#ill see if i can drift on for a later hour or something- in an ideal world im /not/ working until the episode is fully over but. well.

[sparring-spirals]

(i promise im alive! probably no liveblog this week, though, or at most im coming in for the last hour or so. Fingers crossed both parties are functioning wellm Or uh. Entertainingly.)

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

“flu season” - hotch stops by to check on you while you’re home sick (hotch x bau!gn!reader), 1.7k words

cw; mentions of canonical violence, icky sickies, and yearning teehee

———————

You have the flu. 

You have the flu, and it hits you like a bus. 

You have the flu, and it hits you like a bus, and you hate feeling helpless, but you can’t even walk to the bathroom and back without feeling dizzy. 

There’s a waste basket by the bed, lined with a plastic grocery bag. There are four glasses of water, varying in stages of fullness, littered on the nightstand. Your blinds are open because yesterday you wanted to see the sun, but you were too exhausted later in the day to close them. 

Your phone is ringing. You’re groggy, the whole world feeling hazy and heavy, as you lift it from the space in bed beside you and see a call from your boss. When you called Hotch two days ago and told him you were ill, he was incredibly patient with you. Don’t worry about work. Get some rest, he said. Check in so we know you’re okay. Let us know if you need anything. 

You answer the phone on the last ring, and a hoarse, weak voice that is not yours exits your throat. “Hello?” 

“Y/N,” Hotch sounds relieved. Did he think you were dead or something? It’s only the stomach flu. He also never calls you by your first name, which only makes you concerned that something else is gruesomely wrong. “Did you see my calls?” 

You put him on speaker and check your call history. Aaron Hotchner has called you four times in the past six hours. You missed every single one, having drifted in and out of consciousness all day long. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t. Is everything okay?” You ask, thinking something must have happened to him or to one of your teammates. Why else would he be desperate to reach you when you’re home sick? 

“Well, you tell me,” Hotch exhales, an incredulous chuckle lining his voice. The phone muffles the sound, but you know that if you heard it in person, it would sound symphonic. “I was just checking on you, Y/N. I know you’re new to the city.” You sit up a little in bed, as if he were in front of you. “How are you feeling?” 

You run a clammy hand over your sweaty forehead. “Hot,” you blurt out. 

“Excuse me?” Hotch laughs. 

“Hot, like… like a fever. Like I’m running a…” you shake your head at yourself, resisting the urge to scream into your pillow. “Sick. I feel sick, very sick.” 

“What kind of sick?”

What kind of sick? Why would he ask you that? You lean back against the headboard and wonder if he’s trying to determine if you’re faking to get out of work, or if he’s genuinely concerned. You’ve only been with the BAU for a few months, but you feel like you’ve gotten to know everyone fairly well so far. You decide Hotch must just be genuinely concerned. You roll through your symptoms, and Hotchner clears his throat when you’re done speaking. 

“Do you feel strong enough to get to your door?” He asks.

“Huh?”

“Because I’m here. Outside your door.” 

“What?” 

Hotch lets out a breathy laugh, one that seems almost in disbelief of his own actions. “If you don’t want company, I’ll leave, but I thought you might need a hand. I’ve been sick and alone before. It’s not fun.” 

You feel your heart swell a little as you recall what Emily has told you about Hotch. You get little snippets about him from Emily, and from what you understand, he and his ex-wife were painfully separated for a while before she was murdered. You wonder if he was ever stuck at home, ill, during that period of time. 

Hotch says your surname. “Are you still there?” 

“What? Yes. Yes! I’m sorry,” you huff, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The thought of planting your feet on the ground, however, has you already feeling nauseous. “I don’t, uh… I don’t think I can make it to the door, though,” you squeak. “There’s a spare key under the doormat. But I really look gross, Hotch. And I might be contagious. So, enter at your own risk.”

“I don’t mind, L/N. You keep a key under the - oh, yes, there it is,” you hear Hotch fumble to juggle the key and his phone, and after a moment of static - his hand over the microphone - he hangs up, and you hear the front door of your apartment creak open. “Y/N?” He calls out. 

“In here,” you croak, scrambling under the covers and desperately brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

Hotch is standing in the doorway in an instant, still in his suit and tie. You glance at your phone and conclude he must have left work directly to come here. “How do you know where I live?” You mumble as he lifts a full grocery bag. 

“Personnel file,” he shrugs. “How’s your fever?” 

You notice he’s lingering in the doorway. He’s waiting to be invited in. “You don’t have to have a warrant,” you smile weakly and beckon him into your bedroom, a lame attempt at humor. 

He exhales in amusement, and you see the smile on his face - light and mild, and you wonder, if you weren’t sick, would it have been a grin? 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hotch says as he steps slowly into the room, taking a cold bottle of Gatorade from the grocery bag and setting it on your nightstand. He starts gathering the cups of water into one arm. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you protest, feeling embarrassed of your mess. “Hotch-“

“It’s Aaron, outside of work,” he corrects you, and you see a flash of his teeth. “And you didn’t answer my question. How’s your fever?” 

You swallow. “High? I guess?” You say dumbly. 

A warm hand is pressed against your forehead and you are once again very aware of how clammy it is. “When was the last time you took something?” He asks. 

You check the time again, then do the math in your head. “Five hours ago.” 

“Where’s your medicine?” He asked. You shift in the bed, to stand up, and Hotch - Aaron’s - hand is on your shoulder. “Stay in bed. I’ll get it. Where is it?” 

“Bathroom cabinet,” you point to the bathroom. You want to protest further. You want to apologize for the mess, to ask him why he’s doing this, to ask him if he’d do this for anyone else. But you keep your mouth shut, instead rubbing the space between your brows as the inevitable headache kicks in. 

Aaron’s quickly out of your bedroom. You hear him walk into the kitchen, a few cabinets open and shut, and then he’s in your bathroom, same thing, opening and closing a cabinet. He comes back to you with a few crackers on a plate, a fresh glass of water, and your flu medicine. 

“So, let’s talk about why you think it’s a good idea to keep a spare key under the mat,” Aaron proposes as you take the medicine. You nearly choke on the water in your mouth, but manage to down it. His face gives him away - he’s not mad, not even disappointed, just smirky. Teasing and playful were not words you would use to describe Aaron Hotchner. 

Until right now. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Aaron cuts you off. “You spend your whole week working gory murders, kidnappings, terrorist threats. You know that the key under the mat is the oldest trick in the book. Why do you do it?” He asks, leaning against the wall beside your bed. 

“You can sit, if you want?” You offer, pointing to the desk chair in the corner. “Your legs must be tired from hanging out up there on that high horse.” 

Hotch just lets a low chuckle escape him as he rolls the desk chair over. He keeps a respectful distance from your bed, but still crosses his ankles and leans back, like he’s sat there a thousand times. Like he’s somehow comfortable. He looks at you expectantly, as if to say don’t make me ask again. 

“Well,” you feel a bit sheepish, because he is right. Keeping a key under your doormat is pretty dumb. “I guess I figure, most people are smart enough to not do it, so the kidnappers and rapists would assume I would be smart enough, too, so they wouldn’t even look under the mat.” 

Aaron’s expression is priceless, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “I’ll just give a spare to someone I trust, how about that?” You suggest, knowing intuitively that the lecture was only going to continue. 

Aaron gives you a nod of approval, and you lean back against the headboard again, stifling a yawn. “I can go, if you want to rest some more?” he proffers, rising from his seat. 

“You don’t have to,” you say quickly, uncontrollably. The words were locked and loaded in your throat before you could think twice. “I mean, I’m probably going to fall asleep soon, but I wouldn’t mind the company. For a little while.” 

You wonder how visibly red your face is.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alive,” Aaron chuckles, his polite, subtle way of declining your invitation, of making sure boundaries are still intact. You know Hotchner is a rule-follower. You admire that about him. “I’ll let you get some rest,” his hand extends, as if to reach out to you. You wonder if he’s going to touch you. His hand retracts after a moment that seems to last for an eternity. 

As Aaron walks towards the bedroom door, he turns around and smiles at you. It’s a real smile. It’s soft. You want to press it like a flower petal, between two book pages, and keep it in a jar on your shelf. 

“I brought you some soup for when you feel up to eating. It’s in your refrigerator,” he says. He taps his hands against the door frame. “Feel better, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow to check on you.” 

Aaron Hotchner leaves your apartment a minute later, and you fall asleep shortly after that. Your head is still pounding, and your stomach is twisted in knots, but it’s not from the nausea. 

[giannan04]

Can you please do a part two to the Jungwon one shot you wrote!🩷

Ask and you shall receive! A few people asked me to make a part two to my Jungwon X F! Reader one shot (https://www.tumblr.com/giannan04/760529750415589376/i-neeeed-panty-fucking-with-jungwon-ill-love) and I was thinking of writing a part two, I just didn’t know how much people would like the first part! I’m so thankful for everyone who supports my writing!🫶🏻

⬇️Part one is listed here ⬇️

Pairing: Best-friend’s brother Jungwon x F! Reader

Genre:Slight bad boy x good girl trope, smut. Best-friends brother

Warnings: SMUT! Cursing (F word is thrown around a lot), God’s name said in vain like twice (I’m a Christian 😭) choking, p in v, cream-pie!, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP Y’ALL), oral sex (f! Receiving), choking, that’s about all I can think of.

MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT!🔞

You were always the perky cheerleader, dedicated to your academics and looking forward to college—just like your best friend, Niki. Everyone thought you two would end up together, especially since you were the head cheerleader and he was the quarterback of the football team. Jungwon, Niki's older brother, never let you forget that. He teased you constantly for being a “goody-goody”, for being just like Niki. But Jungwon was different. He was the bad boy who didn’t care about school, dropped out early because he was next in line to inherit their parents' pharmaceutical company (it would’ve been Niki, but he wanted to be a doctor), and spent his time smoking, drinking & partying, and bringing a string of different girls home every week—-much to the annoyance of Niki and his parents. Deep down, you always knew Jungwon wasn’t good for you, but something about him drew you in, even if you couldn’t stand his teasing, low-key flirting.

——-

It had been hours since Jungwon fucked you (and your panties), leaving you breathless and wanting more. The heat of his touch still lingered on your skin, making it hard to focus on anything else. You couldn’t stop thinking about the text he had sent when you finished earlier, the one that made your heart race: ‘See you in my room later. I’ll make sure you cum this time ;)’

You were now in the living room, curled up next to Niki, trying to concentrate on the latest season of ‘Attack on Titan’ but your mind kept drifting back to Jungwon. The way he had touched you, the way he spoke to and took control of your body with such ease—it was all too distracting. Niki, blissfully unaware, sat beside you with his eyes glued to the screen, excited to binge-watch your favorite anime. Every time you even thought about slipping away to Jungwon’s room, Niki would either start the next episode or ask, “Where are you going?” and “Why do you keep getting up?” trapping you in place.

Your phone buzzed again. You glanced down to see a picture of Jungwon’s hand gripping his hard-on. His dick was pressed against his boxer-briefs, begging to be freed. You squirmed on the couch, desperate to get up and leave the living room, but every time you did that, Niki would play the next episode. ‘I’m waiting for you’, the text read. Heat rushed through your body and your stomach fluttered, your body itching to get up and leave, but Niki kept chattering about the show, keeping you in the conversation. You could barely focus. All you could think about was how badly you wanted to be in Jungwon’s room.

Another text came in not long after. ‘Wtf are you doing?’ Jungwon's frustration was obvious, and you quickly typed back: ‘I’m trying to get away from Niki, but it’s hard!’

Minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, feeling like house until finally, Niki groaned, clutching his stomach. “Shit, I shouldn’t have ate so many snacks” he groaned, wincing. He stood up and headed toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna be in there for a while,” he added dramatically, and you watched as he dashed down the hallway.

This was your chance.

Without a second thought, you rushed to Jungwon’s room. The moment you slipped inside, you found him undressed, his lean frame illuminated by the dim light. He turned to you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Took you long enough,” he drawled, eyes raking over your body. “Strip.” He ran his tongue over his lips in anticipation.

You hesitated, suddenly shy, your hands trembling slightly as you stood by the door. ‘Why am I so nervous?’ you thought. ‘It’s not like we haven’t done this earlier… but still…’ Your mind raced. ‘What if he doesn’t like what he sees?’ You couldn’t shake the insecurity that crept in as you stood there, feeling his eyes on you. You couldn’t believe that you acted all impatient earlier just to be nervous in front of him.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing your hesitation. “What’s the holdup? I already fucked you earlier,” he said, his voice low and teasing, as he smirked at you.

“It’s different this time,” you muttered, tugging at the hem of your pajama shirt. “Before, it was quick… and I still had my cheer uniform on. Now it’s…”

Jungwon rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, clearly unimpressed by your nerves. “It’s not a big deal. Get undressed.” He palmed his erection with impatience.

Your fingers fumbled with the waistband of your pants before you finally managed to strip. You stood before him, feeling exposed and vulnerable, your arms crossed over your stomach and chest. ‘Is he really going to like my body?’ The thought kept looping in your mind, but you pushed it aside, trying to focus on the moment. Jungwon’s gaze softened just slightly as he approached you, his eyes trailing up and down your body. He reached out, his fingertips tracing the curve of your waist. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

“Thanks,” you replied shyly, avoiding his intense gaze.

Jungwon didn’t waste any more time. He picked you up effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed; you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. He laid you down gently, pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss. Yet, as his hands roamed your body, he paused, sensing your hesitation. He pulled back, his forehead resting against yours. “What’s wrong now?” he asked, his tone sharp with impatience. “I already told you, you look good.”

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words. “I told you… this is different.”

Jungwon let out an annoyed sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Please stop overthinking it,” he muttered. “Just let me get to work. I wanna make you feel good.” You blushed. You wanted Jungwon. Badly. You knew he was right, you were doing too much overthinking about everything. “Okay.” Jungwon smirked at your response. He lowered back down and began kissing your stomach.

He trailed kisses down your stomach, his lips brushing against your skin as he moved lower. When he reached your core, he didn’t hesitate. He immediately flattened his tongue against your wet pussy lips. Jungwon’s tongue began to explore you, teasing and tasting, making your body writhe with pleasure. His touch was both demanding and tender as he focused on your clit, swirling his tongue and applying pressure. The sensation was almost too much, and you moaned, your hands gripping the sheets. “Oh my fucking God Jungwon. It feels so good.” You moaned louder, your fingers twisting in Jungwon’s hair as you pushed his face deeper inside you.

"Good girl," Jungwon murmured against you, his voice vibrating through your body. "You love this, don't you?" He picked his lips, using them to suck your clit gently.

The pleasure built quickly, and despite your exhaustion from earlier, your body responded eagerly. “Jungwon…I-I’m so close.” Jungwon’s skillful movements drove you to the edge, as he moved his tongue faster, and you cried out as you came, your body trembling under his experienced touch.

Once he was satisfied with your reaction, Jungwon shifted positions, his hands gripping your hips as he entered you from behind in a rough, commanding thrust, the sounds of your wet cunt filling the air. His dick plus the feeling of leftover cum from your last orgasm filled you with so much pleasure. The raw intensity of his movements made you gasp, each thrust hitting deep, relentless and powerful. "You’re so fucking tight," he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "Already came, and you’re still so perfect for me." Hearing him praise you while he fucked you so good left you craving for more. “Oh my god.”

His pace was unforgiving, his hips pounding into you with each stroke. You could feel his balls slapping against your pussy from behind. “I’m going to make sure you feel every inch," he groaned, pushing you further, your body arching and grinding back against him. His movements were punishing, but the pleasure was undeniable, making you cry out with each forceful thrust. “Yes, Won, you fuck me so good!”

Jungwon’s grip tightened on your hips as he felt his own release approaching. "I’m gonna fill you the fuck up," he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic and frantic. With a final, deep thrust, he came inside you, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm. The warmth of his cum filled you, and he stayed buried inside, panting heavily. The warm cum and his thick cock felt so good inside you, you didn’t even want him to move.

