you straddle Johnny’s hips, “don’t rush it. Just take your time.” Hands on his shoulders, Simon reaches for his cock, sliding it through your lips, brushing your clit before angling it at your entrance. You take a deep breath.

“Okay.”

The first inch makes you whine. Johnny’s fingertips draw circles up and down your spine, his lips in your ear. “Good job, pretty girl. Just like that. Nice and easy.” Your eyes slip closed, and you take more, sliding down his cock, the burn of the stretch smarting tears in your eyes. Simon wipes them away.

“Our brave girl. You’re doing so well. Feel okay so far?”  

“Y-yeah.”

“Ye alright? Does it hurt?”

“A little.” You wince, taking another inch, glancing down. Your equilibrium pitches.

“Look at me.” Johnny redirects, head tilted back on a pile of pillows. “Jus’ look at me, bunny. You’re safe. I’ve got ye.” His hands guide your hips, keeping your pace even and slow, careful. Even when the anxiety invades your control, he steadies you. “It’s us, just us. We’re here, bunny. You’re okay.” The ache, the open sore spot spilling sticky, blackened tar, seals up. It's zippered shut, away from you, packed tight for another day. Another moment. The only thing you need to focus on is here, and now. With them. Johnny's jaw clenches. “Christ Si. She’s really tight.”

“I know.” He pushes some of Johnny’s hair from his forehead. “You’re both being so good. I’m proud of you.” The praise, the warmth from the both of him, glows in your heart. You’ve never felt so safe, so cherished, in your life. Again and again, they surprise you, teaching you how things you used to dread or shy away from can be enjoyed, valued.

This is how it should be. Love without fear. Intimacy without fear.

You’re fully split open on Johnny, stuffed full. It’s tender, calm in the low light of the bedroom, almost cozy. His thighs blaze under your ass, and the heat creeps like lava to your fingers and toes, turning you boneless, languid in his arms. Simon leans in to kiss your temple.

“How do you feel?”

“R-really full.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No just… stretched, I think?” You wiggle a little bit, and Johnny finally breaks eye contact, looking up at the ceiling with a groan.

“Try to be still bunny. We just want to get you used to the feeling. This isn’t about sex.” Simon's last comment earns Johnny a warning glance, and he nods, straightening.

“Right. Even though your perfect little pussy is drivin’ me mad-“

“Johnny.” Simon chides. “Bunny, can you lean forward for me?” His hand presses to the middle of the back, guiding you to rest your cheek on Johnny’s shoulder. “Good girl.”

The room lapses into silence that lasts, rhythm of your chest rising and falling syncing with Johnny’s, Simon humming, working a hand up and down your spine.

Up and down. Up and down.

You think you could do it now. Roll your hips and rise on your knees, sink back down to feel the pressure, the bludgeoning tip of Johnny’s long cock nestled at your cervix. You’re not sure, not confident, but somewhere in your dreams, you picture yourself milking him dry, riding his cock until you’re shattering.

“Si.” Johnny’s voice pitches to something you’ve never heard, low and heavily accented. “Will ye read?” Pages of a book flutter. You hadn’t realized your eyes had closed, but as Simon’s voice picks up a page with no pretense, you don’t fight it, allowing yourself to drift between them, cradled on Johnny’s body with a piece of him pulsing inside you.

It’s bliss. It’s love. You’re…. happy.

[dfortrafalgar]

Distraction

Portgas D. Ace x Fem!Reader

You and Ace intended to spend the day at the beach, but he can’t seem to be able to relax.

Warnings: modern au, so much smut. like so much smut. wet, sticky smut. 69-ing briefly. reader is also written to be on the chubbier side (im projecting <3) ace fucks you in the back of his car, basically. MINORS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

I woke up thinking about Ace today so I cranked this out in, like, an hour. It was a nice change of pace while I've been finishing up IMLY and the Luffy fic from my poll, which is almost done! (speaking of which, thank you for 200 followers <3)

Ace hadn’t seen your swimsuit yet.  All he knew about it was that you purchased it recently on a shopping trip with a group of your friends, but it was currently concealed under a light t-shirt and denim shorts.  Throughout the drive to the shoreline, he was anxiously eyeing your bare thighs, his grip on the steering wheel of his station wagon turning his knuckles white.

“What’s got you so nervous over there?”  Your airly voice shook the freckled man out of his daze.  “Eyes on the road, hotshot.”

“It’s nothing,” he blurted, pouting and turning his attention back to the road.  Maybe he should have you sit in the backseat when your skin was exposed.

His own friends often joked that he was no better than a dog.  It wasn’t his fault that his sex drive was higher than cruising altitude… or maybe it was.  But he couldn’t help his wandering eyes when the soft skin of your plush thighs was exposed, or the way your deft hands fiddled with your cuticles as you stared out the window, sparkling eyes taking in the cloudless summer day as the backroads passed by on the drive to the beach.  Most of your evenings together were spent with either his head between your legs, your head between his legs, or your face smushed into a soft pillow while Ace desperately railed you from behind.

It was a good life, that’s for sure.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach,” you suddenly stated, turning your head to look at your flustered boyfriend.  “I’ve only ever been swimming in pools recently!”

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice shaky.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern.  “Ace, are you really alright?  Your face is kind of red.”  You reached your hand over to press your palm to his forehead.  “You don’t feel like you have a fever, do you?”

“Nah, I feel fine.  Honestly.  Just… thinking.”  One of his hands left the steering wheel to rub his sweating palm against the fabric of his swim trunks.  All he had on, other than the baggy trunks, was a white tank top that had a very unfortunate oil stain around the chest area.  He was sure his entire upper body was flushing red with the debauched thoughts that plagued his weary brain.  He hadn’t even seen your bathing suit yet and his mind was running in circles.  (He started to debate calling up that therapist that Sabo recommended.)

“Well, tell me if you really don’t feel good.  I don’t want you to force yourself to be out today just because of me,” you cooed, your voice soft and comforting.

He needed to tell you to stop talking.  Even the sound of your voice made butterflies swarm in his gut.

He might as well have been ovulating.

After what felt like an eternity, the trees surrounding the backroad route he had taken began to dissipate, replaced with the beautiful sight of the shoreline.  The ocean spanned outward as far as you could see, disappearing along the horizon and blending in with the bright blue sky.  A few small beach houses dotted the shore.

“You said this was a public beach, right?” you asked curiously.

Ace nodded, swallowing a thick glob of spit.  “Public, but very minimal.  There’s some private properties surrounding it so a lot of people assume the entire place is off-limits to locals, but there’s a small parking lot set back from the beach near a tiny bathroom shack-lookin’ thing.”

You grinned.  “Nice.”

“Do you not like public beaches?” he inquired, tossing you a side eye as he pulled further down the road, approaching the aforementioned parking lot.

“I don’t mind them,” you replied.  “But sometimes really busy beaches make me nervous.  Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable swimming when there’s too many people around… I get self-conscious in my bathing suits!”  Your statement was punctuated with a fluttering, nervous laugh as you involuntarily squeezed the skin of your thighs.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that when I’m here,” Ace replied, flashing you a cheeky grin.

The parking lot seemed sparse.  It was entirely gravel with a few decrepit wooden fences separating where cars could park, some overgrown weeds poking through the impacted dirt here and there.  Sure enough, there was a brown, run-down bathroom shack between the beach and the parking lot.  During high tide, it almost seemed like the entire area would get flooded, but the gravel was drier than bone thanks to the beating sunlight.

You dug through your bag, removing a tube of sunblock.

“I thought you already put on sunscreen before we left,” Ace said, pulling into a spot and putting his beat-up station wagon in park.

“I did, I’m just putting some extra on my face,” you responded, uncapping the tube and squeezing some of the white gel onto your fingers.  You deftly rubbed the lotion onto your skin, across your cheeks and brow, down your nose, and down your neck.  

Ace needed to look away from you as your hands trailed down your neck and across your collarbones, ridding your hands of the excess lotion.  You weren’t provoking him on purpose, he knew that, but clearly his dick was taking charge of the day.

Little prick.

The two of you excitedly exited the car, grabbing your small umbrella and towels to find a nice spot to set up camp on the sand.  You were quick to lay down your towel when you found a spot, Ace digging a deep hole into the ground to mount the umbrella and provide a shelter from the beating sunlight.  Only a few other people were dotted around the beach, mostly older folk who were most certainly retired and enjoying their elderly days basking in the sunlight.  The thought made you smile.  You watched with glittering eyes as Ace pulled his tank top over his lean body, his muscular chest rippling with his movements, letting the cloth fall into his bag in a wrinkled heap.

“Oh, shit, forgot the cooler,” Ace mumbled suddenly.  “I’ll be right back.”  He swiftly turned tail and hiked through the sand back to his car.

You smiled, crawling under the umbrella and feeling the sand beneath the fabric shift below your knees.  You slid your denim shorts down your legs, shifting your weight to pull them off before folding them neatly and tucking them into your beach bag.  Your shirt followed, your hands hooking under the bottom hem and pulling it up over your head, repeating the process of folding it and storing it away.  Weirdly enough, you felt more comfortable on this beach than any other.  While some old folk liked to gab, the sparse population on this beach seemed more than willing to keep to themselves.  And there was no risk of creepy men your age or obnoxious teenagers to toss rogue comments about your body or shitty pick-up lines.

And you had Ace, of course, who would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked.  The thought made your stomach flutter with glee.

Back in the parking lot, Ace was quick to haul open his trunk and grab the small cooler they had packed with water, some sodas, and some light snacks, slinging it over his bare shoulder and slamming the door closed.  The hinges made a terrible squealing noise as the door moved.  He really needed to get that fixed.  He quickly jogged back to the shoreline with the cooler bag in his possession, his sandals making scuff marks in the gravel.

