#because I went from one physical job to another

[writerunnamed]

note: This is something I've wanted to write for a while but I am well aware that not everyone will be into it. There are a few stories I want to tell that aren't the norm so I decided to start this nameless blog to tell them. I am not tagging anyone, if you find it then you find it. xo Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, Joel spits on the 😸, boobie play, really inappropriate dirty talk, an unused sex toy [will make an appearance in another chapter], female masturbation, daddy kink, unfit parent) 5.6k word count

He takes up so much space, and it wasn’t just physically. He took up space emotionally, mentally. Mentally most of all. Your thoughts always drifted back to him. Cyclical. An elliptical pattern making him the top of every list you’d go through in your head. He seemed to know it too, in a stoic, quiet, largely unsettling way. Older, attractive men tended to do that. 

It started during that in-between time, when summer, losing your job, and having to move back home pushed you to figure out what the fuck you actually wanted to do with your life seemed to come together like the planets aligning. The precipice of a turning point, a ticking clock counting down the days until your childhood bedroom would be turned into a gym, or an office, or a guest bedroom. The lukewarm welcome from your mother would ice over and you’d really have to get your shit together. 

Your mother was what people who didn’t know her would call ‘a free spirit’, what you called her, was a fucking mess. 

Your earliest memories consist of having to remind her to buy milk or to pay the bill because the electricity had turned off while watching cartoons in front of the tiny, living room tv. You’d had to remind her, in not so many words, that she was the mother, and you were the child. 

To your friends, she was the cool mom. The party mom. Your house was the place to be because she didn’t ask questions, she left her cigarettes unattended and didn’t mind if a few went missing. She kept the bar cart stocked, even if there was nothing but flies in the cupboard and nothing but half-empty condiment bottles in the fridge. Your friends loved it. 

She flirted with the boys your age, she gave sex tips to the girls. 

You smiled when they congratulated you on having the cool mom, and when they all went home, you retreated and pretended to be happy. 

Joel settled her down. Met her in a bar and moved in quick. He came into the picture when you were fifteen and you were almost sure he’d be just like the rest of the lovers she’d taken over the years. You’d given the whole thing six months. Half a year for him to see what a fucking disaster she was. Six months to be a fucking creep, to cheat or get cheated on. 

The only differences you could clock at first were that he was self-employed, and marginally better looking than his predecessors.

He was firmer though, less malleable than the others she’d brought around, he seemed immune to her charms and that only inflamed her. It made her desperate for his approval and his attention. She would throw a tantrum, or play one of her mind games but he’d never rise to her bait. He was patient for the most part, until he hit his breaking point and his temper reared its head. A temper only she seemed to bring out in him. 

To you, it was pathetic. 

He didn’t try with you though, there was no flattery or strong hand, only a silent respect. In a sense, he treated you as the adult, and her as the child. It worked for you, if he’d expected you to call him dad he would have been laughed at mercilessly and he seemed to know this. 

The disturbing part was his respect and his healthy avoidance of you worked its own kind of magic. It made him an enigma, made you curious as to what he got out of the whole thing. A home, sure. A woman who was obsessed with him, yes. Sex–yes. You heard it enough for it to turn your stomach. By the sounds of it, he knew what he was doing.

The thought sickened the healthy part of your brain. The other part though, the part flooding your body with hormones, making it come to life with curiously intense sexual feelings, that part wanted to know what it was he was so good at. How could he pull those sounds out of anyone? It was easier to imagine him with some faceless woman. 

It was shameful to imagine yourself. 

The thought–although enough to fuel a desperate journey of self-exploration–always filled you with an insurmountable guilt. 

For those first few years you could barely look at him. Your mother took it as a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. That only aggravated you more. She never asked questions, never dug to see what the cause of your obvious distaste for her partner was about and so again, you retreated. He, however, kept to the outs of your path. He followed your lead, he let you control any and every part of all of your interactions. He didn’t ask questions. He kept the lights on. He kept the fridge full. 

He burrowed his way in, whether you liked it or not. 

When you turned eighteen, you moved out. He helped, did his ‘fatherly’ duties and moved you into the apartment, he urged your mother to take you on an extensive grocery trip, spoke to your landlord about the safety of the building. You supposed you should have been grateful, you should have said thank you, given him some sort of acknowledgement that you appreciated his help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you said your mumbling goodbyes, and promptly closed the door on them. Neither of them complained. 

The euphoria of venturing out on your own had lost its shine depressingly quick. A string of chronically unserious boyfriends came and went, the rent climbed higher than you could keep up with, and while already living paycheck to paycheck, you lost your job. Your cellphone had taken the brunt of your frustration at having to call your mother, begging her to let you come back home while you got back on your feet a little more than two years after you’d left. 

Your teeth gnawed at your lips, your fingernails dug into the skin around your cuticles in the attempt to keep your voice sweet and pleading, in the end it was his voice that you’d heard in the background, telling–no, commanding her to say yes. That he would be your champion twisted at your insides. Maybe a small, healthy part of you hoped he’d put up a fight, tell you that you were too old to be coming back home and that you had to figure it out on your own like an adult. 

A healthy part of you hoped that he’d save you again, only from yourself. Hanging up with a heavy, resigned sigh, you set about starting the trek home, ignoring the swirling mess of annoyance, confusion, and perverse glee in your stomach. 

-

The first few days were spent in a depressive episode, a seemingly inescapable loop of sleeping in late, leaving your room only when the house was empty to raid the kitchen for something to eat, scrolling mindlessly–blindly–on your phone and then staying up way too late only to do it all over again. 

They didn’t bother you, but if the annoyed sighs and narrowed eyes from your mother were anything to go by, the talk was coming soon. After the third day of the cycle, you circumvent it and wake up early-ish to shower and dress in something other than ratty old sweats long forgotten by an ex you couldn’t quite remember. 

You came down to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes tracked the lines of you, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

Your heart leapt. He should have been at work by now. 

“Good morning.” It came out croaky, your voice almost reluctant to come out. 

“Mornin’.” His hair was slicked back, the gray almost sparkling in the golden light. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His eyes were so intense, you found yourself stuck in place, like a deer in headlights and that ever present, deep-seeded anger reared its head. It was irrational that he should frustrate you so much with his calm presence. 

“Coffee’s fresh, if you want some.” He jut his chin out to the pot, lowering his eyes to his paper once more. Once his gaze had shifted, you found you could breathe again. You mumbled a thanks and moved to pour yourself a cup, thankful, if unsure why, to focus on something concrete instead of abstract self-reflection.

“Your mama’s gon’ be late tonight. I thought I could pick up a pizza on the way home.” He says it offhand and again, your heart races. 

“Whatever.” You scrunch your face up in annoyance, it sounded like such a bullshit, teen response. He doesn’t comment on it, and that somehow makes it worse. You beat yourself about it as you root around in the fridge for the milk. The cereal you liked was in the top cupboard, and you’re not quite tall enough to reach it. 

You heard his chair scoot back and then suddenly he’s there, beside you, pressed up tight. You follow the long line of his throat as he stares up, reaching the box with ease while one big, warm hand lands on your lower back. He smells like the laundry detergent your mother insists on buying mixed with something else. Manly, smoky, with coffee laced through. Your cunt clenches nonconsensually as he stands there and stares down at you, his whole front pressed against your side, his hand still holding your lower back. Your mouth hangs open, stupidly, and he raises an eyebrow again forcing something to kickstart deep in your gut. 

“You okay there babygirl?” The endearment feels unwholesome.

It triggers something strange, strengthening the underlying conflict for him. There’s a lilt in his tone you don’t like, maybe because deep down you like it too much. Maybe you don’t want to admit that, or analyze anything about what the fuck is happening in your body. In your psyche. 

“Yeah.” You step out of his bubble, barely managing not to trip over yourself in your haste to get away and put a healthy distance between you. 

“Yes. Thank you.” You take a deep breath, pressing your lips together tight in what you hope to God is a neutral expression. 

He lets out a bemused huff through his nose, a mischief in his eyes shining out at you that you’ve never seen directed at you. You’ve seen it used on your mom. You’ve seen her go giggly and flirty whenever he looked at her like that. A half-formed escape plan starts to form but he saves you from the need, he puts his things in the dishwasher, and nods his head in goodbye. 

You practically hold your breath until you hear his truck rumble out of the driveway, and down the street. 

-

You manage to avoid him for a few days, staying out late catching up with friends, or feigning a need for rest. You’ve convinced your mother that your days are now spent job hunting, and for the most part they are. You leave in the morning, avoiding any and all contact and you get home late, creeping up the stairs much like you did in your teens even though you’d really never needed to. Your mother never enforced a curfew, and when Joel joined the picture, he didn’t pry. 

The luck didn’t last though, you got over-confident. He was sprawled out on the sofa, up uncharacteristically late one night when you padded through the house. 

“You’re up late.” You quickly check the accusatory tone, “Don’t you have to get up early?” Better, it comes out more concerned than annoyed and he nods. He wore a threadbare t-shirt, the fabric of it having been through the wash too many times to keep its shape. Light, gray sweats were stretched almost obscenely tight over his spread thighs, pooling at his crotch from being shoved up by the couch. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Come sit, we can watch some tv.” He pats the seat next to him and despite the deep desire to retreat into the Joel-free haven of your bedroom, you cannot seem to disobey him. 

You settle beside him on the couch, a little further away than was necessary. He chuckles softly. 

“I ain’t gonna bite you, girl. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

You pretend you don’t hear it, choosing instead to compartmentalize whatever game he’s playing and stare at the screen. He flips through the channels, settling on one thing for a few minutes before moving to something else until he finds a movie that’s already close to midway. There’s an electricity in the air, something about him galvanizing the space between you, charging it enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end. You frown to yourself, barely paying attention while fighting an increasingly confusing mental battle. Why is it so hard to be around him? Why does he inspire such scorn? Is it scorn at all?

You rub at your eyes, scrubbing your hands down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe the slate clean. 

He’s just a man, a man your mother had chosen and for better or worse they seem to work. She is happy with him and he is seemingly happy with her, why then is it so hard to accept him for what he is? Something slithers around in your brain, something that laughs darkly, something pulsing through the network of thoughts and ideas that threatens to crack open your subconscious and throw it right in your face. 

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” You pull your hands away from your face to see a very explicit scene playing out on the screen. Heat floods every inch of your body. 

“Almost looks like she’s enjoyin’ herself.” He leaves it on, and you feel stuck, your body betraying you yet again to see the way the woman on screen moans wantonly while under a very handsome man. You let out a non-committal sound, teetering on the edge of madness. You scold yourself, you are an adult, an adult that has had sex before and this isn’t even real. 

“Looks like fake bullshit to me.” The strength in your voice lends credence to the illusion that you aren’t affected. He laughs, calm and completely at ease and that only pulls the anger to the forefront again. 

“They can’t show the real stuff on these channels. If it were real, he’d be doin’ what she needs.” 

“And what’s that?” It comes out before you can stop it. 

“Well,” He smiles to himself, winning a duel you hadn’t even known you were fighting. 

“If it were real, he’d be pressin’ on her clit, he’d be makin’ sure she felt every inch of him and make her take his cock like a good girl.” You let out a heavy breath, half shocked, half grateful it wasn’t a whimper. 

Warning bells go off in your head, just as a heartbeat starts in your cunt because you can see it. You can see him. His face twisted up in pleasure but cocky, his hips moving, his thumb dipped into your mouth and then swirling around your clit. He smiles at catching you looking at his hands and you want to yell at him. You want to smack him across the face and kick him in the balls for saying something like that to you, his partner's daughter, but you don’t. 

Your body almost catapults you out of your seat. Barely unintelligible words come out, something about needing sleep, about being tired and then you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell. 

The shower was cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your core and it was with a terrifying desperation that you ground against your fingers. The slick pooling at the mouth of your pussy was enough to feel even with the water washing everything away except your shame. 

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning out the taboo and entirely inappropriate name you were dying to say out loud. His firm thighs spread on that couch filled your mind, the calloused, work-roughened hands you could practically feel on your hips, on your thighs. You could feel them holding and spreading your legs open so he could make you make those same noises you’d heard over the years. Make you take it like a good girl, his good girl. 

You came with a shudder, sagging against the chilly tile. You warmed the water with a sigh, disappointed and ashamed with yourself, trying, and failing, to put the whole thing out of your mind. 

-

You doubled down on avoiding him after that. 

Your mother worked most of the time but when she was home, things were easier. He reverted to the healthy avoidance, the proverbial disinterest that she didn’t seem to have a problem with. You still heard them some nights, the bed creaking, throaty cries, deep grunts but now they haunted you in a different way. Now you heard his words on that couch and couldn’t help but picture all manner of unsavory things that both disgusted and thrilled you. 

Being unemployed didn’t help. There was nothing to keep you out of the house most of the day, and there were only so many places that would accept you looking for a job in person. 

There was only so much time you could spend with friends too, they had their own lives and jobs and relationships. Too busy to save you from unwanted free time. 

Old habits resurface, and you retreat within yourself while pushing yourself harder. A job would fix things enough to help, you could save up enough money to leave for good and take yourself out of the equation. 

-

The powers that be momentarily take pity on you, and after what seems like a lifetime's worth of job hunting you blessedly get a call back. It’s a part time job, but at this point beggars can’t exactly be choosers. It’s a steady, if insufficient source of income that hadn’t been available to you before. Determined, you buckle down, you channel every guidance counselor you’ve ever had and ace the fuck out of that interview.

It’s not taxing work, but you put your head down and focus with the hope that if you worked hard enough, if you made a good enough impression, made yourself indispensable they’d throw you enough shifts to make up a full time job. 

It helps. Time spent away from the house, from your mothers dried up welcome, from Joel altogether genuinely helps. You feel a bit lighter, less guilty, less prone to imagine the unimaginable. You find comfort in the absence of self-imposed temptation. There is peace in the mindless work, in the life outside of the house that no longer feels like a home. 

It's a double edged sword though, because at the end of every shift, the luck–the peace–runs out. If being at work and out of the house is a respite, returning home only thickens the tension. Time spent outside the house only sharpens the discomfort, clarifies the glaring wrongness of it all when you enter it at the end of the day. What it all is, you won’t name. That way madness lies. Issue is, with every interaction, with every chance encounter in the hallway, or living room, every second spent with him in the kitchen watching his lips touch the rim of his mug the thing inside grows. Parts of him fill the corners of your mind. The curve of his shoulders filling out the flannel shirts he favors. The fullness of his bottom lip when he purses them, something he does while squinting at the paper that you’re almost sure he isn’t aware of. His neck, his hands, the dimple in his cheek when he laughs at something really funny. 

These things jump out, innocent as they may be, but other not so innocent things start to creep in. The bulge in his jeans is a mental mine, it lies in wait and every so often when you think you’ve avoided it, it detonates and you catch yourself staring, both ashamed and so inappropriately curious it eats away at you like acid. 

What you needed was something to fill the emptiness, both emotionally and physically. So you did what any modern, adult woman would do; you bought a sex toy. 

Nothing too crazy, or expensive. After perusing the site for a while you finally settled on a plain, non-threatening dildo. Nothing too big, nothing noisy, just something to be able to focus on, something to use while imagining someone giving you what you need. You ignored that dark thing inside that hissed his name, shooed it away and ordered the package for express delivery. With your mom constantly working, and Joel keeping to himself you figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would question a package addressed to you. 

You still aren’t sure whether or not you’d do it all over again had you known the Pandora’s box that little package would open. 

You all but rushed home after work. All day, you’d imagined the relief that toy would bring. You imagined yourself using it in the shower, steam swirling as you took your pleasure. You imagined yourself laying in bed in the safety of the dark, setting a towel down on your chair and riding it to your heart's content. 

Joel’s truck is in the driveway when you pull in, but it’s secondary to the excitement at the chance to sequester yourself with your new best friend and so when you walk into the house, you don’t give him much attention. Until he opens his mouth. 

“You got a package today babygirl. I put it on your bed.” He sits on his spot on the sofa, a funny little smile on his face. A bad feeling swells in your chest, and you look up the stairs before meeting his eyes again. 

“Thanks.” You drop your bag on the little bench near the front door, trying, and failing to keep the nervous feeling out of your voice. He nods, and you make your way up, stopping yourself from taking the stairs two at a time. 

Ice flows through your veins when you see the package is open. 

He’d opened your package, he knew what you’d bought. 

Blood pounds in your ears as you stand there, limbs cold and numb at the realization that he saw it. He saw it. He opened it, and he placed it here, on the very place you fantasized about using it. Sweat beaded on your brow, the bottom of your stomach fell out of your ass as you stood there, barely feeling the soft, worn carpet under your feet. 

“Little small, f’you ask me.” His voice at the mouth of your room made your head twist fast enough to hurt your neck. You hadn’t heard him follow you up the stairs, hadn’t heard him open your door and lean against the frame, arms crossed in haughty amusement. 

“Why would you open my package?” You clutched at it, as though he could forget what he’d seen if you held it tightly enough. 

“I didn’t open it on purpose, I’m expectin’ somethin’ and I didn’t read the name.” He pushes away from the door frame, making his way closer and it’s like the air thins as the space between you shrinks.

“I mean, I could tell you been frustrated, but this doesn’t seem like it’s gon’ help much.” He reaches out, and takes the package from you. You watch him do it, watch him, frozen as he plucks it from your hands and takes the toy out. 

“This all you can take?” He holds it, contemptuously–pityingly. 

You wanted to snatch it out of his hands, the dimming voice of reason urges you to push him out of your room and remind him that he needs to keep a healthy distance but you say nothing, you stand there, and watch him. He puts it all down on your dresser, before stepping a little closer, close enough for you to have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes. 

“No boyfriends around to give you what you want?” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers sliding across the apple of your cheek, slipping down until his thumb pressed against the cushion of your bottom lip. 

“No one around to give you what you obviously need?” He steps a little closer, until your bodies meet. This is wrong, your mind screams it but your body is frozen under his eyes, under his touch. That part, the frozen part is cheering, it’s running victory laps as it floods your cunt with slick in preparation for something unholy. 

That same, writhing, traitorous thing whispers that this is your chance, the house is empty and your body obeys. You look your fill, you take in the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brow. His eyes are black as a crow's wing, lust-blown and completely focused on your parted lips and your shallow panting. 

Adrenaline spikes and you do something you cannot take back. You rise on your tip-toes and press your mouth to his. 

He hums into it, smiling and once again you get that feeling that you’d made the exact move he’d expected you to. A vague, but fleeting inkling that you were just a pawn on his chessboard. 

At any other time you would have stepped away and repented, ate yourself alive with guilt but his hands pulled you closer, his tongue swiped at the seam of your mouth and you opened up for him. That only made it all the more real, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, feeling his hands lower to hold onto your ass. 

The rational part of you shrinks down to nothing, and that other part, the wrong part–it swells and preens under his hands. He pulls away, and embarrassingly, you chase his mouth in a daze. 

“Oh honey, you’re just dyin’ for it aren’t you?” He herds you towards your tiny bed, the twin mattress that has been the stage for every taboo fantasy about this man, your stepfather. You shoo the word away with a shiver. 

“It’s wrong-” You almost whisper, but you don’t push him away, you let him lay you down in that bed and he laughs. 