Afterward, Jungwon carefully pulled out, his eyes still intense as he grabbed a warm cloth, which he already had waiting on his dresser. He began to clean you up and you felt the care in his touch. "You did so well," he said, his voice a mix of praise and control. "Such a good girl, taking everything I gave you." You’re murmured softly, that was all you could do. You were laying there spent, made a mess by Jungwon.

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as he continued to clean you. "Look at you, all wrecked and perfect," he whispered softly, a teasing edge still present in his voice. "Can’t even move after all that."

He helped you into his arms, covering you with a blanket and pulling you close. His touch was soothing as he rubbed your back, but there was still that familiar sharpness in his tone. "Don’t get too comfortable," he warned with a smirk. "Next time, I won’t be so easy on you."

He pressed gentle kisses to your forehead, his hands lingering on your body in a caring way despite his earlier harshness. "You did great," he whispered, his voice softening. "You’re amazing." You really did like Jungwon. Besides how good he made you feel sexually, you could feel how much he cared for you. And he made you feel good about yourself. But you couldn’t help but wonder if Jungwon saw more in you than just sex.

As you lay there, deep in thought, Jungwon noticed the distant look in your eyes. "What’s on your mind?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You hesitated, feeling a blush creep across your cheeks. "I was just wondering… what does this mean for us? Are we… official, or am I just… your fuck buddy?" You bit your lip nervously and played with your fingers, unable to meet his gaze.

Jungwon rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips as he pulled you closer. "What do you think? You’re my girl," he said confidently, leaning in to kiss you deeply. Before you could respond, he continued, "I’ve always wanted you. It drove me crazy that your little “good-girl” self was too occupied with school and your friendship with Niki to see that."

He looked into your eyes, waiting for your response. "Do you feel the same, despite what you’ve heard about me? I know Niki told you I’m not good enough for you”

You nodded, kissing him back with equal intensity, holding him close. "I do," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

Just then, Niki barged into the room. "I knew you guys were fucking!” he exclaimed, giving you both a stern look. "Seriously? I couldn’t even take a shit in peace without hearing everything! And you’re supposed to be my company, Y/N!”

The tension in the air was thick as Niki stared at you, in the same bed as his older brother. You laughed awkwardly, attempting to break the tension. “Um, I’ll be right back down, Niki.”

Niki huffed, rolling his eyes. “So, are you guys like “a thing” now?”

Jungwon smirked mischievously at his younger brother. “Damn right.” He leaned down and kissed you, not caring that Niki was watching. Niki wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Gross”, he said, turning towards the door.

Before he left the room, he looked over his shoulder, directly at Jungwon. “Just make sure you treat her right. I don’t play about Y/n.”

Jungwon held you even tighter, his face nuzzled in your neck. “No shit. I’ll treat her like a princess.”

You couldn’t stop the cheesy smile that tugged at your lips. You knew Niki wanted the best for you, but you had no doubt in your mind that Jungwon was good for you.

——

A/N: Y’all, Jungwon is a DOM and I will die on this hill!😭🫶🏻

[bloodiedrogue]

MY LOVE IS MINE, ALL MINE (15)

SUMMARY: Astarion insists that you rest.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,987

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of death and dissociation, a whole lot of fluff and comfort as an apology for all the angsty chapters. :^)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ha-ha, hey do people still care about this fic? (Sorry I went MIA, my brain got bad)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

-

It feels odd having Astarion around.

For days, his hands are almost always attached to you in some way. Gripping tightly onto your arm as he guides you out of the bed, drawing patterns into your back each night he quietly lays next to you —anything to make you feel like he’s some sort of extension of you. As if he’s another set of limbs there to help you heal. 

It’s nice, at first. Comforting. And for a while, as you exhaustively lay amongst the sheets and pillows, tucked against the side of his torso, it helps you forget about the world around you. How just beyond this realm of soft looks and tender touches, there’s a war raging on, developing day by day as you tirelessly drift from bed to bath and back again, trying your best not to get too restless.

Which is easier some days than others. 

For example, the first few felt like a breeze. Nothing more than a collection of hours that quickly whizzed by before you could even blink. With Astarion there to distract you, time seemed to slip from your grasp entirely. Exiting your mind in the form of lengthy naps spent latched onto your partner’s frame. 

It was blissful. A much needed break from all the chaos but it was obvious it wouldn’t last. Nothing more than a blip in an otherwise more momentous event, you could feel the restlessness of the future seeping in. Taking hold of your mind, ripping through the cavernous well of missing information that occurred during your death. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. How the group managed without you —how Astarion managed.

Based on the lack of space given during the healing process, you assume badly. Considering he’s never touched you like this —like you’re the most fragile thing he’s ever placed his hands on as if at any moment one wrongful slip of his fingers might shatter you all over again— it’s apparent something within him changed. Shifting in a way that, even now, nearly a week later his presence is still stagnant.  

And for the most part, it is nice. A welcomed change amongst all the bullshit. Having him there with you —seeing the lengths he’s willing to go to make sure that you’re safe is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever felt. A dream within a plague of nightmares lulling you to sleep each night he holds you close, telling you that everything’s fine. At least, until it isn’t. Then it feels like suffocation. Like his once-loving hands are now wrapped around your throat, reminding you of what little time you have left. Forcing you to realize that, instead of lying around living in ignorance of the task at hand, you should be helping —working alongside the rest of the party to complete your common goal. 

“I need to move, Astarion,” you tell him. Almost angrily, you press your hands to either side of his face, narrowing your eyes, watching the way he rolls his own and frowns.

“Zamrie said—“

“Oh, my Gods, forget what Zamrie said!” Before he can even protest you’re on your feet and moving towards the door, ignoring the way he huffs in response. Blocking out the sounds of his angered protests as you begin to pull on your boots. “I swear, if I don’t get out of this room I’m going to go insane!”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t do anything other than try to talk you out of it. Relaying each point of criticism with facts to back up his claims, watching the way your face twists in annoyance the longer you realize he’s right. 

Because despite mentally feeling alright aside from the lack of stimulus, you’re still exhausted. A feeling you hadn’t anticipated to take so long to recover from. Assuming you were under the hindrance of any other common illness, you figured you’d be back to normal in a few days tops. No longer feeling numb or shaky. But then again, you were dead. And for a while too, so unfortunately it makes sense as to why as you finish tying your first boot you’re already out of breath. Heavily panting against the warm air of the inn’s top floor as you glance to see Astarion’s smug look. 

“You know I’m right,” he says, and all you do is awkwardly walk back to the bed with your boot still on, collapsing face-first into the mattress with a groan. 

“I’m so bored.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” 

In response, you merely grumble, feeling him roll you over so that he can untie the laces of your shoe, kneeling at the edge of the bed for better access as you let out a huff, unsure what to say.

Because really, there aren’t very many options left. Already you’ve read every book your party has and then some thanks to Gale and his lengthy trip to Sorcerer’s Sundries, as well as exhausted all your conversation topics. At this point, there’s nothing left but card games and sleeping and Astarion frequently cheats which leaves you with the most boring option. The one you’d rather suffer through the pain of activity than submit to, prompting you to look at Astarion with pleading eyes, praying that just this once he’ll give in. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

You narrow your eyes and wiggle your foot as he eventually discards your boot, quickly moving to kick his face in annoyance only to have him catch it before you make contact.

“If you don’t stop I’ll cast hold person on you,” he threatens then, moving to grip your knee and pull you towards the edge of the bed. Smirking at the sound of you squealing in amusement at the sudden shift in position. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you tease, but all he does is slowly maneuver himself above you, slotting his hips between your already spread legs. Ignoring the way your face contorts to showcase the sudden nerves that erupt. 

“I would because then you’d actually rest.” 

“But I am resting.” 

“Hm, are you?”

“I’m laying down aren’t I?”

“That’s different than resting, my love.” 

“Is it?”

Somehow he’s managed to distract you with conversation long enough for you not to notice he’s looming above you. Pressing his palms against the spaces next to your head —shifting the lower half of his body to lightly press against your own. 

Upon noticing this, you swallow hard and try not to smile. Forcing down the anxiety of Astarion’s mischievous gaze exploring your features —taking in the obvious temptation that’s begun to surface. 

“You don’t seem very tired,” he tells you. Teasing you in a way that has you rolling your eyes, allowing it to happen because, while you’ve exhausted a lot of options to entertain yourself, sex isn’t one of them. Considering the two of you have been too busy reuniting and making sure everything about your resurrection continued to go smoothly, the thought really hadn’t occurred to either of you. 

Far too lost in the simple touches of each other’s company, up until now it felt more important just to coexist. To relax and monitor rather than jump into something that could only result in complications. 

Which is a thought that sits at the back of your mind. Even as he leans down, nudging your nose with his —saying something flirtatious that you completely miss due to the passing thoughts that stroll through your head— you can’t help but wonder if it’s a good idea.

“Are you sure we—“

He cuts you off with a gentle kiss. One that lingers for a couple of seconds before it’s over and he’s grinning above you, moving to glide his thumb along your cheek. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.“

“No, I just —is it right?” 

He scrunches up his face, looking at you in confusion. Making you realize how offensive your words probably sound. “Sorry, I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

You take a minute to put together your thoughts, ignoring the way he longs for your answer. Feeling him shift slightly backwards in anticipation of your inevitable rejection. 

“Is this the right time to be doing this?”

He raises his brow and sort of laughs. “Do you mean that morally or?”

“Kind of?”

“Kind of?”

All you do is scoff in embarrassment, moving your hands to cover your face. “I just mean that… should we be having sex while the others are doing all the work?” 

Astarion really laughs at that, his voice practically rising a full octave as he swats away your hands, watching your annoyance only increase at his actions. “Seriously? That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“I feel like it’s a valid concern.” 

“Well, it’s not.” 

“Okay but I think—” 

He steals another kiss, ignoring the groan of protest that hits his lips. Opting to instead grab your cheek again, gliding his fingers against your skin. Feeling the way you almost immediately settle into his touch the moment he pulls away. 

“Darling, you and I both know the other’s don’t give a shit what we do. So long as it’s somewhat legal and doesn’t disturb their sleep.” 

Moving your hands to his torso, you practically sigh in defeat, pinching his hips with frustrated fingers as you lean up and kiss his chin. “I don’t know. I think Gale might be jealous if he comes back and sees us.”

As you fall back down he chases you instantly, enveloping your mouth in his a third time, knowing then that you’re surrendering. That instead of fighting the urge to make excuses, you’re allowing yourself to enjoy what he’s offering. To experience that connection without the added baggage of not knowing whether or not there’s feelings involved. 

Because now that you’ve admitted it —now that both of you have said those three little words, it feels completely different. After travelling and talking and experiencing that unfortunate blip of separation there’s a whole other dynamic that takes place.

For example, somehow his touch is gentler. And not because of your current physical setbacks. No, there’s something tender about it. As if the care he has for you has extended from his heart to his palms, guiding them in ways that make your chest tighten with newfound anticipation. Against your flesh, his fingers are delicately placed, slipping to grip the back of your neck, sprawling out to cover as much surface area as possible. 

Sighing into him, your thoughts wander to different positions. Imagining all of the ways the two of you might end up, you can feel your stomach twist with excitement. Your mouth curling up into an empty-minded smile, unaware of the joy that radiates between you. Too distracted by the happy sound he makes when you grip the waistline of his pants. 

“Does this serve as a good enough distraction for your boredom?” 

You hum and kiss him, eventually pulling back to nod. “Only if it’s okay.” 

For a moment he pauses, his expression turning from playful to serious. His eyes softening at the weight of your words, realizing that you mean it. That for once in his life he’s in control of his own pleasure. 

“I promise you, I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t,” he eventually tells you, and all you do is beam. Moving your hands to his face, you look at him with affectionate pride, running your thumbs along the highpoint of his cheeks —pressing down as you pull him back to rest his forehead against yours.

“I love you so much,” you say, closing your eyes, hearing him softly hum in a way that rips the air right out of your lungs. Feeling the way he stiffens before he ultimately melts beneath your touch, allowing the full weight of his body to press against yours. 

“You mean the world to me,” he responds, moving to kiss your cheek before moving to the other before you open your eyes again to see him hovering above. “When I lost you I—“

You don’t interrupt him. Instead, you just press your lips together and offer a nod, watching his mind work through the blockage. 

“Losing you felt like losing hope. Like I was being shoved back into that blasted mausoleum all over again.” He pauses to swallow, watching you stare into his eyes, refusing to break the contact even though it’s obvious he wants to. “I don’t want to feel like that ever again. I can’t —I won’t.” 

Your hands move towards his shoulders, slowly weaving their way around his neck to pull him close. To let him feel the pounding heart inside your chest and how its pace quickens because of him.

“I know it may seem like I’m ungrateful a lot of the time —that I’m brash or unkind but don’t think for a second I take for granted what you feel for me.” His lips press against yours for a second before they’re separate again. “I love you and I won’t let anything more happen to you.”

As soon as he finishes you can’t help but pull him against your chest, placing a kiss to the crown of his head before resting your chin on top of it. “Mm, you really have a way with words don’t you?”

All he does is chuckle. “I would hope so after all the mindless chatter I’ve done over the last two centuries.”

“I’m sure you’ve swept your fair share of feet with that beautiful voice of yours.” 

He cranes his neck to look up at you. “My voice is pretty beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s like music to my ears, darling,” you tell him, partially mocking him as he scoffs in response and reaches for the nearest pillow to smother your already giggling face.

 “Don’t mock me.” 

Awkwardly moving to shove the pillow aside, you feel him shift against you as he sits up, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them above your head. “Actually, you know what, I take back what I said —I actually hate you.”

“No you don’t.” 

You scrunch up your face in fake annoyance as he leans down again, giving you a chastising look. “I do. So much so that I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.”

“Oh, really?”

While nodding your head, you try your best to get him to release your wrists but to no avail, eventually sighing in response. “Yeah, I’d rather take a bath instead, I think. Get you to wash my hair or something.”

Without even protesting he just kisses your nose and rises from the bed, readying the bath. Taking it upon himself to focus on the task at hand rather than your lingering eyes staring at his dishevelled hair and the way his clothes have shifted out of place thanks to your roaming hands. Something that shouldn’t annoy you but does as you crave his attention. Finding yourself wanting desperately to keep him connected any way you can. 

Because despite knowing he’s here with you, sometimes he isn’t. Instead, sometimes he’s lost in far-off lands, travelling by himself in fear, trying desperately to get back. Behind his eyes, you can always tell when he’s absent because his eyes sort of shift out of focus, dismissing whatever’s directly in front of him in favour of relieving whatever awful memory’s been triggered. 

It breaks your heart. Ultimately spurring you to stand and move behind, wrapping your arms around him as he finishes up the bath. 

“C’mon, get it before it gets cold.” 

Despite wanting to playfully protest, you listen. Taking a reluctant step back while releasing his frame, you slowly begin to peel off your clothes, feeling his fingertips reach for your stomach as you throw your tunic over your head.

“Can I help you?” 

Looking down at his hand, you see his fingers draw patterns into your flesh. How they practically dance their way down to your waist before his other hand slips to the buttons of your trousers. 

“Other way around.”

You look at him, confused, prompting him to laugh. 

“Figured you could use a hand with these.” He tugs the button through the hole with one quick swipe, causing you to bite back a smirk and roll your eyes, allowing him to slowly drag the fabric down your legs. Watching as he moves to his knees along with it. 

Once there, he motions for you to step out of each pant leg, discarding the fabric entirely. Grinning up at you once you’re left only in your underwear. 

“Gods, you’re…” He doesn’t finish. Instead, he just kisses the inner portion of your thigh as he plays with the edge of the fabric, looking up at you with pleading eyes. The kind that you merely nod at, suddenly feeling nervous.

Because it’s been a while since he’s seen you like this. And even so, it continues to feel different. More intimate somehow as he moves at a leisurely pace, kissing your skin while exposing your sex. As it happens, you have to look away and take a breath, feeling everything shift past your thighs and knees, eventually moving to your calves and feet before there’s nothing against you. No fabric or hands or lips —only the suffocating air of the inn hitting your bare skin, forcing you to uncomfortably squirm as you look down. 