He almost died and came back to life when he saw you from behind.

Your clothes were off, your body hugged in a bikini that looked sculpted for you and only you.  The strawberry-print bodice was tied around your neck and below your shoulder blades with thin straps, the front of the suit being held together in the front with a metal ring between the bust.  Your plump breasts peeked over the seams slightly, making blood rush to Ace’s face.  The solid-colored bottoms squeezed your hips and ass perfectly, with one side open and held together with strings in an intricate criss-cross pattern.

Ace’s feet were moving on their own, his soul ascending from his body as he floated toward you.

You heard the rustle of his swim trunks from behind you as you approached, turning to look at him over your shoulder.  “Hey!  All set with the cooler?”

He plopped to his knees on his own towel, the cooler hitting the ground with a thud.  “Yeah, all set…”  His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say something else.

You gazed at him with confusion painting your features.

“You… you look…”  Ace could barely look at you.  “You look so fucking hot… oh my god.”

Suddenly, his demeanor in the car made much more sense.  The constant red flush painting his adorable freckled cheeks, his mouth in a perpetual tongue-tie, his lips pursing together tightly as he struggled to keep his composure.  Your lips pulled into a bright smile, relishing in the flustered behavior of your boyfriend.

“Aww, thank you, baby!” you cooed, moving closer to him.  Your hands trailed down his arm, ghosting over the tattoo on his bicep before teasingly falling to the cooler and unzipping the top, pulling an orange soda out of the bag.

“Please don’t tease me, I think I might explode,” Ace huffed.

You popped open the can with a satisfying click, taking a quick sip from the opening.  “You know… I don’t think anyone’s going to mess with our stuff if you want to go back to the car…”

Ace’s dark eyes darted toward you, assessing the mischievous expression on your face as you kept the cold soda can pressed against your mouth.  The metal was rapidly developing condensation thanks to the heat in the air, droplets of water dripping down the orange can and onto your fingers, plopping against your folded knees.

He carefully removed the soda from your hands, tucking it back into the cooler to make sure it didn’t spill, before standing up and hauling you to your feet, dragging you by your hand across the hot sand and back to the parking lot for a third time.  He ripped his car keys from the pocket of his swim trunks, shoving the metal key into the door lock to open the vehicle before leading you to the trunk and popping open the door.  You quickly clamored inside, him following behind you and closing the trunk from the inside.  He chucked his keys somewhere towards the front of the car.

He wasted absolutely no time in smashing his lips against yours, making you wince slightly at the feeling of his teeth hitting your own, but the way his long fingers expertly groped the skin of your breasts below your bikini top made you forget about the momentary discomfort.

After a few stifling moments, Ace pulled away and heaved into the skin of your neck, holding you down by your shoulders.

The best part about him owning an old, refurbished station wagon was the ample amount of room in the back, as well as the lack of center console between the two front seats.  It was a car built for fucking.

“Is this what you were thinking of on the ride over here?” you asked, a coy tone on your tongue.  “About what my new swimsuit would look like?”

Ace grumbled, a childish pout on his lips as one of his hot hands continued to rub patterns up and down your side.  Up to your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your concealed nipple, trailing down your waist and groping the plush flesh of your belly, down your thigh to squeeze your ass.  The way the strings on the exposed side of your bottom piece fit into your skin made his cock throb.

“You’re insatiable,” you giggled, your own hands leaving scorching patterns over his shoulders and arms.  “Are you ovulating?  You’re acting like me before my period.”

“Shush,” he grumbled, followed by another sweltering kiss, all tongue.  You felt a dribble of spit leave the corner of your mouth, sticking to the skin of your cheek.  His lips moved against yours, exchanging a blistering heat.  Ace always seemed to radiate warmth even on the coldest days, and his presence in this moment filled your body with a heated, lustful buzz.  Goosebumps rose on your skin when he pulled away from you leaving your front exposed, gently biting your puffy lower lip with his teeth.

“How worried are you about someone messing with our things on the beach?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You adjusted yourself slightly below him, his knees beside your hips caging you onto the floor of his trunk.  “Hmm… not too worried.”

“Perfect,” Ace replied swiftly, tugging his swim trunks down.  

He had such a nice cock, perfectly shaped with a cut tip that flushed a beautiful rosy hue.  A slight upward curve, lean and not too long, perfect.  He was either hard for the entire time you were setting up your small spot on the sand and you hadn’t noticed, or he was fighting with every fiber in his body to keep the erection at bay.  Whatever the circumstance, the fantasy of spontaneously fucking you in the trunk of his car in that sexy bikini of yours that he daydreamed about on the drive down was finally coming true.

Your hands made a move down to your hips to pull on the fabric of your bottoms before his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting your movement.

“Sorry,” he uttered, his voice a soft whisper filled with a desperation you rarely saw from him.  “Your suit stays on.”

Your mouth morphed into a grin as he released you, leaning back up on his knees and idly stroking his cock with his right hand.  You parted your legs for him, making a show of smushing your breasts together under your tight top.  God, your suit could have been molded onto your body, it looked so good.

“Are you going to stay there and jerk off over me, or are you going to share some of the fun?” you asked deviously, one of your hands crawling below your bottoms and teasing your clit with the slick that had built up.  A pleasant, tingling flutter resonated in your belly and floated down your thighs, but nothing was better than the feeling of his fingers and cock doing the work for you.

“I want to do everything to you,” he muttered, releasing his dick from his slow ministrations.  “I don’t even know where to begin.”

You watched as it bobbed in the air, so hard it held itself out away from Ace’s toned stomach.  You involuntarily licked your lips at the sight.  “You’re so pretty…” you muttered.  You took it upon yourself to sit up, gently pushing against Ace’s shoulders to get him to sit on the trunk floor on his ass, leaning against him further to get the hint to lay down in the position you had just been in.

Neither of you had a strictly dominating or strictly submissive attitude.  Rather, you mutually shared the moment, taking charge when you wanted and snatching the lead away whenever you pleased.  This was one of those moments as you rotated your body on top of his, moving your ass closer to his face as one of your hands ghosted along his hip bone, your other arm supporting you and keeping you upright.

Ace got the hint almost immediately, his greedy hands groping and squeezing your ass as he pulled you downward to rest your clothed cunt against his mouth.  The hotness of his breath and the feeling of his lips against your weeping pussy concealed by the polyester made your breath hitch as your lips traveled closer and closer to the tip of his dick, watching hungrily as it seemed to pulse in the air, desperate for attention.

Your boyfriend made the first move, pulling you down by your hips and resting your cunt over his mouth, his tongue forcing its way between your folds through the suit and quickly finding your clit.  You gasped, your arm shaking somewhat as you quickly followed his lead, wasting no time in taking his cock into your hot, ready mouth.  

And goodness, did he taste good.  A familiar slightly salty musk partnered with the residual scent of his daily body spray, a vanilla and cedar flavor that always made your heart flutter in your chest.  His cock might as well have been burning as you hollowed out your lips and took him further down your mouth, loving the way the organ pulsed against your tongue.  

On the other end, Ace’s fingers had found their way into the fabric of your bathing suit, holding the barrier aside as two of his digits spread your natural slick over your cunt and lubricated his skin before he pressed them into your pussy, addicted to the way your muscles constricted around him.  Your entrance was always on the tighter side no matter how many times you fucked, and it was absolute heaven for him.  He turned the pads of his two fingers forward, pushing gently against the roof of your vagina where he knew you were acutely sensitive, and smirked to himself when your thighs clenched around his head.  Your movements over his cock momentarily stuttered at the feeling of his thumb connecting with your clit to simultaneously stroke the needy bud while passionately fingering your pussy.

He knew you too well.  He knew what you needed.  Ace wasn’t a selfish lover, he had learned your quirks and needs very early on in your relationship.  You loved your clit rubbed in somewhat slow circles, alternating between various pressures.  You responded to his fingers against your g-spot, and you loved when his dick curled upward into the same area.  Not too deep so as to hit your cervix, which hurt you quite a bit, but deep enough to reach those sensitive areas that had your legs shaking.

You learned quickly too, however.  Ace’s tip was the most sensitive part of him, his breaths growing shallow when you delicately sucked your lips around it and trailed your tongue along the slit, collecting the small amount of salty precum that emerged from the tip.  He loved it when you gently fondled his balls, rubbing the wrinkled skin between the pads of your fingers.  He adored the inside of his thighs being caressed, and you tried your best to do both with one hand as the other trembling appendage fought to support your weight as you continued to blow him.

You popped off of his cock momentarily, stroking the base with your hand.  “Did you have fruit recently?” you asked, turning your head somewhat to look over your shoulder.  Not like you could see much.

Ace paused his motions against your pussy.  “... Maybe.”

You grinned, the usually salty, bitter taste of his essence now replaced with something slightly sweeter.  You wanted to egg him on, to ask him if he had planned for this to happen and eaten some pineapple or citrus with his breakfast in preparation, but you decided to keep your inquiries to yourself and return to your task of sucking him off.

Ace was content to keep fingering you, his current position in between your thighs a bit too difficult to involve his tongue, but he knew he could please you regardless.  The circular movements of his calloused thumb against your throbbing clit had you sucking in sharp, lustful breaths through your nose, small whimpers leaving your throat and vibrating down his shaft making him bite his lip and stifle a wheeze.  Your thighs were quivering as he continued to curl his fingers into your g-spot, following the rhythm of your lips around his cock.

After some moments, however, you quickly scrambled off of him, your hand clutching around your stomach as you pivoted above him, capturing his lips in yours.  You ground your clothed cunt over his pulsing cock, keeping it locked between your pussy and his toned abdomen.