“It is, isn't it?” He pulls at the hem of your shirt, you raise your arms for him and the picture of it is wrong, daddy taking off your clothes. The thought, the word,  should disgust you but it only pulls your hands to him. You join in, and pull his shirt up and off, biting your lip at the broadness of him. You take in each freckle, the sprinkling of hair on his chest, the dip of his throat calling out for your tongue like a siren. 

He presses his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth obscenely. Unseemly. 

“You been wantin’ this for a long time, haven’t you babygirl?” He pulls your bra off, and the shock of cold air hardens your nipples. He bites his lip to see it, unable to stop himself from flattening his tongue against a hardened bud. A sound you’ve never let yourself make out loud in this room fills the space between you and that slithering thing luxuriates. 

He moves, languidly, unhurried to the other breast and holds the plump of it in his big hand and sucks at the second bud, sucks as much of the peak as he can into his mouth, breathing through his nose while you slowly spiral into madness.

When he lets go, he presses a kiss to your nipple and his facial hair tickles your skin. 

He pulls your leggings off along with your underwear in one go and the reality of it all hits you when the air hits your soaked core. That’s when the urge to put a stop to it is the clearest, when he kneels between your legs and spreads them wide, stares at the place where he’s already filled a million times in your mind. The place that’s drenched at the mere thought of him. 

“Joel-” You start, but he pushes your legs up, folding you and then he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth slowly, aiming it, a bullseye right on the lips of your cunt. It’s too much, too filthy and you let out a whimper. 

“I think you wanna call me somethin’ else right now.” He undoes his belt and his jeans, keeping his eyes on where his saliva slides down over the open mouth of your cunt, down towards your asshole. He pulls his cock out and part of you shatters. Your eyes flit to the toy sitting on your dresser, your eyes flit to the open door of your bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, your mama ain’t gonna be home for a while.” He smiles, conspiratorially. It's too real, it’s too hypnotic, seeing him there with his cock in his hand while your legs already ache from holding them up and open. He slides the blunt end of it through the mess he’s caused, through his spit and he groans at the sight of it. 

Your heart races so hard to feel him there, that you see the pulse of it in your vision. 

“Deep breath baby.” he warns before slipping inside the tight fist of your pussy, the size of him making you gasp. This is it, there’s no coming back from this and right now, with him seated deep, his groin pressed up tight and the tip of his cock kissing your womb you cannot even think of why you’d ever care.

This is where he's meant to be. This is where you need him. 

“Oh baby, that’s so good huh?” He thrusts shallowly, pulling out a little more than halfway before shoving his hips forward again. You don’t really know how to form words, you don’t know how to take in what’s happening. This is Joel, your step-dad, fucking you in the bed you grew up in. One hand sits heavy on your shin, holding it, the other slides up and holds onto your breast. 

“Look how fuckin’ wet this little pussy is for me,” he moans the words, “you like daddy fuckin’ you?” He thrusts harder and you moan despite the word hitting you in the stomach like a big drop on a rollercoaster. He shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t call himself that, not now. 

“No-” it doesn’t come out like you mean it to, it sounds wrong, like a caress. 

“No? But I think you do-” He leans forward, keeping his pace while pressing his chest to yours, his mouth all but lining up and despite your bullshit protest, you hitch your knees high on his ribs to make room because if he stopped you’d probably die. 

“I think you want me to be your daddy, don’t you baby, it’s okay, I want to be.” He speeds up and the sounds between your legs are so wet, so filthy. 

“You can say it, I want you to say it.” He holds himself up, his elbows caging in your skull and before you can complain or moan or cry he sticks his tongue down your throat again. Your hands finally join the fray and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight to you. 

“Come on baby, say it for me, tell me how good daddy fucks you.” You moan, closing your eyes while your cunt floods him with wave after wave of slick, enough to drip down your ass and onto your bed, down his balls. Enough for it to soak the curls at the base of him. 

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ you honey.” His hips speed up and it's hard now, his thrusts making your bounce, hitting a part of you that toy would never touch in a million years. 

You open your eyes, and look at him above you, sweat beading on his hairline. Never has he looked more fucking appealing than he does right then. The word is there, in your mouth and you know it’ll taste sweeter than anything in this world. 

The wrong thing wins.  

“Yes daddy.” You moan it, and the shameful thing sets off fireworks in your being, he smiles, and tucks his head into the damp crook of your neck, feeding his lovely filth right into your ear. 

“That’s my babygirl, that’s it, fuck baby you take it better than your mama.” Something inside recoils at that, but something else, another facet of that fucked up thing inside rejoices.

“Let me hear you say it again, say it when you come.” He licks a hot stripe up your neck. His words are a filthy groan, something to tuck away for later.

He reaches down, pressing his thumb to your clit just like he said on that couch and you keen, the slip and the pressure enough to toss you over the edge with an almost painfully intense orgasm. 

“I’m coming, daddy.” It’s a shuddering whisper as your cunt clenches around him. 

He moves quickly, kneeling between your legs to pull out and then he’s stroking himself over your cunt. It’s still pulsing when he paints it in his come. You catch your breath as he tugs at himself a few more times, milking himself against you with a disturbingly familiar groan. 

The fog clears altogether too quickly. The lights are too bright, you’re naked, and he’s still got his jeans around his thighs while the guilt creeps into your veins, replacing the euphoria. 

What have I done? What have you made me do?

[literary-motif]

In All My Dreams I Drown

Asirel Cain x Reader

Asirel experiences sleep paralysis.

Warnings: Insomnia, sleep paralysis

Asirel was not afraid of the dark. He had never been. The inky blackness of night had a way of soothing him. It seemed almost like the only escape from the crushing responsibility he carried during the day — almost because although the US slept, there were plenty of places around the world that were bussing with life and plenty of phone calls and e-mails he received during the dark hours. 

Still, it felt different. Breathing was easier during the night. He had always enjoyed being awake while the world around him slept. 

He had stretched this indulgence a little too far, it seemed. 

When he first started he had finished business at perhaps one in the morning, going off to bed soon after. One had turned to two over the years, two to three. Now when he looked up from his computer screen, it was usual to see the blue tint of the early morning light, just before the sunrise. He went to bed when the sun rose, but his daily responsibilities never lessened. 

Somehow, there was always more to do — more to plan, more to think about,  more to work out. He was always busy, and although his hours of sleep had been steadily reduced over many years, the time he tried to wake up rarely varied. 

It was becoming an issue. Asirel was very much aware of that. He had fought long and hard to reduce his hours, choosing to slip into bed as early as eleven at night, only to lie awake until the early hours anyway. 

What had started as simply an unconventional sleeping schedule had developed into a more serious issue. 

“Mr. Cain,” the blonde woman before him had said, giving him a sympathetic smile he thought she must flash to every patient. The sterile whiteness of her office nearly outshone the brightness of her coat, the stethoscope practically gleaming under the harsh artificial lights. “I am afraid there is not much I can do. Plainly speaking, it seems to me that you are under a lot of stress — if you reduce the stress, I am sure your insomnia will disappear.”

He had wanted to scoff but returned her smile with his own. It was polite, although a bit sardonic. “How do you suppose I do that, Doctor?”

She blinked as if nobody had ever asked her that question. “Well, it depends on what causes the stress, but either way I’d suggest—”

Physical activity. This time he did scoff, hiding it behind a cough. 

Working out seemed the cure for everything, just like water. Asirel, have you tried going outside more? His mother’s words had felt mocking, and hearing the same advice from this professional who did not take his ailment seriously made a bitter taste appear in his mouth. 

Headache? Drink some water. Back pain? Have you tried losing weight? Insomnia? Why, do some sports! 

Pathetic. He took the prescription for sleeping pills without another word. 

Sleeplessness in adults was very common, stress from work being mostly the cause of it, and although he supposed everyone experienced a bad night of sleep every once in a while — where they tossed and turned endlessly, without getting their mind to shut up as thoughts and worries swirled around until night turned to day and it felt like they had not slept at all — if these issues persisted for over half a month, things were no longer casual. 

Reduce the stress she had said. How exactly could he do that, when his very existence came with a relentless pressure pushing down on his shoulders? His life was heavy. He did important things, and although he loved the responsibility and influence he had — the power. He loved the power of his job — he was the first to admit that his work had cost him many sleepless nights and hours pouring over papers at his desk with seemingly no end in sight. 

The world was draining him of his strength, the love for his work — and the determination to change things according to his vision for it — faded under the relentless strain he had been under. He was at the end of his rope.

Much like a broken arm or sprained ankle, his insomnia hurt. It had causes, it had consequences. His mind felt like mush on some days, his thoughts dragging along until it took too much energy to direct their stream. His memory worsened, and the days blended — he remembered only little bursts of something, the important bits of meetings and conversations while all the rest faded to black. 

How long since he had last seen his mother? A day? A week? When had his sister called? This morning? The day before yesterday? It was all a big lump of gray. 

When had he last fed you? It must not have been that long ago, or else you would have complained.

Asirel was exhausted. He needed the world to stop for a day until he had his mind back together and ceased fraying at the edges. He took two sleeping pills, downing them with a large gulp of water.

They did not work as he had wished. He lay on his back, listening to the clock ticking on the other side of the room until his eyelids dropped, but he did not sleep. He lay awake for hours — still hours — until he slipped into oblivion, but his sleep was far from restful. 

It felt like he did not sleep at all.

He thought he opened his eyes in the morning, looking at the rays of sun streaming in through his window. He found he could not move. His heart skipped a beat, his mind slipping into a spiral of panic that the rational part of his brain sliced through with two words: sleep paralysis.

Where were the hallucinations? 

As the thought crossed his mind, he heard it. Loud banging came from the hallway, stomping that came closer and closer. His heart sped up, fear pulling him under despite knowing this was not real. He knew it, but the bangs approaching, getting louder and louder in tandem with his racing heartbeat made it hard to believe it. 

He tried to close his eyes, not wanting to see what his mind would come up with to torment him, but he could not. The room would not disappear before him, and he still could not move. 

Terror seized him, and he tried fighting the unshakable pressure pinning him down. The world around him felt like dough, his body limp around it as it was pushed into the mattress. There was a weight on his chest, heavy, unlike anything he had ever experienced before as it crushed him, keeping his lungs trapped. 

Something moved at the edge of his vision. The stomping approached closer and closer. Asirel wanted to scream. He tried, but his mouth did not comply, there was no air in his lungs. The only thing escaping him was a low whimper. The stomping came from right beside his bed.

A figure walked into his line of vision. It vaguely looked like him, but as he stared into its pale face — too pale — he saw blood trickling from its mouth. Its hair was dirty, a dark shade of blonde with specks of deep red in it. Its black eyes stared at him as it approached. 

He had never been as scared as he was now, helplessly trapped in his mind while this shadow version of himself reached out a bloodied hand towards his face. It leaned closer, hovering inches from him. 

“They’re coming to make you pay,” it said, "make you pay. Pay. For all you have done, they’ll make you pay. Pay. Pay. I’ll kill you if you don’t pay. Make you pay. They’re coming. They’re coming! Hide!”

The door flung open. Asirel felt himself resurfacing. The apparition vanished, the banging stopped and he blinked his eyes open. His brain felt numb, slowly awakening with pins and needles as he turned around. He still felt heavy, barely awake as reality slowly clicked back into place.

You stood in the doorway, surveying the room with a stance that told him you were ready to lunge at an attacker. Once you realized the room was empty, your eyebrows furrowed. “I heard your heart beating out of your chest not twenty seconds ago, Asirel. What’s going on?”

The pressure on his chest had lifted, and he let out a deep sigh as he moved a hand — relief flooding when he realized he could — to rest against his forehead. What an experience. Something still felt off, and there was a creeping terror at the edge of his mind that he could not shake. 

“Had,” he cleared his throat, closing his eyes to escape your puzzled expression, “had a— a nightmare, I suppose.” It was not the truth, but he did not feel like explaining sleep paralysis to you. The experience was still too fresh on his mind, and he feared talking about it might make it more real, turning this into a permanent curse. “Thanks for— for waking me.” Thanks for watching out for me.

You stared at him, the trembling in his voice and his still accelerated heartbeat telling you that something had shaken him to his core. “No problem,” you said, approaching him to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Asirel gave you an uncertain look. Hesitatingly, he lifted the edge of the covers. 

You chuckled, slipping in beside him. He snuggled into your arms immediately, resting his head on your shoulder and breathing in your scent. 

It grounded him, having you close. Your strong arms around him made him feel secure like nothing else could, certain that you would protect him. Despite it all, he knew he could trust you — and you knew he did as you heard his heartbeat even out and his breathing deepen. “Do you mind if I—?” he mumbled, eyelids drooping.

“Go ahead. I’ll be here when you wake up,” you said, fastening your hold on him. Asirel drifted off to sleep in your arms, catching a few hours of the most restful sleep he had had in a long time. 

[senditcolton]

hiiiiiii my beautiful friend!!! I’m sure I speak for a lot of us when I say that I would love a check in on we’re a bad idea matty—whatever that means for you and where you vision they are now! (request 1 of ???)

- @comphy-and-cozy

Who Are We to Fight the Alchemy?

a/n: i will gladly write anything for this universe because i love it so much and i will happily write anything for you @comphy-and-cozy. if you couldn't tell from the title, a Taylor Swift mashup inspired the final part of this series so it's only fitting that a Taylor Swift mashup inspired this fic.

Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: brother's teammate, references to alcohol consumption, but mostly just pure romantic fluff!!!

Things change.

It was a statement that brought pain and heartache. But it was also a statement that sometimes brought about such joy and happiness. You were thankful to say that in the past year, the latter was more applicable to your life.

The amount of change that you had experienced felt astronomical whenever you sat down and tried to quantify it. In just a few short months, you went from being miserable in Los Angeles, trying to get over a man that broke your heart and left you reeling to being happy back in New York City and coupled with that same man. A man who had changed even more than you could’ve ever imagined.

Matt Martin used to be a bad idea. Last summer, when the two of you reconnected, he was a surprise. Now, you could safely say that he was one of the best things in your life.

It was jarring at first. There was a part of you that was still distrustful, remembering who he used to be: someone who wanted you to himself but never wanted to claim you. But that summer night, he proved how much he had changed and how much he wanted you. Completely. And he had continued to prove it every day afterwards.

That wasn’t to say the transition was easy. There was a lot of bridges to cross: emotionally, physically, metaphorically. It took a while for you to believe that Matt meant what he said and what he did; that it wasn’t all just an overcorrection brought on by guilt or that it wasn’t just another elaborate ploy to get his hooks back into you. But the one thing that convinced you was how patient Matt was. He understood your reservations, took responsibility for how he treated you, and gave you as much space as you needed to process – even if that space was thousands of miles.

You went back to Los Angeles. Mostly for realistic reasons, like your job and your lease. But you would be lying if you didn’t think of it as a test for Matt; to see if he would wait for you, to see if he still wanted you.

And he did, in every single way.

That was enough for you to take the final leap, move back to New York, and fully commit to being his, the way he was ready to commit to being yours.

That was six months ago. Now, you were Matt Martin’s girl.

It was a massive mind-blowing change, one that you never expected. You had wished for it when you were younger, the massive crush you had on your brother’s teammate making you a fool. You desired it that winter you went to a bar with your brother and ended up leaving with Matt. You craved it every moment, during the stretch of hookups and illicit meetings after charity galas and nights out and engagement parties. You resigned that fantasy when you left for Los Angeles. You tried to banish the dream from your mind while you were underneath California’s sun.

But when you saw him again at Scotty and Emily’s wedding, the fantasy of being his resurfaced. Only this time, it wasn’t just something that you wanted. Matt wanted it just as much, if not more. And now, it was no longer a dream. It was your reality.

You were his. He was yours. Something that everyone in your life knew.

You had told your brother Scotty and sister-in-law Emily shortly after the two of you became ‘official’ and were happily surprised when they seemed okay with it. You were sure that their reaction would’ve been much different if they knew the entire timeline of your relationship with Matt Martin (something you were unsure if you would ever tell them). Your friends from college knew, although they were more skeptical, having known part of the tryst you and Matt had shared. Eventually, the news spread to the whole of the New York Islanders, as well as their wives and girlfriends, who welcomed you into a whole new world, one that you never experienced when you were just Scotty’s sister.

But the person that knew before anyone else did was Mat Barzal; the person who knew the entire history of you and Matt Martin and the only person who had one foot in each of your worlds. He was the most supportive of the change, a fact that was slightly surprising but not at all that shocking when you thought about it. You even sometimes thanked him, for giving you both the necessary push that allowed you to reconnect.

While everyone in you and Matt’s personal circles knew, you hadn’t – quote unquote – gone public with your relationship. The gossip blogs had deduced that Matt Martin may have been taken off the market but there was nothing confirmed by you or Matt or anyone else. Whenever you went to Islanders games or appeared in pictures with the other WAGs, you were still known as Scotty’s sister. There was never an implication that you were something more.

And when the New York Islanders had clinched their spot in the playoffs and the discussion of the ever-important WAG jacket began, you told Matt and the girls that you weren’t going to wear his last name on your back; a boundary that Matt respected and the girls playfully ignored. Something that you realized when you were invited to the ‘jacket reveal’ party (out of principle, of course) and had a large package placed on your lap.

In the moment, you were a little annoyed at them for ignoring your wishes, even though you knew that they did it with the best intentions. But now, in the friends and family box at UBS Arena, the jacket wrapped around your frame and your hands clasped in Lyla and Emily’s, you were happy that they did.

It was game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals after all. And the New York Islanders were less than five minutes and one goal away from reaching the peak of the mountain.

Your gaze is glued to the ice, your knuckles turning almost as white as the surface that the Islanders and the Jets were zipping across. You felt as if your breathing stopped every time Winnipeg entered the zone, also vying for that single goal that would bring the Cup to Canada instead. You flinch as Mark Scheifele took a shot at the net, your muscles only slightly relaxing when Ilya made the save. The Jets manage to secure the puck and throw it to back to the point where Josh Morrisey waits. Morrisey attempts to pass to his teammate Vilardi, but a miscommunication causes the puck to bounce off his skate instead.

The black disc sits in the expanse ice until someone scoops it up. And you can’t stop the screams of his name that escape your mouth as Matt Martin skates down the ice, his focus on the net in front of him, a Vezina trophy winning goalie between him and the deciding goal.

The puck flies off his stick and you swear you can feel the entirety of UBS Arena holding its breath. Until the rising shot sails by Connor Hellebuyck’s blocker and hits the netting. Then the arena seems to explode.

The goal horn coupled with the cheers from seventeen thousand people is deafening. However, it all seems like background noise to the way you’re screaming, your pure excitement not even muffled by the pile of bodies that rush over to hug you. You swear you can feel tears in your eyes as the girls pull away, your gaze connecting with the giant screen hanging over the ice as you watch Matt skate by the benches, receiving aggressively excited fist bumps and helmet pats from his teammates.

The reality that there was still two minutes left in the game washes over everyone quickly, the seasoned fans realizing that while things change quickly in life, they can change even quicker in hockey. But as the clock counts down, the nervous energy slowly transforming into that of pure excitement, your eyes scan the arena to find the number 17.

You see him on the bench, his body almost draped over the side as the Islanders hold the puck against the boards, the seconds dwindling down.

Three. Two. One.