“Beautiful,” he mutters, and suddenly it feels like your heart is bursting against your chest, watching as he leans forward to pepper a few kisses along your upper legs, reaching for the scars that line your stomach —ignoring the way they twitch beneath his fingertips as he traces over them. “How about we get you into the tub before the water gets cold, hm?”

Almost nervously you nod, feeling him grip your hips for support as he moves to stand before guiding you into the tub without another word. 

-

TAGLIST:

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(taglist continued in reblogs)

[kesujo]

Chapter 2: Help Needed

Previous chapter here.

              ‘Parker, can you come over?’

Parker scoffed when his eyes scanned the message from his next-door neighbor of the opposite sex. He had spent the better part of last night drowning in guilt for what Jessica had put him through just a few hours ago, and she expected him to fall for the same trick again? Last night was also initiated by a seemingly innocuous text from the married woman, Parker acutely remembered.

He put aside his phone and continued with his breakfast, his phone ringing with the notification sound again a few minutes later. Seeing that it was from Jessica again, Parker ignored it until after he washed the dishes used in the day’s breakfast and sat down at his office chair. Now that he was wiser, Parker figured there wasn’t any harm in reading a message sent by her; after all, it wasn’t like she could brainwash him through a text message.

              ‘Parker, this is urgent. Can you please come over?’

Parker jolted out of his seat, his mind jumping to the worst-case scenario. Did Hunter somehow find out? Was she having regrets and wanted to console and discuss with him? Was it something unrelated, like an injury? Was she in danger?

Whatever the case was, Parker just felt like he couldn’t ignore it. All else aside, this was his best friend’s wife; he had some type of duty to help her now that Hunter was unable to. Or at least, that’s what Parker felt.

He entered the apartment using a spare key the married couple insisted he have. “Jessica?”

“I’m still in the bedroom,” Jessica’s weak voice drifted through the apartment, through the closed bedroom door.

“Are you OK?” he asked, speed walking to the bedroom. When he opened the door, he found Jessica still laying on the bed, the thick blanket wrapped around her entire body. “Did you get sick?”

She shook her head. “I can’t get up,” she said.

Parker furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips. “Why?”

“I’m still sore from how hard you fucked me last night.”

Parker promptly turned around and started walking out the door.

“Wait!” Jessica giggled, her voice returning to its more normal tone, “I’m serious though, it really does hurt to walk.”

Parker sighed, slowing down to a stop. If indeed what Jessica was saying was true, then he felt obligated to help her: Jessica was the one who forced him to be so rough, but he still felt a little responsibility nonetheless for causing Jessica the discomfort she was feeling. But even last night aside, this was still Jessica, his best friend’s wife; he harbored no ill will towards the adulterous woman despite what she forced him to do just a few hours prior, and if someone he cared about was in need of help, Parker was always happy to oblige.

“Do you want me to make you breakfast or something?”

“No, come here,” she said. Parker hesitated for a brief second before turning around as Jessica removed the blanket, immediately diverting his eyes upon seeing Jessica’s curvaceous, fully nude body framed perfectly by the blanket that was previously hiding it. “What are you looking away for?” she giggled again, clearly enjoying Parker’s reactions, “It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked already; your cock was inside my pussy yesterday, you even filled me with your cum for God’s sake.”

“That’s—” Parker swore internally, feeling his dick twitching in response to her dirty talk. Stop. He did not need a repeat of last night. Maybe the problem was trusting that Jessica’s intentions would be innocent—but then again, it seemed like Jessica’s problem was sincerely inhibiting her ability to go about her normal life. “—that’s not a good enough reason—do you normally sleep naked?”

Jessica shrugged. “After you left, I washed up and still had a bit more energy so I ended up masturbating a bit more, imagining what it would’ve been like if we went another round,” Parker winced, shame filling his body as he felt his penis twitch again, getting a little bit harder, “And after that, I was naked and exhausted so I just ended up going to sleep that way.” She paused for a brief second, her gaze drifting downwards. “Why, does that turn you on?” Before he could cover his growing tent with his hand, she caught a glimpse of the developing bulge that was occurring in his private region. “Ooh, so—”

“Please, just tell me how you want me to help you.”

Jessica giggled, basking in the embarrassment showing on Parker’s face and his bashful replies and reactions. “Well, I usually take a shower in the morning but I don’t think I can stand up that long, so I thought I would take a bath today. So first, carry me to the bathroom,” she said, swinging her legs to the edge of the bed and holding her arms out like a baby.

It would be a startling and incredibly alluring sight if this woman wasn’t already in a relationship with Hunter. The playful, innocent, childlike action and matching smile completely contrasted her sexy body: her luscious tits, her perky pink nipples, her milky-white smooth skin, her long legs shining brilliantly in the bedroom’s light. “Can—” Parker was even hesitant about asking Jessica to try out walking herself, afraid that she might injure herself. After a brief debate inside his head, he acquiesced to the needy wife. “—fine. Are you able to walk there with my help, or do you need a piggyback ride?”

“Piggyback ride!” Again, Jessica’s excited response was so innocent and childlike that its sharp juxtaposition to her current sexy appearance—as much as it shamed Parker to admit—yet again turned him on a bit more.

Parker sighed and shook his head. “I’ll go fill the bathtub first and then come to pick you up,” he announced; a few minutes later, after the tub was adequately filled with hot water, Parker went back into the bedroom and bent down to get ready to transport Jessica to the bathroom. “Get on, kiddo,” he said, somehow getting taken by surprise when he felt her soft, more-than-ample bosom on his back.

“Thanks Parker,” Jessica nearly whispered into his ear after resting her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms and legs securely around his body. Parker gulped, trying his best to beat down the building arousal from feeling every inch of Jessica’s curves pressed against his back and repress the memories of their escapades from the night prior.

The few seconds it took to carry the small woman to the bathroom was done in silence, and when Parker arrived, he helped Jessica down and into the bathtub. “I’ll go—” Parker was interrupted, Jessica’s hand shooting out to grab Parker’s arm as he was in the middle of turning around.

“Wait,” she insisted, in an awkward stance somewhere between sitting down and standing up, her upper body unsubmerged and water droplets coalescing at her tits, dripping off her erect nipples.

“W-What?” Parker tried to reply nonchalantly, the slight stutter in his voice betraying him.

“The bathtub is too hard for me, I need something soft to sit on,” she explained.

“What, do you want me to get a pillow or something?” Parker laughed, confused.

“No, I want to sit on you.”

Parker felt his heartbeat accelerate as he gradually realized what Jessica was trying to do. No—No, he wasn’t going to let Jessica put him through this anymore. “I can’t—”

“Are you sure?” Jessica’s teasing sing-song voice reminded him of the crucial piece of blackmail she held over him.

After a brief moment of silence, Parker started, “Hunter’s…”

“..still got a few more days before his business trip is over,” Jessica finished for him, gently pulling the single man towards her.

“Let—Let me take my clothes off first at least,” Parker insisted, Jessica obliging and letting go of him. She kneeled on the bathtub patiently, an ever-increasing sense of discomfort and awkwardness creeping in as the married woman’s eyes remained trained on him like a hawk. “All you’re going to do is sit on me, that’s it. Alright?”

Parker knew his efforts to compromise were going to be futile, his hopes all but crushed when Jessica just smiled mischievously, saying, “Come in and see~”

“I don’t wanna go in there unless I know you won’t do anything else,” Parker insisted.

“But you do want to join me for this bath because otherwise…”

All Jessica had to do was ominously trail off there, wearing her ever-present playful smirk, for Parker to finally oblige.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, his face turning a little pink after he started stripping when he removed his pants, revealing the visible tent in his boxers.

“Ooh, you’re getting turned on~” Jessica hummed happily, a wide smile spreading on her face. “This is gonna be so fun~”

“Just focus on cleaning yourself,” Parker insisted, hesitating for another second as his fingers wrapped around the hem of his boxers.

“Do you want me to—” Jessica started when she saw Parker hesitating, reaching out to Parker’s boxers herself. That was all the motivation Parker needed to strip himself, jumping back a little when Jessica’s dainty hands inadvertently landed on his dick. “Oh, it’s so hard, I’m so happy!~” Jessica beamed, an innocent excitement in her voice that completely juxtaposed their current situation.

“Are you going to let me get in?” Parker said, trying to shrug aside his embarrassment.

“Of course!” Jessica shuffled, making space for him, “Sit here,” she directed Parker once he entered the bathtub, flinching a little at the temperature of the water but acclimating quickly, finding a spot on the hard, smooth surface of the bathtub to sit down on.

As soon as Parker situated himself, Jessica followed suit, turning around and carefully settling herself on his lap. “OK that’s—stop,” Parker begged the woman whose soft, plump ass scooted along his legs closer to his crotch. “You don’t need to get any closer,” he said, placing his hands on her waist and halting her advance.

Jessica turned her head in response, a pout sitting on her lips. “Meanie,” she whined, carrying on with the act of childlike innocence. “How am I supposed to sit comfortably like this?”

“You should’ve considered that,” Parker said, naively believing he finally managed to reign Jessica in. Just as he was breathing a sigh of relief, Jessica used a surprising surge of strength to slip out of his grip. Panicked, Parker backed up as much as he could, granting him the little bit of space he needed to dodge Jessica, whose butt cheeks rubbed against the length of his erect shaft that was pushed against his lower stomach area by the soft skin of her bottom.

“Hey!” Jessica complained, looking back.

“You need focus on washing!”

“No dodging this time,” Jessica insisted, reaching behind and firmly grabbing his shaft.

“What?” Parker tried to struggle but stopped after making eye contact and seeing her cocked eyebrow, understanding what it meant. “How—you’re supposed to be cleaning yourself,” he protested, desperately trying to ignore her slim digits wrapped firmly around his hardened member.

Jessica’s cheerful demeanor returned, lifting her ass off his lap just enough so that she could position Parker’s cock beneath her entrance before plunging down onto it. “Ooh fuck,” she groaned, her entire body shuddering as Parker’s cock slipped inside her womanhood once again.

Parker swore under his breath, the pulsating warmth enveloping his cock sending a chill up his spine. “Are—Aren’t you still hurting there?”

“I don’t care, your cock feels too fucking good stretching out my small, tight pussy,” she answered, more and more of his length disappearing between her folds. “Ugh, god, fuck,” she groaned, leaning back against Parker’s chest. Jessica’s partially wet hair brushed against his nape as she threw her head back, reveling in the feeling of fullness, a feeling of warmth both surrounding her and inside her.

Parker, on the other hand, was grimacing; the damp tightness securely wrapping around his member, her hot pussy walls gliding along his length, the feeling of his cock being buried deeper inside the married woman’s pussy all simultaneously created a feeling of overwhelming pleasure and guilt. He had no other choice, he rationalized, but it still didn’t take away from the all-consuming feeling that he was breaking the trust of his best friend.

“Th-There,” Jessica shuddered as she finally felt her shapely ass make contact with his groin.

“How—And how is this supposed to help you wash again?”

“Well,” Jessica explained, “This way, my outside can be washed with soap and my inside can be washed with your cum.” He could feel his cock twitch in response to her filthy words, Jessica noticing and letting out a brief squeal of delight. “You want to as well? To rinse my pussy out with your thick semen?” Jessica cheekily said, grinding her ass against Parker’s groin.

Parker groaned, pleasure shooting up his spine as her pussy massaged the length of his member, the additional feeling of her soft ass rubbing against his crotch. “N-No, just wash yourself.”

“Can you wash me?” Jessica said in a cute, innocent voice, leaning back against Parker’s chest and twisting her head to look up at the man whose cock she was sitting on with wide eyes.

“How am I supposed to wash you when—?” Parker stopped, realizing that Jessica could tease him if he finished that sentence. Unfortunately, Jessica did so anyway.

“When what? When my pussy feels this good? When it feels like your cock is being squeezed to death by my tight cunt? Is it distracting? Debilitating? Are you feeling so much pleasure you can’t move?”

A mischievous smile played at Jessica’s lips, reveling in how squeamish Parker was in reacting to her words—and how his cock twitched and grew slightly with every filthy word that passed her lips.

“You’re not a child right?” Parker continued, electing to not respond to Jessica’s attempt to egg him on, “You can wash yourself.”

Jessica pouted reaching back and grabbing his wrists. “It’ll be fun though! Don’t tell me you haven’t ever washed one of your girlfriends before,” she said, guiding his hands onto her tits. A sigh escaped her lips when Parker’s calloused hand made contact with the soft skin on her boobs, inadvertently biting her lower lip. “You like that?” Jessica once again turned her head around, trying to make eye contact with Parker but failing, Parker’s gaze adamantly directed to his right. Frowning, she grinded her ass against his groin again, eliciting a surprised moan from Parker.

“What—?” Parker’s eyes turned back to meet Jessica’s, a smile forming on her face as he did so.

“I’m not getting out of this bathtub until you wash me,” she stated, letting go of his wrists and reaching for the soap and handing it to Parker.

“…Fine,” Parker begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to stay in this compromising position for longer than he needed to, “But how am I going to wash your entire body if it’s submerged?”

“We’ll get to it when we get there,” Jessica replied, lifting her arms out of the water, “For now, get my arms.”

Parker obliged, tenderly grabbing her arms with one hand and rubbing the slippery bar of soap across the smooth skin. Even before he finished with the first arm, an idea popped into Jessica’s mind. Just as he was finishing with her right arm, she crossed her legs, causing her pussy to clamp down on Parker’s dick hard.

“Fuck,” he swore, accidentally dropping the soap into bathtub, wincing as the hot walls enveloping his cock, slick with her juices, closed in on his shaft.

“What’s the matter?” Jessica asked innocently, turning her head again to look at Parker.

“Stop doing that,” he told her through gritted teeth.

“Doing what?” she asked innocently, clenching her lower muscles and squeezing his dick again with her pussy.

Parker groaned, flinching as another shot of pleasure ran through his crotch and up his body. “That,” he said, scanning the bathtub for the soap that escaped his hands. “Can you get that for me?”

Jessica followed Parker’s gaze and saw the bar of soap sitting on the bathtub’s floor, a short distance away from her leg. “Sure,” she replied, a smirk playing at her lips as she very purposefully bent over, pushing her ample ass against his groin.

“W-Wait—fuck, never mind,” Parker grimaced, reprimanding himself for not knowing better and realizing that would happen. “I’ll get it, you just sit tight.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it; taking his words perhaps too literally, Jessica stayed in her semi-bent over state, pressing her lips together while clenching her lower muscles, squeezing Parker’s dick even harder. “Engh,” Parker shuddered, gritting his teeth, a noise escaping his lips as another wave of pleasure surged up his body. He stopped, his breathing growing ragged, fighting a losing battle against the welling lust and pleasurable tension building up in his lower regions.

“Mmm~” An enchanting melody erupted from Jessica’s lips, Parker’s dick being pushed further inside her as he reached for the slippery rectangle. “Fuuck…” this time, a breathy whisper, a floating song in the wind carrying with it Jessica’s lust and arousal.

Parker tried his best to ignore it, pulling the bar of soap out of the water and transferring it to his left hand. “St-Stay still,” Parker told the impatient Jessica, who was desperately grinding against Parker’s groin, reveling in the resulting friction between their skin and the feeling of Parker’s dick swelling inside her yet still.

“You’re getting bigger,” she noted cheekily, a smirk appearing on her lips but her eyes remaining closed. “Your hot dick is filling me up so much, oh my god, my small, tight cunt is still getting stretched,” Jessica’s more-than-ample chest now noticeably heaving with each ragged breath. “Fuck, pound me harder,” she insisted, her movements growing more erratic with each passing moment.

“Let me—”

“Parker.” Jessica’s voice turned stern, all movement suddenly ceasing, her head turning around to capture his eyes. “That’s an order.”

“I’m almost done with your arms—”

“Remember, you’re supposed to be cleaning me? You’re never going to clean my pussy at this rate.”