“Now who’s the desperate one?” he asked, teasingly, his signature boyish smirk traveling right back to your clit.

“I can’t help it, you’re contagious,” you huffed against the skin of his cheek.

Usually, the two of you used lube.  It didn’t matter how wet you got thanks to foreplay, the sensations were always heightened when there was no risk of chafing.  But clearly, you didn’t have that luxury today.  Nor did you have any condoms.  Instead, you bit down your thoughts, reserved yourself to spending 70 beri on the morning-after pill later that day, and hovered over his cock.  You pulled your swimsuit to the side and took his dick in your hands, wasting no time in slipping it through your folds that were thoroughly drenched thanks to Ace’s expert fingers.  

The first insertion always hurt somewhat.  A slight, red-hot throbbing pain that radiated through your pelvis, followed by a pleasant pressure as his cock slowly intruded into your tight muscle.  The groan that radiated from Ace’s throat made your pussy flutter.  

That was another thing you loved about him.  He was loud.

Maybe on a normal day you’d be worried about someone hearing you, or seeing the way his car shook with the force of your collective moments, but both of you had succumbed to desperation and couldn’t care less.  Traumatize the elderly beach goers who might happen to walk through the gravel parking lot to their own cars.

You sunk fully down onto Ace’s hips, his dick perfectly nestled inside your wet and willing pussy as his hands tightly gripped your hips through your suit bottoms.  You slowly rocked your hips, desperate for some extra friction against your clit.  It was much harder with the fabric covering you, but eventually you found a movement that felt just right.  Edging your hips slightly forward, you rolled your pelvis against his, dragging your clothed slit over the taught skin of his lower abdomen, moaning at the feeling of his dick pulsing within you.

Maybe you really didn’t have to worry about lube today.  Every motion against the walls of your vagina had you biting your lip and arching your back over him.

Ace’s hands assisted with bouncing you on his cock, his voice slowly increasing in volume as he watched you through half-lidded as your breasts jiggled with each movement, how the fat of your belly and thighs rippled so deliciously as you gyrated above him.  His voice was delectable, gruff and whiny, higher-pitched than usual with stuttering breaths and hitches in his throat that had your heart beating a mile a minute.

Your legs were growing tired, and Ace could tell.  He wordlessly beckoned you off of him, being quick to lean you over the back seats and move your suit to the side again, slipping his cock back in between your folds.  This angle always fit the both of you.  As much as Ace loved it when you rode him, taking you from behind came with many more benefits.  His free hand could travel down to dip beneath the cloth of your swimsuit and rub those delicious circles against your clit while simultaneously thrusting his desperate hips against your ass.  His chest pressed into your shoulder blades, his free hand supporting him against the back of the seats as you held onto the leather for dear life, whining with each motion of his cock against your inner walls and his calloused fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to unravel, the feeling of his rough finger pads against your desperate nub too much to bear.  Your orgasm approached slowly at first, filling your stomach with warmth, the insides of your eyelids flashing purple and indigo, before your body snapped and you were shuddering against Ace, moaning out loud as your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock, your cunt feeling feather light as it fluttered.  The force of your orgasm caused you to gyrate your hips back against his, weak, airy moans escaping your tongue as the red-hot pleasure radiated through your entire body leaving your pussy buzzing with the aftershocks.

Ace was barely holding it together.  The force of your orgasm causing your pussy to clench around his cock had his arms weakening against the seat, his hips frantically rutting into you as sultry moans left his lips at the feeling of his cock burning inside you, begging for satisfaction.  His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, caught up in what had essentially become second nature for him.  The overstimulation had you twitching around him, shallow breaths heaving from your lungs.  Ace’s pace increased as did the stuttering of his hips, his thrusts growing more shallow as his own orgasm approached.

“A-Ace… fuck, baby…” you whined, dropping your forehead against the back of the seat.  “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

The man was too caught up in the throes of pleasure.  Calling him desperate earlier was clearly an understatement.  A loud, throaty groan reverberated from his lips as his hips rapidly drilled into you, forcing you against the back of the seat.  His shallow breaths only helped to fuel your second orgasm that rocked you with a sudden wash of white light behind your eyes and you were shuddering against him again, your own moans filling the stifling air of the car.  

Ace barely had time to call out your name before he was thrusting disjointedly into you, crackled, weary moans leaving his lips as he came into your sore cunt, his hands pressing down onto your lower back to keep you still as he buried his cock into you, soaking you more than you already were.  You felt him pull out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as the sound of him falling backwards against the closed door of his trunk filled your ears.

Your own spent body dropped to the side, sitting on your hip and barely holding yourself up with one hand.  You slowly picked your head up, gazing at your boyfriend and assessing his condition.

Black hair mussed beyond belief, his freckled cheeks and shoulders flushed with a delicate red hue, his lips wet and swollen parted with the force of his labored breathing.  His eyes were closed, jaw slack as his pelvis continued to twitch from the force of his orgasm.  A few last drops of cum were bubbling from his tip, slowly dripping down his drenched dick that almost glistened, covered in your own fluids.  You felt wet between your legs.  It would have been a nice feeling if you weren’t already so stifling, your entire body feeling sticky.  You finally noticed the way the windows had fogged up.  You didn’t have time to think about carbon dioxide toxicity before Ace’s weary hand traveled up to the back window of his trunk door, blindly popping the window open a crack to let some fresh air flow into the car.  The summer heat felt oddly cool against your sweaty skin.

You slowly crawled closer to Ace, ignoring the way your drenched cunt sat uncomfortably inside your bathing suit.  You combed a damp strand of black hair off of his forehead before delicately pressing your lips against his cheek, encouraging him to finally open his eyes.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice low and quiet.

He finally smiled, his narrow, dark eyes filling your chest with warmth.  “I think my heart almost stopped.”

You giggled, running your sweaty hand up and down his skin.  “Should I wear bathing suits around you more often?  I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that.”

Your boyfriend’s humble laughter made you grin.  “For the sake of my health, you probably shouldn’t.”  He finally leaned forward to press a tender kiss against your wet lips.  “Though, if I were to die fucking you in a bikini, I’d die a very, very happy man.”

[gildedlead]

All of the Wayne kids’ favorite Leaguers: True and Real and Accurate

Dick: Wonder Woman! Bear with me. Please. I think Superman was his favorite BEFORE he met Clark. Once he learned how big of a dork he was, the magic was sort of lost, doubly so when Clark became his unofficial stepdad. Diana? She stayed cool. Not to mention that in his Robin days, she often humored whatever hare-brained impulses he’d get. Please picture Batman’s bewildered expression when he finds Dick dangling from the Watchtower light fixture he specifically designed to be impossible for him to reach. Diana just, -shrug- “He said please.” You threw him Diana. You threw that child. She’d probably still throw him if he asked nicely, hell, she’d probably do it even before he has to ask. It’s ‘Boy Wonder’, not ‘Boy Bat’.

Jason: Black Canary. ‘Wonder Woman is Jason’s fav’ believers PLEASE hear me out. I think that Diana is Jason’s favorite in a ‘celebrity crush’ way, but Dinah is Jason’s favorite in a ‘cool aunt’ way. He met her unofficially at the Watchtower, but actually started hanging out with her thanks to Roy. They both like motorcycles and kicking ass, plus Young Justice having Canary as a therapist melds well with my vision of her helping Jason heal. And I think she’s used to yelling at Bruce on Oliver’s behalf, so it’s no big to do it on Jason’s too.

Tim: The Flash! If Dinah is the cool aunt, Barry is the cool uncle. Guy that shows up at the function with all the best snacks. He might eat half of them himself but damn if he didn’t bring them. In all seriousness, Tim saw pretty great merit in knowing a forensics guy that he can basically talk to anytime he’s stumped with a case without having to go through the “sorry to wake you” song and dance. Barry occasionally gets unhinged texts that are in the vein of “hey can you go about ten minutes back in time and tell past me about _____”. They’re usually pretty low stakes but sometimes there’s just a “got stabbed, do-over?” jumpscare sprinkled in. Bruce will never ever get shit from Barry about kid troubles. That man is a saint in Flash’s eyes.

Cass: Captain Marvel. She didn’t like him at all during their first meeting. For a person that’s good at reading body language, I imagine that seeing genuinely childish behavior on a grown man would be giving some crazy mixed signals. Once she learns that his powers are magic in origin rather than being alien or meta, her mind opens up a little more to the possibility that his exterior appearance might not be indicative of his actual identity. Cass guesses his age by their next proper meeting and makes it her business to keep an eye on him, always asking Bruce about him after he returns from League missions. Your honor, that 7’5” brick wall Champion of Magic is actually just Cass’ little buddy. She’s gonna get him some ice cream or something.

Steph: Green Lantern. Hal and Barry are like uncles, except if Barry is the cool one, Hal is the cringe one. Lucky for Hal, being a boyfailure is a good way to amuse Steph. Those two are gonna spend hours arguing with Bruce just for the hell of it, backing each other up on completely incorrect claims (Steph does it because it’s funny, Hal does it because he believes her). He does get bonus points for bringing her cool space snacks whenever he comes back from trips off-world. One of her favorite foods is a sort of hi-chew/gum thing from some other planet in Sector 2418 that doesn’t dissolve or lose its flavor, even after chewing it for days on end.

Damian: Aquaman. He’s a king. Like, an actual king. And he can communicate with fish. Arthur heard about Damian’s temper from the rest of the Leaguers and straight up does not believe it because every time he’s spoken to Damian, it’s been “hello your majesty can you introduce me to an octopus I have a few questions for it”. This one’s short. But I feel it speaks for itself.