The sound of the final buzzer almost makes your knees drop out from under you, your body wanting to collapse in pure relief. You don’t have the opportunity to because before you can blink, Lyla is gripping your shoulders, shaking you with pure joy.

“They fucking did it!!!” she screams in your face and you can do nothing except pull her into a bear-hug as the excitement from the girls, the fans, the players, the coaches, everyone fills the arena. Your eyes flick up to the Jumbotron to see the mass of blue jerseys surrounding the net as the team embraces.

You watch content as the traditionally handshake line happens, your eyes forever glued to Matt as he skates around, occasionally being pummeled with hugs and cheers befitting the game-winning goal scorer. The Conn Smythe trophy is brought out and you hug Lyla tight, cheering almost as loudly as she did when Mathew is announced as the winner.

When the Stanley Cup is brought out, you think it’s a miracle that you can even hear the commissioner over the sound of cheering – a noise that only becomes louder when Anders lifts the trophy over his head.

The girls slowly start filtering out, bustling to get down to the ice but you wait until Matt gets the Cup handed off to him, not wanting to miss the moment he holds the greatest trophy in all of sports for the first time. If you thought there were tears in your eyes when he scored or when the final buzzer went off, there was no denying their presence now as you watch Matt skate around the ice with the silver chalice held proudly over his head.

You feel Emily gently tug at your hand, pulling your attention away from the celebration and pulling you into the hallway and down into the bowels of UBS Arena. The ice is almost blinding as you walk out onto it, your arm linked in Lyla’s. She quickly abandons you when she spies Barzy, running towards him and enveloping him in a massive loving embrace, leaving you to catch up.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Conn Smythe winner,” you tease as you walk up to him, his arm securely wrapped around Lyla’s waist. His grin is wide as he pulls you into a hug. “Congrats Barzy. You deserve it.”

“Thank you,” he mutters to you, letting you go as you step back. You watch his eyes glance over your frame, registering the material wrapped around your torso. “Nice jacket.”

You laugh, the joy in your eyes reflected in his – your insanely supportive best friend.

“Have you seen him yet?” Mat asks, his question causing your eyes to dart around the arena.

“Not yet, but I’m sure he’s getting interviewed or something. I’ll just congratulate Scotty while I wait.”

“Does he know? About this?” he says, gesturing to your body. You reply with a playful shake of your head and Barzy whistles. “This will surely be a night he’ll remember forever.”

You giggle, Mat’s statement not even close to an exaggeration, even without the innuendo that one could easily attach. You give him a quick wave as you wander away, taking a moment to spy Emily standing next to Scotty and your parents. You run up to him, head butting him in the chest in greeting – a ritual that started when you were younger that the two of you continued to this day. Scotty embraces you, smiling as he takes in the moment.

You are laughing with your family when you feel the weight of someone’s gaze attaching to your frame. It is a slow turn of your head until your eyes connect with the ocean blue irises of Matt. You can see his chest rising in heavy breaths, the adrenaline of the moment still buzzing through his body. But the thing that nearly stops your heart is his expression; a mixture of shock and wonder so clearly painted on his face.

You smile, your attention falling completely from your family as you drift away, walking slowly towards him. He coasts up to you and you’re still unsure if his disbelief is related to winning the Cup or to the sight of his last name on your back until he stops in front of you.

“What – ” he begins to say, his hands reaching out to trace down your arms, fingers gliding over the material. His almost hesitance makes you giggle, a smile pulling at his lips in response.

“Surprised?” you laugh, before twirling slowly, the weight of Matt’s gaze raking across your frame undeniable. “It looks good on me, don’t you think?”

The confirmation Matt gives isn’t verbal at first. Instead, he simply lifts you into his arms, your legs instinctively hook around his hips. One of his hands flies into your hair and tugs you forward until your lips press together. The energy and excitement that had been sparking around the arena seems to funnel directly into the kiss. The way your body was buzzing had nothing to do with the glasses of white wine that you had consumed in the past hour and everything to do with the feeling of Matt’s lips against yours.

He finally breaks the kiss and sets you down on the ice, keeping you wrapped in his arms as he stares at you with just as much reverence as he looked at the Stanley Cup.

“You look fucking fantastic,” he mutters and you can’t stop the laugh at the bluntness of his statement.

“I thought I should dress up for you,” you muse, your hand lifting to brush away a few of the sweat-soaked stands of hair from his forehead.

“Glad you did. I think you were my lucky charm.”

“If that’s so, then why didn’t you sweep every series?” you tease, the joke falling from your lips.

“Because the universe needed to know that you were mine.”

The seriousness of his words has you pausing, your eyes looking into his, seeing the sincerity and relief reflecting in his pupils. You realized the gravity of the situation. What you were wearing… it wasn’t just a jacket with his last name sewn between your shoulder blades. It was a confirmation to him, to the team, to the fans, to the world that you were his, even after everything that lead the two of you to this moment.

It was a symbol of your commitment, your trust, your love. It was a public declaration that you were his. Completely.

You could never resist the pull of him, even before this moment, and you certainly can’t stop it now as you lean in and press your lips against his again in a kiss that was just as – if not more – passionate as the last.

“I think I’ve been yours long before I put this jacket on,” you whisper to him, your quiet confession clearly heard as Matt pulls you impossibly tighter against his body.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he replies, a remark that he has made a dozen times before and one that you never tired of hearing. You step back, the playful smirk appearing on your lips.

“Even now? After you scored the goal that made you a Stanley Cup champion?”

“There’s absolutely no comparison,” he asserts, lifting your chin to kiss you again.

Things change, that much was true. They morph and transform, get created and destroyed. What you and Matt shared had shifted more than you could possibly imagine. But it had changed for the better. The connection you two shared was the purest form of alchemy; taking something sordid and turning it into pure gold.  

tagging the "we're a bad idea" babes: @texanstarslove @smileysvech @laurenairay @dissonannce @cowboybarzy @cellythefloshie @provokedgoalie @m00nlightdelights @tkachvkmatthew @cixrosie @alwaysclassyeagle @geospatialharmony

[blazetbw-art]

POST EVERYTHING in OCTOBER - DAY 17

i can't believe I still have stuff to post but here we are!

At some point in time, I made it a point to design myself a tattoo. This was the first draft, and I didn't go with it because it felt too gaudy for me.

I like me some guardian lions & space, but went with something more "me".

<<< Previous post

[pepprs]

genuinely so angry and scared im shaking. how many other times this week this month this year have i been exposed without knowing it. do people even tell each other anymore. it’s just so grim. it’s so fucking grim

[nauticalfools]

.

[longing-for-the-past-times]

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - one.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 2,542

synopsis: Throughout your time as a Task Force 141 operator, you fell asleep on your Lieutenant in random circumstances. What happens when he is the one to fall asleep on you?

notes: hope you enjoy this, it was initially meant to be max 500 words but I got carried away reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

one.

In hindsight, the day shouldn't have been so draining; it had been an average day spent on base, involving physical training, shooting, and paperwork. You had endured much worse during missions where you could barely get some shut-eye between watches, but that was not the case.

The problem, the literal root of your heartaches was a cat, your sister's cat. You had been more than happy to take care of it when she so kindly asked under the pretence of having to spend a few nights out of town. You had been even happier when you went shopping for cat supplies with her - perhaps excited at the thought of having a furry cuddling partner. And you intentionally kept it a secret from your teammates, scared that they would drop by uninvited to help you take care of it when all you wanted was the creature's undivided attention.

The previous day, the first day she'd spent under your care was perfect: she, for the cat was a female, spent hours cuddled up on the couch, sleeping like there was no tomorrow. But when the night came, the little beast came to life. Scratch that, beast was an understatement - it was the spawn of Satan that had been racing through your bedroom, jumping on the windows, and left hanging on the curtains. The demon that kept butting his head against your door, and that launched violent attacks against your blanket until your alarm rang.

So that was why the plain day at the base was more draining than it should have been. You went on with training, the shooting session was average, and the paperwork had you dozing on your desk. Letting out a small sigh, you forced your eyes to stay open as you scanned the last mission’s report for any grammatical mistakes- which proved to be a tedious task, especially because you’d eaten not too long ago and your eyes became heavier each breath.

At the sound of another yawn, Ghost lifted his head from his own paperwork, glancing in your direction. He noticed with a frown your exhausted face and the way you blearily rubbed your eyes in an attempt to make the sleep go away. What was that kept you up last night? Or should he ask- who? He quickly shook his head at the thought, discarding it like a crumpled piece of paper thrown in the bin. He’d known you long enough to notice your mood shifts and he would know, he had to know, if you started seeing someone. Not that he had something against it - he wouldn’t be the one to pry into your personal life like that. After all, it was Johnny’s job who, in turn, would share the information with him.

But that did not mean he could not try to ensure you felt good enough in his presence - the team’s presence - to not feel the need of finding another someone. After all, it would only get you distracted and unprepared for the missions to come.

His reasoning was sound in his head, and when he saw you had given up, propping your head against a stack of papers while mindlessly glaring at your extended hand, he got up from his desk. He made sure the screeching of the chair was loud enough to alert you something was going on, and he suppressed a grimace under his mask when he saw you slowly turn to face him, eyes glossy with sleep. At that moment, glancing at you, he thought you were the perfect embodiment of the expression: no thoughts, head empty, and, as much as it amused him, he knew he had at least to get you out of the office.

"Come on, let's go."

Scrunching your eyes before blinking, you looked up at his massive figure that was currently towering above your desk. If you'd been more alert, you would have noticed a small sparkle in his eyes, but your efforts were put into battling off the waves of sleep that just kept coming. Your mind could not form a coherent thought: what was the time, did the lieutenant finish his paperwork already, where did he want to go-

The internal questions continued and you ended up yawning loudly again, closing your eyes for a couple of minutes. You just needed to rest them for a while and then you'd be fresh, prime, and proper to finish your day on base. Yet your brief rest was interrupted when you heard, or rather, felt, a hot breath across your face. As you opened your eyes, you realized Ghost had crouched down in front of your desk, his masked face being centimetres apart from yours. His eyes still had that tiny sparkle you noticed this time, and involuntarily you began staring at his amber orbs and blonde eyelashes. Countless times you studied his eyes fervently, trying to get a glimpse of the man behind the mask - so much that you began to be aware of every crease and crinkle that would form around them, depending on his mood. At the time being, there seemed to be no such lines, or perhaps you were too tired to actually notice them-

"You can finish this report tomorrow, Sergeant. Let's go!"

He gently nudged you with his arm, waiting for any reaction. When he didn't receive one, he rolled his eyes and groaned, he actually groaned, which made you perk your ears in disbelief:

"I'm up, I'm up!", you shot up and out of the chair, too surprised by his loud reaction. But you couldn't see his face anymore as he was already heading towards the door, back turned to you, left hand silently gesturing you to follow.

The walk to the lounging area was silent, with Simon walking in front and you trailing dutifully behind him. The silence was not uncomfortable though, which was not unusual: he was one of the very few people with whom you could sit in a room for hours and don't feel the need to fill the space with words. There was no explanation for it; it all came naturally and you were smart enough not to question it, knowing that the lieutenant could be difficult with people when he wanted to.

"Look who decided to show up! Ghost, Bambi - how kind of you to join us!"

You shook your head at Soap’s loud greeting, trying your best to hide your smile as you plopped down on the sofa, next to Ghost. Captain Price was already seated in his designated armchair, leafing through what seemed to be a handbook, while Gaz was lounging on the other sofa, next to Soap. As usual, other members of the task force would come and go, bidding silent greetings, and at that moment, the comfort and familiarity of the atmosphere made you sigh softly as you propped your head on your hand while leaning against the armrest.

"Sleepless night, Y/N?"

Price did not look up from his book as he asked the question, but you knew he must have been watching you throughout the day, taking note of the sleepy state you'd often found yourself in. You also knew that he would have stepped in the moment he considered you pushed yourself too far, but for the time being, you were just satisfied that you managed to get through the day.

"Who's keeping you up at night, Bambi?", Soap quickly chimed in, a signature smirk plastered on his face. A smirk that widened even more when he noticed Ghost rolling his eyes, next to you. "Is there someone we should know about?"

"You're shameless, Johnny", you spat back at him, straightening yourself in an attempt to seem more collected. "...and even if there was someone, you think I'd throw them to the wolves?"

Gaz chuckled loudly at the remark, while Price was trying to hide his grin behind the pages. At that moment, Simon was glad the balaclava was hiding his features - the smirk he was sporting could rival Soap's.

"My sister left town for a couple of days", you eventually resumed, running a hand through your hair, "and asked me to take care of her cat-"

As expected, protests and offended remarks could be heard from both Soap and Gaz, the men demanding why they were not told of this earlier. They could have helped-

"The only help I'd get from you would consist of you two laying to sleep with her on the couch. But here's the catch, the beast only sleeps in the daytime - but when the night comes, she transforms into this dark demon which runs around the house and attacks my feet when I try to sleep!"

"Never had a cat before, Y/N? When you were a kid?"

You shook your head at Price's question, frowning when you notice his sympathetic expression:

"You need to keep them busy throughout the day, and then leave enough food for them at night. As a last resort, locking them in the bathroom is a good solution, but you need to first remove everything from the shelves."

"Or we could come in and babysit the baby!", Gaz kept pushing, an innocent smile gracing his features. "Sure, you had a rough night, but how hard can it possibly be, to take care of a creature whose routine mainly consists of eating and sleeping?"

"Well, it's only three more days. I'll manage somehow..."

As the conversation shifted to another topic you were too tired to understand fully, you laid your head against the wall, letting your body sink into the couch. There it was again, that soft hum that lulled you to sleep- not that you would actually fall asleep in the lounging area. No, you would just rest your eyes for a couple of minutes, before heading towards your car and riding back home to the little creature that must have been expecting you.

***

At first, Ghost did not seem to notice the shift of weight on his right arm. He was too busy scrolling on his phone, searching for articles about cats and their nocturnal habits. It wasn't until the room was too quiet for his liking that he looked up from his phone, his eyes meeting Soap's as his teammate was silently pointing to his right - in your direction.

He slowly turned his head towards you, his eyes widening almost comically behind his mask. You were the dead weight on his shoulder, soundly asleep, your left cheek squished against his arm. Of all the days, it was that specific day that he opted for a plain black t-shirt after training, and he was definitely overthinking his choice. Your skin felt soft and warm against his, enough to short-wire all the working circuits in his brain, prompting him to freeze and stare at you. The complete implications of this gesture would hit him later, when he would be lying in bed, unable to sleep, but for the time being, he could solely focus on the facts at hand: you were there, next to him, leaning against him, sleeping peacefully.

And he only wanted to keep an eye on you and kill anyone who had the slightest intention of waking you up.

"Where's that camera when you need it!", Soap quietly grumbled as he got up and started fumbling on one of the shelves, ignoring the daggers Ghost was shooting at him through his eyes.

"Top shelf, Soap - you put it there the last time you used it!", Price whispered with a sigh of mild frustration.

"Guys, be quiet, let the girl get some rest!", Gaz hissed as well before Soap joined him back on the couch, a dusty Polaroid camera in his hands:

"Alright, this one's for the books! Come on, give us a big smile, L.T.!"

He might have been unable to move, but his gaze spoke volumes- a true death glare though and through, quickly captured by Soap through the lenses and printed on the small Polaroid photo sheet. Gaz leaned over Soap's shoulder to see the result and even Price scooted his armchair a bit closer, a small grin dancing his lips. The picture was proudly placed on the wooden panel, next to one depicting the Captain sleeping just as soundly in the very same armchair he was currently sitting in. And in the meantime, Ghost could only feign indifference, letting his signature eye roll showcase his opinion about the situation.

He could not explain, could not even place a finger on or identify the warm and comforting sensation he was feeling in his chest. He was so used to the cold and dull feeling that had taken residence in there- yet there it was, a glimmer of hope, a ray of sun on a cold autumn day.

You felt safe in his presence, safe enough to put yourself in a vulnerable position in his proximity.

And he would do anything to keep things that way.

***

Bonus scene:

Letting out a small whimper, you stretched your limbs while keeping your eyes closed. You could not figure out how you got home or why your pillow was sporting a distinct smell of cigarette smoke, sweat and cologne, but your semi-conscious mind was too busy keeping you asleep that you did not seem to care.

Wait...

That scent was familiar. You were in its presence on an almost daily basis that you could tell it in your sleep. Well, not literally, considering that your mind was still trying to piece it out- why was your pillow smelling like Ghost?

You jerked yourself awake with a start, your groggy mind taking a couple of moments to process the fact that you were actually not in your bed, but in the lounging room at the base. And your pillow was not really your pillow, but actually, Ghost's shoulder and your cheek was fully squished against it.

"Look who's up, Sleeping Beauty herself..."

From your current position, his voice felt like a deep rumble, vibrating through your body and resonating in your bones in an unsettling manner. With a herculean effort, you managed to prop yourself against the other side of the couch, blearily blinking the sleep from your eyes. A faint blush spread across your cheeks, warmth radiating through your face as embarrassment tinged your features. It took all you had not to cover your face in your hands.

"I’m so sorry, L.T. - I really didn’t mean to-" "It’s alright, Bambi. No harm done."

The lack of your weight against him made him feel empty in a way he struggled to define. He tried to brush it away by rising from the couch and making a show of rolling his shoulder in front of you, calmly watching your embarrassed figure through his thick eyelashes. Your cheeks were already sporting an uncharacteristic rosy hue and your renowned doe eyes were widened, a glimmer of sheepishness and self-consciousness reflecting in them. He would never admit it to anyone, but he secretly adored the fact that he was one of the few people who could coax such a reaction from you.

"Although next time you might want to do it in a room without Soap. It’s likely that the entire base will learn of it by tomorrow."

A/N: wrote this on a whim, not proofread so it may contain grammatical errors (and more) updates won't be regular as I'm a college student with a full-time job

Hope you enjoyed it :)

[uyuforu]

Astro Observations: Solar Return Chart IV

Hi!! Here is another Solar Return Chart Observations post lol. Since I am officially on the new one, I thought of doing another post to conclude and coming back on the last one, meaning the one of last year. Coming back and looking back over what happened :) Let's go! I hope you will enjoy this post ^^ This post has mature and triggering contents, so be aware and careful when reading it!