“But aren’t you still recovering?”

Jessica grinned. “That’s what makes it fun though,” she said, turning her head around, “You don’t want Hunter to find out about what we did yesterday, do you?”

Parker’s face paled at the thought of it, and realizing he had no choice, secured the light woman’s thin waist and retreated from her womanhood before filling it back up to the brim. “You can do better than that,” Jessica egged him on, cooperating with Parker in washing her other arm. Complying, he gripped Jessica’s waist a bit more tightly, gritting his teeth and retreated from her pussy as much as he could while in his sitting position before thrusting back inside her. “More~” she begged, her voice dripping with lust.

“You’re too tight,” Parker complained, struggling to move much inside Jessica both for the reasons that he was sitting down and didn’t have much space to move on top of how much Jessica tightened her pussy around his thick member.

“Aren’t you going to finish washing my arm?” Jessica teased him.

“You—You’re the one who told me to—” Jessica giggled at Parker’s exasperated reaction.

“Do your best~” she replied in a playful, sing-song voice, resting her head against his well-developed pecs.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, his teeth being ground to dust with every thrust inside the mischievous woman. The struggling man tried to divide his attention to scrubbing Jessica’s other arm but found that it difficult: he needed almost every ounce of strength he had just to continue to push past Jessica’s vaginal walls that were passionately hugging his dick in a tight embrace. The result of this was that he had very little strength and attention left to spare, that on top of the distracting ecstatic feeling of pleasure rolling up his body as he felt her warm, wet walls massaging his dick leaving her other arm barely washed. The end result was a half-hearted application of soap on her other arm and an equally half-hearted rinse, all the while being assaulted both with the guilt-ridden feeling of lust and pleasure along with Jessica’s constant encouragement for him to be rougher. “How am I going to wash the rest of your body?” Parker asked, grimacing a bit from the slight pain from his butt due to the almost bouncing motion he was doing on the hard acrylic surface of the bathtub.

Jessica motioned for him to stop, Parker more than willing to oblige. “Good point,” she said, tilting her planting a chaste kiss on his jaw. This caused Parker to flinch, Jessica once again giggling at Parker’s over-the-top reaction. “You’re so fun to tease,” she commented, a luminescent smile spreading across her face.

Parker, wanting to say many things but finding himself unable due to the predicament Jessica placed him under, simply sighed. “I still can’t believe that we’re—that you’re doing this.”

“It’s so exciting though, isn’t it?” Jessica grinned, shaking her ass playfully, her pussy still stuffed to the brim with Parker’s cock.

Parker bit back a surprised yelp, his fists clenching in an attempt to fight against the nth wave of pleasure coursing through him. “You have a really messed up definition of ‘exciting’.”

Jessica just laughed and unmounted him, much to Parker’s relief. However, upon hearing him sigh that deeply in relief, while moving towards the edge of the bathtub in a semi-standing position, she looked over at him in a bemused confusion. “What are you doing?” she asked, bending over in a standing position, proudly displaying her wide hips and delectable butt to him. She grabbed the sides of the bathtub, her boobs nearly brushing the surface of the warm water. “Did you think we were done already? Come here,” she urged, her head turned around, shaking her ass invitingly.

“What?”

“You only washed my arms,” she explained.

“OK, so I’m just going to pretend that you only want me to—”

“Hurry,” she insisted, a cute pout forming on her lips, “My pussy feels so lonely without your hot, thick cock filling it up.”

“I—…” Jessica cocked an eyebrow, the only warning Parker needed before sighing deeply, swallowing the guilt building up inside him, and approaching the wet, naked, bent-over woman. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath while placing his hands on Jessica’s hips. The married woman hummed happily, another moan erupting from her lips as Parker pushed his dick back inside her.

“Fuck,” she breathed out, her grip of the edge of the bathtub tightening. A similar, but much more muted moan came out of Parker as well as he watched his more and more of his erect shaft disappear between the two beautiful mounds of flesh on Jessica’s bottom, parting her glistening folds, the hot walls of her tight pussy clamping around his dick, pulling on it as if inviting it to go deeper. “Fuck your cock does such a good job of stretching my pussy, go deeper,” she instructed him, Parker obeying and briefly allowing himself to get caught up in his lust, his dick filling the Korean beauty’s vagina to its hilt. “R-Remember to wash the rest of my upper body,” she reminded him, Parker snapping out of the brief trance he was in watching Jessica’s ass jiggle at the force of his thrusts. Before he diverted his attention, he noticed a distinct nearly hand-shaped red mark on Jessica’s otherwise perfectly white bottom. A wave of guilt struck him, knowing that the mark was because of him the day prior.

As Parker reached for the bar of soap he had placed on the side while changing positions, he started picking up his speed again, the room starting to fill with the sound of the slap of his groin on Jessica’s simultaneously soft yet firm ass, the married woman’s moans, and the sloshing sound of the water in the bathtub escaping the confines of the large container. Parker noticed that the floor around the bathtub was getting wet from their erratic movements, but cleaning it up was only in the back of his mind, in the forefront being the struggle to keep up with Jessica’s requests for increasing roughness.

“Fuck you’re cleaning my pussy so well~” Jessica moaned, her matching thrusts causing an almost echoing slapping sound with each connection of their bodies. Parker felt the tension in his lower regions tighten, his lower region getting splashed with all sorts of liquid: whether it was Jessica’s juices or the bath water, he was unsure.

“I—fuck, I can’t—” Parker, struggling with steadying the bar of soap with Jessica’s shaking body, stopped his movements. As soon as this happened, Jessica looked back, shooting Parker a glare. Meeting her cold, threatening gaze, a chill ran up his spine, and for the first time, Parker’s motivation to fuck Jessica changed from fear of destroying his best friend’s marriage to a fear of Jessica herself.

With renewed vigor, Parker retreated his penis from the warm, tight embrace of Jessica’s wet pussy before quickly slamming it back into her. Jessica’s breathing grew heavier, her moans released from her lips with shaky breath, her muscles tightening in conjunction to her walls around his shaft. Parker resorted to steadying the bar of soap on Jessica’s back and letting their movements do all the work, the end result being the center of her back getting much more attention than any other part. But just as Parker decided to move to her front, Jessica proposed something.

“Submerge me.”

Parker, slowing down per Jessica’s request, confused, asked, “What?”

“Force my head underwater,” she repeated, “I’ll tap on the bathtub’s edge when I need air.”

“No!” is what Parker wanted to say, but frankly, he was too scared to voice his opposition to the idea. So instead, he cautiously said, “Are you sure? The water’s still hot.”

She nodded eagerly, her eyes shining with excitement. “It’ll be fine,” she said, backing up a little to make space for her head, “Make sure to grab a nice handful of my hair, and be rough. Got it?”

“I—…” Parker tried to argue, stopping after realizing his words would just fall on deaf ears, “yeah,” he eventually agreed to Jessica’s crazy proposition, making sure to put the bar of soap down in an easily reachable position next to him.

Jessica squealed in childish excitement, turning back around as Parker reached forward to carefully grab a fistful of her silky soft hair. “Go ahead,” she told him.

Parker hesitated for a brief second out of fear: fear that he would end up harming Jessica, fear that he wouldn’t catch Jessica’s signal that she needed air. Jessica’s head turned back around, and upon seeing the hesitation and fear in Parker’s eyes, she said, “It’ll be OK, I trust you.”

Despite everything, that what Jessica was doing to him could technically constitute as rape and that she was forcing him to do something against his will, this put him at ease. When Jessica turned her head back around, Parker secured his hold on the handful of her hair in his fist and pushed her head underwater.

The effects were almost immediate. Parker continued to pound Jessica from behind, but it noticeably got tighter the longer Jessica’s head was held underwater. As the seconds ticked by though, Parker grew increasingly worried.

After around ten seconds, Parker’s grip on Jessica’s hair loosened despite not having been given any signs by Jessica yet. Jessica’s eager responses to his pistoning of his cock inside her pussy only strengthened in intensity as her head remained underwater, but even so, Parker couldn’t help but feel a building sense of concern. But, Parker decided to trust Jessica’s judgement and continued pulling his cock out of her vagina only to slam back inside again. The bathroom was strangely silent with the absence of Jessica’s moans, Parker feeling a bit more at liberty to let out his own moans and grunts of pleasure knowing Jessica wasn’t likely to hear them. Still, where the scene lacked in the auditory component, the visual made up for it: seeing Jessica’s head, the sight slightly warbled due to the waves in the bathwater caused by their synchronized motions, held underwater by his own hand was … extremely erotic. Sexy, even. Knowing that Jessica was fighting against both her building orgasm and her lungs’ capacity to hold air gave Parker a feeling of guilty pleasure, the thought of which making Parker wonder in fear if he was secretly a sadist.

After twenty seconds, Parker’s feeling of concern started to morph into fear and regret. Jessica showed no signs of wanting to come up for air any time soon, and she was still matching his every thrust with her own. There didn’t seem to be any signs of discomfort, yet Parker started to become scared: what if Jessica was doing this for the first time and didn’t know her own limits? He knew that she took singing lessons in the past and was pretty good at it, so her lung capacity was probably pretty good—but wasn’t that a long time ago? What if she was in discomfort but didn’t want to admit it to Parker? After all, it wasn’t like he could see her face and tell.

After thirty seconds, Parker’s fear got the better of him and he pulled Jessica’s head out of the water. Seeing the resulting glare from Jessica made him instantly regret it; however, it only lasted a second as the look instantly mellowed out. “Aw, were you scared that you were causing me discomfort? Even though I’m the one forcing you to do this?”

There was some part of Parker—maybe it was ego, or maybe it was shame—that didn’t want to admit to Jessica’s teasing inquiry. Instead, he cocked his eyebrow, saying, “No, I just wanted to tell you that I can’t wash you if we’re doing this.”

“Sure you can,” she responded cheerfully. Parker, confused, remained silent, Jessica continuing on with, “Right now, we’re working on washing my pussy with your cum!”

Completely baffled at the cheerful way Jessica managed to say those words, Parker simply gave a brief warning, “You’re going back in,” giving her a second to prepare herself, and then summarily pushing her head back into the warm bathwater.

Parker could tell that his cold, forceful action was something Jessica loved, feeling her pussy somehow tighten even more around his shaft, feeling like it was trying to squeeze the life out of him. He grunted with every thrust, Jessica eagerly matching with a rekindled enthusiasm. This time, Parker didn’t even bother counting the seconds in his head, instead focusing solely on pumping his dick in and out of the small, sexy seductress.

This time, it took just over a minute before Jessica tapped the edge of the bathtub, signaling to be pulled out. Parker did just that, her taking in a huge breath as she came up for air, messily flipping her wet hair out of her face and spraying him with water in the process. “Oh,” she giggled, noticing Parker flinching in reaction to the accidentally spraying, “Sorry.”

“I’m fine,” Parker responded.

“That was fucking hot,” she commented, “both the water and feeling your cock violate my pussy while my lungs begged for oxygen.” Parker could feel himself getting a bit more aroused at her dirty talk, the tension in his nether regions tightening. “Ready to go again?”

Parker simply nodded, Jessica taking a second to ready herself before getting pushed back underwater again. He relentlessly attacked her pussy, Jessica arching her back in pleasure, a greater amount of surface area of her bubble butt slamming into his groin with each thrust. This time, Jessica took a few seconds longer before tapping out, Parker pulling her head up in response. “Fuck that’s amazing,” she breathed out, her chest heaving even more. “Do you like it?”

Parker, startled, dumbly responded with, “What?”

Jessica smiled, amused. “Do you think it’s hot? Holding my head underwater while pounding me from behind.”

“I’m—” Unsure of how to respond, Parker stammered a bit before settling on, “I’m not going to respond to that.”

“So, in other words, you did find it hot.”

“I didn’t—” Jessica giggled, Parker just sighing in response. That was something else that was happening quite a bit recently: him sighing.

“Again,” she told him, turning back around to face the water again. Parker begrudgingly obeyed, letting Jessica take in a deep breath before pushing her head underwater once again. As the nearly two minutes passed, Parker could feel himself getting painstakingly close to his release, given reprieve when Jessica tapped out. “Why don’t you ever say anything?” was Jessica’s first question after catching her breath.

“What?”

“You know,” Jessica continued, “Tell me how good my pussy feels, scold me for being such a slut, calling me a cheating whore, or that I’m a bitch in heat that only lives to receive your cum.” Feeling Parker’s dick react strongly to those words, Jessica giggled. “So you do want to say all those things? But why not? You’re afraid you’ll hurt my feelings?”

“You’re—you’re Hunter’s wife, of—of course I can’t say those things t-to you.” It became increasingly hard to speak, Parker desperately fighting off his orgasm. The feeling of Jessica’s tight, hot cunt massaging his shaft as he pumped it inside her, her supple ass cheeks creating a resonating slapping sound every time their lower bodies met, feeling all those sensations certainly didn’t help, but hearing Jessica’s filthy words only worsened the situation.

“I want you to though,” she said, pushing him back. Parker’s dick was granted momentary relief from the prison of Jessica’s pussy, Jessica motioning for him to sit back down on the bathtub. He obeyed, gulping as Jessica approached him and lowered herself, facing him this time, grabbing his dick before plunging it back inside her. “Fuck~” she moaned, loudly, her back arching as Parker’s dick filled her all the way to her cervix. “Call me a dirty slut, a filthy whore, a cheating bitch, then fill me up with your cum and leave me a convulsing, orgasming mess.”

With almost every other syllable, Jessica bounced on Parker’s cock, her boobs shaking fiercely with each motion. “I—I can’t,” Parker insisted, gritting his teeth, feeling himself brimming the edge of his orgasm.

“Do it,” she insisted, Parker at this point realizing it wasn’t a request but an order.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, reaching down and firmly grabbing her hips, matching her thrusts with his own. “Fine, you filthy fucking slut, you want to take my cum so badly?”

Jessica’s eyes shone with excitement, her pussy clenching his dick even harder in response to his dirty talk. “Yes~!” she moaned, her bouncing growing more intense.

“You want me to wash your pussy out with my cum?”

“Yes~!” was again her enthusiastic response.

“Then take it like the adulterous bitch you are,” Parker growled, the tension in his lower regions finally unraveling as he exploded inside her, erratically humping her as Jessica screamed in ecstasy herself, the mixture of their fluids combining inside her love chamber. He rode the wave of ecstasy all the way out, desperately trying to match Jessica’s erratic thrusts as the tension slowly died out. By the time Jessica’s orgasm subsided, Parker was already spent.

“Fuck, that was sexy,” Jessica whispered after leaning her head on his shoulder, his cock still buried inside her pussy, her voluptuous bust pressed against his chest.

“Let’s—let’s get out now,” Parker insisted.

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Nope?”

“Well, it isn’t considered a proper cleaning if you only apply soap to an area, right? You have to spread it out,” she told him cheekily.

“Wha—” knowing he didn’t have a say in the matter, he reluctantly obeyed Jessica’s implied directions, pumping his dick a few more times inside her—albeit with less gusto. This seemed to please Jessica nonetheless, hearing light moans from the married woman. After about half a minute, Parker stopped. “There, that’s enough, right? We can’t stay in here forever.”

Jessica pouted but agreed, unmounting him and getting out of the bath. Parker followed, and upon seeing Jessica walking to retrieve her towel from the towel rack, said, “Hey!”

Jessica turned around. “What? Do you miss my pussy already?”

He decided to not dignify that question with a response. “You can walk on your own!”

Jessica’s first reaction was confusion, morphing shortly afterwards into one of understanding. “Ah, sorry, I lied a bit,” she smiled apologetically. “It was true that when I first woke up, I couldn’t move, but after you arrived, the soreness had mostly disappeared.”

“OK, well since you don’t need my help anymore, I’m—”

Jessica caught his hand before he could get the other towel from the towel rack. “Help me pick out my outfit for the day. I have an outing with friends in the afternoon.”

“You can do that yourself,” Parker told her, reaching for the towel and joining Jessica in drying himself off, “You have a better sense of fashion than me anyway.”