Duke: Superman. Clark was NOT told about Signal taking up the day shift in Gotham until he was flying in to compare notes (read: flirt), with Bruce and met Duke when they both went to intercept a carjacking. Clark tries to be responsible like “I feel obligated to let you know that Batman doesn’t take kindly to metas in his city”, only for Duke to point at the big ol bat on his chest. After that, Duke usually intercepts Big Blue’s flight path anytime he comes into Gotham and the two just kind of hang out and shoot the shit while he does his patrol. Duke is also a little bit stoked to be regularly hanging out with The Superman, but even after the awe wears off, he can’t help but still think of Clark as just a cool, friendly guy. He gets someone to share the airspace with, Clark gets a bat he can stay in the sun with, it’s a win/win all around. Congrats Clark, you got one.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey, steph! how are you, like, genuinely? not the small talk. i wanna listen

Hey Lovely 💜🖤

I want to apologize for putting this off for so long... which should be a clue as to how I am actually doing.

Honestly? Not good, but I'm trying my best. It's been... a time. Will put under a cut for those who don't want to read about the tagged items.

TL;DR – my real life is a bit chaotic, and I hide a lot from y'all because I REALLY try not to be negative here since my blog is where I come to be happy AND because I am a very private person, but I try my best to just keep going day to day as the chaos settles down slowly.

I've got some good things coming though, so I hope a week's rest next week when I'm off (and will probably take a break from here too) will reset my brain.

Work has been insane, and is most of the cause of my mental distress for the past few months. From Easter until Canada Day Weekend at my job is lovingly referred to as "Silly Season" simply because of how on-the-fly, balls-to-the-wall our workload is until summertime downtime officially begins for us. Without disclosing too much, it's basically non-stop, long hours for me until one of the 3 break weeks we get during the this long stretch happens where, incidentally because of the nature of my job and the team I work on, it actually gets BUSIER for us.

It actually ended earlier than we expected this year (yesterday) and we'll be "quieter" until the end of September now. See an opportunity, I actually took next week off between the two long weekends because my mental health has taken a severe hit and I'm having trouble just... enjoying things? I'm haven't gamed or drew in a few weeks, and blogging and writing feels like a chore. I literally just come home, file this blog, reply to one or two asks, and then go to bed, and do it all over again the next day. Day in and day out, for 3 months. On weekends I have to force myself out of my apartment because I KNOW I will sink lower if I don't leave.

On top of that, my brain has convinced me that literally everyone hates me: friends, coworkers, family, you guys, my damned plants. I just feel very alone these days and... I'll be real here, I've almost abandoned this blog a few times in the past few months. I feel like I make fic lists that no one reblogs or likes and tell me they're all shit. I post my art and I barely break 20 notes. I write something and I get maybe 2 likes. I can't really answer any thoughtful asks because my mental state's been in the shitter for months. I desperately want to reply to the few sexuality asks I have and I physically can't. Being on my computer – after working ON a computer for my day job for 12 hour days everyday – feels like too much, so I try to limit my time on the blog now too.

I just try to keep carrying on, encouraged by the once-in-a-blue-moon testimonial ask I get thanking me for still being here. I thank YOU guys for reminding me that people still like coming here.

Stressed about money and food and rent just like everyone else, and just getting frustrated at other things.

And finally, my uncle (my dad's brother and my godfather) hasn't been doing well health-wise, and he's being moved to assisted living next week. His health has been declining since Easter, so it's been a bit of worrying time for relatives.

Having my therapist helps a lot. She talks me through a lot of my complicated feelings, my sense of self and ways to cope with my anxiety and stress. I'm talking to her again next week, so no worries, gang. As I said, I just keep on keeping on.

Some positivity though:

I booked next week off to try to just... recenter myself. To forget about everything and TRY to get back to doing the things I love. I will probably take a break from this blog as well during that time to limit my social-media time. It's not ideal but I need a break from my computer, I think.

I go to the gym a lot more these days, which has helped with the seething annoyance I constantly have at work. Usually feel better after it.

And because of the gym and getting out more, I've been slowly feeling better physically, better than I have since before 2019. The break from work is for the mental health, LOL.

I'm getting my hair recoloured next week. Can't afford it, really, but I just REALLY need to feel better about myself again, and I always feel so different when I colour my hair. I was doing so good for awhile. I want that again.

Anyway, I'm sorry to bombard y'all with my complicated mess of a brain. I really do appreciate you asking, so THANK YOU. I rarely get asked in real life if I am okay because I keep very private due to past people betraying my trust. And I don't like seeing people unhappy, so I feel if I tell people about my problems, then I feel I am a burden, so I just... continue existing.

Thank you for letting me be a burden just this once.

[mactavishwritings]

Fresh Ink

Ghost x Tattoo Artist!Reader

fluff mainly. this may end up becoming multiple parts. I'm not sure yet

you become ghost’s artist and therapist in a way

tw: tattoo needles, retelling of injuries

part one | part two | part three | part four

Being the only tattoo shop within a 10 mile radius of a military base, you’ve seen it all. New recruits who just finished basic wanting to celebrate. Veterans wanting to honor their comrades. Drunk soldiers who’ve lost bets. Soldiers about to be shipped off on suicide missions wanting a way, some way, to be identified.

You’ve seen everything and you did your best to honor each story to the best of your ability. You’ve held the hands of soldiers who would go out and recommend your shop to others, telling them that you were safe and would honor them.

As you set up shop for the day, you looked over your appointment book. You mainly took appointments, but would sometimes take walk-ins. Today, you had a three appointments pretty spaced out so you decided to take a couple walk-ins. You posted on your shop’s social media accounts that you would talk two walk-in and started to sketch your first appointment’s tattoo.

You got pretty far into the tattoo when you heard the bell chime. “Hey, welcome to Dead Shot Ink. My name is (Y/N). How can I help you?” You looked up and saw a man standing in a balaclava mask. You raised an eye brow at him and looked him over. No ink.

“My friend said you tattoo?” A rough british voice came from under the mask and you nodded. “Yeah. The masks stays on, I'm guessing?” He nodded in return, tensing up.

“No worries. I do have a private room if you need it. What’s your name? I’m guessing you want to take one of the walk-ups?” You grabbed your appointment book. He nodded and pulled out his phone. “I'm Ghost. You did my friend, John Price, his tattoo a few months back and he recommended I check out your page. I’ve been meaning to make an appointment, but then I saw you’re talking walk-ins today…”

The name he gave you, John Price, sounded familiar. You nodded along to his words and guided him back to your room. You wrote his name down under your 11:00 spot and had him sit on your tattoo chair. It was a pretty small tattoo parlor since you had just opened, but you were trying to hire more artist.

“So, I do have an appointment coming in at 2. It’s about 11 now so that give us a little under 4 hours. What did you have in mind and where did you want it?” You sat down on your roller chair and grabbed your tablet.

"I'm not really sure. I know you do a lot of like soldier tattoos." Ghost said and he started picking at the skin on his thumb. You forward and gently placed your hand on top of his. "Let me grab something that may help." You stood and quickly walked back to the front of the shop. You grabbed your flash book and brought it back to Ghost.

"Here this may help you decide. What we can do is pick something you like and customize it to your story." You handed him your book and sat back down. Ghost slowly started flipping through the book before settling on a pair of dog tags. You nodded and started drawing.

Soon the stencil was on, dry, and you were ready to go. Ghost was laying back in the chair and you pulled your hair up. "Any particular music you want?" He looked at you for a moment before requesting whatever you wanted. You smiled before putting on (your fav artist). You pushed your sleeves up and got to work.

Every few minutes, you would check in with Ghost. You had your free hand was resting on his bicep since the dog tags were going on his inner forearm close to his elbow. You were on his side, listening and watching for any discomfort. You nodded along to the music and smiled at the tattoo. It was going good and Ghost seemed to like it.

After you finished, you wiped it down and had him look at it in the full body mirror. While you couldn't see his full face, you could see his eyes crinkle into a smile.

-

It had been about 5 months since you had first tattooed Ghost. He would come in every time you posted about taking a walk-in. You were slowly building a half-sleeve for him that was coming together very nicely. He would sometimes come in with new scars or injuries. Never on the side of your tattoos.

"How come you never get hurt on this side?" You asked casually, half way through the next piece. You were slowly getting him to talk to you. "I don't want to ruin your art." He answer oh so casually. You felt your heart skip and your face flushed. "It's art work. You put a lot of time and work into it." He looked down at the other pieces you had done.

"Makes sense." You nodded, your focus shifting back onto the tattoo. Your eyes shifted to the newest scar, "How'd that one happen? Am I going to be turning it into art soon?" You smiled up at him and he chuckled a little.

"Maybe. We'll see how this mission finishes out. I'm lucky I got these three days. This one was a knife fight. Got a little clumsy. You should see the other guy." He smiled. You felt proud that he was opening up to you. As a tattoo artist for soldiers, you had heard tons of mission stories. Ghost's stories were always intense, but told casually as if he had just gone to the grocery store.

"A knife fight? Seems intense. Looks like you won, though. You'll have to teach me." You smiled, dragging the needle down, making a straight line to finish the piece. "All done, Ghost! Go take a peek." You said, wiping away any excess ink.

"Simon...I'm Simon." He said as he walked towards the mirror, not facing you. You smiled and nodded. "Noted. Whatca think? This one pretty much finishes up the half-sleeve. After this, we could go up the arm for a full." You came up behind his hulking figure and showed him what you meant, moving his arm around.