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart I

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart II

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart III

PRIVATE BOOKING OPEN

email adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

Soft To You presentation and Q&A ᡣ𐭩 rules ᡣ𐭩 private readings reviews

astrology menu ᡣ𐭩 tarot menu ᡣ𐭩 special astrology & tarot readings

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ I was Leo Rising last year, and I was very popular around me, people were also checking me in the streets. It wasn't even sexual or anything, people were just noticing me super easily, and I was the center of attention wherever I was going.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Sun 12H indeed meant that loneliness was def going to be there. I was very lonely most of the times, and it's not even physically, it was def mentally. I wasn't seeing my friends often, and I was just feeling very alone in a corner. I felt like no one really understood me and as if I was just left alone. One of my friend passed away suddenly also this year, so I really felt alone for sure. Also the years I was more into Astrology and Tarot! Just a full year of learning more on the spiritual and esoteric side!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Venus 1H, I had a glow up, though it happened quite over night. I don't have much explanations on how it happened. Suddenly I was veryyyy pretty, I bought better make up products, and the way it was showing on my face was just insanely good?? IDK!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Mercury 1H, I was more confident when it came to talking to other people. I used to be very shy, and used to not be confident enough to talk to others, but this year I felt more confident to do it. Anxiety when calling, ordering disappeared. And I was less scared to talk back to people.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 1H Ruler in 12H, I was most of the times by myself, mostly doing things on my own, and I felt very alone.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Mars 2H, I was much into shopping some times, and I was more anxious and stressed about making money. I had a lot of motivation about it.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 2H Ruler in 1H, I was more spending money on myself.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 3H Ruler in 1H, I was talking more about myself to others, than before. And I was also writing more about myself, for example on the blog I post a lot about my experiences to support my theories.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Scorpio 4H, time at home was stressing and slightly toxic. I had this need to runaway or even live somewhere else. I wanted to escape. My idea of home changed.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 4H Ruler in 6H, staying at home was my routine, I was working from home too.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Vertex 5H, some destined events happened in my love life.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 5H Ruler in 9H, I traveled to NYC last year, and it was for holidays. I traveled to meet someone I loved (who didn't come in the end lmao). I also met another guy who had a crush on me there.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Pluto 6H, I took some weight lol, not so much. Since I moved less because of my job, I kept seating down and took some weight.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 6H Ruler in 7H, I was healing my relationships trauma last year, I went to therapy and understood a lot of traumas I had. I also made a lot of friends at work.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Aquarius DC, a lot of things changed in my relationships, I realized tons tons tons of things!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 7H Ruler in 10H, I was in a serious relationship last year, but 7H was ruled by Uranus, and it didn't end well.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Saturn 7H, didn't see my FS all year, didn't talk to him. And when I asked to meet him, he refused. Def a year I couldn't reach out or talk to him! I also couldn't be in a relationship, or anytime a guy had an interest in my, it's like the Universe worked through to not make it work out. I also broke up with my ex bf that year.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Saturn conjunct Groom, same!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Groom 7H, I realized my FS was my FS last year. I also realized I was in love with him.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Neptune 8H, I had a lot of vivid dreams last year, I dreamed of my mother in law too, and of my FS as well, both of them talking through dreams to me. I also didn't had s3x all year, refused any s3xual advanced. Though, I had a lot of s3xual dreams.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 8H Ruler in 8H, transformation was a keyword last year, I was also more open on the spiritual side, and I had a lot of grow that happened.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Moon 9H, I was constantly learning new things, and more on the spiritual side, and also esoteric. I discovered so many new things, and I needed that. I wanted more and more!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Chiron 9H, i traveled and felt like the travel I did was a waste of time and money lol ;-;

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 9H Ruler in 2H, I traveled to NYC and it was painful for my bank account.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Jupiter 9H, similar to Moon 9H.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Moon conjunct Chiron, my feelings were hurt often this year. I was crying A LOT in general. Perhaps the year I cried the most.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Jupiter conjunct Uranus, a lot of benefic transformation, despite it wasn't that easy sometimes or just very sudden.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Taurus MC, a year of trying to find a harmonious balance at work, and trying to find my way. Was focused on the money I made, and also trying to find a routine through work.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Uranus 10H, I changed jobs twice last year! I was fired, I just changed. And by the end of the second job, I decided to work at my own name. And so, I now work online, as an Astrologer! Uranus also rule here over uncommon jobs.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 10H Ruler in 1H, was more popular, and people noticed me in the crowd more easily. I also decided to work for myself, and started my own company.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 11H Ruler in 1H, I was positing lot more selfies and pictures of me than before online. I also had a lot of internet friends.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Union Cancer 11H, I met one of my best friend last year, she is a Cancer Sun and we met online!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Juno 12H, i was dreaming a lot of my FS this year, also didn't meet or talked to him all year.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 12H Ruler in 9H, I traveled this year, and overseas!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Sun conjunct Venus, I was and felt more pretty, a glow up that happened!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Mercury conjunct Mars, I was more aggressive sometimes when I was speaking, I was often aggressive when trying to stand up for myself, or just explaining myself, I think it was me finding the right adjustment between never standing up for myself before, and doing it now, but not knowing how.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Groom conjunct Neptune, dreamed a lot of my FS.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Sun opposite DC, didn't see or talked to my FS for the whole SRC, I also didn't want to be in a relationship.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Venus conjunct Rising, very same as Venus 1H or Sun conjunct Venus.

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cary Grant (The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Bringing Up Baby, Charade)—just the peak of old-school Hollywood sexuality. The glam, the suits, the gentle wit, the acrobatics, those eyes that always looked like they knew exactly what movie they were in and were laughing at the joke...

Vincent Price (Laura, Leave Her to Heaven, House on Haunted Hill, The Masque of the Red Death)—svelte, stylish, horrifying, beautiful, wickedly funny, camp and gorgeous and evil. he was an art connoisseur who advocated passionately indigenous art, he was an actual literal gourmet cook, he was so liberal he got greylisted during the mccarthy era for being too rad, he's my favorite muppets guest of all time

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Vincent Price propaganda:

Submitted: this fancam

Submitted: this entire Tumblr page

Cary Grant propaganda:

"My Golden Age of Hollywood professor, who was very outwardly gay himself, put it this way: Even though Grant's sexuality was kind of an open secret in Hollywood, the public couldn't know in any real way. But anybody could see that there was a queerness about him, so he was casted for roles where he physically embodies his masculinity in a non-explicit but queer way. Bringing Up Baby is famous for the scene where Grant wears a frilly robe (pictured below, but what people don't always realise is that he plays kind of an awkward nerd in that movie. He's a hot awkward scientist in a grand robe!!! Hot!!! In The Philadelphia Story, one of my famous movies of all time, he plays C. K. Dexter Haven, a rich, sarcastic, supposedly abusive guy. And yet, what we see is this laid back, dandy-ish figure, who absolutely does not feel threatened when a woman he supposedly loves (Katharine Hepburn) starts having feelings for, and hooks up with another guy (James Stewart). He lets a drunk Stewart into his office and helps him get his job back! Obviously that is the script and not the actor, but the whole film, and that scene in particular, shows him having this very queer attitude of openness toward Hepburn and Stewart, which is only amplified by the casting of Grant and his portrayal of the character. Anyway, this is not an essay arguing for The Philadelphia Story to be considered a queer film, all I will say is: he's super hot in it."

The link to the above mentioned frilly robe scene from Bringing Up Baby: "I just went gay all of a sudden!"

last minute cary grant propaganda: the last few paragraphs of that new vanity fair article about him and randolph scott that just came out 2 days ago on cary's birthday where he calls it "gravity collapse" and "love at first sight" and says their souls touched and and and i'm actually sharing this mostly because it makes me emotional but also because a vote for archibald is a vote for love. this is my message. apologies for sounding mildly insane.

[certaimromance]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. Love or seal?

Dean Winchester x Fem!reader

Summary: An avenging spirit is killing married couples, so the Winchesters think it's a good idea to use you to pretend to be one and take down the ghost. But the act becomes all too real before you know it.

Words: 1,8k.

TW: mentions of murder, death, violence (normal warnings in the series). so much teasing. a little of angst with happy ending. dean from the early seasons but soft and chaotic (a bit simp). sam being cupid and forgotten lol. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I've always been a Dean girl and I'm so excited about this. I love the concept of "Frenemies to Lovers" with its more playful and cutie version from the earlier seasons, I hope I described it well.

This is my second time writing here, i'm still new.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You took another look in the mirror and walked a few laps around the dingy motel room, trying to swallow the act. It seemed ironic to wear such a fancy dress and high heels in a place like this, but it was all so you could solve the case and prevent more deaths. After all, it was your job to catch the ghosts and put them to rest.

It had been a long time since you'd been out on a date or worn anything other than your usual jeans and leather jacket. Buying yourself a cute dress and wedding rings with one of your fake cards had been entertaining, the closest thing to a normal life you'd had in years.

“Come in, I need help with the zipper on my dress.” You said after hearing a couple of knocks on your door.

You were still standing in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for Sam to show up to help you so the two of you could leave soon for the restaurant where you both had reserved a table. The strange thing was that the cold hands you felt running down your back and zipping you up were not his, but those of his older brother.

“What are you doing here? Where is Sam?” You turned around to look at Dean once your dress was closed. It was then that you noticed he was wearing a suit and the ring.

“In the room.” He replied, moving closer to you so he could look at himself in the mirror and adjusting his tie with difficulty, he was not used to wearing one at all and felt suffocated.

“Why are you dressed like that?” You asked him after looking him over from head to toe and inevitably biting your lower lip. He looked good, all dressed up and dapper, you could even smell the scent of cologne wafting off him.

“I'll be your husband for tonight.” Dean smiled at you.

You frowned when you heard that the younger Winchester would no longer be your fake husband, because that was not what you had all agreed upon. Sam had always been more husband material, and you trusted him enough to have some physical contact if necessary. On the other hand, you saw Dean as someone who was far from the prototypical perfect partner, and you could barely talk to him without arguing about your differences, never having touched him except for sparring practice or taking away the gun he kept stealing from you. You couldn't deny that both brothers were attractive, but they were almost equally far from meaning anything romantic to you.

“We flipped a coin and I got the job.” He added to the explanation, noticing the confusion on your face.

Finally you nodded, realizing that once again they had not been able to reach an agreement and had had to put luck in the middle for the choice of roles. You didn't mind going with Dean, you had already been on several hunts with him and trusted his skills, but having to impersonate his wife was weird.

“Can you...?” He tried to ask you, pointing at his tie and all the trouble it caused him.

You let out a small laugh at seeing him so confused over a simple tie and went over to him to take it off. You had to tie it all over again because of how badly he had done it before.

“This looks very wife.” He commented as he saw the delicacy with which you were trying to fix his mess.

“I hope the spirit feels the same and is looking forward to slaughtering us.” You replied, taking a step away from him as you finished.

You two said a quick goodbye to Sam and then hopped into the Impala, which took you to a shiny restaurant near the road where the ghost appeared.

“Don't embarrass me, please.” You said to him as soon as you both sat down at the table and placed your order.

“How could I, darling?” He smiled innocently at you and took your hand on the table, caressing the ring on your finger.

You didn't say anything, just smiled back and kept your thoughts to yourself. You couldn't believe he actually called you that, sounding almost like a husband, even though you knew it was because of the acting, it gave you a funny feeling in your stomach. The most you'd gotten from Dean Winchester in all the years you'd known him was a "good job" and a strange smile, followed by a lot of questions about your careless decisions. You alone were far enough away from marriage, let alone someone like him.

“You look very handsome tonight.” You told him as you saw he was drinking water, causing him to almost spit it out in surprise.

Usually you never complimented him, barely looked him in the eye, talked about anything other than hunting, or even laughed at his jokes. It seemed that his presence didn't matter much to you because your interests were more aligned with Sam's and you got along better with him. That bothered Dean a lot, he hated being so invisible in your eyes.

Now, however, you didn't take your eyes off him and even gave him compliments that left him speechless to continue the performance.

“At least the food is good.” You said absentmindedly as the waiter brought the plates.

“And the company?”

You looked into his eyes, trying to understand if he was playing with you or if he was really hurt by your lack of emotion. The strange thing was that you didn't know if it was one or the other, his greenish gaze was a mystery.

“The best company, of course.” You gave him a smile and picked up your glass of wine to make a small toast.

“How affectionate you are now.”

“Yes, I feel almost as if today is the last day of my life.” You said with irony.

Dinner went off without a hitch in a quiet and strangely pleasant atmosphere. You couldn't help but be surprised by Dean's friendliness, it was the first time you had a civilized conversation with him. The first time he held your hand and you noticed how green his eyes were.

Suddenly, everything he said, silly or not, made you smile. The only rational thing to do was to attribute it to the glass of wine he had decided to drink. In general, you didn't allow yourself to drink alcohol, let alone in the middle of a hunt. But now, for some reason, you thought it would help your nerves and relax you a bit.

“Where did you leave the car?” You asked once they left the site and the time to travel the road of death was approaching.

“In the corner over there...I hope.” He answered without really being sure. For him, it had all happened so fast when you two arrived.

“My feet hurt. Don't play with me now.” You said, hating the high heels you were wearing.

At that moment, the hunter stopped and motioned for you to sit on the bench by the exit. Unsure, you obeyed and frowned as he knelt down to gently remove your shoes.

“Happy now?” He asked he asked, holding your heels in his hands.

“I can't walk barefoot.” You claimed, putting on a fake sad face and lowering your gaze to his arms.

Dean shook his head instantly.

“No, don't even think that I'll carry you.” He warned confidently, folding his arms.

A few minutes later, he was silently leading you to the car, snorting at every opportunity to give in so easily to your wishes.

“This looks very husband.” You pointed out with a smile and a teasing tone.

“I would offer you to the spirit right now.” He replied, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“How lovely you are, my dear.”

The two finally got into the car and headed for the exit. Dean had received a message from his brother telling him that he had found the name of the ghost woman and her grave with her husband, who was the cause of all his resentment against happily married couples, and to top it off, he was buried on top of her.

“Sam is going to burn the grave and everything will be fine.” He said trying to comfort you as he saw the concern on your face. “Maybe the woman doesn't want to kill anyone today.”

“You have too much faith in a murderous spirit.” You sighed and tried to remove the ring from your finger, but it stuck. “And you should take the ring off.”

“Are we getting divorced so soon?” He replied in a joking tone, with his eyes on the road.

You looked at him seriously, this was no time for jokes because everything was going wrong. If Sam didn't dig up those bones soon, they were probably going to kill you both and the plan was going to fail completely. It was supposed to be easy and you were terrified that it wasn't anymore.

“Come on, don't be like that. You were laughing so hard with me.” He smiled at you.

Before you could respond, a pale woman in a blood-stained wedding dress appeared in the back seat. You could barely say Dean's name when the ghost's hand came around your neck and began to choke you. After a few moments, you couldn't even breathe and everything became a blur.

You didn't want to die, at least not at that moment. Not without having lived a life as good as the night before everything went to hell. You still had too many things to do to go like that, let alone in front of him, you couldn't let that happen.

“Don't move.” The hunter said to you before drawing his gun and disputing you to the back seat.

The ghost disappeared for a few seconds and then reappeared just ahead of the road. A braking maneuver as the woman was beginning to burn in front of the two of you almost made you jump out of your seat.

Sam had succeeded.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah.” You said, still trying to catch your breath and process everything that had happened.

“And my thanks for saving you and not letting death part us?”

At any other time, you would have simply made a sarcastic comment and emphasized that it was all thanks to her brother. However, the recent experience had changed something in you and made you kiss his cheek.

Before you could completely pull your face away from his, he put his hand on your cheek and pulled you close. You felt his lips move over yours and responded without hesitation. A big part of you had been thinking about this moment all night and was more than happy it was happening. It was like the perfect ending to a fake marriage date, minus the killer ghost part, and it made you smile in the middle of it.

“You didn't flip any coin, did you?” You asked as you broke away from the kiss for a second.

“No, I didn't.” He admitted, leaving a kiss on your head and making you smile even more.

[iamespecter]

TADC OCs: "The Die Quartet"!

"Oh but Ziku, who are these very handsome die?"

Well I'm glad nobody asked, because that would ruin the joke!

The Die Quartet are OCs of mine that I created for TADC, and for what purpose? Well, they're the minds behind show's music!

Hidden just behind a corner or two, or four, These obliviously mischievous and enthusiastic quartet play whatever music they can, one that certainly matches the current "mood" of what the cast is going through. Meet Cuba, Dodeca, Tetra, and Octa, The Amazing Musical Performers, for The Amazing Digital Circus!

LORE AND BOUNDARIES UNDERNEATH THE CUT!

When the Circus was initially created, it was feeling too barren for a place that's meant to be "lively". And so, Caine went and copy-pasted himself four times, while replacing the heads with some die props he found on the floor, retexturing and adjusting their bodies, to fit their new roles.

A little bit of a code rewrite to make them able of producing any sounds all on their own to be musically intertwined, and the quartet was basically ready to go: but there's only one problem.

Caine completely forgot to remove the admin privileges from their code.

So once the four spawned, they immediately began floating around, dancing and creating the main theme for the circus, and did it all perfectly. So Caine decided that as long as they don't interfere with anything major in the circus and did their job as the musical minds behind the show/game's soundtracks, he doesn't really care about fixing this error and would rather let these four run rampant to create more songs.

Ever since then, the Die Quartet has been messing with every circus members, most of the time playing obnoxious music that fits the "current mood". You'll even see their canes dance to the tempo they've set, like some backup dancers.

Think of it like: You now have x4 Caines with dice heads, flying and snooping around, so that they can "improve the mood" with their music! Ain't that swell??

(But really, all they do is just annoy the Circus members just like Caine does, for the better or the worse. Probably the latter.)

Fun facts about the Die Quartet!

Even though they've all been created at the same time and share the features of a die, they do not consider themselves as "brothers", and only see one another as colleagues instead.

Their names are related to the type of their die: Tetra (yellow), Dodeca (purple), Cuba (red), and Octa (green).

Despite being reused assets of Caine himself, they have distinct personalities that separate them from each other: Tetra is more joyful and playful, Dodeca is a more dramatic/theatric and over the top, Cuba is the natural lead and more stern than anybody, and Octa is the more closed off of the gang but willing to provide his best.

Yet, they all still lack awareness of personal space and boundaries just like Caine, and WILL be intrusive towards anyone they set their sights on, with the intent of predicting their mood and setting the current situation perfectly in musical form. (ex. if a character is sneaking, all four will follow "cautiously" behind while one imitates/pulls out a tiny piano playing to the theme of "tip-toeing". You know, like a cartoon gag.)

Although they can perfectly imitate ANY sound or instrument imaginable, They'll still pull out a "physical" instrument if the gag calls for it.

BOUNDARIES!

You can pretty much draw fanart of them! In fact I would REALLY love to see it and I encourage it! Really, just don't claim them as your own, or steal their designs.

NSFW of them is accepted, but please keep in mind that I have an SFW blog. Which means THERE ARE MINORS. Show them to me privately instead, I'd still love to see it <3

While NSFW is accepted (privately), please make it a morally decent one, because I don't really wanna see some disgusting stuff. This pretty much includes: non-con, scat, etc.

Aside from that though, I hope you all enjoyed these four! I really love how they turned out, and would love to draw them more. I was initially hesitant on showing my TADC OCs because I don't think people would like 'em, but fuck it.

My boys, they deserve to be seen even if just by a few people on the internet.

[punkpandapatrixk]

🧝🏻‍♀️Mystical Glow-Up Secrets ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Your mystical glow-up is literally divinely ordained, no cap HAHAH I’ve got this vibe from the deck-bottom but let me start with this quote:

'A Humanity that thinks materialistically will produce frightful beings in the future, and a Humanity that thinks spiritual thoughts, will work upon and transform the future organism so that beautiful Human bodies will proceed from it.' – Rudolf Steiner

Oh, gosh.