“That’s not the pooint,” Jessica whined, pouting, “Just come with me, OK?”

“Wai—” Jessica grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the bathroom before he could even put the towel back in its place, much less put on any clothes. The pair walked out of the bathroom, taking a few steps in the residence in the nude before entering the closet. Once inside, Jessica turned the light on and closed the door behind Parker.

“OK, let’s see…”

“Do I really have to be here?”

Parker grimaced when he felt Jessica pulled him forward, stumbling a few steps, causing his semi-erect dick to prod the soft tissue on Jessica’s ass. “Yep!” she said, the smirk on her face somehow evident in her voice as well. “Seems like you’re ready for round two?”

“Just pick your outfit,” Parker told her while taking a few steps back, Jessica simply giggling in response.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she said, scooting back and bending over slightly, very purposefully pressing her butt against Parker’s stiff member, “I need some inspiration, I think.”

“How—what am I supposed to do about that?” Parker replied, trying to mask the wave of euphoria rushing up his spine in response to feeling the soft, taut skin pressing against his sensitive reproductive organ.

“Get in,” she demanded, playfully shaking her ass against my groin, “Your little—or rather, your quite large—friend seems raring to go~”

Having already slipped between her butt cheeks from the playful shaking she was doing, it didn’t take much more effort to push the elongated object past her wet folds and back into her damp cavern. Jessica hummed in joy, pushing herself all the way onto his dick, stopping after feeling her ass pressed against his body. “Mm~” she hummed again, grinding her ass on Parker’s groin, “I can feel the inspiration coming to me, but I think I’ll need a bit more inspiration,” she slyly said, turning her head around to look at Parker, smiling seductively.

Parker, regrettably understanding what she meant by it, started moving inside her. Lust and arousal started to build up inside him again as he felt Jessica’s tight walls clamped around his dick, the muscle slick with both of their cum convulsing and massaging his length as it glided back and forth inside her. “You’re too gentle,” Jessica whined, adding her own movements in conjunction with Parker’s, “Where’s that dirty mouth of yours? I know you have it in you,” she cooed, squeezing her lower muscles and consequently causing her pussy to squeeze Parker’s cock.

Parker let out a muted groan, yet another wave of pleasure coursing through his body. “That has nothing to do with choosing an outfit,” he insisted, but as expected, his protest fell on deaf ears.

“Aren’t I such a filthy slut, asking to be filled with the cum of a man not my husband three times in less than 24 hours?” Her words were dripping with lust, said in such a seductive voice Parker couldn’t help but feel a bit turned on by it, much to his shame. “I’m such a naughty girl for fucking my husband’s best friend, aren’t I? For loving the feeling of his cock stuffing my pussy to the brim? Shouldn’t you punish this naughty wife for cheating on her loving husband?”

Parker, being reminded of their situation, increased his speed. The faster they finished, the faster he could just go home and forget about this whole ordeal, Parker reasoned. All he had to do was wait for Hunter to get back from his business trip and everything would return to normal. “If you want to be punished so much, then ask Hunter to do it,” he grunted, struggling as he felt Jessica’s pussy tighten yet again.

“But it’s so much more fun to ask you~” she sung, her back arching and her eyes fluttering shut, her lips parted, heavy breaths escaping from her delectable lips. “But do you really want me to ask Hunter to punish me for cheating on him?”

Jessica’s sly smirk directed at Parker frustrated him, causing him to tighten his grip on Jessica’s hips and increase his speed yet again. “If you want to cum so badly, just do it already,” he said, bits of his irritation seeping into his voice, “Are you even looking for something to wear?”

“Yeah, but I need you to lift me up.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m thinking of wearing something I haven’t in a long time, and those are all on the top shelves,” she explained, her voice shaking with the force behind each of Parker’s thrusts, yet not stuttering once.

“Isn’t that what that step stool is for?” Parker nodded at the grey step stool tucked underneath a cascade of dresses hung up along one wall of the walk-in closet.

“What step stool?” Jessica innocently asked, Parker realizing that Jessica was being insistent on this.

“Fine, but make it quick,” Parker told her.

Jessica, removing herself from Parker, looked back at him in shock. “Are you calling me fat?”

“What? No! I just mean—” he promptly stopped after seeing Jessica giggle at his flustered reaction. Indignant, he shot back by saying, “—so what if I am?”

“Then you better hope your arms last longer than me~” she said, Parker kneeling down in preparation to pick her up.

However, hearing those words confused him. “What? Last longer than you? What do you mean?”

Jessica also stopped, looking back at Parker with a flabbergasted reaction. “What else?” But seeing Parker’s sincerely confused reaction caused her first sigh, then chuckle a bit. “You’re so innocent, this is so fun~”

“What do you mean by lasting longer than you?” He repeated.

“Well, naturally, your cock is going to be buried inside me while you’re lifting me,” she explained like it was common sense.

“Wha—how—” Parker stammered, unable to find words to say to the smug looking Jessica, “It’s hardly lifting you up if I’m doing that,” he ended up settling on.

“It’s fine, I just want a new perspective.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“Hurry,” Jessica bent over, motioning for him to enter her. Seeing his confused reaction, she explained, “You need to enter me first, then pick me up. Otherwise, how are you going to do that when both your arms are occupied?”

Understanding, Parker realized the true difference between them: he wasn’t inexperienced with sex by any means, but Parker liked more vanilla stuff than what Jessica evidently seemed to like. However, seeing Jessica’s experience shine through gave him a new perspective of the kind of person he thought he already had a pretty good grasp on due to last night’s affair. What else did she have up her sleeve? Parker hoped he would never have to find out.

He swiftly entered her again, taking a second to acclimate to her warm cavern before wrapping his sturdy arms securely underneath her upper thigh and lifting her up. Jessica squealed in delight as her feet came off the ground, the sudden loss of control exciting her and simultaneously turning her on even further. The results of this were immediate to Parker as well, feeling Jessica’s walls squeeze his dick even harder as he adjusted his grip on the light woman. “Get looking,” he told her, voice strained from both Jessica’s vagina squeezing his dick as well as her albeit lighter-than-expected body on his arms.

“I will once you start fucking me,” she said stubbornly.

Wanting to get it over with, Parker lifted her up while bending away from her briefly before letting her drop as he thrusted upwards. “Ooh fuck,” she moaned loudly, Parker feeling her leg muscles tense, her head thrown back on his shoulder as Parker’s cock pushed deep into the lustful woman. As Parker acclimated to their strange position, he increased his speed, drawing even more lustful moans from the sexy woman. “Fuuck, my cunt is just being toyed with, I’m being treated like the slut I am,” a stream of words came out of Jessica’s mouth, but this time, instead of being ashamed that he found himself turned on by the sexy woman’s dirty talk, he used it as additional fuel to his fire. “Parker’s cock is slamming into my vulnerable pussy and there’s nothing I can do about it,” Parker could feel her walls tighten around him at a greater rate than before; fortunately, he had gravity on his side, but unfortunately, he could feel fatigue starting to settle in his arms. He could hear himself starting to grunt, pushing past the fatigue, words flowing out of Jessica’s mouth like water down a creek, “God, Parker is pounding me so hard I can almost feel his dick hitting my cervix, but I’m such a fucking slut for enjoying this so much~”

“Keep looking for your outfit,” Parker had to almost growl, his voice heavily strained with the downward force of Jessica’s body weighing him down.

“Or what?” she responded cheekily, a playful smirk appearing on her lips but refusing to open her eyes. “Are you going to punish this naughty girl for not listening to you?”

Parker didn’t respond, mostly because he found himself unable: the struggle to not only keep Jessica above waist level but to lift her again and again became an increasingly difficult task, the adrenaline from feeling her pussy convulse and massage his cock only aiding slightly. “I—I need a break,” Parker finally admitted in a strained voice, “Sorry…”

Jessica just laughed off the ashamed tone in Parker’s voice. “What are you apologizing for? Let me down,” she said, Parker doing just that. While waiting for Parker’s fatigue to wear off, she browsed her closet, actually doing what she entered the enclosed space for and looked for an outfit: it took a bit over a minute for Parker to recover, but Jessica didn’t let him rest much longer than two. “This time, I’ll help you out a little,” she offered, “I’ll face you so I can use my legs to keep myself up.”

Parker nodded, eager to just be done, this time taking much less time in steadying her in his arms before resuming his pounding of her tight cunt. Jessica’s legs, wrapped around his waist, tensed, her soft tits pressed against his chest and her arms wrapped around his neck, her head rested on his shoulder, directly feeding her beautifully melodic moans into his ears. “Parker~” Jessica’s moans echoed about the small, enclosed space, only turning him on more.

He could feel himself nearing his orgasm, the delectable feeling of Jessica’s sexy tits and swollen nipples pushed flush against his body, her vaginal walls pushing and pulling to the rhythm of his thrusts, even the tender feeling of her soft skin in his arms all aiding to that sensation. “I’m close,” he warned her, “Get off.”

“No,” she replied, “You don’t wanna leave any of your cum anywhere in this closet, do you?” Parker’s face paled when he realized that Jessica’s words held merit. “You have no other option than to cum inside me~”

“Fine, fuck,” he muttered, the tension suddenly breaking when Jessica leaned forward and nibbled lightly on his ear. As the tension unraveled, a second, albeit weaker, torrent of his seed spilled into the tantalizing temptress.

“Ooh fuck,” Jessica gasped in pleasure as she felt the hot liquid pouring into her, “It’s so hot, fuck…” her breathy moans floated directly into Parker’s ear whilst still riding out his orgasm, pumping the Korean woman full with his semen. After it subsided, fatigue hit him like a brick wall, but he persisted through. “Impressive, you’re still going so hard despite having just came,” she noted, teasing him but herself feeling near the edge. Parker’s breaths started coming out more roughly than ever before, and it wasn’t even due to the building soreness in his arms; he fought against the fatigue with all his might, determined to finally be done and go home. His efforts paid off, Jessica’s building orgasm just about reaching a breaking point. “I’m so fucking close, oh god,” she breathed, her chest heaving even more and her lower region tightening.

“Cum already then, goddamn it,” Parker growled, the words slipping out without a second thought, his frustrations exposed by how delirious the fatigue started to make him feel.

The aggressive assertion was the tipping point, Jessica letting out an ecstatic yelp as her entire body shook in Parker’s arms, her back arching and her erect nipples drawing random patterns on his chest, her legs that were wrapped around his waist tensing and squeezing the lean man’s body, her hands tightly grabbing fistfuls of his hair as she continued bouncing on Parker’s cock, riding out her orgasm. Nearly a minute later, when her orgasm finally subsided, Parker let Jessica down.

“Found your outfit?” he asked, his own chest heaving while his body attempted to reoxygenate his sore muscles.

“Yep!” she claimed, reaching up and pulling out a quaint yellow dress with an uneven bar of white running along the bottom. “Thanks for helping Parker!”

Thankfully, despite seeing that his erection had yet to subside, Jessica let him go back home. Despite still only being morning, he collapsed onto his bed. Surely, after Hunter came back from his business trip, Jessica would stop with all this nonsense. Right?

Next chapter here.

[ddejavvu]

This came to me in a dream but reader doing an acupressure move on Aaron’s hand whenever he’s too frowny and tense that makes him see stars and basically drift up to nirvana and all the tightness in his body release and the first time they do it he’d be so confused like why do you want my hand??? but okay here take I- 🤨🤨😐😦😧🤤😵‍💫

Bonus points bc the team would be like YOU CAN TURN OFF HIS OSCAR-THE-GROUCH MODE??? NEVER LEAVE THIS TEAM.

Just wanted to share idk what part of my uncultured brain spawned acupressure theory this evening but I’ll take it 🤠<3

Aaron's grumpy again. Most of the time he is, at least within the confines of his work hours. It's hard to smile when you're looking for abducted teenagers, but if he frowns any harder, he'll get stuck that way.

"There has to be something we're missing," He presses, narrowed eyes surveying the crime scene photos, "This level of violence is extreme, there's no need for this much overkill."

"Maybe he's fascinated with the blood," Reid suggests, hands coming up to aid in his explanation, "Y'know, some serial killers only kill for blood. There's various reasons for it, maybe they collect it, maybe they drink it, maybe they have some event in their past that makes it significant to them, but whatever it is, the killing isn't what they need, the blood is."

"Well these are teenage girls," Derek sighs, "Maybe the unsub lost a girlfriend or a sister in a pretty bloody way? Like a shooting, or a car accident or something?"

The table falls silent, each profiler extrapolating possibilities. You're halfway to reaching a possible conclusion, a suggestion about hunting on your tongue, but you see Aaron's fingers brush together, and it distracts you. He does it when he's anxious, and you're noticing it more and more lately.

You reach for his hand instead of speaking. You'll help later, when Aaron isn't suffering like this. Your fingers brush against his skin as you take his palm into your grip, and he looks at you from the side of his eye disapprovingly.

"Y/N," He murmurs, but no attempt at keeping his voice silent masks it from the other silent members of the team, "Now isn't the time for personal-" You squeeze at a tender spot on his hand methodically, "Relations..."

His face relaxes, wrinkles and ridges ebbing away as his eyes flutter shut involuntarily. You grin as wide as possible while sitting in front of bloody crime scene photos, happy you're able to provide even momentary relief.

"What was that?" Aaron looks at you, half suspicious and half dazed.

"Acupressure," You announce proudly, "It helps, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Aaron nods, running his fingers over the patch of skin that you'd pressed on, "It does."

"Where'd you learn that?" Rossi leans across the table.

"I was getting migraines from stress," You admit, "It helps to calm me down."

"Well, you're more of a magician than Spencer, Y/L/N," Derek grins, "You just melted that frown right off his face."

"Actually, acupressure isn't magic." Spencer starts, and he pointedly ignores the sighs that echo around the room, "It's a pseudoscience that originates from Chinese alternative medicine, and it works by targeting pressure points in your body that are supposedly linked to your 'life energy'. There've been several studies surrounding it which produced varying positive results, the most remarkable of which have documented illnesses actually being cured." He blinks once, twice after finishing, lips curving up into a half-smile that pudges his cheeks where they end.

"Well, uh, card tricks aren't magic either," Prentiss is the first to speak, "So I guess none of us are wizard-ready."

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

thinking about whether or not FL sheds his fluff

imagine its summer and after a long day of dealing with whatever crap goes down in their workplace while having to deal with the ridiculously high temperatures, reader just wants to cuddle with their beastly lover (who just so happens to be covered in 90% metal and would definitely feel cool to the touch) but as soon as they step into their house, they realise something. There is purple fluff on almost every surface of the house and not a few seconds later did the culprit come sprinting towards the reader, bringing them into a hug, delighted to see them after a long day. Reader reaches to pet FL’s fluff only to watch it fall out with the single light touch. At first they immediately retract their hand afraid that FL has contracted some sort of illness that causes hair (fluff?) loss. FL looks at reader questioningly, wondering why they aren’t giving him his usual pets. Reader tells FL to put them down and as soon as their feet touch the ground, they are booking it out of the house and back into the city to look for Zhongli. After finding the man, they explain the situation and Zhongli laughs, telling them that FL is simply shedding his fur to cope with the hotter weather recently. With this the reader lets out as sigh of relief and heads back hime just to find FL pouting, thinking that reader had abandoned him. Reader then apologises to him and exxplains what happened and the situation is then cleared up.