Simon shivered at your touch. He looked over your hands, stained with dried tattoo ink. You arms were covered in your own tattoos. Your nails were painted black and pointed to the uncovered skin on his upper arm. You always worn dark colors, letting the attention fall on your tattoos. Your hair was pulled back and out of your face, but Ghost knew it was soft from the couple of times it touched his arms.

"I like it. I think after this mission we can complete it. Full sleeve sounds nice." Simon whispered, suddenly feeling the closeness between you two. "Thank you. Thank you for being so gentle with me." He looked up at you through the mirror and you nodded.

"Of course. You face so much hardship. You know my shop will always be open for you." You leaned your head against his shoulder and pulled back. "Let me get you wrapped up and you'll be all set." You grabbed your wrapping and wrapped up his fresh ink.

Months had gone by and you hadn't heard from Simon. You had finally gotten enough money to hire a receptionist and it made your life a million times easier. You walked into the shop and your receptionist greeted you warmly. "Morning (Y/N)!"

"Morning Emma! Can I see my book? I wanna see what I have over the next few days, got a client blowin' up my phone." You laughed as she handed you the book. "Oh! Speaking of, you had a call last night. Said you knew him and wanted to make an appointment so I book him for a couple weeks out. He said you would know what he wants. Sounds either crazy hot or crazy mean." Emma winked and you rolled your eyes. "He's booked for the 26th."

You flipped to that day and your smiled brightly. "He's the crazy hot."

Simon Riley.

-

part two?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for completely ignoring a very long and thought-out apology message?

TL;DR: Abusive ex sent me apology after two years of silence and I’m not sure I want to acknowledge it.

So I was in a very abusive relationship with my ex for around a year. I’m going to try not to go into too much detail, but I tend to ramble and this is a hard topic for me so I’m sorry in advance if this ends up super long.

When we started dating, it was great for the first six months or so. I noticed certain things that made me question if she could have BPD (intense jealousy, sudden mood switches, impulsivity, self-destructive behaviour) and encouraged her to speak to her therapist about it. She eventually did and was diagnosed with BPD, but she wasn’t able to get on medication for another few months. After that, everything seemed to just… completely spiral. She started to control who I could speak to (I was only allowed to be with friends for an hour, and if I was even a few minutes late she’d be blowing up my phone accusing me of cheating etc. and ignoring me for days), she wanted me to cut off every friend who didn’t like her or warned me about the relationship and would accuse me of disrespecting boundaries if I objected, she would shout at me 24/7 (e.g. we’d be talking fine, she’d tell me she had a headache, I’d say I was sorry, and she’d suddenly be yelling that she didn’t need my pity and that I was patronising her), she constantly tracked where I was and who I was with, she lied to me constantly about things both major and minor, and by the end of it she was physically aggressive. This eventually culminated in her cheating on me, me giving her another chance (zoinks), and her cheating on me again less than a month later with a man she knew had SA’d me in the past. After that I just couldn’t take it anymore and finally got the courage to leave.

This unfortunately made everything worse. She split on me - basically a BPD thing where your opinion on someone goes from love to hate or vice versa in an instant - and she made it her mission to make my life hell. For almost a year and a half after our breakup, she was sending things to my house, to my family’s houses, she was stalking my social medias and sending me death threats from burner accounts, all of her own social medias became solely dedicated to talking about me, and then the worst part - she knew I wanted to go to college to become a primary (elementary) school teacher, and so she called up the college I was going to attend and told them I was a pedophile. She went all out with this accusation and was posting it all over Twitter, messaging my friends, getting her friends to post it - it was crazy. Thankfully it did not actually affect my education because I explained what was going on and I had evidence that things she was saying happened were false, but it was a super terrifying and stressful time.

While that was going on, she used the fact I was an SA victim against me - at one point she told me to “shut up and go get raped again”, and another Tweet she made accusing me of being a pedophile was followed up with “Shame you’ll never get that teaching job, I hear they’re not so kind to people like you in prison”.

Making everything more confusing is the fact that every few months it’s like she’d switch back - she’d send me an apology message, tell all her friends it was a lie, get back in contact with me and tell me she was on meds and going to therapy and everything was getting better, and then a few weeks later she’d be posting about how abusive I was again and blocking me everywhere. It felt like there was nothing I could do - if I ignored it, she’d step it up to get a reaction, and if I did acknowledge it, she’d step it up anyway because I was reacting.

Finally, FINALLY, I threatened to get a restraining order and everything stopped.

Almost two years pass and nothing. I’m now happily engaged to a wonderful girl who was my best friend throughout that whole relationship and knew exactly how affected I was by it. I’m going to therapy, was diagnosed with PTSD, and have been slowly moving on. I still have nightmares about her, and sometimes things will get me (e.g. a few months ago I saw someone who looked like her on TV unexpectedly and had a panic attack), but things are good. Much better. I was thinking of it all much less, I wasn’t dedicating energy to it, I wasn’t even angry or upset anymore, it was just a past lesson I’d learned and didn’t need to worry about anymore.

Then last week I wake up to a message. Again, it’s been two years.

Now, this message was LONG. It was from my ex, apologising for everything she’d done. It was a genuinely nice message and clearly had a lot of thought in it. She said she knew it was selfish to message me when I’d moved on but that she had things to say for her own peace of mind. She said she was happy to see I was engaged, that she’s done a lot of self-reflecting and healing. She said she tried to date again and ended up “karma’d “ - that the relationship was scarily similar to ours but with her in my shoes this time - and that it had made her realise just how disgusting her actions had been and how badly she’d fucked me up. She made it clear she wasn’t looking for forgiveness or to reconnect, just to apologise.

Part of me is mildly skeptical because of the fact she’d apologised multiple times before and it never stuck, but the two year gap and the way it’s phrased makes me believe this is truly genuine. She seems to have matured and changed as a person.

Thing is, I just… can’t bring myself to respond. Every time I go to do it, I remember things she said or did to me and just can’t. I feel like if I just responded and said no hard feelings and explicitly told her I have moved on and am doing better, I could give her the same closure that this apology might eventually give me. It would be closing this chapter for good for both of us and I could just never think about her again.

And yet I just. Haven’t. I’m scared to open the window of communication again in any way, I’m scared it’ll be taken back, I’m scared that this will take me back to square one because she’s put herself back in my life (even tangentially) and now I’m thinking about her again after so long of trying so hard to heal.

So WIBTA if I just… didn’t acknowledge it? If I let her essentially wonder forever it it was ever seen or read because I just don’t know what to do about it, even if I’m potentially keeping closure from her for my own comfort?

What are these acronyms?

[joanofexys]

gimme the Jude lore

okay okay Jude Reyes lore incoming

little breakdown first:

26 years old

he/him, pansexual, cis

played for the Trojans for 5 years

graduated with a degree in sports journalism

has adhd and depression (in the rambling bit tw right now for mentions of self harm and suicidal thoughts tying into this)

only child and still upset about it

does the most out of all my ocs to work with college players, spends a lot of his free time flying out to different colleges to work with coaches and teams cause he likes and he enjoys it (gets a lot of teasing about becoming a coach in the future)

knows english and spanish

and oh yeah he's a dealer who will play as an extra backliner if needed

blonde, 6'3, big brown eyes

got his ears pierced cause Mara said he'd chicken out

So yeah Jude graduated from USC at the age of 23 and he was recruited for olympic court when he was 25. He considers the Trojan's his family and still keeps in touch with all the upper classmen who he used to play with. He's very much taken the Trojan attitude into his professional career. He's known as a team player on the court and also a huge activist off the court. He's now involved in presenting the Day Spirit Award every year and he's incredibly proud to have been apart of the team consistently winning it. While Ilya falls into the Just Some Guy category, Jude really takes it up like 10 levels into Golden Child territory. He's the favored one for press duty and is most involved with his teams social media. He's usually the one to sit down for the little games or the ask me anything's or the interviews everyone else deems pointless.

tw for self harm and suicide mentions, you can skip to the next bolded line if you need to

Jude was diagnosed with depression when he was 19 after he came to Rhemann confessing that he had been self harming for a few months after the workload with his class got more difficult for him to manage and he started thinking about committing suicide. He was diagnosed with adhd a few years later when he was 22 and now he now manages both with a mixture of therapy and medication. He's not perfect and obviously that didn't get rid of his depression but he has always had a safe space to talk about it and to get the help he needs. He advocates a lot for mental health in general but especially where athletes where it tends to get ignored with all the pressure put on them and he brings that into all of his relationships with his teammates trying to create a safe space for them. He is a huge factor in actually getting Em, Mara, and Florian to see therapists and he's who Florian calls after his 5th attempt and takes him to the hospital.

okay heavy bit over

I need y'all to know that Jude popped into my head literally today. He was named like 3 hours ago. So this is all just kind of developing as I yap about him. He's big on team inclusion. Doesn't want anyone to feel left out. At first Ilya really butted heads with Mara and Florian cause they were Raven's and Jude was basically the one to get sick of that and tell them they needed to shut the fuck up and put on their get along t-shirt

He's generally pretty outgoing and he loves a good party. And by party he means hosting his team and having some food and drinks and visiting with every one. Though he does go a little crazy after a win and he will probably not get home till like 6 in the morning and then will sleep for a full 24 hours

He comes off as very loud and flirtatious to most people, most people will think he is flirting even when he isn't and he has accidentally agreed to multiple dates before realizing they were dates and having to awkwardly let people down. He doesn't really date much, not seriously, largely because of how involved he is with the media portion of his job. If he does end up dating (and I don't have anyone set up for him yet) it'd most likely be another exy player who is also super involved with the media and interacting with the press

and yeah that's a little bit about Jude

[w0rmm1lk]

Hiiii! I’m back in my bnha phase and I’m here for a request!