We are in an era of spiritual consciousness. This is an era where we learn to reflect outwardly what it means to be a 5D-Consciousness Being. Living in a 5D consciousness, people naturally feel lighter, freer, younger, prettier, healthier, more fit, more stress-free, more energetic; all because people's whole vibrations are 'triggered' by a more spiritual ae-nergy.

ae is known as chi or prana or orgone in other languages; by synchronizing with your ae, ever so organically your body learns to derive vital energy from a purer source of consciousness—a high vibration of aetheric authenticity—that reflects in the physical world as a glow-up of the highest divine order~♥︎

As your Mind comes into alignment with the ae of your Spirit, so your Body becomes attuned to that Order. The significance of ae will only grow as more people come into a spiritual kind of liberation from the chains of insecurity propagated by the monsters in the media and politics.

No matter what the propaganda of the moment may say and try to do, you could always be the conscious individual that distils information and derives from this process only the essence of what is good for you on a personal level. If you’re happy, satisfied, confident and proud with your intelligent conscious choices, that spark of contentment is what truly makes a person glow from the inside out~★

education: Body Care and Grooming (1948)

technomagy: Facial Symmetry with Muscle Toning (Energetic Programmed Audio) by Sapien Medicine

deck-bottom: XX Judgement Rx, Silver Historian (Polydore Vergil), Priestess of Beauty

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Pile 1 – As You Mend Your Heart, Babe, All of You Gets Beautiful Again

assistance: what is coming is 100000x better than what is gone by doyouflow

what’s been taken from you? – 9 of Wands

Although this is a 9 of Wands card, I see that the entirety of your Pile is water-based. You’re someone whose heart is very pure and kind, and you’ve sacrificed a lot of yourself for being there for others. I’m hearing: ‘for a pessimist I was pretty optimistic, and I got nothing—NOTHING—but betrayal and abandonment, and I am exhausted.’ Being charitable around the wrong fucker can surely drain our spiritual aenergy!

You’ve been through multiple cycles of ‘exhausting’ friendships with people who couldn’t appreciate you for the delicate human that you are. They only saw you as this fiery, strong, charismatic capable individual who always managed to whip up a positive attitude in any circumstances. It never occurred to them—not that they’d care to wonder anyway—that maybe this time around you’re the one needing a hug.

Nobody cared; and even the ones who pretended to care, only wanted to know what your gloominess was all about. And they went on to talk shit behind your back and had a good laugh about it. ‘MU HA HA HA, turns out Y/N ain’t even that shit! Y/N is pretty pathetic/loser/crazy BU HA HA HA HA!!!’ Funny thing is, you always knew about their shit one way or another and the whole revelation broke your heart to pieces. Multiple times with different people… tsk tsk…

recalling fragments of your beauty – 9 of Cups

Well, now, I can see you’ve lost a lot of these ‘friends’ and worked on yourself to create new neural pathways towards a truer sense of spiritual abundance. I’m sure right now your Life is pretty OK in areas like finance and material security; your job or creative project is going swimmingly; you have a pretty good work-life balance; and for the most part you’re really enjoying the peacefulness of your solitary Life.

But if there’s one thing, I think you haven’t had a really good conversation with someone interesting in a pretty long time. I see that your eyes have not twinkled from being complimented by someone genuinely kind in a really long while. You’ve lost a lot of your affection for people and you’ve lost faith in being energetic and social. People always disappoint in the end because their hearts are ugly and they’re mean to each other. This deep-seated belief has caused your eyes to look dead and droopy.

Have you perhaps noticed that you’ve developed a set of sanpaku eyes? The minimalistic science behind it states that people could develop sanpaku eyes after going through a lot—like a FUCKTON—of heartache and disappointments. I think your case could be dealing with some kind of a ‘betrayal trauma’ or some variety of ‘injustice trauma’. Look ‘em up, babe~ ♥︎

sealing the deal with the Divine Feminine – Knight of Cups

If some years have passed now since the last time you were around your fake friends, or even frenemies, I want you to know that your beauty has not been lost to time or ageing. Nope. Not at all. That’s bullshit. I can see that you’re the type of person who ages very UNNATURALLY. If your natal chart has a lot of Water aenergies or you have strong placements in Water Houses, you’re defo the type of bitch that can TRANSFORM your physical appearance by sheer mood ;D At this point, you can’t even age coz that skin barrier is strong AF LMAO

THAT’S WHY! Your true mystical glow-up secret lies in your mending your pretty Heart~ You’ve never had an ugly Heart, obviously, and still now it’s not ugly or anything; but it’s the way you think about how deserving you are of a friendship or relationship that honours your complex sensitivity that needs to be acknowledged and RECLAIMED. Doesn’t matter how, doesn’t matter when or who’s coming next, I just want you to know that if this reading has popped in to your Life… Your Soulmates are coming to get you, bitch. Pack up and play in the sea! XD

The good times that you’re going to be having with your Soulmates, Soul Tribes, Soul Fam—however you may resonate—are going to refill the stars in your Heart, automatically reflected in your eyes~ ★_★v Hahah I promise you that you’re going to reunite with Souls who are very, very old friends with you. You’re going to live a very happy, passionate Life doing things you like with people you Love… How the hell do you think that’s not gonna heal all of you and make everything about you beautiful again?😉

Originally, you’re a beautiful bitch. And if you’ve also got some Capricorn/Saturn/10th House placements, it’s very likely you’re ageing backwards! What the hell even is that?? \`★_★`/

GODDESS OF BEAUTY🔻💙

beauty on the inside – Green Physician (Paracelsus)

beauty on the outside – Priestess of Inspiration

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Pile 2 – It’s the Passion in Your Heart That Reflects Outwardly Your True Inner Beauty

assistance: I TRUST things aren’t falling apart they are FALLING INTO PLACE by doyouflow

~wah, girl, you really gotta check out the bonus content for this one XP~

what’s been taken from you? – 5 of Cups Rx

Out of all the Piles, you’re the baddest bitch of them all, do you realise that? You’ve got the most unhinged aenergy about you XD You’re a psycho, you know that? You’re generally thought of as either unpredictable or uncontrollable, but you could also be both, unprovoked LMAO People think you’re a problem child, because you’re so gutsy. I’m literally not getting ANYTHING about what’s been taken from you ^_^; Are you sure you still need this PAC? XD

First of all, you literally exist in your own dimension. That’s why people can’t control you. They can’t tame you. You’re a weirdo, a maniac even, who does things your way, plans things according to your vision, and yours alone, for the most part. People think you’re rather selfish but it’s because you’re a girl, right? If you were a man they’d say you’re DRIVEN. And yes! DRIVE that Bentley, bitch! No, DRIVE that Tesla into OUTER SPACE, bitch! You don’t appreciate people telling you what you CAN’T do!

And you don’t like it when people gaslight you about your confidence just because they’re a little bitch. You love being a Supreme Bitch—you’re a girl on a mission; ain’t nobody got the aenergy to listen to nobody’s guilt-tripping. And in that sense, your spirit and psychology have never really been hit by society. Society has never been able to take away anything from you ♡

recalling fragments of your beauty – XIV Temperance Rx

I see that your Beauty has stayed intact for the majority of your Life. It’s not like you’d resonate with having lost fragments of your beauty to years of depression, malnutrition or anything of the sort? Your mindset has remained strong for the majority of your adult Life. You have a strong mentality and this is reflected well in your physical body. A glow-up is easy, as long as you want it. And for the most part, your glow-up is tightly bound to your sense of purpose.

You’ve always known you’re meant for great things. And from a very young age you already worked on your mentality. You REFUSED to be normal, you refused mediocrity. It wasn’t a walk in the park until you reached your conviction though. Your childhood was rather constrictive, either due to societal expectations…or familial expectations. The adults around you thought you didn’t notice but you saw all of these fences put around you, and they pissed you off. Even your peers couldn’t understand what you wanted to make out of yourself.

So you rebelled from a very young age. You were, yes, THEE problem child, only because the small-minded people around you were a problem to your goals! Such hindrance. And now you’re glowing up and grabbing all the money bags and they jealous? Are you even fucking kidding my butt? Your path towards a total glow-up of your mindset and real life was not always perfect, but what’s perfection? All of the struggles play into creating your lore👑

sealing the deal with the Divine Feminine – 2 of Cups

If you’ve never heard anybody tell you this, allow me to be the first. Your drive, your determination, your ambition and motivation, although these qualities may make you appear like a selfish bitch on the outside, I, ME, MYSELF, understand that you want these things not only for yourself. There are people in this world you want to protect and provide for. Maybe it’s your mother who was abused or left by her deadbeat husband, idk. Maybe it’s a sibling or a pet you want to give the best Life for, idk.

Maybe, you want to achieve success and fame and be seen by the world, because you want to save the world from the malady of its own crazy, idk~ You want to be an example, a healing presence, a voice of reason, a voice for the voiceless, idk? You may look a certain bitchy, scary way on the outside, but your heart is good; it’s PURE GOLD. You live for the betterment of someone else and if that’s not LOVE, what is?

What most people don’t understand about you is how your sparkle of beauty literally comes from this desire to protect and provide for someone other than yourself. You have a lot of Love in your heart, even if you don’t always admit it to yourself. Your entire Life, your glow-up has come from your being DRIVEN. Vroom vroom, MOTHERFUCKER .・°☆~ You leave a trail of stardust for your aenemies ♥︎

GODDESS OF BEAUTY🔻💛

beauty on the inside – Green Alchemist (Nicolas Flamel)

beauty on the outside – Priestess of Patience

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Pile 3 – When Your Existence is Useful to the Healing of Others, Their Love/Gratitude Nurtures You Back to Health

assistance: you get to be universes favorite by doyouflow

what’s been taken from you? – Page of Cups Rx

See, it’s crazy that literally a few mins before starting on you, Pile 3, I came across a quote that says this:

‘Some of us are such advanced Souls that we did not come here to be supported, but we came to be the support system for many. If you’ve had a challenging Life and feel you never had proper support or Love, that is because YOU are the Love and Support.’

Well, my heart broke, but…hey, there’s clarity and validation there😊

All of these cards are in reverse, telling me there’s a lot that’s been taken from you. Your heart, compassion, resources, money, hobby items, OMG, the list is endless! So much has been taken away from you. Either by people borrowing stuff without remembering to return or people getting a favour without returning it to you. At least, even when it seemed like they did return some favour to you…the return was either lacklustre or just…it didn’t feel right?

You’ve felt gaslit too much your entire Life. An incessant feeling of being unseen, unappreciated, unloved, could’ve eaten away at your self-worth. You’ve often been the miracle in someone else’s Life, but when it comes to you needing a transformation in your Life, where’s MY miracle…? I think you could have Chiron in 12th House or Pisces? That kind of placement is one where an individual constantly feels like they’ve been forsaken by God, or the positive forces of the Universe…

recalling fragments of your beauty – 3 of Pentacles Rx

The truth of the matter is, you’ve not been forsaken by your Spirit Guides. See, this message is gonna be especially resonant for you who do have Chiron or Saturn in the 8th or 12th House—that the Universe, your Higher Self and Spirit Guides have given you so little guidance and support, because you’re meant to learn how it feels like to be in the shoes of Humans. See, it’s not to say these Humans do not have support—babe, they CAN’T access the support because they’re BLIND and DEAF AS FUCK.

Humans are so embarrassingly divorced from their own intuition. Even the most religious folks are blind and deaf to actual angelic whispers. In many cases, because their false religions have taught them to worship wrongly and be obedient to evil authority and not question any injustice and wrongdoings. The more blindly religious a person is, the more separated they are from their own Humanity, because now their ears are deaf to empathy.

You came into this world to understand the twists and turns of how it feels like to navigate this crazy Matrix with so little guidance, so that one day, when you’re propelled into your main mission, you can remind and even teach people how to re-connect with Love—the true source of all compassion and Divinity in Human Form. When you remind people of their Humanity, you regain, and grow exponentially in Beauty ♥︎

sealing the deal with the Divine Feminine – 6 of Pentacles Rx

So, as you can see, you have a very important spiritual mission in this incarnation. I do not give a goddamn dime what you think you look like; whether or not you‘re conventionally attractive; whether or not you fit some bullshit beauty standards; YOU ARE FUCKING BEAUTIFUL when you’re seen sharing your healing gifts with the world! You do remember that a lot of historians say Cleopatra wasn’t perceived as necessarily that conventionally beautiful by most people, right? But that everybody was charmed by her intelligence and charisma when talking about politics?

Yeah, you give me that vibe, bitch <3 That the essence of what you do to alleviate sorrow in the world, when seen by others, when people listen to what you say, when what you do or write changes people’s lives for the better, when people feel motivated by your sheer aenergy to improve themselves—it’s that kinda shit what will help you regain your natural beauty, or manifest a glow-up ☆

When you engage in your Life’s main mission, it’s people’s Love for what you do and the Gratitude they feel for what it’s done in their lives what will aenergetically nurture you back to health. In a nutshell, people’s appreciation for your Life’s Work IS your support system in this world—later on in Life maybe if you haven’t started. It is your Purpose to be useful to the healing of others~ You’re defo gonna have an audience \^_^v Namaste, bitches~★ I honour all that you’ve been through and all that you’re going to do for this world~ You’re so LOVED!!! <3

GODDESS OF BEAUTY🔻🧡

beauty on the inside – Gold Historian (Raphael Holinshed)

beauty on the outside – Priestess of Love

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[strawberrypoundtown]

Bullheaded

Bruce Soli x Witch!Reader

Your best friend talks to you about an issue he's been dealing with, hoping to maybe get some magical assistance from you. However, his issue evolves into something much bigger when he asks for some physical help too...

(This was technically supposed to be finished in time for 400 followers, but you guys are way too fast for me 🥲 we're already past 450 and I couldn't be more grateful 😭 i hope you guys enjoy this! This guy is part of a collaboration project between me, @the-witches-creatures (Ari and Bloom belong to her) and @silken-moonlight and I hope you enjoy! This took a lot longer than I wanted it to, and once again, I made it way too long lol I apologize for such a large gap between my posts, as I am currently still a busy college student, but I'm trying my best! I hope the quality makes up for it lol enjoy the show!)

Contains: size kink, weed use, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, boob job, loss of virginity, breeding kink, pregnancy risk, bulging, a lot of cum

"SON OF A BITCH!!" You heard Bruce suddenly bellow from his room angrily, followed by a loud crash. A long sigh escaped your lips as you broke your meditation and got up. It was a full moon. He knew not to disturb you when you were meditating, especially during the full moon. You got up with a huff and stomped over to his bedroom, throwing the huge heavy door open with the assistance of your magic.

"What the fuck do you want?! You know I need SILENCE during a full moon, you fucking dickhead!" You yelled at him. You were the only one that could talk to him like that without getting put in the hospital. You crossed your arms and furrowed your brow, ensuring he knew how pissed off you were. This shit always happened during the full moon. You saw him with his phone in pieces on the floor between his legs. He was sitting on the edge of his giant bed, tugging on his ears as he groaned in anger.

"Fuck you, bitch! I don't need your fucking attitude right now!" He yelled as he turned to you. Getting a better look at his eyes, they looked red and the fur under his eyes were wet from tears. However, the strange thing was that it didn't look like it was because he took too hard of a rip like you usually found him. In fact, his bong was completely untouched so far tonight from the looks of it. Your anger dissipated slightly as you looked at him. Sure he was a dickhead, but if something was really wrong, you did want to help.

"What's going on then? Why are you being an asshole?" You ask, scoffing a bit as you rolled your eyes. You knew jumping into feelings right away in conversations would go nowhere. You learned from experience.

"I'm not fucking trying to be!" He tugs at his ears again before burying his face in his hands. He grunts softly with each breath as he tries to calm down. He didn't want to be the cause of another noise complaint if he wasn't already. "Go back to your shit. I want to be alone and smoke." He grumbled as he went to open his stash box next to his bong on his bedside table. You let out a long sigh before walking over, literally jumping onto his bed because it's much taller than yours. He scoffs as he watches you in the corner of his eye, but doesn't tell you to leave. You liked to think that he liked having you around. At least a little bit.

As he absent-mindedly packed a bowl, his mind wandered. He had planned on going out to meet with a lady werewolf who needed help during the full moon, but he had gotten ghosted once again. As soon as he told her how big he was, she said she couldn't do it and didn't respond to his texts after that. That's why his phone was broken. He was so frustrated with this happening and had no idea what to do. Even other minotaurs didn't want him. Because of his temper and his size, most people couldn't handle him.

You could, though. A human witch. Although he found your presence annoying at the beginning of your friendship, he had grown to deeply care for you. You were always there, whether he wanted you there or not.

"Hey idiot." You say as you waved your hand in front of him to get his attention. He snaps back from his thoughts and looks down at you. "What's going on?" You ask with genuine concern. Concern for him. Concern you had shown him whenever he opened up to you. But he was frustrated that he had distracted you from what you were doing and didn't want to bother you. He stayed silent as he just stared at you for a moment, internally screaming out of guilt.

He didn't really understand much about your practice, but he knew the full moon was important for you, and you needed it to be as quiet as possible in the apartment. Usually, he'd be able to go out and practice with the band, but they were all busy. He figured that going out and hopefully getting laid for real for the first time would kill two birds with one stone.

That's right, folks, Bruce is a virgin. It wasn't from lack of trying, but everyone he had tried to sleep with found him to be way too big. No matter the monster, he was always left blue-balled and frustrated in more ways than one. It didn't help that you were always around. You always smelled so good. Poor guy couldn't even get any peace in his own room. The whole apartment smelled like you, even when you weren't around. It drove him crazy.

All of a sudden, his phone, now intact, plopped into his lap, and he once again snapped back to reality. He picked it up and looked it over before staring back at you. Why were you so nice to him when he treated you like shit? You always called him your best friend, but that statement made him sad in many ways. You deserved someone better to hold that title. He also wished he had a different title, but knew he deserved that one even less.

"There. I can perform a durability spell on it tonight if you want? It'll be extra strong since it's a full moon. I don't want to have to keep repairing it all the time." You said with a soft laugh, and he just nodded in response with a faint grunt. He could listen to your laugh for hours. You leaned in close to him and placed a hand on his thigh as you reached over, grabbing his phone from his hand. You used his leg to help yourself hop off the bed, and you smiled up at him. "Go ahead and smoke a bowl while I go do this, drama queen. It won't take long. Make yourself useful and pack me a bowl for when I get back too." You pat his thigh before walking out of his room, leaving him alone to his thoughts. The sensation of your hand on his thigh lingered for a moment after you left and he gently put his hand over top of where yours was. As touch starved as he is, he never tried to touch you. He was too worried about hurting you, as he had been too rough with you early on in your friendship and caused some pretty bad bruises. God he wanted to hold you though. He wanted you all to himself.

He slammed his palm into his forehead with a grunt before angrily grabbing his bong and his torch lighter. He needed to smoke. He couldn't keep thinking like that. He knew you deserved a kind, gentle guy. He wasn't kind or gentle. He was harsh. Hurtful. Harmful. That's how you got stuck with him in the first place.

He had recently transferred to your school halfway through senior year of high school. He had been expelled from his last school, and his grandma had contacted the school to see if anyone could keep an eye on him. When they were briefed on his temper and his size, the school administrators invited you to take on the role.

You were a bit of an outcast in your school, despite being surrounded by odd, magical creatures and fellow magic users. You often studied alone and in silence. You would perform unauthorized spell experiments during class, damaging things so you could repair them, and didn't talk to people unless spoken to. This led to people avoiding you, finding you odd or creepy.