(Imagine reader collecting the fur and using it for some art project)

-Sleepy anon

sleepy anon, i LOVE the way your mind works

Foul Legacy immediately starts purring and nudging himself against you, getting soft purple fuzz all over your clothes- can you scritch him, please? it's scratchy! he shakes his head slightly and even more tufts of it fall out and drift onto the floor, and you just let out a single long sigh, opening the closet to fetch your broom. the next one to two hours are spent gathering every single bit of fluff that you can find, sweeping it off the floor and tables and random corners of your house- how it got on top of the bookcase of all things, you'll never know- and finally sitting Legacy down and giving his fur and hair a thorough brushing for good measure, clouds of lilac fur clinging to the comb and a very happy purring Abyss creature tilting his head this way and that so you get all the right areas. it takes until nightfall, and you're exhausted afterwards, but finally your house is clean and Legacy has shed all that excess fur, the ruff around his shoulders looking smaller but more manageable and Legacy looking very comfy and pleased with himself

so now you're left with a large bag of shed Abyss monster fur- what do you do with it?

well, the obvious answer is to make it into yarn and knit. not that you really need anything knitted right now, given the temperature and all, but it'll be nice once winter comes around again. you have enough Foul Legacy fluff to knit a few scarves, so the first one you make goes to none other than Legacy himself, who quickly wraps it around his neck with a delighted trill, cooing at the familiar texture and scent. he insists that you make a matching one for yourself- that way everyone knows that you're his and he's yours! the last one goes to Zhongli, who smiles warmly as he picks it up and asks what the material is. without missing a beat you just point at Legacy's fur, and have to bite your tongue to keep from wheezing when Zhongli snorts a laugh into his teacup

[aggressivelyclueless]

@starfleetrambo this one was for u ^_^

in which martin calls in sick and jon feels the heavy absence of his insufferable assistant. he tells himself he just needs to make sure he's not being haunted by another flesh hive again as he heads to martin's apartment carrying ingredients for soup and his favourite tea.

For an early Tuesday afternoon, the train was quiet.  Jon shifted the bag from one hand to the other, checking its contents yet again: potatoes, onion, carrots, beans, ham-hock. . . he couldn't possibly have forgotten anything.  That was absurd.  He knew exactly what he was doing, and it wasn't like there was any difficulty to it.

But this was stupid.  It was probably nothing.

Probably.

When he'd grabbed his coat and left the Institute an hour prior, he hadn't thought he'd be taking the whole afternoon off.  Just an extended lunch, he'd told Tim on the way out -- you and Sasha both, eh? Tim said, feigning surprise, leaving me unsupervised?  Y'think that's wise?

Perhaps it wasn't, Jon mused, although he wasn't going to say so.  He told himself he just had to get out of the Archives for a while, that he'd spent too many hours shut into his office, that it was somehow too quiet that day, that maybe he was finally driving himself insane and he needed a break.

That must have been it.

Kindness?  Of course not.  Jon couldn't even stand him.

The train carried a chill but the cold drifted in, bitter, when the doors opened, and by the time Jon ascended the steps to street level he'd pulled the collar of his coat up as high as it would go.  Wishing for gloves (ah, perhaps he had forgotten something after all), he went into a trot down the sidewalk, clutching his little bag of supplies and heading the handful of blocks across Stockwell.  It was due to snow after nightfall, said the weatherman, but Jon didn't see it.

Clouds, maybe.  Snow?  Probably not.

The flat was a square building comprised of battered red brick, and the naked hedges out front shivered under a line of twinkling net lights as Jon made his approach.  He didn't envy them.  He tread carefully, minding the ice, and paused at the front door.

His thumb smashed the button on the callbox, inches away from numb at this point with his nose and the tips of his ears to follow.  The hand tried, almost successfully, to make a dash for his coatpocket; it might have gotten there if the little light on the callbox hadn't blinked on.  The other hand, closed stiff around the bag, was condemned to suffer for another minute until he got inside.

Assuming he got an answer, anyhow.

But the crackly callbox speaker came to life, although it didn't sound healthy.  "Hullo?"

"Martin?  . . . it's Jon.  Can I come in?"

Audible surprise from the speaker, which may or may not have dissolved into a coughing fit as the sound cut out.  A moment later, somewhat recomposed: "Jon. . . ?  What are you doing here?  It's Tuesday -- ?"

"Yes, I know," said Jon, convinced that his hands were never going to forgive him for such horrible abuse.  His fingers had given up on feeling: the one planted on the callbox was retaining the indentation where the button had been pressed, but refused to acknowledge any sensation of it whatsoever.  Lovely.

But Martin, damn him, took his time.  "Thought you had work to do. . . ?"

"Erm, well," said Jon, knowing the longer he hesitated, the longer it would be until he could get any functionality in his fingers back.  He closed and opened them a few times, minding that he didn't pull the new scar on the back of his hand too tightly.  "I. . . heard you were ill."

". . . so you came all the way to my flat?"

Jon sighed.  "You remember what happened the last time you took sick leave?"  He hoped that Martin wouldn't press it, and that this reason was one he could stick to.  He didn't; it was; the front doors clicked open a second later.  Jon let himself in, taking in the warm air for a moment, trying to coax his hands to regain any shred of dexterity.  The stairway to the left, its banister assaulted with tinsel and lights, took him right to the landing for Number Three.

The door had been left ajar.

Jon gave the wooden frame a few raps with his knuckle.  "Martin?"

"S'open," came the reply from the pile of blankets on the sofa, only visible as Jon pushed the door open further.  Martin was in there somewhere, presumably -- only once the blankets shifted did Jon actually see his face.

"Oh, good lord, are you doing all right?" said Jon, swinging the door shut again behind him.  Martin looked to have slept less than Jon had (if that was at all possible), which became doubly obvious without his glasses on; his face was paper-white, his eyes somehow dull.  The smell of sick hung lightly about him.

"Yeah?" Martin croaked, squinting for a second; remembering the glasses on the coffee table, one hand came out from under a corner of quilt and retrieved them.  "Yeah, I'm okay.  Will be, I mean, I've been taking it easy. . . "  He elected not to mention the three hours he'd spent that morning almost-throwing-up.  Since then he'd had nothing but juice, and even that was only when he could drag himself to the fridge to refill his glass.  That hadn't been for a while.

"Yes, well," said Jon, setting the bag on the counter so he could shirk his coat off.  "I brought you something -- ah.  Well.  Some things.  I thought they'd help."

"What?"

"It's all right, don't -- no, don't get up.  Stay there."  Jon looked back at Martin, who had already shifted one leg over the front of the couch; at Jon's command, he froze.  "Stay there."

Martin complied, too confused not to.  Was this another fever dream? he wondered.  He was fairly certain he was conscious, but then again, Jon-inviting-himself-into-his-flat seemed like it should have been in that sort of territory.  At least it wasn't as panic-inducing as the one from earlier where Elias had left him a voicemail saying he was fired (he'd had to check his phone no less than four times after coming round from that one).  So, really, it could have been worse.

At least it was Jon here.  Fever dream or not, Martin didn't think he'd be able to handle it if it were anyone else.

"Jon?" he said carefully, having settled back down again amidst the least-sweat-damped of the blankets.  "What's this about, really?"

Ah, Jon wasn't getting off the hook after all.  He should have known.  "Excuse me?"

"Why are you here?"

"As I said.  I had to know nothing happened to you," said Jon patiently, having decided well in advance that that was the reason he was sticking to.  Any other justification for it was unnecessary, definitely not worth thinking about (oh, but the Archives had just been so quiet) and even less worth mentioning.

"And. . . it hasn't?" said Martin, and Jon got the feeling he was expected to elaborate.

He did not.

"You're still here?" Martin spelled out, and added before Jon had a chance to misinterpret him: "And you've got. . . what's in there?  Potatoes?"

"Erm, quite."  Jon's hand pulled one out, didn't exactly know what to do with it just yet, held onto it.  "I didn't want to have wasted the trip, seeing as you're -- well -- "  The vague gesture he made to the sofa nest said it for him.  "I thought making some soup might help."

"Soup?"

"Well you've got to eat something," said Jon, frowning at the taste that left in his mouth.  He didn't like having to say it, especially after the number of times Martin had caught him right after a statement to say the same (at least he had the decency not to interrupt these days, although the idea of him sitting around and listening right outside Jon's office door didn't appeal too much either).  "Besides, you'll have leftovers after so you won't have to make anything for a few days if you're not up for it."

For a moment Martin just stared, as if his brain had been shorted out and was in the process of redirecting his entire train of thought.  Once it was back on its tracks again, he found his voice, although it was faint.  "You'd do that. . . for me?"

Jon said nothing, only nodded once.

"But I thought you hated me. . . ?"

Jon was not prepared for how badly that stung.  Admittedly, he'd made no secret of it -- not at first, not to Tim and Sasha, not on tape, not for months.  At least once (probably more, he suspected), he'd made Martin cry; he was more than capable of voicing that dislike to his face. . .

. . . but it wasn't really true anymore, was it?

Why had he come out here, again?

"I don't," said Jon at last, but he found he couldn't look Martin in the eye now.  What's he good for; useless ass; can't he get anything right; and that was just the beginning of it.  "Maybe I shouldn't. . . "

No, there wasn't room for the maybe.

"I shouldn't have been so hard on you."

It's just that. . .

Jon bit it back.  Let the stress stay at the Archives -- please, just for a few hours -- lord knew he'd be back.  There were a hundred excuses he could have made, a hundred things he didn't dare to tell anyone.  He wanted to; holding that much distrust was tough.  But he couldn't.  Not yet.

But, damn, how much damage was he going to do in the meantime?

"Martin. . . I'm sorry."

Martin said nothing.

He didn't have to.  Jon knew what he must have looked like -- how many nights he'd spent whispering things into his tape recorder that no one but him was allowed to hear.  What he wanted -- what he said he wanted -- was no more secrets.  But did he, really?

His eyes went down again to the scar on the back of his hand, barely healed.

Wasn't he becoming another one of them anyway?

The loud, wet sniffle from the couch made Jon look up: Martin was staring at him, now pink-faced, those huge eyes brimming with tears.  "S'alright," he said, barely above a whisper.  "I know you're -- "

"No," said Jon, "it's not alright.  I. . . it's been a rough few months.  Since -- well."  He sighed.  Count that twice now he'd made Martin cry.  "I know I've been -- ah, off -- and I'm sorry.  I want to help.  Honest."

Martin ran the back of his wrist under his eyes, regaining his composure for the most part.  Exactly what to make of this, he wasn't sure just yet -- but, sick or not, he couldn't turn down the idea of Jon maybe being a little less bristly for once.  "Okay," he said, and Jon visibly relaxed.

"Do you think you could stomach some tea?  I could put the kettle on for you."

"Maybe," said Martin, indicating the looseleaf cabinet with a glance.  "And maybe a nap, too."

"Okay," said Jon, "take your time.  Now, how about I'll get that soup started? so it will be ready for you by dinnertime."

Martin nodded slowly, tugging the blankets a little more closely around him.  "All right. . . but you'd better have some too.  I'm not the only one that's got to eat, you know."

"I know."  Usually, Jon would say it only to get Martin off his back, but this time he was right.  He'd forgotten about lunch, having been busy at the market, and he'd be an irritable prick (moreso than usual, at least) if he skipped dinner as well.  Yes, Martin was right about that.

More than just that, he supposed.  He looked over; Martin had settled back down again, no doubt minutes from dozing off.  Jon let him.  He really had needed to get out of the Archives, needed to take everything in his mysteries-box and just put it down for a few hours.  He hadn't realized how heavy it had gotten, only the things he kept dropping into it.

Besides, it was still going to be there tomorrow, and every day after that.  He had plenty of time to sort it all out.

Maybe, once he stopped making so many excuses, he would allow himself to have a little help doing it.

Outside the window, the first stirs of snowflakes had begun to drift down from the clouds.

[v3nusxsky]

I came from the comment section on the pt2 of housewife and as an angst fan and writer of Larissa please! I need a taste of my own medicine.

reader comes down ill with some sort of virus that can only affect outcasts- and because of that no cure has been made resulting in reader either hospitalised or dead 🙏🤭

or this can just be like a one shot on its own

To lose you now

*Authors note~  now for the flip side ending and I would just like to start off with and apology to those who wanted fluff... rip your feelings*

Trigger Warnings~ angst  near character death illness needles etc

Prompt~see ask^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

The throwing up never stopped over the past three days. Larissa was growing concerned, nothing you ate or drank stayed in your system and your body was becoming weak. Your ability going mental a lot of the time. Rapidly flickering through different ranges of flowers and vines that you had no control over. All you could do is lay in bed or sit with your head over the bowl of the toilet. You were exhausted and desperately pleading with Larissa to make this stop now. Of course Larissa tried. But no amount of over the counter medicines seemed to help combat the illness, that's when she made the decision to take you to the hospital.

You always hated hospitals, the smells and noises and the annoying shades of white everywhere, it was all too much. But Larissa knew something was very wrong when you just resigned to your fate and slumped down into the uncomfortable bed before letting sleep claim you. All she could do is sit by your bedside and silently stew in worry your hand in hers as you slept, ignoring the steady beeping of the monitors.

Doctors and nurses were in and out of your hospital room doing all sorts of tests and inserting cannulas and IVs. All through this you never even stirred, your body limp allowing them to manipulate you however they needed to. That was concerning not only to your blonde wife but to the professionals. No amount of poking and prodding seemed to wake you up. Although that did mean you were obviously to all the tests they were running. Perhaps that's for the best. After all, the answers were either negative or inconclusive  which would upset you. You just want to feel better but nothing helps achieve that for you.

Larissa was shocked when you groggily bolted upright and immediately try to locate the bathroom. However this isnt your room and everything is all discombobulated for you. So Larissa immediately jumped up to guide you. "Shh sweetheart it's okay, look it's this way my love" she murmured before scoping your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you did what you needed to. "Don't cry sweetheart it's Okay. We are in the right place now. They will fix you up okay my sweet girl" she whispered soothingly in an attempt to hush your sobs.

It wasn't too long before you settled back on the bed groggily picking at the items embedded on your skin. "Sweet girl you can't do that my love" she mumbled reassuring you that it's okay but also had her climbing onto the bed to hold you close and prevent you from doing the action. That's how you drifted back into a sleep unknowingly developing a fever.

The doctor reappeared a few hours later, where she principal informed him of the bout of sickness and the fact you felt uncharacteristically warm, so of course he wanted to check your temperature but to do so he needed Larissa to move from you for a moment. You immediately clutched onto her and whined, "no stay nerf you ris sooo mchs" with your eyes still screwed tightly shut. With a sad smile the doctor let Larissa stay with you and took your temperature. Upon reading it he knew what to test for next. Hopefully he would be wrong but with all the evidence backing the theory it was looking very much like a possibility.  

An hour later a doctor and nurse stood in the doorway, the previous doctor having finished his shift so you now had another doctor. And they delivered the worst news Larissa could've ever imagined. The testing confirmed you'd some how contracted Wolfsbane into your bloodstream and it was now slowing your heartbeat and essentially killing you from the inside out. They could try to counteract it but the success rate was low especially with your ability.

Larissa knew she had to tell you, so she gently tried to stir you awake, "come on sweet girl, it's time to wake up" she murmured to you as you sleepily lolled your head to the side, "mmm?" A hand in your hair and her encouragement to open your eyes had you fighting your body to please your wife. "Darling have you had Wolfsbane?" Your poor groggy mind couldn't remember too much just that Marilyn gifted her a new plant and instructed her to tend to it like she would her other plants. So of course she allowed the plant to have access to her veins, without realising it could kill you.

That small bit of information was all you could offer before collapsing once more into a slumber. The doctors now knowing what they are treating, made them able to set to work on it. Because it was in your bloodstream they had to extract it and give you some blood transfusions. All of which took time and posed a risk of being too late. All Larissa could do is hold you during the process as you cried out during your sleep at the pain it was causing you. All she could do it try to reassure and comfort you, preventing you from ripping out the lines for your medication in a hope you'd recover from this. For now you were unable to leave the hospital as your condition remained critical. Larissa staying with you, there was no where else she would've rather been than holding her sick wife in her arms.

Word count~ 1025

[mosneakers]

As howls fade and glasses clink no more, the beasts that patron Grimtooth Bar and Bunker empty into the moonlit night, leaving Selene to share her intimate secrets with Brick beneath the ancient Moonwood trees. Her sponge mopping away not just spills from the night, but also the weight of her past since that ominous night.