Could you write Bakugo (or Kirishima) x nonbinary! S/o who’s like, extremely selfless and tends to forget about taking care of themselves since they’re usually focused on taking care/helping other people?

yesss ofc!

(I wrote this in a headcannon format I hope u don’t mind <3)

characters: kirishima

summary: nb!reader needs to take care of themself but luckily they have a certain someone there for them.

warnings: swearing

🪨- when I say you are selfless I mean I’m the way of— carrying around a bag constantly filled with snacks, bandaids, water ect. You don’t like fountain water? You also have bottled. Even carrying pads in shit for the girls

🪨-Kiri loves how much you be taking care of everyone tbh. 🪨- gets stressed out bc he can’t rlly call you manly or womanly.

🪨- ends up just calling you humanly.

🪨- he didn’t notice at first that you weren’t taking care of yourself.

🪨- mainly because you were concerningly good at hiding it.

🪨- he noticed the first signs when you had slight dark circles under your eyes.

🪨- he mentioned it around some classmates only to quickly learn you had been acting as a therapist for todoroki like every night????

🪨- he then soon realised how dehydrated you were when someone offered you some water and you downed the entire bottle in less than thirty seconds.

🪨- he was genuinely concerned. Like asked you about it with this really weird look on his face.

🪨- “uh— Y/N? You doin okay— I swear I just watched you unhinged your jaw for that water—“

🪨- “oh yeah I’m doin great! Don’t worry about me I just haven’t drank water in a while lol.”

🪨- “a while as in a few hours…right”

🪨- “right…?”

🪨- “…”

🪨- “y/n. When did you last drink water—“

🪨- at first he didn’t think much of it— maybe you were just a little forgetful recently since exams were coming up.

🪨- he was very wrong.

🪨- he watch you as you basically teleported across the room because someone lost their pen.

🪨- kirishima finally realised he need to talk to you about it when he noticed you hauling about 3x the normal amount of clothing you washed towards the laundry room.

🪨- “hey y/n-! I— I didn’t know you owned *that* much clothing—“ he sounded weirdly awkward as he tried to not be too forward about the situation.

🪨- “oh! I heard denki and Mina mention they were behind on chores because of how much they’ve both been studying compared to normal since Momo offered to tutor them… so I decided I would help them out!”

🪨- “y/n… as a man I really respect how much you care about out class but— isn’t this a little too much? You should really take care of yourself more…”

🪨- his words made you think a bit… it had been a really long time since you did anything for yourself.

🪨- “well… I feel like it’s a little rude to stop what I’m doing right now after I promised them—“

🪨- “after you finish this then.. and let me help! It’s not very manly of me to watch my partner carry this much stuff without helping!”

🪨- his idea of you resting was watching movies in his dorm as he heald onto you so tight that you didn’t even have a chance to attempt to escape.

Ngl I was struggling wit this one but that’s 1 more post out there so 🕺🕺

[icycoldninja]

Thank you so much for doing my first request!! I love your writing, alot!! if your requests are still open, can i have another request?

Basically the sparda boys + v with therapist!reader because they need therapy! Also reader is secretly a billionaireso reader pays the bills in the devil may cry office, spoils them with the sutff they like and always checks on them, telling them that they can let their feelings out, like a therapist !!

if your requests are closed, you can delete this <3

Thanks so much!! Don't worry, requests are still open. Enjoy!

Sparda boys + V x Therapist!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante's the definition of "but I'm fine" after talking for 2 hours.

-Expect him to be very moody and sulky during therapy cause he's not used to venting on such a personal level before.

-His jokes get progressively lamer as each layer of trauma is shed, eventually revealing himself as the sad, broken man he really is.

-Is very surprised when all his bills magically get paid by an anonymous person who keeps sending him money and pizza to Devil May Cry every week.

-Never realizes you are his mysterious benefactor but he appreciates what is being done for him and doesn't hesitate to tell you all about his secret caregiver. It makes your day to hear how happy you make him.

-He slowly becomes more comfortable with talking his feelings out, and once that happens, he becomes an unstoppable chatterbox.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil hates the very idea of therapy because he believes he is a MOTIVATED individual who is independent enough to handle his inner issues on his own.

-However, you're very persistent and manage to get him to sit down for a session, much to his reluctance.

-You're oddly kind to him and listen to all his troubles with an open mind--something he's not used to. Though at first he is very cagey about everything, Vergil gladly warms up to you and confesses his deeper secrets.

-He finds it very odd that a secret benefactor has just started sending him presents and money only a few days after he began seeing you as his therapist. It could be a coincidence, but then...maybe not.

-Although he wants to know who is sending him gifts, he decides to just let his mysterious benefactor run their course and not spoil their intentions. Who knows, they might reveal themselves someday.

-Starts writing thank-you notes and leaves them out on the doorstep for you to find.

□ Nero □

-Nero is against therapy for personal reasons. He thinks he alone should know all his secrets and issues, and that he alone should deal with them. He doesn't need outsiders meddling in his affairs.

-He demonstrates his dislike for therapy by being the most rebellious, recalcitrant jerk to have ever walked into your office.

-He talks back to you almost all the time, is extremely rude, and once stole a set of ballpoint pens from your desk because he didn't like how you were jotting down everything he said.

-When he finds random gifts and things being sent to him, as well as his bills being mysteriously paid, Nero gets very suspicious. We're you giving away his address to stalkers?

-Slowly, Nero realizes that his mysterious benefactor is only looking out for him and supporting him, though for what reasons, he has no idea.

-He's grateful for all this help, but still a little wary. He doesn't trust you yet, but maybe with time, he will someday.

● V ●

-V is probably the only one here who actually agrees with the idea of therapy.

-He was a little nervous at first, but seeing how warm and welcoming you are to him relaxes him a lot.

-He's shy and doesn't say all that much at first, but over time, you manage to coax him into speaking to you more.

-He is pleasantly surprised when gifts and bits of money start appearing at his doorstep nearly every day, because last he checked, he didn't have a steady job.

-He can't figure out who's doing this, but he's grateful all the same. He'd love to meet whoever's behind this and thank them for their generosity.

-V's taken up baking treats and leaving them on the doorstep in cute boxes as a way to thank his unseen gift giver.

[herofics]

Long distance, part 2

A/N: This is kinda like a part 2 to this Gojo post, aka the long distance thingy. For us here in Finland, one uni credit is worth 27 hours of work, Idk how it is in other places and I’m too lazy to google it. This is kinda based on how my summer has been so far, so there are some pretty specific things in this, but I enjoyed writing it so I don’t really care. I’m too tired to proofread this because I need to go to sleep, but I think it’s probably fine...

The last two months had been hell. It was so hot and your apartment didn’t have AC, so you had to survive with just a table fan and a cold, wet towel. It was summer, so you were off on summer break from your normal university studies, but you’d taken some summer courses which you regretted immensely the minute you realized you would not have a single free moment the whole summer. Between going to see your family, visiting Gojo in Tokyo and the fact that you were supposed to do 15 credits worth of school work in two months, you were busy to say the least.

As the end of July drew closer, you started to realize that you hadn’t really had a single moment to yourself the whole summer. You’d visited your family twice, both times for about two weeks and when you were there you couldn’t get any school work done, because you were basically a full-time babysitter for your youngest siblings, a therapist and sounding board for your mother, and a cook for the whole family.

You’d finally returned to your apartment after two weeks with your family, and you were exhausted. The moment you got inside, you dropped your bags on the floor and fell face-first into bed. Your apartment was hot as hell, and you were quite sure you wouldn’t be able to sleep, even though you really wanted to. You just laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was nicer to sleep alone in the summer, it wasn’t as hot that way, but you also kind of missed the way Gojo wrapped himself around you whenever he slept with you.

“I should call him” you muttered.

Gojo was supposed to come see you while you were with your family, because you couldn’t get away to come to Tokyo to see him, but he had gotten called away on a mission and those plans had gone out the window. You pulled your phone out of your bag and noticed you had gotten a message from him just a few minutes ago.

“You home yet?” it said.

“Yep, can I call you?” you answered.

He usually texted you back almost instantly, but you knew you couldn’t just expect him to be available all the time. He could’ve been on a mission or in a meeting with those old geezers he disliked so much. Though, you were pretty sure he would have texted you back even if he was in a meeting with the higher ups, because he would have been more interested in your text than whatever they had to say to him.

You placed your phone on the nightstand and continued staring at the ceiling, while wondering how long he would take to answer your text. You really missed him. You hadn’t seen Gojo in almost a month, because you had both been busy and your schedules just hadn’t aligned. You’d been calling and texting, but it wasn’t the same as seeing him in person. After you moved, it had certainly been an adjustment for both of you. You still weren’t used to seeing him almost every day. You missed feeling his arms around you, you missed his lips on yours.

You were pulled out of your head by the sound of your phone ringing. You grabbed it from the nightstand and checked who was calling. A smile spread on your face as you saw it was Gojo.

“Hey Toru” you answered cheerfully.

“Hey doll. Glad to hear you’re finally back home”

“Yeah, me too. I’m exhausted, but it’s way too damn hot here, so I can’t even sleep”

“It’s like seven in the evening. You going to sleep already?”

“I would love to, but it’s too hot and the sun is shining directly in my window so eeehh, I don’t know” you shrugged.

Suddenly, you heard your doorbell ring.

“You expecting someone?” Gojo asked.

“Nope. I’m sure they’ve just got the wrong apartment, they’ll go away eventually” you sighed.

“You sure? Maybe it’s someone important” he said in a playful tone.

“I doubt it”

“You should go check it out anyway” Gojo chuckled.