So when you said you'd keep an eye on Bruce, they were surprised how quickly you agreed. To say he was shocked at your immediate yes after meeting him was an understatement. He had point blank told you that there was no way he was going to have a babysitter at school, much less a tiny human. Without a word, you used your magic to turn him into a large frog and told the administrators you agreed. He turned back. Eventually.

After that, you two were basically glued together. You got good grades, so you went out of your way to make sure he was caught up with the material. You always tried to help him the best you could, even if he was abrasive towards you. You knew from his Nonna that he actually seemed to have a soft spot for you, despite his protesting. You learned from her how to handle a lot of his outbursts. How his tempermental ass was related to such a sweetheart was a mystery to you.

You also had never told Bruce, but you had a huge thing for big monster guys. It was a big reason why you had said yes to keeping an eye on him. Or at least a huge bonus. The main reason was when you saw all the scars on his arms and face. You wanted to find out more about him, and it seemed like if you didn't take him, nobody else would have.

You heard the bubbling of his bong and the lighting of his torch as you finished up the spell on his phone in your room. It shouldn't break now. At least you had hoped not. Durability spells worked better on larger objects. The bigger it was, the harder it was to break. He had broken a few phones and bongs despite them being protected by your magic. He hadn't typically broken anything bigger than one of his large plates after you put the spell on all his things. However, even though his phone was the size of a tablet for you, it was still too small to be fully protected by the spell.

You let out a soft sigh and thought about all the nights you had thought about casting it on yourself. It was just a simple sigil, followed by a phrase you had made shortly after you had met Bruce. Once you had it mastered and tailored it to Bruce's strength, you slapped that thing on everything he would come in contact with that he used everyday. You just had to draw it on his stuff or carve it in if you wanted it to be extra strong. You had even considered finding a fellow magic user to tattoo it on you due to your... romantic interests.

You would have never admitted it to his face, but from the moment you saw him, you thought he was cute. What can you say? You like a big guy you could tame. You like an experiment. He was a giant, angry bull, and you wanted to ride him. You still did. But you knew his reputation. He never showed any interest in you and only saw you as a friend from your perspective. He had been with a lot of other people over the years, always busy on the weekends and late at night. As you walked back into his room with his phone, he was in the middle of rolling one of his giant joints.

"Really? Those things are massive. They make me feel like I'm sucking on a tail pipe." You groaned as you jumped onto his bed and crawled over to him. He rolled his eyes and scoffed, trying not to let his eyes wander as he watched you out of the corner of his eyes. The sight of you crawling onto his bed was something he enjoyed a lot more than he should.

"You're so fucking dramatic. This is for me. I already packed you a bowl for your bong, princess." He said with a small smirk tugging at his lips. He brought joint up to his lips, lighting it and inhaling. You suddenly snatched the joint from his lips, smirking as you brought to your own. "You couldn't handle this stuff. It's a special strength for bigger monsters like me." He softly grumbles, exhaling the smoke through his nostrils and into your face, rattling his septum ring.

"Oh yeah?" You jumped up on his bed and grabbed one of his horns with a giggle. You use his horn to tug his head closer to yours, purring into his ear teasingly. "I can handle more than you think."

"Fuck... don't do that..." He hissed through grit teeth. His voice dripped in an unfamiliar tone as he spoke. You felt your face flush as you quickly let go of his horn. His eyes snapped to look at you, and you felt a bit of fear for a moment. But when you read the look in his eyes, your heart started to pound. You hadn't seen him make that look before.

Lust.

"I-I'm sorry." You stammered as your face burned from the rush of blood. "I forgot you don't like your horns touched... did I hurt you?" You actually were a bit worried that you just hurt him or he was upset. He hadn't actually gotten upset with you in a really long time, so it was possible you just mistook his anger for lust, right? There's no way he actually looked at you like that.

He suddenly coughed and snatched the joint away from you, avoiding eye contact as he took a long drag from it. He hunched over as one of his elbows rested on his knee, his hand holding the horn you tugged on. You felt guilt well up inside you as well as tears. You knew minotaurs horns were sensitive, but you didn't think a little tug would hurt so badly. Then again, you didn't have horns. You felt awful for causing him any pain.

However, he was actually trying to fight the urge to pin you down on his bed and finger you until you were screaming. He may still have his virginity, but he was pretty talented at fingering and oral from what he had been told. You tugging on his horn and blowing smoke in his face made him so hard he was surprised he didn't rip his pants. He was hunched over to try and hide the massive bulge that appeared. He was trying his best to calm down from your sudden touch by smoking, but unfortunately for him, it just made him hornier. He always wondered if you had cast a spell on yourself to make you so irresistible.

"I'm fine... just... didn't expect that." He grumbled under his breath. That was an understatement. He noticed the room beginning to fill with smoke and that he had burned through half the massive thing already. He coughed a bit and put the half burnt joint out on the ashtray to save for another time. He tried his best to use his arms to cover his dick while he looked over at you. His blood ran cold for a moment when he saw you... crying?

"I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you or anything." You cry softly, your eyes extremely red from both the smoke and your tears.

"What? That didn't hurt me." He scoffs as he looks away. He acts offended at the suggestion you could hurt him, but in reality, he actually felt bad that he was making you cry.

"Then... why are you so upset about me touching your horn?" You sniffled and wiped your eyes. He looked back at you with his piercing green eyes for a moment and sighed.

"I'm not... upset with you... ugh, I know this sounds stupid, but I had a date for the full moon tonight, but she chickened out before I even went over... so I'm pent up and you know my fucking horns are sensitive. I don't know why you fucking touched them... Ugh! You always make it so difficult!" He bellowed before punching his wall above his headboard. Thankfully, this wasn't uncommon, and the durability spell on the wall was effective.

"What do I make difficult?! I make sure you don't destroy half your shit when you get like this!" You snapped back angrily as you felt yourself getting a bit annoyed with his whining.

"You make everything difficult! Living with you, your stupid incense and herbs, just your fucking scent is so fucking overwhelming. I can't take it anymore!" He bellows, hunching over with his head in his hands. "You make me fucking ache."

"... Huh?" You squeaked, confused.

"You cause me to act like this... I'm fucking pent up because of you. You're always around with your dumbass beautiful face and sexy body." He growls. "You have no idea how hard it is for me to keep my hands off of you all the time..."

"What if... I don't want you to?" You asked more as a question for yourself than for him. He rarely touched you, although you would touch him. You always wanted to know what his more gentle touch would feel like.

"What?" He asked, shocked at your suggestion. He stared at you, confused as you began to explain.

"Well, what if I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself?... what if I want you to touch me?" You had to look away as you spoke. You felt your face redden from embarrassment as you admitted what you really wanted.

"But... what if I hurt you again?" He grumbled lowly, clenching his fists in his lap as he sat up. Remembering the times he was too rough with you and hurt you was painful for him. You stuck by him through so much and still wanted to be around him to this day. He didn't want to cause you any pain.

"Oh, Brucie..." You began softly, resting a hand on his forearm. You were one of the few people that knew his real name, and you used it when you were more serious.

"Shut up." He snapped at the use of his real name as he rolled his eyes.

"You shut up." You retort as you look up at him and stand up on his bed. "Brucie, you won't hurt me."

"You don't know that. I've hurt you before." He says with a sad look in his eyes. The sight of the bruises he had given you back when you had first met were burned into his brain.

"There's only one way to find out." You gently take his giant hand in both of yours and look at him with a bashful smile. You felt his hand shaking as he tried to follow your lead, his other hand slowly reaching for you. He gently let's go of your hands and gingerly wraps his giant arms around you, pulling you into a tender embrace. His warmth surrounds you like a comforting blanket as you try your best to hug him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. You feel him let out a deep sigh and you do the same. One of your hands rubbed the back of his head, and the other rubbed between his shoulder blades. A deep rumble in his chest viberates through you as he relaxs at your touch. You can feel his tense muscles slowly relax through the fabric of his hoodie under your fingertips. He leans his wet nose into your neck and inhales deeply, making you shiver with a shakey breath.

"How do you smell so fucking good?" He groans, his hot breath bathing your neck. You have to hold your breath to ensure you don't moan. The way he was holding you made it impossible for you to move away due to his strength, but you also didn't want to. He suddenly snaps back to reality and pulls away from you, his large hands moving to gently hold your shoulders to keep you at arms length. "This is dangerous."

"What?"

"I can't stay gentle for long. I'll end up hurting you if we keep going..." He says with a hint of sadness in his voice. Your warmth felt so nice and he wanted more, but he knew holding back wasn't easy for him to manage long-term. He didn't want to put you at risk for his own selfish wants.

"Oh... um... I have an idea then, actually." You say while trying to avoid eye contact. You just needed to do the durability spell on yourself and grab that lube you have... but you didn't want to admit that you had special magic lube for fucking large monsters for when you used your toys. You didn't want to seem desperate, even if the puddle developing in your panties argued otherwise. "I-I can help with you being pent up..."

"What?" He asked, genuinely a bit confused. "Why?"

"I just want to help!" You lied. The truth was that you had wanted to fuck him for years. Longer than you guys had been living together, but it felt like when you guys moved in together that it would never happen. After you guys moved in together, when he wasn't with you at the studio or in the apartment, he was seemingly off getting his dick wet where-ever he could. It was frustrating, but you knew you probably wouldn't be able to handle him as a human anyways. However, you could experiment on your own. You had done research on how big an average minotaur dick was and had gotten a few different toys to work up to it, and a huge bottle of magic lube that was supposed to help humans accommodate larger monsters. Over the last couple of years, you were comfortably using the minotaur dildo without any issues as long as you used the lube. You would often have to buy more. A small smug smirk began to develop on his lips as he cocked an eyebrow.

"You want to help? What makes you think your tiny human body could handle helping me?" He said as he tilted your head up to look at him by using one of his fingers under your chin. He repeatedly looks down at your lips while staring into your eyes. He may have seemed confident in that moment, but he was actually trying to get you to back down. He thought you were joking about wanting to help to try and cheer him up. He thought playing along would make you chicken out.

"I, uhhhh... may or may not have magic lube in my room... and the durability spell should work if I cast it on myself, so theoretically I can help you... and you wouldn't have to hold back." You said with your resolve only wavering slightly. You couldn't look him in the eyes, and your face was beet red, but you didn't pull your head away from his hand. After a few moments of silence you looked up at him and you saw that his eyes were wide and his mouth was open like he wanted to say something, but nothing was coming out.

He was stunned that you actually had that stuff. Maybe you had been with more guys than he thought? No, he never smelled anyone coming over he didn't know about. Would have been nice to know you had magic lube. He could have been fucking you for weeks. Months? How long have you even had that lube for? Slowly, his resolve to hold back was dwindling at your words. He couldn't help but look you up and down, unintentionally undressing you with his eyes.

"Show me." Bruce commands with a deep growl, a dark look in his eyes as you slowly nod. You didn't want to argue with him if he looked like that. You jump off the bed and run over to his bedroom door, a bit wobbly from smoking. You hear him chuckle as you leave his room. "Hurry up, or I'll change my mind." You felt a bit dizzy from your high, but it could have been from all the blood in your cheeks.

As you got to your room, you walked over to your closet and sighed. You ended up with the smaller room in the apartment, of course. It still gave you more space compared to Bruce. You gently rubbed your cheeks as you tried to calm down and opened your closet. You had a large box on the top shelf that you kept everything in. As you were pulling it down, you heard familiar stomping coming towards your room. Shit. You dropped the box on the ground and quickly opened it, grabbing the lube before trying to close the box before he walked in. However, your timing wasn't good enough, and he walked in just as you had grabbed the lid to put it back on. You could have died right there on the spot as he stared at your collection of giant sex toys.

"Woah... I didn't think you were that much of a slut. Examples of real dicks you've taken?" He laughs as you felt extremely embarrassed, but still felt the need to defend yourself.

"Shut up! I'm a virgin, okay?! I haven't been with any other guys!" You blurt out without a second thought as you slam the lid back on the container. Your hands snap to cover your mouth as instant regret sets in. You didn't want him to know that. You didn't want him to know that you jerked off with those toys, hoping that he'd replace it. You let out a long sigh while you worked up the smokey courage to admit more. "I've only ever had an interest in a particular guy if I'm being completely honest..."

"Oh." He felt a pang of guilt as his heart sank. He felt awful for putting pressure on you. Why was he also upset that you were interested in someone else? "Who?"

"W-well, he's always near me... he's strong... makes me feel safe... he's, uh..." You glance down at the bulge in his jeans and swallow before looking up at him. "B-big..."

"Is it fucking Aram? That son of a bitch!" Bruce grumbled angrily, unable to hold back his temper and punching the wall. Thank god you made sure almost everything in your room had the durability spell too. He was frustrated that you wanted him as practice for his annoying manager. He wanted to kill him in that moment. "Fucking creep!"

"Wha- it's not Ari!" You yell in annoyance. Bruce was so dense. "It's you, dumbass! I'm interested in you! I wouldn't have wanted to fuck you for my first time if I wasn't!" You were fed up. You were done trying to throw hints around. He stood there for a moment, seemingly trying to process what you said.

"WHAT?!" He bellowed, shaking the walls of the penthouse before clearing his throat and trying again. "You're interested in me?"

"W-why do you think I have all those toys and that lube? I'm not stupid. I know minotaurs are big... I didn't want to be totally inexperienced..." You scoffed softly, trying to play it cool, but miserably failing with how you couldn't even look at him and your face being dark red.

"But why me?... I'm an arrogant asshole that takes up all your time and energy... you deserve better than me... I drive you crazy." He states gruffly, but you can still hear a hint of sadness despite his attitude.

"Yeah, but have you ever thought about how you make me crazy? You always try your best to be nice to me. You take care of me and protect me. I get to travel all over and smoke weed all day with you. I wouldn't have the life I have if it weren't for you." You say with a soft, genuine smile, approaching him as he backs up into the wall. His heart fluttered in his chest as he listened to you. "If all I have to do is make sure you don't break anything and repair a few things, I'm more than happy to take on more..." You hesitated for a moment, unable to stop yourself from looking over at his bulge before quickly looking away again. "Um, responsibility..." His breath catches in his throat as he looks at you. He stared down at you with wide eyes for a few moments before they narrow.

"I need you to do that fucking spell now." He says in a deeper voice than you're used to. It took you off guard.

"What? N-now?" You stammered softly. You worried you got him upset again.

"Just fucking do it." He growls in a more commanding tone. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, but also stirred your excitement. You didn't argue though, just quickly grabbing the closest marker and standing in front of your mirror as you tried to carefully draw the sigil on your lower abdomen under your belly button. It technically would work if you drew it anywhere, but you figured that you might as well have it close to what you wanted protected. You tried your best to stop your hands from shaking as you could see Bruce in the mirror, waiting. You could see the bulge in his pants grow bigger by the minute as you worked on getting the sigil drawn. Once it's done, you whisper your incantation, and a faint electric shock washes over your whole body out from where the sigil is.

"There. It should be ready- Ah!" You squealed as he suddenly grabbed you by the waist and threw you over his shoulder without a word. You brace yourself on his shoulder as he keeps one hand on your waist to keep you from falling.

"You're such a bitch. I can't believe you fucking hid this from me." He growls before delivering a swift smack to your ass, earning a screech from you. It was hard, but it didn't hurt other than a sting. Either he was still being gentle, or the spell worked. Thank god. You let out a moan involuntarily as his large hand rubbed and groped your ass through your shorts. What did you get yourself into? "How long have you wanted to do this?"

"A while..." You admit quietly as you watch his ass, a bit distracted by the view until his hand connects with your ass once again.

"How fucking long?" He growls, growing impatient.

"Y-years!" You admit, gripping the back of his sweater as you squeeze your thighs together tightly. You hoped he couldn't smell your arousal, but you could hear him sniff the air a bit as he started moving. He made his way back to his room and kicked the door closed. The door slammed on it's hinges, startling you for a moment before Bruce suddenly throws you onto his large bed and you land with a bounce. He tosses the lube onto the bed and it lands with a bounce a couple feet away from you.

"Really? Years?" He asks, pulling off his hoddie to reveal his muscular upper body. He had many large scars visible through the fur of his chest and arms, and many more you knew about that were hidden underneath. He had gotten a bit of soft belly over the years of being on the road and eating takeout, but you thought he was still hot. You always thought he was. You wanted to kiss every single scar on his body and tell him that. "Even now?"

"Yes." You admit with a sly smile. The haze of smoke that still lingered in the room made you feel warm, and maybe a bit overconfident. You're taken by surprise as he crawls over you on his hands and knees, a grin spreading across his face as his imposing form casts a shadow over yours.

"Shit... you made me wait so long... I'm gonna enjoy tasting you, princess." He presses his large wet nose against your neck and inhales softly. His tongue slides out and licks along your collarbone and up your neck. He pulls away just enough so his face is in front of yours. He can't help but stare into your eyes before crashing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. Your hands quickly find his chest and run upwards, wrapping around his neck as you moan against his lips. His large tongue slides into your mouth as he moves one of his hands to pull your shorts off. He pulls off your shorts and panties in one smooth motion.

His tongue filled your mouth so much it made you gag, but you didn't care. You had craved him for so long. And after knowing the spell works, you couldn't wait for him to just fuck you, but feeling him finally touch you was more intoxicating than the smoke he smelled like. You felt him slowly pull his tongue out of your mouth and pull away from your lips. You gasp and pant as you realize you had forgotten to breathe the whole time.

"B-bruce-" you speak shakily as you stare up at him with your gorgeous, lust drunk eyes. He lets out a soft groan as he suddenly rips your shirt with the hand that was groping your boobs and throws the shreds off to the side.

"Say my fucking name, witch." He growled as he starts to move down. He positions himself so his head is between your legs, braced on his elbows with his hands holding your hips much gentler than you were expecting.

"Brucie... please." You were quickly silenced by a squeal as his large tongue slid between your wet folds, giving your pussy a long, teasing lick. His nose pushes against your clit as his hands grips your hips a bit tighter.

"Oh fuck... You taste so fucking good..." He moans softly against your pussy lips, making you involuntarily grind against his face. He grins and keeps lapping at your pussy.

"Shit." You moan as his tongue slides into your needy pussy. He knew he'd never be able to fit his dick inside you without stretching you first, even with the spell, so he was glad he was talented in other ways to help the process. His thick tongue fucked you as you threw your head back, moaning loudly. You kept trying to buck your hips, unsure if you were trying to get away or get more, but he kept you held firmly in place for him with his rough hands. He wasn't letting you go anywhere. And he was eating you out like he was starved.

You squirmed in his hands as his flat nose rubbed your clit. His tongue kept thrusting in and out of your wet pussy, curving to hit everything just right and listening to your moans to make sure you were enjoying yourself. Your thighs clamp down on the sides of his head as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. You suddenly grab his horns and he moans into your cunt, the vibration sending you into your first orgasm of the night.