Selene: So there I was. I had about 17 hours left before this illness either ran its course or took full effect, and a journal entry with a supposed werebies cure. I had my poor papa running around Moonwood Mill searching high and low for the ingredients listed in the entry while I experimented on the stove. So when the time—

Random Werewolf: Hey... Are you Monty's son? Brick Darling? Brick: [Balls his fist] Who's askin'? Random: Hey don't bite the messenger. I was just sent to let you know you're supposed to report to the Moonwood Mill pack leader.

Brick: I'm in the middle of a conversation with this nice, pretty, smart, young lady and you're all up in my shit, my guy. Random: I don't want any trouble, just following orders.

Brick: Why don't you let him know he can report to the Ligma pack leader.

Random: Look, whatever dude. [Scurries off]

Selene: Got em'. Brick: Damn right. [Fist bumps] Selene: But... Montgomery isn't who you think he is. I don't want to pry in familial business or anything, Brick... but maybe just hear him out. He's fiercely devoted to the pack. I have a lot of respect for him and the whole Collective. In fact, they're a huge part of the reason I have this bar. Brick: …That so?

Selene: Yes. You see, when I discovered the cure, I aimed to establish a sanctuary, providing an escape for those seeking refuge from our shared fate. The Moonwood Collective and the Wildfangs, despite their differences, united to aid in the creation of this haven. It not only serves as a place for werewolves to gather freely, transcending pack biases, but also offers the werebies cure and houses an operational bunker, extending a lifeline to those enduring the same plight as Lou and I did during that dreadful ordeal.

Brick: Damn you sound like a book, that's so hot haha. But seriously that’s really cool, Selene. You know, I'm a builder, if you're ever needin' help with anything. Selene: I'll keep that in mind! Feel free to take a look around. I'm especially proud of the bar. It's the heart of the place.

Brick: I mean, solid work. Especially for a beginner. Selene: Hey, thanks!

As Selene gets back to scrubbing the bar, Brick's gaze drifts over to her shoulders, noticing the severe scars marred across her back.

Selene: ...They're horrifying, aren't they? Brick: What? No. They're tough. You survived that shit, baby girl. And that ain't easy. You're tough.

Selene: Well sometimes... it feels like after Greg, and then Lou, I...[shrugs] I don't know. Brick: …You need one of us who's gentler with you?

Selene: Brick... I wanted to be sure of something. I'm not... your fated mate or anything am I? Brick: I... don't know how to answer that question. Last time I tried I pissed someone off. Selene: It's not a trick question. Just tell me. Brick: No. You're not.

Selene: In that case...

. . .

Brick: [Whispers] You're gonna have to explain this to me later, because I'm really confused...

Selene: That's fine, it's cute when you're confused. And I think I've done enough talking...

Brick: Now you're talkin' my language...

[forest-falcon]

Inspired by @riallasheng 's Scott/Alan observation

https://www.tumblr.com/riallasheng/727079051307761664/it-was-just-such-a-cute-little-thing-i-wanted?source=share

Sprout

Lucy rinsed her mouth out in the sink.

Pregnancy was the gift that just kept on giving.

The veteran mom pressed her head against the cool paintwork of the bathroom door.

Only twelve hours until the kids' bedtime.

A distant crash had her acting before she had time to think. She swung the door open and almost collided with a child on the way out.

"Oooh Scottie! I didn't see you there! Everything okay sweetheart?"

Scott nodded, but continued to hover.

Lucy waited. She could tell that he was itching to ask her something...or maybe confess - but what, she had no idea.

A moment passed. Then another.

"Mom, are you poorly?"

That threw her.

Her brain fumbled for words.

"Erm...no love, I'm okay."

She did her best to rally a smile, but she could see that her eldest remained unconvinced.

She squeezed his hand

"Really Scooter, I'm fine."

The young boy hugged her. Blue eyes, so like his father's, drifted up to meet her own.

"But I heard you."

Those eyes challenged hers. Daring her to claim to be fine, when he knew better.

Her little boy wasn't so little anymore.

Usually, it was Virgil who took the title of being the worrier of the family, but Scott had never been far behind. The youngster forever trying to fill the shoes of his legendary father. And forever trying to take care of everyone in his absence.

"Now Scottie, you're the eldest. That makes you the man of the house while I'm gone. I'm counting on you to set a good example for the others and to help out where you can. Make me proud, son."

"I will dad."

"Attaboy!"

Jeff would toussle his hair with a fond smile.

And then he was gone.

For how long, Scott never knew. Time had a habit of dissolving into meaninglessness numbers as a child.

Part of him longed for adulthood so it would all make sense. He'd know exactly how long his dad would be gone for. He'd know exactly when he'd be coming home.

Until then, it would be Mom and him against the world. He had to look after her; she was his constant. As long as he had her, the numbers didn't matter. Mom would always be there to love and reassure. Mom would never leave him.

"Okay, Scottie. Yes I was sick, but no; I'm not ill."

She guided her eldest to a soft seat, where they could have this conversation properly then scooped him up closer for a cuddle on the sofa.

"That literally makes no sense." The child puzzled.

"You're sick, but you're not sick?"

Lucy gave a small chuckle, which Scott emulated without really being sure what he was smiling about.

"I don't suppose you'll really remember before Gordie was born? I think you would have been about six when I was expecting him, seven when he was born."

"You mean when you had the huge belly?"

Scott beamed.

Lucy gave a small laugh.

"Yes. Yes, when I had the huge belly. Well, right at the beginning, I was sick then too. Growing a baby can do that."

Scott pondered thoughtfully for a moment.

"That sucks."

Lucy sighed.

"Yeah. It does suck a bit. But, the payoff is that I got you and your brothers at the end of it all."

She squeezed him in again.

"And, later this year, it looks like you'll be getting another brother - or sister." She watched carefully for the eldest's reaction. Life was already pretty chaotic, though there was no shortage of love.

"But you don't have a big belly now?"

Relief washed over the tired mom.

Scott really was a sweetheart.

"Well, baby's still got a lot of growing to do."

"Oh. So how big is the baby? Is it like...this big?"

Scott roughly gestured the size of a newborn with his hands.

Lucy smiled.

"Smaller Scottie."

"Like this?"

The eldest child closed the span of his hands by half.

Lucy pulled out her phone.

"I have an app on here that can tell us..."

Scott rested his head on his mum's shoulder.

"Let's see...11.5 weeks. Baby is the size of a sprout!"

"A sprout?" Scott said, wrinkling up his nose.

"That's funny."

Lucy kissed the top of Scott's head. He smiled at her momentarily before sliding from the sofa so that his face rested upon her lap instead.

Ever so gently, the young boy placed a hand to her stomach and he smiled.

"Hey there Sprout."

[mishapocalyse]

Perfect Heart (Part One)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warning ⚠️: Depictions of self harm, suicidal tendencies and mentions of depression and mental illness. Language. Later --sexual themes. Description: Dean and Sam went on a hunt, leaving you to your own devices. A week before they left you overheard them talking about you leaving you to feel as worthless as ever.

Read at your own risk.

Note: If you’re struggling just know you are never alone.

Dean had been waiting on you to call him back as he had left several voice messages and fifteen missed calls in your voicemail box. He wasn't at all worried, he knew you. You would accidentally leave your phone on Do Not Disturb while you were busy working on something, whether it would be finishing that book series or binge watching your shows on Netflix.

He trusted that you were safe and sound back at the bunker, while he and Sam took their time driving back from a hunt damn near five hours from you. Dean planned on making some dinner for the two of you.

Probably something he wouldn't burn, like spaghetti, or just picking up something so that he wouldn't risk it. Whatever he planned on doing, he knew you would appreciate it.

You would have appreciated it, if you were even stable enough to pick yourself up off of your bedroom floor. You stared into space, fighting this game of tug o' war inside your head.

Contemplating whether or not you would actually do it. Whether you would off yourself tonight, or wait another couple months when you hit rock bottom in the comfort of your bedroom.

Your eyes squinted, the lights were too bright, the walls too dark, and such a suffocating color. You had your knees pulled up against you, trying so hard to comfort yourself, steadily rocking back and forth.

"I'm okay." You said to yourself between breaths. "I'll be just fine."

That voice in the back of your mind would not keep quiet, though. The dark, amalgamation of voices, of childhood trauma and past relationships coming back to haunt you, when you thought you had finally gotten away from it all.

You tugged your jacket a bit tighter around yourself, tucked your head between your legs, trying to breath as calmly as you could. Your thoughts drifted away, to Dean and to Sam. The two brothers who you thought so highly of. But you heard their conversation a couple of days before they had left.

That was a week ago.

You were walking down the hallway, about to head down to the common area when you heard the two brothers arguing downstairs.

"Do you really think I wanted to bring her along? Y/N? One of these days she's going to get herself killed." Dean huffs.

"Then why don't you tell her to leave then? Get it over with. She can go home, back to her apartment. And never have to see us again." Sam replied, a loud slam on the table made her jump, it was probably either Dean or Sam throwing their stuff onto one of the tables.

"I couldn't do that. I couldn't just tell her to leave. It would make things a hell of a lot worse. If it were up to me or you or anyone. The best choice would just let her go. Let her make her mistake." Dean retorts, the chair squeaking as she heard his sigh sitting down.

Sam scoffs. "Just let her die then? That's as bad as saying for her to just kill herself, Dean."

You slowly retreated back to your room in disbelief. You felt like you were dreaming, except it was not even a dream, it was a full blown nightmare. You expected to be safe after that night. But as you had gotten to your room, you could hear the boys coming up the stairs, their voices growing louder as you hurriedly shut off your light and locked the door. They could have easily picked the lock, but hopefully they would just ignore it and go on.

"She still asleep?" You heard Sam ask.

"That's all she ever does anymore, Sam. It's sad, dude." Dean mutters.

Sam stops just right in front of your door, the two pairs of footsteps as it was silent between them for a brief moment.

"Look Dean, I know you're upset at the fact Y/N doesn't hunt with us as often anymore. You need to cut her some fucking slack. I'm not going to lose my best friend because you want to be a dick." Sam growls, walking away, leaving Dean just outside your door.

It takes you a minute to recuperate as you peak up to still see his boots at your door. It doesn't take long, but he knocks, without your surprise.

"You up?" His gruff voice asks. You don't answer, or move. You just wait him out, as you hear him heave a sigh as his boots retreat down the hallway.

Now here you were. They would be back in no time, and you sat with the phone ringing beside you. You tried to act like it was all fine except it wasn't. You drew back your sleeves, your head resting on the side of the bed, your legs now spread out in front of you. It didn't take long for you to lose the battle in your head. The small switchblade you were given by Bobby pricked at your skin as it drew the cleanest of lines.

Just like he said it would.

But Bobby was not meaning it in the way you were using it for. You didn't care though. Even if you did, you wouldn't care for long. Getting a grip you sliced at yourself again, and again and again until you were numb. You wanted to go slow, so that you could pray to that asshole who sat at his computer writing the Winchester's story and never putting you in it. You were the least important and the one who was always picked last. Who would care if you took yourself out of the picture.

Not Dean.

Not Sam.

Not Castiel or Gabriel.

Not anyone.

You felt alone; you were alone.

And you were going to die alone.

You were getting tired, not being able to feel your arms. Would tonight be your last night in the bunker? You surely hoped so.

Dean and Sam entered the bunker, after a quick stop at the closest fast food shop, Dean placed the bags of food on the table, hurriedly going up the steps to your room to annoy you into coming down. He crept up to your bedroom door, and waited. Your light was on, and the soft noise of your TV made it seem like you were awake. He raised his hands and began to bang on your door, jolting you awake again. You had drifted off, and began to panic as you realized you were covered in your blood and the scars on your arms were still oozing blood. You cursed as you dragged yourself off of the floor, as much as you hated yourself, you had to get up. Getting the energy to haul yourself into the bathroom you stripped and bathed yourself. The water stung, and the pain was a bit more than you could take so after cleaning yourself you hopped out. Patching yourself up with the first aid kit you hid under the sink you awkwardly shuffle into a t-shirt, a large sweatshirt, and a clean pair of sweatpants. You threw away the clothes you hurt yourself in tossing them under the bed until later. You took the rug that was normally in front of the bed to cover the stains from your burden.

"Y/N? What's taking so long? Your foods gonna' get cold, dummy." You heard Dean on the other side of the door. The doorknob jiggled.

"Why's the door locked? You okay in there?" You didn't answer him. Instead you looked at yourself in the mirror and sure enough you looked like absolute shit. You didn't care. Wandering to the door, you unlocked it and sure enough Dean Winchester stood there, leaning against the door frame with a smile.

"Hey Y/N/N--" He froze. You didn't bother even hearing him at the moment. You trudged downstairs seeing Sam as he gave a wave and small smile which you ignored as you grabbed your food, passing Dean on the way back up, earning a confused look. You hurried back to your room, making sure to lock back up, settling down on the floor, facing away from the door. You had set your food on the dresser, not bothering to eat either. You weren't hungry, but you didn't want the two brothers to be concerned about you.

Dean sat next to Sam and nudged him. "Is Y/N okay?" Dean said in between bites of his sandwich. Sam shrugged looking at his brother.

"I don't know. I think it's best we chalk it up that she needs space."

The two brothers nod to each other.

"Agreed."

[sarcasticsweetlara]

The Parallels between Laena and Rhaenyra

Crédit to @beneaththeweirwood

They both were friends from the beginning and something that is really interesting is how their relationship was so deep and how it affected both their lives.

Whether you think they were more than friends or not, we can not deny Rhaenyra and Laena shared a bond not many have in the World of Ice and Fire.

Maybe Laena was lesbian or bisexual or asexual (I just love how most of Corlys' children seemed to have been LGBTQIA) as at first we are told Laena seemed to have been more interested in dragons than in men (and this opinion never changes) and later that many across the Narrow Sea seemed to have found her surpassingly lovely.

According to speculations it is possible Laena had had affairs with other men and women before Daemon, or Laena perhaps had already had been in a relationship with Rhaenyra and if she married Daemon they both could keep seeing her one way or another, or maybe Laena simply wedded Daemon because he would not judge her for not really being interested in having sex and at least that way she would fulfill her duty with someone she trusted and Daemon would get heirs and still support Rhaenyra. (Daemon never impregnated Rhaenyra during that time because it would be obvious if the child looked like him - who would be supposed to be the great-uncle of the child so it would be obvious -, and also because you like it or not and choose to believe it or not, Daemon respected Laena, as well as Rhaenys and Corlys enough to not mess with the matters of their House and because Daemon wanted his own children to be recognized as Targaryens not bastards considering how proud he is.)

Either way, it's interesting how many things played out on these scenarios that are so similar:

- Both had been considered heirs to the Iron Throne, Laena was passed over by her brother's claim both to the Iron Throne and Rhaenyra was usurped by the useless Sloth Aegon; and even then their descendants claimed thrones and prowess and overthrew the bunch of the Green traitors, Rhaenyra's sons, grandsons and granddaughters became kings and queens and another grandson of Rhaenyra became the best knight Westeros ever saw and other two granddaughters created alliances, while Laena's grandchildren through Baela were Lords of Driftmark and her daughter Rhaena improved the relations of House Targaryen with the Vale and targified House Hightower making them a cadet-branch that would have to follow the orders of House Targaryen.

- Daughters and granddaughters of Heirs to the Iron Throne.

- Both were dragonriders from a young age in a remarkable manner.

- Laena gave birth to the dragon twins Baela and Rhaena in her first pregnancy and later in her second birth, her son (named Aemon in my headcanons) who had a draconian appearance, only lived for an hour and then died with Laena following three days later, depriving her of seeing her daughters grow up and couldn't even get to name her son herself because of her illness.

- Rhaenyra after having her first three sons, married Daemon and with him she had two more sons in different pregnancies and then in her last pregnancy she miscarried and gave birth to a stillborn daughter Visenya, later to add salt to the wound she saw her first three sons die one by one and thought baby Viserys had died in the sea as well, only having Aegon the Younger and her stepdaughters Baela and Rhaena around.

- They both lost the youngest of their children, Laena's only son and Rhaenyra's only daughter, before tragedies followed them: Laena had a burning fever for three days before losing her strength and dying, while Rhaenyra lost almost all of her sons and was murdered by her half-brother.