It took you a moment to realize what was going on, but when you did, you rushed to the front door and opened it.

Gojo was waiting behind your door and as you opened it, you almost slammed it in his face. He was so glad to see you and he just couldn’t stop smiling. The last nine months had been a pain in the ass for him. Sure, you’d seen each other at least once a month but compared to the previous multiple times a week, it was basically nothing. He missed you all the time, he missed putting his hand on your waist while you made your morning tea in the kitchen, while he was still half asleep. He missed the smell of your hair and the way you would pepper kisses on his shoulders while hugging him from behind. He missed the feeling of your soft skin under his hands, and the way you lightly bit his lip when you needed to catch your breath while kissing. There you were, right in front of him, and he was just standing there, with these thoughts running circles in his head.

“Satoru?” you asked, tilting your head to the side a bit. “Are you gonna come in?”

“Hmm? Yeah of course” he snapped out of it.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him into the apartment, before pulling the door shut behind him. He took a few steps into the apartment, before stopping in his tracks.

“You’re acting weird. Are you okay?” you asked when you turned back to him after closing the door.

You weren’t really sure what was going on. Sure, this was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you met almost ten years ago, but you’d never seen him like this. Was he upset about something? Was he just out of it for some reason? You reached for his hand again and the second you touched him, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a hug.

“I missed you” he inhaled deeply, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“I missed you too” you said, pulling him closer.

You just stayed there for a moment, holding each other. You eventually pulled back and placed your hand on the side of his face, slipping a couple of fingers under his blindfold.

“Is it okay if I take it off?” you asked. “You won’t get a migraine later?”

Gojo placed a hand on top of yours and pressed a kiss on your palm. “It’s fine, even if I do get one”

“You sure?” you reiterated.

“Yeah, and besides, if I do get a migraine, I have you to take care of me” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes with a small smile and pulled his blindfold off. You never got used to how beautiful his eyes were, it was breathtaking every time. You could get lost in those eyes if you weren’t careful.

“What’s with that look? Had you forgotten how handsome I am already? We clearly need to see each other more often” Gojo joked.

“Shut up and kiss me already, pretty boy” you said and grabbed his collar.

Gojo grinned as he started to close the distance between your lips, but he was doing it agonizingly slowly. He was clearly savoring the look on your face. You huffed and rolled your eyes, before pulling him into a kiss by his collar. Gojo placed his hands under your ass and lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let him pin you between his body and the wall. His right hand had found its way under your shirt while the other one was still on your ass, holding you up. You were running out of air, so you gently bit down on his lower lip. It didn’t stop him from kissing you, it just made him move to your neck.

“Toru” you said breathlessly.

He didn’t even seem to hear you, so you pulled his head back by his hair. “Timeout” you panted.

“You okay?” he asked, catching his breath, searching your face for any signs of discomfort, while still holding you up against the wall.

“I’m good, just… a bit lightheaded”

“And you were worried about me” Gojo smirked.

“Oh, you’re gonna be the death of me” you grinned, before pulling him close again and kissing him. It was going to be the start of a long, enjoyable night.

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

dad

annie told her father all about the alicia incident after sucking his cock on her couch. in fact, she told the story still kneeling on the floor, bottomless, cum on her chin.

robbie was out, having spent the night with casey. annie made her her father was aware of the empty apartment as she peeled off her panties for him, hoping he might want to go further, but he was certain robbie would appear at any time.

he was very interested in the idea of alicia's parents wanting to meet her and said the idea that alicia had a long-term illness but resisted long-term relationships was one he'd deeply probe if he were her parents' therapist. "i've got a few things you can deeply probe," annie offered.

her father left and robbie got home. he'd been railing casey all morning and had a few videos to prove it but could tell annie was deliriously horny, so he handed her his phone to watch the videos while he licked her clit and fingered her pussy.

"i met casey's parents this morning, she brought me down the stairs and she was literally in only a tank top, introduced me to her dad with her pussy showing."

"fuck," annie said. "i love her."

"her mom is hot, too," he said. "she had panties on but looked shaved. i tried not to stare."

annie giggled. "keep me posted." she said.

she had a date with richard that night. drunk after dinner in his apartment, she went to sophie's room and came out wearing some of her panties. richard called her sophie while he fucked her.

annie informed sophie of this along with a photo of her pulled-aside panties covered in cum. it was hours before sophie responded and she looked gaunt in the nude photo she sent back. annie was alarmed.

"you have to go get sophie," she told richard. "she's going to die."

somehow he heard it this time, and was on the next flight.

while waiting for updates from richard, annie got updates from tom. alicia was stable, but obviously comatose, and otherwise healthy. annie found herself weirdly compelled by alicia, and so asked tom questions about her.

alicia apparently worked in marketing for a company with offices L.A., NYC, and Chicago, and so spent her time floating between them. she had always been close with her parents and tom and rarely seemed to have time for friends. she picked up a lot of hobbies, though, and was skilled at a lot of crafts, and also juggling. he told her that alicia had never had anyone she called a girlfriend or boyfriend, but he knew that she was "always fucking someone."

"for a while," he told annie. "she was between apartments here, and lived with me and my girlfriend at the time," he said. "and she was getting railed like every single night. my girlfriend hated it."

"i hope you broke up with the prude," annie said.

"LOL," tom said. "i did, yeah."

annie asked tom if he wanted to meet for drinks a few days before she was set to meet his parents. he said yes, and so they met in the city that evening. he was tall and handsome.

"so do you guys vet all the women who give alicia strokes?" annie asked.

"this is the first time it has happened during sex," he said. "i think that is a compliment to you."

"yeah i am going to interpret it as such," annie said.

tom was presently single, he'd recently had an engagement broken off.

"why?" annie asked, not even apologizing for being nosy.

"we were just incompatible," he said. "i think i value relationships over things like, my career. and she was the opposite."

"i see," annie said.

"are there careerist therapists?" he asked.

"i guess," annie said. "the ones who want to write a book or become like, a social media star. i just like a pretty office and a steady income and feeling like i at least sometimes help people."

"have you ever been close to getting married?" he asked.

"not really," annie said. "i might have thought so. basically until my career really started i was kind of a monogamy addict, and i kept falling into long term committed relationships that didn't make me happy. for the last year i've really just been in casual situations and i am much happier."

"that's what i need, i think," tom said.

annie brought him back to her apartment. robbie was out, so they fucked and sucked for hours in the bed. tom had a great cock and great stamina. he loved annie's bush and was appreciative but not obsessive about her tits -- he turned her around to fuck her from behind a few times and annie really liked that, like he didn't need her tits in his face to be excited. he came on her ass and on her face.

"you gonna tell alicia about that when she wakes up or can i?" tom asked.

annie laughed. "has alicia ever seen your cock?" she asked him.

"you are such a therapist," he said. "straight to the family stuff."

"hey i haven't even asked about your mom yet," she said. "but has she?"

"yeah," tom said. "alicia has."

"when you were living together?"

"she walked in on me masturbating in the shower," he said.

"how did you feel about that?" annie said. "guys with big cocks tend not to be that concerned about being seen."

"yeah." he laughed. "i didn't mind. and she reacted positively."

"how so?" annie said.

"she said 'oh my god!' and then said 'that's a good oh my god!' and then clarified 'because you have a big dick!' and then she said 'oh my god!' again and left."

"did anything else come of it?"

"yeah," he laughed. "she came into my room in a towel and dropped the towel and said, 'we have to be even.'"

"was that the first time you'd seen her naked like, as an adult?"

"yeah," he said.

"she has great tits."

"yeah like you," tom said. "and like my mom."

"oh, that's good," annie said.

tom laughed. "why?"

"my mom doesn't have big tits and as soon as i developed she started to resent me, and my dad and my brother got like, really nice to me. as did every other man in the world."

"so it's good that my mom and alicia are on an even playing field?"

"good for their relationship, yes," annie said. "have you seen your mom naked?"

"all the time," he said. "she's not shy."

"how do they compare?"

"well, my mom is less tan and has more pubic hair and that's about it."

"how much more?" annie asked.

"well, as you know, alicia has none, and my mom has less than you," he said. "so there's not much, all day."

"i can't remember ever seeing my mom naked," annie said. "but when my brother goes home for weekends he says she will come into his room from the shower just fully nude and hang out."

"yeah," tom laughed. "that's not unfamiliar."

"really!?" annie laughed. "it's because you're tall."

"that does seem to make women want to get naked."

"has your mom seen your cock?"

"no."

"but she probably knows."

"my dad is about the same size as me," he said. "in all ways. i'm his clone and alicia is my mom's clone."

after that, tom got hard again, and so they fucked and this time annie took some pictures. she thought about using alicia's phone but decided not to. she gave it to Tom as he left the next morning.

[zebulontheplanet]

I am experiencing what I think is autism regression (as does my therapist) and am wondering about your experience and what ways you used to deal with it and if there is any way you know of to work with your limits? (if you aren't comfortable with asks like this let me know)

Hey there! I’m completely comfortable with asks and questions. So, I have autism regression caused by autism catatonia, so it’s a bit different from regular regression or skill regression caused by burnout.

DO NOT use this post to self diagnose regressive autism catatonia. If you suspect you have autism catatonia then reach out to a professional right away.

Autism regression for me is heavily tied to my autism catatonia, so if you’re just looking for regular regression caused by burnout, then I’m not the person to ask about that. My regression started as young as 17, although I’ve always had skill regression in some areas. I’ve always had to keep learning things to keep up with it and keep maintenance. Things like tying your shoes, basic mathematics, basic reading, etc etc. I’d lose skills in them and have to re-learn it, over and over again. My true regression started becoming noticeable when I was 17. It was fairly slow. Started out with sensory issues, then sensory issues turned into loss of control with meltdowns, then that turned into loss of social skills, then that turned into loss of the ability to mask, then that turned into loss of the ability to complete iADLs, then that turned into loss of the ability to complete bADLs, and then loss of ability to communicate verbally and becoming semiverbal, then loss in cognitive and intellectual skills, and then soon, and more recently, loss in all verbal skills and becoming completely nonverbal.