"You're lucky you taste so good..." He chuckles as he pulls his mouth away from your drenched pussy, moving one of his hands from it's place on your hips to grab the lube. "Grabbing my horns made me real impatient now... but I need to make sure you're ready for me..." He sits back on his cloven feet as he squirts some lube onto his index finger. You take the opportunityto adjust yourself comfortably, biting your lip as you wait in anticipation of what he's doing. He puts the lube next to him as he moves his finger to press against your entrance. He rubs your outer lips with the lube, making you squirm as he teases you. He places his free hand gently on your lower abdomen to keep you still as he pushes his finger into your pussy. You stretch around him as his digit slowly fills you. It felt like the human sized toys you had tried before, but a lot better. A low grumble resonates from his throat as he looks down at you with a smile. "You're so tight... even with all that work you put in..." His voice and what he said made you clench around his finger, moaning as he slowly pumps his finger inside you.

The magic lube did have an odd side effect you had forgotten to mention. It used a mild aphrodisiac to help with the 'relaxing process' and because you were human, mild aphrodisiac mixed with smoking weed usually made your mind only think about him and what he'd do to you. It had just been fantasy for the longest time, but experiencing it now was making your brain melt. His hand on your abdomen gently pressed down as he started to move his hand a bit faster, earning plenty more desperate moans from you. A mix of your juices and the lube were dripping from your pussy and onto his sheets, but he didn't care. They were going to get a lot more messy soon enough.

"You seem eager... Ready for another one already?" He asks, slowing down for a moment as he teases your slick hole with another one of his thick fingers. You nod eagerly, opening your mouth to say yes, but only moans spilling out. A deep chuckle comes from him as he grins and eases another finger inside you, speeding up the pace again. You felt a sting for a brief moment before the lube helped you accommodate him. Two of his fingers was almost too much for you, but the lube was working wonders, just like his fingers. "I haven't had anyone take my fingers so well. Impressive for a human."

Bruce chuckled again as his fingers worked inside you, pressure building once again as you felt yourself close to your second release of the night. He can feel you getting close, so he adds a bit of extra pressure on your belly, and he curls his fingers to hit your g-spot. Your eyes roll back as he keeps up the pace, forcing your orgasm out of you as you scream out in pleasure. Your body shakes and your pussy twitches around his fingers as he grins and slows to a stop. Your sweaty, stunning body was tembling under him, and he was drinking up the sight.

"Fuck, you're so desperate for me baby. You already came twice." He moves his hand from your lower abdomen to place his hand next to head. He leans down and kisses you, groaning against your lips as he feels you buck your hips to try and get more friction inside you again. "You're always so fucking impatient." He whispers as he slowly pulls out his fingers and gets off the bed. You whine at the empty feeling, sitting up as you watched him take off his jeans. In the process, his phone fell out of his pocket. He grabs it and sees a text on his phone.

Bloom: close your fucking window Bruce. The whole city can hear you guys.

"Ah, shit." Still in his boxers, he walks over to close his window before walking back over to the bed with a sigh. "Where were we?" He says with a grin, making sure you were paying attention before he finally took off his boxers. You watch him closely as he reveals his dick, and your jaw drops slightly. It's bigger than your fucking arm. His thick, vieny cock bounces in front of you as you can see precum drip from his rounded tip and onto the edge of the bed. Thank god for magic lube, or you wouldn't have been able to fit him inside at all. You have to look away before you start drooling, and you look up at him. Upon looking at his face, he's avoiding eye contact and actually looks a bit nervous. An idea pops into your head based on the look on his face and how his dick is twitching, clearly eager for what's to come.

"Are you a virgin too?" You pipe up quietly. His eyes snapped to yours and he spots the shit eating grin spreading across your tired face.

"Excuse me, bitch?" He questions, annoyed that you had even suggested it. Sure, you were right, but how dare you? He's caught off guard by you getting on your hands and knees to crawl over to him. Your legs were still a bit unstable, so you were shaking a bit, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't love the sight of you crawling to him. His dick twitched more in response and you bit your lip.

"It's not a bad thing if you are, Brucie." You sat back on your heels at the edge of the bed and grasp his dick in both hands. You feel him tense under your touch. His dick is so heavy in your hands as you gently rub your hands along his length. He moans and shivers in response, his hands gripping his thighs as he tries his best not to grab you. "You seem happy to have my attention like this."

"F-fuck you." He grunts out between moans and closes his eyes for a moment. He sucks in a breath as he suddenly feels your tongue on him, his eyes snapping open to watch you lick and kiss all over his dick.

"That's exactly what I want. And I know this guy wants it too. Do you?" You giggled as you position yourself so his dick is resting between your boobs. You use your arms to squeeze them together around his cock the best you can while each of your hands grip his cock as well. You can't get your mouth around his tip, but you still lick and suck the tip the best you can as you use your upper body to jerk him.

He stares at you with wide eyes for a moment before cupping your face gently and watching you enthralled. He's never had anyoke try to do this for him before. It may not be a normal blow job, but the fact that you wanted to try and make him feel good too drove him crazy. He can't help but gently thrust against you as you try your best to jerk him. He didn't want to interrupt whatever you were doing, but it just felt so good...

"O-oh fuck-" He stammered out, trying to pull away, but you kept a surprisingly strong grip. He was twitching widely against you and you could tell he was close already. Poor guy must be so touch starved. After only a few more thrusts, he bellows and groans as one of his hands dig his blunt nails into his thigh. He cums hard, moaning as you continue to jerk him and lick him until the ropes of cum came to a stop. You latched your mouth onto his tip and you tried you best to swallow but he came so much and the rest spilled all over your chin and chest. He was shaking a bit, panting as his vision refocuses on you once again.

"I didn't expect you to cum so quickly." You said with a giggle, slowly pulling away and letting his dick fall. "Too bad. I wanted more still." He groans as he looks over you, messy with his cum. As he catches his breath, he suddenly pushes you back on his bed, grabbing your legs and pushing them back against your chest. His dick quickly springs back to life as he sees you under him, covered in his cum. It's all over you like you just stepped out of a gang bang, but it was just him. You were both loving it.

"I never said I was done... and after you came on my face and my fingers earlier, I deserve your hot pussy wrapped around my dick and ready to take everything I give you..." He growled, his eyes showing pure lust as he roughly pushes you back onto the bed. As you flopped onto your back, he was quick to spread your legs and position himself between them.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" You giggled softly before seeing him run his messy cock along your folds, your overstimulated clit throbbing. He grabs the lube once again and coats his cock in it while still grinding against your pussy. As he presses his thick tip against your entrance, you realize he's gonna fuck you without a condom. "W-wait, no condom? What about-"

"I'm not fucking wearing a condom when you've been teasing me for so fucking long..." He growled through grit teeth. You didn't even want to argue. You wanted to feel him. All of him. You didn't want a condom on him either. You weren't on birth control, and he knew that. "I'm gonna fuck you until you're fucking pregnant."

His words made you feel hotter than you cared to admit. Without another word, he starts to ease himself into you with a stiffled groan. You moan and shake as his cock stretches you with a slight sting before melting into pleasure. It takes a minute for you to adjust to just his head before he starts to thrust his hips, slowly pushing deeper and deeper. You were already on cloud 9, and so was he. It took some work, but once you took him all the way, he couldn't help but hold himself inside for a few moments. He was panting heavily as you felt every throb and twitch he made inside you, just like how he could feel every squeeze and flutter your walls made. Your stomach was bulging from his size, leaving you getting even more hot and bothered with every second he sent just having you cockwarm him.

"Fuck... you feel even better than I thought you would..." He groans as his massive hands grasp the back of your thighs, pushing your knees back against your chest. You gasp and don't have a chance to say anything before he suddenly starts to thrust like a wild animal. The sudden jolt of intense pleasure nearly blinds you, everything inside you that made you scream, being hit all at once. Your pussy squeezes his cock hard as only a few thrusts in you're already ready to burst and he moans at the sensation. "Already gonna cum? Such a slut. Be a good slut for me and cum on my fucking dick. I'm not fucking stopping."

You didn't need to be told twice, screaming out in pleasure as you came hard, your vision going white as he just continues to fuck you like nothing is happening. You can't think straight, just moaning and quivering as he continues to rail you through your most intense orgasm to date.

You finally start to come down from your high after what feels like hours, but in reality it was only a couple of minutes. You feel him start to throb once again, his thrusts getting more sloppy and his hands shaking as he keeps your legs held in place. It felt like he was going to break you in half, but you didn't care about anything, but your next rapidly approaching orgasm. He leans down and his large tongue licks the sweat from your neck, his hot breath bathing your neck and leaving goosebumps on your skin.

"F-fuck... I'm close already... what did you do to me? I think I'm fucking addicted to you..." He groans in your ear, his words turning you on even further as he drinks up your moans directly into his ear. "You want my cum baby? I can feel you getting close, too. I want you to beg for my cum baby. Fucking beg for me."

"F-fucking cum in me, please!" You moan out, his thrusts getting even rougher as he grunts. His last bit of restraint is gone as he fucks into you like a machine, unrelenting. You feel his cock throb wildly, his hips and heavy balls snapping against yours in a final rough thrust as he cums inside you. You cum with a screaming moan and clamp down on his dick, milking his cock as he bellows and dumps his load inside you.

You're both panting and trembling as he fills you up for what feels like forever, your belly bulging due to both his cock and his cum. You're both high on endorphins and super strong weed, so both of you have to take a pause before he attempts to pull out. He tries to go as slowly as possible, hissing with a grunt as the head of his dick pops out, his cum spilling out of you and onto his sheets. He groans at the sight before biting his lip and getting up.

"Fuck... you really are addicting..." He grins as he crawls over top of you, pressing his hand gently on your belly as the rest of his cum flows out of you. You moan softly, and he takes your lips in a tender kiss before picking you up and carrying you to his bathroom. He placed you down on the counter as he grabbed a face cloth and dampened it before carefully wiping you down. You can't help but moan as he rubs your sensitive body, shaking as he cleans up your pussy as well and avoids the sigil on your stomach. He watches your every move as he bites his lip hard, trying to keep himself from fucking you further. He kisses you once again before grabbing another face cloth and putting it in your hands.

"Finish cleaning yourself if there's anywhere I missed. I'll be back. I'm gonna go change my sheets." He says with a small grin as he turns to leave the bathroom. It's not like you could go anywhere if you wanted to. The durability spell and the lube worked great, but you were so sensitive and high that you would fall on your face if you even tried to walk. You cleaned your face and tried to clean your hair was best you could. You needed rest. You could shower in the morning.

Once he was done changing the sheets, he came back wearing boxers, with one of his shirts in his hands and puts it on you without asking. He then picks you up and carries you back to his bed, pulling back the covers and putting you down gently. You giggle, his bed nice and soft and his shirt nearly being a floor length dress for you. You stick your hands out the arm holes and smile up at him as he crawls into bed next to you.

"Thank you, Brucie." You say as he covers you both with his plush blanket and pulls you into his chest.

"Shut up. I wanted to make sure you were comfortable. You need to rest." He whispers gruffly as his arms surround you. "We have a long day tomorrow." You smile and nuzzle your face into his chest, letting your exhaustion take you after he kisses you goodnight.

As you're drifting off, you can swear he whispers, "I love you."

[xo-cod]

Can you imagine that for some reason reason or another, that hyperfeminine! Reader has to be the tech analyst for not only their 141 boys but for KorTac as well? Or maybe something happened and she was temporarily transferred to KorTac?

Either the way, the 141 boys are not happy and KorTac is getting the sunshine treatment from hyperfeminine! Reader.

aww i know 141 and kortac are technically enemies but this was so cute LMAO 🤎 it's v rushed and ooc !!

when kortac goes low, simon goes lower ‼️

"when does she come back?" soap's annoyed voice cut through the air of the barracks as he slumped down on the couch in the living room. this would've been the normal time after a mission he would've headed to your room. partly to annoy you but also to spend time together after a long day. he hadn't noticed just how much he craved your company, just how much he needed it

"she just went, soap. she's gone for the next few weeks" gaz sighed as he leaned back against his seat, the thought of kortac having access to you was grinding on his nerves but this was your job. you were the best at what you did, they had to trust you to do your thing. though it didn't stop the anger from rearing its ugly head at whatever kortac were making you do

"i don't trust 'em, god knows what they're doin. they should hire their own technical analyst" ghost spoke coldly, already pulling out his phone wanting to dial your number. the slightest change in your tone and he was already jumping in his car to drive recklessly to you no matter what. even if he had threatened könig beforehand and had to be physically restrained, he would bury the german 6 feet under if a single strand on your pretty head was damaged

"easy lad. könig gave us his word-" price began but ghost cut him off with a scoff. "and we're supposed to trust him?? the good for nothing faceless bastard?" ghost retorted, making the captain raise his brow at his unusual behaviour

gaz had pulled up pictures of the team, looking at könig with a raised brow which had caught the attention of ghost who immediately stiffened up in anger. he pointed a long finger at the picture, cursing under his breath at könig

"christ i hate him. look at his hood. only wearing it because he's ugly and he knows it"

"lt... you wear a mask"

"yeah and i wear it better. so what's your bloody point johnny??"

meanwhile at kortac

"so what's this?" könig had taken interest in your little figures, in your weird little knick knacks that you carried around as you worked on your laptop to help them solve their issues.

"oh it's just a fidget toy i made of ghost. it's cute, isn't it?"

"it's very ugly. but you should make one of me :D"

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐍

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: without a major, eye catching skill, you attempt to make up for it by doing everything for everyone all at once--the crew only notices when it all comes crashing down.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: strawhats x sanjissister!reader, minor zoro x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.6k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: reader is sanji's sister, reader is bad at emotions (same), first fic of college! woo!, injuries, stitches, blood, angst and comfort, requested

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐀

Being the Strawhat Boatswain was no easy task, but you held it with determination and pride. Even when your crew made the job more than difficult.

You took in a deep breath and let it out slowly; Someone had messed with your inventory. 

Again.

You stood in the storage room, wondering who had the gall to come and move things around. The cannonballs were no longer in the crate by the window, but behind many other crates of lantern oil. The box once full of toothbrushes and toothpaste was down to its last bottle when it should still be half full. And to top it all off, the medical supplies shelf was out of order. The bandages were at the bottom and the disinfectant was next to the gauze!

It was enough to make your skin crawl.

Taking another deep breath, you shook out your shoulders, went through five stages of grief, and accepted the mess at hand, swiping a roll of bandages from the shelf and leaving the room to deal with some other day. 

Inventory was a job you liked. You took your role seriously, always on top of what was needed or wanted, ensuring it was acquired. Day in and day out you thought of everyone else, desperate to be useful.

You took this responsibility so seriously that your own self-care had gotten lost in the mix of Luffy’s food requests, Nami’s financial ledgers, and the weekly task of inventory. You’d lost sleep and skipped meals in the name of keeping order. 

Because if you didn’t, who would?

It didn’t matter anyway. You loved taking care of everyone. It made you feel useful. And as someone not as skilled with a sword or as knowledgeable with maps, that was worth a million hours of (much needed) sleep.

So you yawned and pushed open the door to your and Nami’s shared room, finding her hunched over her makeshift crate desk, squinting through the lamplight. Her forearm was still bleeding, splotches of red seeping through the first bandage. 

“I’ll handle this,” you startled her. “You fix that.”

Nami hadn’t seemed to notice the condition of her injury, chuckling dismissively as she worked at redressing the wound. “Thanks. My eyes needed a rest.”

Your own eyes longed to rest as she said it, straining under stress and overwork to finish doing the math of how many pounds of sugar, flour, and grain you’d need for the next stretch at sea. You picked up the sheet and made to your own desk, plopping down.

You underlined the last calculation as Nami tied off her bandage. Leaning back in your chair, you threw down your pencil and rested your eyes, knowing there was more work to be done despite the dark hour. As if on cue, the potter pattering of small hooves led up to your door, followed by a soft knocking. A smile spread on your face instantly. “Come in, Doc.”

The reindeer peeked his antlers and eyes in first, stepping inside when all was clear. “Is it a bad time?”

Nami swiveled to straddle the back of her desk chair. “Never. What’s up?”

His eyes blinked up at you first. “It’s time for your physical. Do you want to do it now?”

Immediate sirens went off in your head. “Physical?”

“We’ve all had one,” Nami piped in. “It’s just to make sure we’re all healthy. Your turn.”

“Good one,” you chuckled dryly. “I don’t do check ups, Doc. Sorry.”

Chopper’s little brows met instantly, his hooves falling to his sides. You shifted around to avoid his narrowed gaze. “Y/N, it’s important. I need to know where your health is so I can plan for the future.”

“My health is perfeclty fine and if anything changes,” you laughed, “I’ll let you know, Chop. I’m fine.”

But Nami wasn’t giving you a grin when you turned to her for support, her lips downturned. “I dunno. If Chopper thinks he should check you out then—”

“I said I’m good,” you snapped more sharply, going on in a concerningly peppy tone, “If I need help, I’ll ask for it.”

The way Chopper defleated nearly had you taking it all back, but you stood your ground, trying to make him feel better with a smile. His ears only drooped further until Nami said, “Can you help me, actually? I need to redo this bandage.”

She raised a brow over Chopper’s shoulder, silently asking a question you didn’t catch, so you grinned and shrugged it off. Standing, you caled over your shoulder, “I’m seeing if anyone needs anything.”

Chopper heaved a sigh as the door shut behind you. Nami pat his head gently, lips pursed. “She’ll warm up to it. Give ‘er time.”

“I know,” Chopper sighed. “I’m just… getting worried, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

Chopper thought back to the past few months he’d been on the crew. Overall, you didn’t exhibit any alarming behavior. You worked hard and cared deeply, that was all. But… Chopper couldn’t place it, but he wanted to make sure everything was really all right. “It’s nothing.”

Hopefully, you warmed up to check ups quickly, at least for his own sake.

જ ⁀ ➴

You'd been careless—that’s what you blamed it on, at least.

The opposing pirate crew hadn't exactly caught the Straw Hats off guard. Nami was on watch that early morning, and she had a great record of raising the alarm. So when the enemy ship sidled up to the going merry and the dozen or so pirates jumped aboard, most of the crew was ready.

But you hadn't been at your best for days, maybe even weeks if you really admitted it. Sleep was so far away and your hunger was on this odd anxiety–induced strike. You barely felt real anymore, simply wandering through the ship doing various tasks that presented themselves, but never really taking time to breathe. 

You weren't entirely surprised when a pirate caught you off guard, coming at you from behind and getting a nick at your side—not a nick, actually. His sword had marked a pretty deep gash at your waist, and even when you thought the flow of bleeding was done, you somehow had more to give.

In the aftermath of the fight, as much as you attempted to brush off the concerns of the others, your heaving breath and greenish complexion were giving away everything. Besides, Sanji had known something was up since the first time you'd told him you "weren't hungry enough for dinner."

So as the sun rose above the horizon and the cleaning of the Merry's deck was completed, there was no escaping your fate. The haze of night no longer concealed your wounds.

Usopp was the first to notice. His gaze caught your stuttering breaths and the very obvious grimace you gave when trying to haul a dead pirate over the railing. He took the weight of the body in seconds, tossing it over.

"You don't look too hot," he observed, to which you scoffed and flicked your hands in nonchalance.

"It's nothing I can't fix." But you hadn't realized just how much blood was soaking in the fabric of your shirt, and one turn of your body displayed the vast crimson to him. Usopp's sharp inhale caught your attention, and with a grunted snarl you griped, "What?"

By now, nami had walked past, her own eyes catching your shirt. You glanced down and cursed at the sight. "I'm fine, okay? It's not that bad—"

But Nami already called out, "Sanji!" 