- And more important, after all their battles and opposition from enemies their lines were the ones that carried on with their Houses.

These two women had many things in common and even if the world wanted to drift them apart, their bond was so strong that even death couldn't do them apart; Laena's daughters protected Rhaenyra's sons and gave them agency and Aegon III named a son and a daughter after both of them, and Viserys II named his son Aemon after Baela and Rhaena's great-grandfather, and spent a lot of time with them flying, visiting them and listening to them.

[cozyenigma]

Twist of Fate

Word Count- 1319

Request?- Nope!

Summary- An alternate retelling around a certain party, minus one guest

Tag List- @cookielover0001010, @swag-droid , @watchoutforfrostbite

Warnings- None

At the end of the day what saved Damien's life wasn't some miracle or heroic intervention.

It was a child sneezing in his face at a party. The counselman, damned if Damien could remember his name now, just laughed and said something about kids being kids. Ever professional Damien waved it off, managing to joke right back while going for a handkerchief.

And then he woke up with a sore throat two days later.

Of course it didn't stay at just that. Voice rough as sandpaper, Damien had to phone his secretary that he wouldn't be in. If how he felt right now was anything to go by he'd be out for a few days at least. It wasn't in his nature to sit still. Not since he was a child. Especially not since he injured his leg. The time immediately after the accident was one of the worst periods in his life not only for the pain and the limitations he suddenly found on himself but for the immobility. Waiting for his body to repair itself was as painful as the torn muscles and ligaments.

Damien signed, pinching the bridge of his nose. While his colleagues convinced him to stay out of the office he could at least make some headway with these forms. Or try anyways. The constant pounding behind his eyes seemed to have other ideas.

There was a light knock on the door. "Come in," he called, voice catching against his irritated throat and sending him into a coughing fit. It was only when he recovered that he saw who it actually was.

"My friend what're you doing here?" He asked, more of a croak than anything.

The district attorney huffed. It was a fond, exasperated noise as they crossed the room. "I was told you had one foot in the grave, Dames. With that cough I don't think they were exaggerating."

Damien waved a hand, setting aside the paper he was trying and failing to parse. "You know better than to listen to their dramatics. I'm fine, just a head cold. These things-"

Damien's voice abruptly choked off in his throat as he turned, seeing the attorney's hand reach out. The back of their hand against his forehead was blissfully cool. The motion hadn't even registered until they were touching him.

"...happen," he finished lamely.

They clicked their tongue, obviously not satisfied with that answer. "You're warm. Probably been feverish all morning and ignoring your body in favor of..." Their eyes drift over the documents in front of him, "meeting minutes."

Over the years he knew well enough he was on the wrong side of this debate.

Still, he cleared his rough throat and tried to defend himself. "It's just so I can be kept up to date."

"It's because you don't know how to sit still."

They ignore Damien's squawk of protest as they snatch his papers away. "You get these back when you don't look like you'll get toppled by a stiff breeze," they wave the bundle as if to extenuate. Damien scowled. "You really don't need the patronizing."

They rolled up the meeting minutes and bopped him on the head like one would a disobedient dog. He batted their hand away as they settled down in a chair opposite his desk. The amusement in their eyes dulled some of his annoyance. Slightly.

"Really, Dames, you gotta take better care of yourself. You look absolutely miserable. If I left right now you'd be asleep at your desk within the hour."

He huffs, fiddling with other bits and bobs on his desk, putting them into place so he'd have something to do with his hands. Normally he had enough discipline to mask the habit but he chalked that up to the illness. "I'm not going to drop dead from a cold, you know. I'm a grown man. I can handle myself."

Something in their gaze softened. "I never said you couldn't. Just that there are people who would prefer to keep you around a little longer? It's alright to take a break and heal every now and then, Dames."

"I- I know that," he fidgets in his seat. Later he'd blame the fever for how much their words flustered him. They shake their head, knowing this was a well worn pattern for him at this point. Instead, they change the subject. "I'm assuming you'll be tapping out on Mark's big party then?"

"That was this weekend wasn't it," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Though that was still a couple days away, he certainly didn't feel up to that kind of get together right now. "I haven't called yet. I had hoped I'd be over this by now."

"He'll mourn your absence with his usual drama. Not to mention sharing your portion of the alcohol." They leaned back in the chair. "I'm sure he'll just use it as an excuse to throw another one later."

"He hasn't had us all in the same room for years," Damien sighed. "Honestly? I was surprised he even planned this- considering. I had wanted to check in on everyone at least."

Hell, he hadn't heard from his sister in some time either. Though that wasn't entirely out of character for her, Damien couldn't help the concern. The tabloids had, unfortunately, left little to the imagination. Whenever Damien reached out he was met with silence.

"I just hope Will doesn't bring any guns," they frowned at the thought. "It'll be awkward enough before mixing in booze and firearms."

"They're not going to shoot each other. Give them some more credit."

The district attorney held up their hands. "I'm just saying they're both hotheads at times. I'll be sure to give you an update on the property damage afterwards."

Seeing his disappointment, they moved their chair closer. Reaching out to clasp his hand, they gave him a reassuring smile. "It won't be the last time we're all together, Dames. I promise. I bet I could get Mark to monologue you a toast too."

A laugh bubbled up out of him and it was all he could do to avoid coughing in their face. His eyes darted to their joined hands and then away again. "I'm sure. Just- be careful? We're not in our college days anymore, old friend."

A gentle squeeze and then the contact was gone. Settled back in their chair like nothing happened.

"I'm always careful," the rueful smile said otherwise. "I'll be back with stories and a hangover and hopefully you'll be able to keep your lungs on the inside by then."

With a roll of his eyes the conversation turned to work related matters. Cases on their desk and how Damien was handling the planning for re-election. In hindsight he'd wished desperately that they had talked about something of more substance. Something more meaningful than debates and fundraising.

But they didn't.

Since they didn't, he bade them a gravely farewell and only coughed once through it. They smiled, said they would bring him soup when they came by next time. The district attorney didn't say anything as they stood to leave. He didn't say anything as he watched them go.

He wishes he did when he didn't hear from them later. He wishes he did when he's pulled into an interview with police officers after the fact. He wishes he did when he first saw the newspapers and tabloids about the scandal, the party, the murders. Damien desperately wishes he could go back and tell them not to go as he views the mansion from the road. Seemingly abandoned if not for the police tape and cordon surrounding the property. Too many uniforms coming and going. Too many questions unanswered.

Everyone was gone. If not for a child sneezing on him he would have been gone along with them. He was the last one left. Damien didn't know which was fate was worse.

[lilxsturniolo1xx]

Not Going Anywhere

pairing: gf! y/n & bf!Matt

summary: where reader has a condition where she faints when she gets stressed, anxious, angry or agitated. what will happen when her and matt get into their biggest argument yet?

contains: use of y/n, arguments, angst, sad, fluff.

Today i woke up surpisingly early to a wave of sickness going through my body. I grabbed the water off my night stand and had a few gulps, hoping to supress this feeling so i could go back to sleep. After eventually drifting into another deep sleep, i eventually awoke again a few hours later to the same sickening feeling. Looking to the left of me i got greeted by the sight of my favourite human, clinging to me like his life depended on it. Being slow with my movements as to not wake him, i tip-toed to the main bathroom of our house. As soon as i got there, my mouth was filling up with the sour liquid that was begging to be freed from my mouth. After what felt like an hour in the bathroom, i decided to go downstairs for a sick bowl to keep at the side of my bed incase it happened again. Whilst i was down there i decided to call in sick to work today as i knew this feeling would not go away anytime soon.

After doing what i needed to do i crawled back into mine and Matts shared bed and tried to go back to sleep. As i was doing so i felt Matts arm wrap around my waist as i heard him try to say something against my back.

"What was that baby?" I asked, whispering just incase he was still asleep.

"I asked if you were okay, youve been up and down all morning princess. whats wrong?" he replies, his morning voice and the volume in which he was speaking making him sound almost inaudible.

"Oh im sorry handsome, i woke up feeling really sick so i had to call in work sick." I said sympathetically, upset knowing i woke him up.

As soon as i said i felt sick he shot up to face me, worry spreading across his face.

" Oh sweetheart, why didnt you wake me up the first time? do you want me to stay with you today? i have things to do but they can wait if you want me to stay with you, i can look after you if you want." The words rushed out of his mouth as though if he talked any slower i would wither away, the words coming out of his mouth melted my heart. Knowing that he was willing to drop everything just to look after me and make sure im okay. I couldnt do that to him though, especially with how busy he is.

After him being reluctant about leaving me, he eventually left the house and went to meet his brothers and start the working day.

After a painful day for you, from being sound asleep to rushing to the bathroom again and again, you were slowly drifting off as Matt got home. You didn't hear him come in as you were nearly asleep, but you heard his annoyed sigh as he walked into your shared bedroom to see you in bed. Hearing this, you rolled to your side to face him, just to be met with a disgusted look. Confused, you asked " are you okay baby? you sound annoyed."

As you said this Matt rolled his eyes and began walking to his dresser to get changed.

" Matt? Whats wrong why are you ignoring me?" You asked again. This time, he turned around to face you and began speaking.

" Nothing, just had a long day, you know because i actually went to work today and was productive and didnt stay jn bed all day like someone else."

"What do you mean? I woke up and rang work this morning because i have been throwing up all day, sorry me falling ill has put a damper on your day. It seriously was not my intention!" you replied, a tinge of anger laced within your voice. All Matt did was scoff and mutter something under his breath.

"What was that?" you asked, anger slowly rising from within you.

"I said your lazy!" He shouted, " You've been in bed all day when i have been out working to earn money when your sat here doing nothing! You cant expect me to be fine with you when you've done nothing all day, you've not even done anything around the house! Oh but you expect me to get home and drop everything just to pick up after you!" my jaw dropped, after hearing what he had just said i stood up and walked over to him, anger and frustration now covering my entire expression.

"What the fuck Matt?!" you began, upset and hurt that he felt that way about you being ill, " I literally told you this morning that i was ill and you offered to stay with me! I get that you might've had a shitty day but so have i and there's no reason for you to take it out on me!" i stare into his eyes, fuming as i see his jaw clench, idicating that i hit a nerve.

"Youve had a shitty day? You've been in bed all day how can that be so bad for you huh? Oh wait i forgot nothings ever good enough for you is it y/n."

Hearing them words come out of his mouth struck something in me. I wanted to cry, be sick, walk out and slap him around the face all at once.

"Fuck you."

Is all i said as i walk out of our bedroom and downstairs to make some dinner. Hopefully cooking something will take my mind off of the argument.

It doesn't. If anything it makes it worse, i keep messing it up because im overthinking.

What if he meant it?

What if he wants to break up?

that was our biggest argument yet the end results cant be good.

Slowly but surely, anxiety began to creep into my brain and the fight was all that i could think about. Stressing about the fight and the food i was making i forgot to get another pan. Walking over to the pan cabinet a wave of all the emotions ive been holding in since the argument crashed over me all at once and before i knew it the world had turned black.

Matts POV:

its been about 20 minutes after the biggest argument me and y/n have ever had, and it was all my fault. I started the whole thing by taking my shitty mood out on her for no reason, shes done nothing wrong. Ive managed to calm myself down a bit but im now im riddled with so much anxiety from the fight.

What if she doesn't want to talk to me again?

What if this is it for us?

I need to talk things out with her before it escalates.

As i was building up the courage to go and speak to her and think of what i was going to say, all thought process stopped as i heard a loud bang come from downstairs. i jumped out of bed and practically flew down the stairs, missing nearly every step to get down there faster and once i got down there all i saw was y/n. Face down on the floor.

"What the fuck?" i say panicked, "Y/n! Y/n baby can you hear me?"

No response.

At that point the only thing i could think of doing is just sitting with her until she wakes up, so thats exactly what i do. I rushed over to the freezer and get an ice pack and flip her onto her back so i can see if shes injured. Theres nothing that i can see so i sit there with her head in my lap, bawling my eyes out and stroking her hair and face until she wakes up.

Y/N POV:

As i begin to re-gain consciousness, i hear faint sobs coming from someone above me. Matt?? My eyes flutter open weakly to see Matt bawling whilst holding an ice pack to my head. I try to sit up to see him better but he stops me.

"Dont try and sit up yet baby, you could have a concussion." He says trying to sound normal but fails as his voice cracks through the tears at nearly every word he forms, i silently agree, lowering myself back down to his lap.

After hes done making sure im not concussed he picks me up bridal style and walks me over to the couch and sets me down to face him.

"Baby, im so so sorry. I didn't mean anything of what i said earlier it's just been such a bad day and i wanted to get back as soon as i could to spend the rest of the night with you but i couldn't even get that right. And i get it if you don't want to-"

"Matt," I stop him, not wanting to hear what comes out of his mouth next and i couldn't bare the sound of him apologising whilst sobbing in front of me, " I know you didn't mean it baby and i know you wouldn't treat me like that on purpose, we all have bad days and its okay." I shoot him a reassuring smile that he doesn't see because hes looking down picking at his nails anxiously.

I grab his face to make his eyes meet mine, " Matt, what happened with me earlier is not your fault, if anything it was my fault because i was making myself more stressed over nothing. Im sorry baby, i love you so much."

He stares at me as his tears slowly come to a stop, he grabs both sides of my face and kisses my forehead " I love you more than you know princess, and i always will."

He then picks me up and takes me to our bedroom and gets us both in bed, wrapped tightly around each other as he strokes my back and were both about to drift off to sleep, i speak up

" im not going anywhere handsome, you know that right?"

His tired eyes look down to meet mine,

" i know sweetheart, it was never an option." He smiles and i let out a slight giggle as he lowers his face for his lips to meet mine, kissing me softly as if i'd shatter if he wasn't careful. As we both pull away he stares at me,

" I'm not going anywhere princess, i promise."

A/N: Heyyyy guyssss!! Ive not wrote in so long im sorry i just have had no motivation and literally no ideas😭 if you want to request anything plsplspls do im practically begging🙏😭 hope you like this one thooo!!😁😁

[callibones]

ill be your gay rival

pros

- gay

- rival tendencies

- creature (to juxtapose your disposition towards machinery)

cons

- sleepy

- gay

- college student

hmmmm. fascinating. i meant rival with whom i can be gay but this.... this is new! this is exciting! i'll keep your resume on file. we'll be in touch!

(i walk out of the club)

(i keep walking)

(i wait 122 minutes for the next bus, and get on at 2:32 PM. the bus is 40 minutes late.)

(on the bus, as always, i eat cheddar popcorn straight out of my purse. i use a scraper to remove the crust from my phone and play the last remaining genuine copy of Flappy Bird. i get 1 point because the phone is wet and holler something that isn't a swear word.)

(after riding the bus all the way east, and then back west to my stop and one more over, i exit the bus one block from the club and enter my beautiful home. my 49 roommates all say "good morning, callie!" in perfect synchronization. they have been drifting every daylight savings time.)

(as i enter, i somberly look back through the window at the club, feeling the gentle thrumming of the beats.)

("that lycanthian," i mutter to myself, and my 49 roommates whisper it in turn in their various attempts to imitate my voice. none have yet succeeded.)

("gay, but... gay.")

(i stare into the dirt of my houseplant, once again feeling the pull of the wild life. live in the woods. eat raw meat. see so many real bugs. tear apart a tomato with my sharp teeth. look like i'm covered in blood. wish i was covered in blood. actually get covered in blood. scare away a tomato. never cover myself in blood again.)

(it sounds so, so tempting. but... no. i have responsibilities. i am a perfect machine, forged of steel. i have no meat in my body. i have no vulnerabilities. i am as beautiful as the most awe-inspiring train.)

(it and i are one. i pose sexy on the piano and i look fucking fantastic.)

(i crumple up the resume.)

(and throw it away.)

(six hours later, when everyone is asleep, i return to the wastebasket.)

(gingerly, i reach in and take it out,)

(and file it away.)