It was a constant one thing after the other. It was slow, and started out subtle. Things like stimming more turned into stimming constantly, masking less turned into not being able to mask at all, etc etc.

Along with this came catatonic episodes, and those were hard to deal with as well. I have some catatonic episodes that last up to a few minutes, to some that last up to an hour. Semi-catatonic episodes are very common for me as well, and it just means that I become increasingly slow in movements, and feel like I’m going through quicksand.

Also what came along was needing prompts for each and every task. Something as simple as taking a bowel of cereal turned into “ok now, you need to take this to your sister. Go take it to your sister now” instead of “ok, this needs to go to your sister, can you take it to her?” And so on. I have to have a lot of help with things, and sometimes hand over hand help with things. It’s very frustrating because I know I can do it, but my body feels trapped and confused and doesn’t understand.

I work with it by having strict schedules and routines. If those routines and schedules get broken, automatically catatonic. I also need intense prompting, and require assistance for what people think are just second nature and “common sense”. Everyone is different, some people definitely need more support then others. And compared to others with autism catatonia, I have mild to moderate autism catatonia. Which says a lot because I need a LOT of support. It just goes to show how bad it can get. I deal with it one day at a time and with the care and support of friends and family.

I hope this answers your question and feel free to ask more! Have a lovely day!

[another-whump-sideblog]

Fixing Tracy -- Routine

TWs in the tags

Masterlist

She’ll figure something out. She just has to wait and gather information, and she’ll figure something out. That��s the plan. She has a plan, she’s not powerless.

She’s… she has to accept that she’s in here for the long haul. She’s going to have to find a new job when she escapes, and comfort Alicia after the stress of losing her sister and not knowing why. 

She can do it. She just needs to buckle down. No more crying and pouting and freaking out.

Tracy falls into a routine with Molly. They eat breakfast together in the mornings, Tracy usually letting Molly make it herself. There are chains attaching all of the pots and pans to hooks inside the drawers, now. She hadn't noticed, but Molly probably did it right after the time Tracy tried to use a frying pan as a weapon. The chains are long enough that the pots and pans can be taken basically anywhere in the kitchen, but not outside of it, which Tracy supposes makes sense.

Usually they eat in silence, but sometimes Molly talks a bit about herself.

“Would it help you settle in if you knew more about me? I keep forgetting I’m basically a stranger to you. Hmm… I’ve always wanted to take care of people, ever since I was very small. I’ve tried all sorts of things. I was a therapist for a while, a nurse for a while… I even did politics for a bit.”

“Then… why? Why wasn’t that good enough? Why’d you have to— why’d you kidnap me?”

“…that would just upset you. You know full well there’s no answer to that question that you would be happy with. Let’s talk about something else.”

After breakfast, they usually do something together, like watching a movie or playing games. Tracy does her best to be friendly and engage Molly in conversation in the hopes that she'll let something important slip, but more often than not Tracy just gets too frustrated with Molly to do anything but scream at her or be silent, and she usually chooses the latter.

After that, they have lunch. Molly is a good cook, and Tracy finds herself eating a lot more than she did before Molly kidnapped her. She ignores the gnawing thought in the back of her head that she hasn’t earned this, because she has no doubt Molly would find a way to force her to eat if she refused.

That’s… that’s taking comfort in being powerless. That’s what Molly wants. 

No, no. She’s choosing to eat so that she’s strong enough to fight back. She doesn’t have to earn food. Her needs aligning with Molly’s wants benefits her, not Molly. Her priority is escape, not defiance.

“How… um… how did you get me here?”

“You don’t want to talk about—“

“Stop that!” She’s already shaking with rage. Talking to Molly without screaming is impossible, sometimes. “Stop acting like you know what I want better than I do!”

Molly stares at her like a deer in headlights. “I… um… you don’t like it when I apologize. I’ll just… um, I waited until a night when you were alone in your apartment, then I waited until you were asleep, and then I brought you home.”

“I knew that much! I’m asking how!”

“Right. I… drugged you. I’m sor— nevermind.”

Tracy waits for her to continue, but she doesn’t. Deep breaths. “…And my stuff? All of my clothes are here.”

“Just packed it up in my trunk. And I took your phone, which you know, and your keys and wallet and stuff so it would look like you left on your own.”

So no one’s looking for Tracy. She deflates. It’s still information, though. She got some information. She’ll just ask a couple more things so that it wasn’t obvious she was fishing for that. “You had time to fold up all my clothes and put them in the dresser and closet. What the fuck did you drug me with?”

“You wouldn’t recognize the name of the drug. It only took a few hours to organize your stuff, anyway. I didn’t— it wasn’t dangerous, I promise. You were perfectly safe the whole time.”

Tracy jumps to her feet without thinking. “You only drugged me once? And it only lasted a few hours?”

“Yes. You’re so clever, figuring that out from what I said.”

There’s no sarcasm in Molly’s voice. It’s a completely sincere compliment, and it makes Tracy’s stomach turn.

A few hours by car could still be quite a ways away from her apartment, but… she’s probably still in the same state. She shouldn’t have too hard of a time getting home after escaping.

That’s what she was already assuming, but having it confirmed is still very helpful. She’s on a roll, gathering-information-wise. It… probably wasn’t actually a ‘jump out of her chair in excitement’ level discovery, and now it’s really obvious she was fishing for information relevant to her escape… but that’s fine. She can work with that.

After lunch, Tracy usually takes a nap. She hasn’t just been eating a lot more, she’s been sleeping a lot more, too, and she’s positive she’s being drugged despite Molly’s insistence to the contrary.

“…Please stop drugging me. You don’t have to, I’m not a danger to myself or others right now, right?” All she can do is ask. Molly is the one who stocks the kitchen, so as far as Tracy knows, literally all of her options for food are drugged.

“Dear, I’m not drugging you, I promise.”

“But I’ve never been this tired before! I’ve never slept this much every day, or napped, or anything like that! How could I possibly believe you’re not drugging me?” There’s a mortifying lump in her throat that makes her voice come out sounding more scared than angry.

“Tracy, dear… you averaged four hours of sleep a night before you got here. You were in survival mode, and your body saw no point in using its limited resources to ask for sleep. But now you’re safe. Now you can heal, and that takes a lot more energy than surviving. You’ll feel less tired as your body adjusts and recovers from the constant stress you were under.”

That sounds like bullshit. Tracy is positive she’s being drugged. 

After her nap, Tracy usually takes advantage of the little gym setup Molly made. It’s really just a treadmill, a pull-up bar, and a few yoga mats, but it’s better than nothing. Sometimes Molly joins her, but usually she just sits and reads while Tracy tries to build her strength.

Afterwards, they have dinner. Often, Molly uses the time while Tracy is napping to bake some kind of treat, so there’s usually dessert. Then Tracy showers, brushes her teeth, and goes to bed. Molly always offers to stay with her, and Tracy always refuses. She knows now that Molly will never fall asleep in front of her unless Tracy's restrained or drugged, so there's no point.

Time goes by so fast. Before Tracy knows it, her hands and black eye have healed, and she still hasn’t made any real progress towards escaping. She's even considered setting a fire to try and force Molly to let her upstairs, but there's a fire sprinkler system on the ceiling. 

Molly hasn't restrained or shocked her since the time Tracy tried to take the cattle prod from her. She doesn't seem to be looking for reasons to do either, and Molly never seems even slightly annoyed with Tracy no matter how nasty Tracy is to her. She genuinely seems to want Tracy to be happy, even if she's really, really bad at it.

Every night, before going upstairs to bed, Molly tells her she loves her. Every night, Tracy believes her a little more.

Tag list: @whumpyourdamnpears

[jewish-vents]

its so bad to the point that i cant talk to goyim anymore, i just cant trust them whatsoever. but my therapist is a goy and a few weeks ago i tried to say that i was scared to go to more punk shows because of rampant antisemitism and she basically said that i was just paranoid and that it doesnt matter anyways. so obviously i walked out. but since then i cant talk to her i cant forget about everything that goyim have done to break me these past few months and i cant trust her to talk even about normal stuff. i still go i just sit there in silence while she talks at me for an hour. last week she asked me if someone did something to make me shut down like this and i was just thinking "yeah, my friend was murdered in october and i lost all my irl friends after i saw them cheering on the people who murdered him and i get people telling me almost everyday that hitler shouldve finished the job" but i just stayed silent because i know she'll probably agree with them. when my mum woke me up to take me today i started crying and hyperventilating because im so scared. its really bad because i need her to help get on the diability benefit, i cant work because im disabled and i cant get the benefit alone because my disabilities stop me from going to the meetings and making the phone calls and my brother said im a waste of resources and contribute nothing to society and i cant leave my house because im scared i'll get killed for being jewish

I'm sorry but your therapist sounds like a crappy therapist. It sucks that you need her. You're not a waste of resources and you can contribute to society, but one way or another you have inherent worth that is completely independent from what you can give others. And you have experienced quite a significant bit of trauma, and maybe more things you haven't even mentioned here. You're allowed to feel sad and upset and even angry.

When you need it, you can always come here scream and cry and talk and whatever you want (within the rules, of course). We're not going to judge you and you don't even need to make sense. Just let it out.

Best of luck and I hope it gets better for you