You rolled your eyes, gut bubbling anxiously. "Relax, would you? It's just a scratch. Honestly, we should use supplies for worse wounds—"

The breathy gasp behind you was unmistakably your brother's, and you swiveled to find him staring at your abdomen. "Pip…”

"What?" you snapped, self-conscious as your crossed your arms.

Luffy and Zoro had joined the show as well, causing anxiety to burn a hole in your good sense.

Sanji couldn't move, couldn't say a word. As you fumed up at him, all he saw was his baby sister, her face growing paler by the second, the flutter of your eyes weak, the red staining your clothes growing larger—

And then it hit him: The battle had occurred several hours ago. His eyes snapped to meet yours. "How long have you been bleeding out?"

"Sanji—"

"Stop," he said, and you did, your jaw snapping back up. His eyes skimmed you over with a hundred different thoughts, before he broke the contact and gently approached you. “Let's get this cleaned up, yeah?"

He sounded so soft, so much like how he used to when you were just young enough to still get by not knowing how shit the world was. It made you flinch away from him, not at all fond of the warm feeling of vulnerability welling up inside. "Shove off, Sanji. You're shit at dressing wounds."

"I'll do it then," said Chopper, stepping forward. In the little reindeer’s eyes was far too much concern. It left your skin crawling.

"No." You backed away from them till your back hit the ship's side and tried to ignore how featherlight your head felt. "Don't waste good supplies on me. It's not worth it."

Sanji gaped. "... What?"

You sighed, frustrated, and made to storm back to your cabin to sulk away the pain seeping through your limbs, raising your head to snap at them again.

Immediately, you found Luffy's eyes locked on you, all your words falling flat. He had never been scary—he was Luffy—but right then, well, you were frightened by the look in his eyes; it was something like confusion mulled with frustration.

"Not worth it?" He echoed.

Glancing around for help and finding none, you shrugged.

Luffy blinked, and you felt like apologizing, but he spoke before you could. "It's not waste if it's used on you, Y/N."

"I..."

Sanji sighed like he was suddenly out of breath, catching your eye again. His eyes were shining, and not in the charming way. It was a heartbroken kind of look, and it ate away at your insides. "You didn't tell anyone... because you thought it wasn't worth it?"

"Well," you stammered. "I mean—it's not as bad as it looks."

You felt their stares—how each of them was looking at you with such pity it made you sick—and you cracked, sputtering. "Just back off! It's a little blood and I'll heal. Zoro did!"

The swordsman in question stiffened as you thrust a hand at him, his ever-deathly gaze boring into you. “Yeah, ‘cause I wasn't being a stubborn bitch about it."

You were in the middle of an eye roll when the headache started. Honestly, why did they care? It was you keeping up with their asses half the time. You didn't need the same treatment. You had your own shit handled.

You tried walking away, and you thought you'd had it handled, but then the world started spinning, and your side really did ache, and suddenly you were in sanji's arms as he gritted out your name.

You were tired, very tired, so you blinked up at him, and fell asleep.

As one can assume, the entire crew lost their shit.

જ ⁀ ➴

In the eight hours you were unconscious, nobody sat still. Someone was always pacing, arguing, tapping something—agitation just sat over the whole ship. 

Sanji would say those eight hours were the longest hours of his life. He would say it rivaled the eighty-five days on that damn rock. It rivaled everything, because it was you. His sister. 

He couldn’t bring himself to debrief all that you’d said and what it meant… but him mind brought him there anyway. Sanji beat himself up over and over. If only he’d noticed something was wrong—he should have noticed… which made him realize he hadn’t a clue what was wrong.

He was in the middle of cooking your favorite meal for when you woke up when the image of you fainting in a graceful arc crossed his mind, and how he’d lunged to catch you. Maybe it was just being in the kitchen, but it somewhat reminded him of when you were kids.

You, so much younger and frailer, were prancing atop the counteertops of the Baratie, playing the part of Red Leg Zeff with your boots covered in marinara. The real Zeff, not so Red Legged, battled you with a wooden spoon as he simultaneously fought of his growing fondness. You tripped over your own slimy boot laces and, ever the dramatic, used the opportunity to swan dive to the floor.

Yet you hadn’t made it to the floor, not even close. Sanji had you safe in his arms the second your foot slipped off the counter. When he scolded you for being reckless, you grinned and chirped, “I knew you’d catch me!”

Sanji had caught you again, but not fast enough this time. Lately, he was never fast enough to keep up with your ever-growing mind. Each day you got quicker on your feet, jumping to accomplish task after task after task—Sanji paused as he prepared the food. When was the last time he saw you take a break?

When you woke up, your head was anywhere but in your body, the sensations of the room around you slowly drifting back to you.

Groggy, you shuffled in the sheets, skin sticky with sweat. Your eyes adjusted to the brightness, fluttering open. You sat up groaning, blinking fully awake, only to pause. Sat on the stool across from your bed was Zoro, solemn as ever. He looked half asleep, but the sound of your rustling startled him awake, eyes lazily widening to take you in. 

He made to ask something, but you beat him to it, woozily wondering about the odd tick in his brow. "What's up with your face?"

His brows screwed together, but that look never left his eyes; you couldn't place what it was. "What d’you mean?"

"You look..." Your eyes flickered all over him, and you thought maybe, he looked relieved. "Nothing. Sorry. I feel weird."

“I’ll bet.” He leaned forward to glance you over, and you settled on yes, Zoro was definitely concerned. He'd never looked that way before, and the oddity had you leaning closer subconsciously. Zoro jerked back instantly, blinking quickly. "You feel better, though, right?”

You did a quick check of your body, sensing your limbs and tapping at the bandage covering your abdomen. “I think so.” 

Zoro nodded stiffly, eyes flickering all over the floor. “Want me to get Twirly? I mean—Sanji?"

Typically, you weren’t the transparent type, but your head wasn't where it should be, so all your thoughts suddenly came out as words. "Is he mad? He usually gets mad when I get hurt."

Zoro moved to kneel at your bedside when you started to prop yourself up, eyes glued to your lap. He watched you carefully. "I don't think he's mad at you."

"But I got hurt," you exasperated. "I wasn't watching my back and got—got skewered! He hates it when I get... skewered." You rubbed at your temples and let out a weak laugh, brain fog fading. "Am I making sense?"

You raised your gaze to find a hint of amusement on Zoro’s face, his lips tipped upward. "Barely, but I follow."

You felt at your side, wincing at the pricking pain of the wound and the bruise forming around it. Chopper had done a good job with the bandage, though it was about time to change it.

"Hey," he said, dragging your wandering attention back to him.

"Yeah?"

Zoro's face grew cold. "Don't ever pull that shit again. You get hurt, you tell someone. Even if you think it's a waste."

You averted your eyes. "Yeah. Cross my heart and shit."

He wasn't satisfied, but he leaned back and raked a hand through his hair, leaving it alone for now. That was when the door opened, and you felt his presence before you ever turned your face.

"Oh, God," Sanji gasped. He rushed to your side, falling to his knees and setting a hand on your shoulder, just staring at you like you weren't even real. He passed a hand over your hair and sighed like he had the weight of Atlas on him.

"You're okay," he said, not so much a question, more of a reassurance. Neither of you noticed when Zoro slipped out of the room, nor when he knocked into the doorframe as he went.

"I'm okay," you said.

Sanji's hugs had always been lethal, always too tight for comfort but too sweet to turn away—and this was no different. His arms were careful to avoid your side as he pulled you to him, your head finding a nook against his chest as his chin rested on your head, and he squeezed you tightly.

Silently, you let him hold you, remaining still against him. You felt his tears, but never heard them. You felt his grip on you like a brand, that same old discomfort crawling through your gut the longer the intimacy went on. But you withstood it, an odd kind of burn creeping up your throat.

You choked on a cough—no, you weren't coughing. You couldn't fool yourself into believing such a lie, not when your eyes slammed shut and forced streams of tears down your cheeks. Your hands clawed at his sleeves as a warbled cry claws its way from your lips. 

"You're worth everything," he whispered into your hair. "Oh, God. I really thought..."

"But I didn't." you calmed your ragged breaths. "I'm fine."

He nearly laughed. "Fine? Pipsqueak, you were out half the day!"

You pulled back with a grin. "Eh. Just a scratch."

Sanji shook his head, smiling, before it fell instantaneously. He held you by your shoulders, shaking you slightly. "Why would you... was it something I did? I would never—"

"No! No, it was nothing you did."

"Then why in hell would you try to walk off a wound that needed sixteen stitches!"

"I don't know!" you looked away. "I just... there was too much to do. Everyone would need things done after a battle like that. I wanted to be, I dunno, ready and able."

Sanji still didn't understand. "What things?"

"You know," you started. "Things." He gave you a look. You sighed. "Like... sometimes Zoro lets me polish his swords, and in exchange he'll clean the little nicks he claims won't give him infections. And I think Luffy's hat needed fixing. Usopp never organizes the canon balls right and it makes me nervous, so I always go back and redo it… And on top of all that someone went through my inventory."

He took you in for a moment, and you felt very, very transparent all of a sudden. "None of that is your responsibility alone."

"Yeah, but, who else is gonna do them? Everyone’s so busy doing their things. I don't have a thing, so I do everything, I guess."

Sanji tilted his head, brows knit. "You do too have a thing."

"I really don't, Sanji. I don't cook or kick people like you. I'm not amazing with swords or a slingshot. I can't navigate for shit or heal wounds... so I help. If I don't, I'm pretty much deadweight." In the following silence, you mumbled something you never thought you’d have the courage to say. “Face it. Luffy only invited me because I’m your sister.”

Perhaps you should go back to the Baratie, as much as the thought sickened you. Zeff would never turn you away, and he’d even be happy to have you back. 

“Not true.” You looked up, heart dropping at the sight of luffy in the doorway, the rest of the crew behind him. You shot Zoro an accusatory glare, wiping furiously at your face. Perfect. A waiting audience.

You rasped, “What?”

Luffy moved into the room, face sullen, his hat and curls shadowing his face. “I didn’t invite you because of Sanji.” Luffy ducked down to be eye level with you on the bed. “Honestly, I didn’t know you were related till a few days after you joined.”

“Oh.” Sniffling, you ducked your eyes. “Then why? I… I don’t contribute much of anything, and when I try I wind up passed out for half a day.”

Nami scoffed, “That wasn’t your fault.”

You scoffed right back. “I shouldn’t have left my back unguarded.”

“You shouldn’t have been skipping sleep,” Zoro rebuttled, eyes steely. “And meals.”

Swiping at your cheek again, “Screw you.” You picked at your nails and refused to look up at all costs. It was difficult with Luffy right in your face.

The captain had his brows screwed together. His eyes bore into you till he grew tired of your avoidance and lightly pushed at your shoulder. Your gaze flicked up to meet his, quick to glance at the wall over his shoulder. 

“Y/N,” he muttered, “We care about you. And you worried us.”

And just like that, all your work to keep the tears in crumbled; one rebellious tear escaped, leading a dangerous path down to your chin. “Yeah. I know.”

That got a whisper of a smile back on Luffy’s face, and his hand came to plop down on you shoulder. “You’re part of this crew because we need you.”

“For what?” you dared to scoff. Instantly, Luffy’s eyes narrowed further than you thought possible. 

He echoed your words back to you like they felt weird on his tongue, and gave no further reply, simply staring right through you. You had already shirvled into yourself by the time Sanji stepped in.

“I can never keep track of how much food we go through,” he said, nudging your shoulder, “but somehow you always know exactly what we need and how much. As a chef, you inventory is vital to me.”

“I’m convinced you’re a mind reader,” Usopp added on. “Still no clue how you knew I wanted marshmallows last week.”

You chuckled dryly, gaze still heavy, obviously hesitant to take them serious. Nami sighed deeply.

“Listen,” she started, moving to kneel in front of you. It was times like this Nami felt much older, when her eyes peered into yours and it felt like home (a home so distant you ached to remember it). “It doesn’t matter what you believe. You contribute so much to this crew, more than you need to most days.”

Chopper bobbed up beside her. “Yeah! You do everything and then you never let me look after you!” It was hard to focus on what he said when he was so cute, but somehow when he narrowed his eyes all angry like, he held your rapt attention. “Let me do my job, so you’re able to do yours!”

“On the topic,” Zoro grunted, “quit overworking yourself. When Usopp fucks up the canonballs let him fix it himself.”

“Hey!”

You barely withheld a smile. “But… there’s still so much I can’t do—”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “You wanna learn how to fight? I’ll teach you. Just—quit being stupid and sleep, dammit.” His cheeks dusted pink and his eyes darted to the wall, unable to catch your tentative expression.

Luffy squeezed your shoulder. “You’re our boatswain. Just like Nami is our navigator and Sanji is our cook. The only one questioning your position is you.”

You sniffled, looking right in his eyes, and something in what he said finally broke through. You couldn’t cook or fight or navigate—but you had a damn good memory, you kept the ship organized, you made sure no one ever wanted for anything. You were the Strawhat Boatswain. Surely that held some weight.

“Okay, yeah, I get it,” you muttered, palms pressing against your cheeks as you cleared your throat. Glancing around at them all, you shoved down the creeping feeling in your chest and grinned cheekily. “But whoever’s been screwing with the storage room better knock it off, or I’ll be up all night fixing their mess.”

Silence enveloped you as everyone glanced around for suspicion, when Chopper burst forth with watery eyes. “I’m sorry! Really sorry! I didn’t realize I messed it up, I—I—”

“Slow down,” you smiled. You caught Chopper’s hooves in your hands and squeezed them tight. “It’s okay. I’m not really upset.”

If it was anyone else, maybe the story would be different, but all you felt was warm affection staring down at Chopper. He nodded swiftly. “I’ll help you fix it! Don’t worry.”

“I’ll help too,” offered Nami, none too subtle as she jabbed her elbow in the crook of Luffy’s side. 

“Ow! What—Quit that!” Luffy nursed the sting in his side, brows screwed together. “Me too, I guess…”

“We all will,” Nami declared, eyes scanning the room in search of an objection. She found none, a pleased smile gracing her lips. “See? You don’t even need to ask. We want to help you. Remember that next time you feel like everything is on you.”

“All right,” you conceded warmly. That familiar affection tugged on your heartstrings. You slid your legs off the bed and made to stand when a hand clamped down on your shoulder and nearly knocked you down. “Sanji, let go.”

Your brother’s jaw was set and gaze resolved, scaring the stubbornness right out of you. “You need rest. We can fix the storage room tomorrow, Pipsqueak.”

“But—”

“You’re actively bleeding through your stitches,” he cut you off, grinning when you pouted. “Tomorrow. Your inventory isn’t going anywhere.”

You were left gaping at him, eyes scanning for someone on your side. Nami raised a brow. Zoro’s expression was blank. Usopp avoided your eye. Chopper looked so sure of himself that you didn’t even try. So instead, you puffed out a breath and readjusted yourself on the bed. 

“I expect everyone’s attendance tomorrow morning,” you grumbled.

Usopp gawked at you. “Morning?”

One glare was all it took and his jaw snapped back up. Your temples began to throb fiercely, the gradual increase in pressure suddenly erupting into a full ache. The base of your neck was sore too and your lash line weighed down in gentle flutters. Sanji’s hand on your shoulder kept you from floating away into the delirium, your gaze searching as it swept over all your friends.

That tight tendril of awkward affection curled around your heart, as it often did, and it felt as undesirable as always. But no one pressed for any outward expression of it; your friends simply stood in your midst, wearing there hearts on sleeves of various vulnerability, not a hint of expectation anywhere on their faces. 

Times like this, you thought maybe you could bare to ditch your fears. Then again, maybe not, but you dismissed the hope fondly. 

“All right,” Chopper grunted, cheeks puffed. “Everyone out. She needs lots of rest—starting now!”

You chuckled dryly as the little doctor shooed everyone away. Nami shot you a quick little wave and disapeared into the hall, Sanji squeezed your hand, and Usopp gave a brief thumbs up. Zoro was left holding the door, solemn as ever, and paused int he act of closing the door. He appeared between the door and the frame, not quite in yet not quite out either.

“I was serious,” he said lowly.

You tilted your head. “About overowkring myself?”

“Well, yeah, that,” he stammered. “I mean about learning to fight. I’ll teach you.”

You’re sure your eyes glimmered, heart thrumming unexpectedly. “Really?” He nodded, crossing his arms. “Sanji won’t like it.”

“He doesn’t like a lot of things.”

“Primarily you.”

A scant smirk, one born of mischief and misdeed, crept up his face. “Primarily me, yeah.”

You shook your head and fought back a smile. “I don’t have a sword.”

He paused long enough for you to notice. “I’ve got three.”

“I couldn’t,” you said instantly, jaw falling open. “Those’re important.”

Zoro rolled a shoulder and combed at his hair. “I trust you.”

He was gone before you’d finished gasping, eyes wide as the door swung shut in his wake, and unsure when a sudden heatwave had flooded the room.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s @murnsondock @kryscent

[de4dlyniightshade]

can you do the orange peel theory with Spencer 😭

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x gn!reader

꩜ RATING: none

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: none

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

A/N: i fucking hate oranges so i'm doing this as reader giving spencer the orange.

you hummed softly to yourself as you got up from spencers couch to make your way to his kitchen, deciding that he might need a little something to eat to keep him going as he did the part of his job he probably liked least, paperwork.

he had been cooped up in his office for hours now, buried nose deep in paperwork that had to be done as soon as possible, strauss having sprung it on him and gave him a deadline that the average person physically couldn't make, but she knew he wasn't the average person and took advantage of that, which made you wanna stomp in there and give her a piece of your mind.

instead you just did everything you could to make it easier for him, bringing him coffee and snacks every so often, knowing he wouldn't feed himself, which is why you were stood in the kitchen, gently peeling an orange as his coffee was brewing, separating the segments and putting them in a bowl as you continued to hum to yourself.

you gave his coffee a thorough stir to be sure everything was dissolved and mixed before you picked up the mug and bowl, chuckling to yourself at the mug, it was one you had gotten him last year for valentines day with "worlds best boyfriend" on it, spencer swearing he wouldn't use it.

you padded softly to the door of his office, which he'd left ajar for you to just push open when your hands were full, like now, you pushing the door open gently with your hip, spencer lifting his head to smile at you.

"thought you'd need a refill and something to eat" you smiled as you placed the bowl and mug down, spencers eyes drawn to the bowl, looking slightly surprised.

"do you not like oranges? they were in your kitchen so i just thought- sorry" you spoke as you went to take the bowl before he stopped you.

"no no i do but you- you peeled it for me?" he asked, his surprise confusing you because you didn't even think about not peeling it, who wouldn't peel an orange for their partner? you thought to yourself.

"yeah? why wouldn't i?" you asked, confusion in your voice as he just smiled at you, taking one of the segments and eating it happily.

"i mean- i don't know but most people wouldn't" he stated, shrugging his shoulders as you furrowed your brows.

"who the hell can't peel an orange for someone?" you scoffed, spencer laughing at you as he ate another segment.

"if you don't peel an orange for someone you just don't love them" you stated matter-of-factly, shrugging your shoulders as spencer smiled, feeling reassured that you loved him all because of an orange.