#in other news: help. these people are taking over my brain at an inappropriate time

[ai-the-broccoli]

ngl I had assumed Matt-Juan-Celeste-Adrian was the most iconic toxic dysfunctional showbiz rivalry love triangle polycule in Ace Attorney, but then Thalassa, Zak & Valant Gramarye happened and I think that kind of proved me wrong

[rainyorca]

Rebirth 𓆗 Kenji Sato x Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, smut, pnv, cunnillings, long form, angst/comfort, no established relationship.

Summary: You aren't the type to date one night stands, however, after a rather compelling night with Kenji, you may reconsider.

Notes: I dropped one of my other works to work on this one, the idea came to me in the middle of the night and is slightly inspired by Love song By Rihanna. This one came from the heart, a little self reflecting in there but I find works where the author can reflect on are often times the best ones, a little bit more significant. Anyways I hope you guys like this one <3 I took a little inspiration from @spurbleu please go read their works!

Words: 7,987

MDNI

°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °

It all started as a simple one night stand, or so you thought. You’re not the type to date your one night stands, as it was something you deemed….inappropriate, just simply not something you're comfortable with. He doesn't really seem like the type to have time for a relationship anyways, given he’s a famous baseball player, which you weren't aware of at first, ironic his face was plastered all over Tokyo but you didn't care enough to pay attention. Why would he waste his time on you? But also, the overall idea of being in a relationship with a celebrity makes your head hurt, you have no desire to be the center of attention, especially with someone like him by your side. 

But you always thought about it. 

In truth, you always thought about him, whenever you had time to think. You remember the first night he brought you home, you weren't expecting much, given the way he acted when you met him. He was arrogant, egotsictal, but he was cute so you gave him a chance, flirting with him in hopes of getting what you wanted, just a quick fuck and you’d go, like usual. 

However, there was a new found deepness in the way he kissed you, the softness and genuine feeling of his touch, the way he would moan your name, or even simply say it. It awoke something in you, made you realize something, you’ve never felt that kind of profoundness before and it uprooted some new feelings in you. That night, you sat awake in his bed, your mind replaying what had just happened. 

Even before he gently opened your legs that night the whole experience between getting to his house was incredibly different, a sweetness in his eyes as he watched you admire the vastness of his place. How he would ask questions before to make sure you were comfortable, even offering you something to drink or a quick snack before he brought you to his room. Usually with your other hookups, your hands are already on each other as soon as you get through the door, even in the Uber or ride to someone’s place, but taking a breather before getting into things was nice, significantly better than what you were expecting.

The usual guilt after the climax always hits you, and it did this time just not as strong. You couldn't help but wonder if this is really what you wanted to keep doing, if you wanted to keep hooking up with random people. Another thought slithered its way into your brain, fangs sinking into the organ, intruding your thoughts. This was the most honest, real, one night stand you’ve ever had. 

Something about the way he looked at you before kissing you, the way he spoke softly to you the whole night, how gentle he was, and most importantly how he cleaned you up afterwards, gingerly holding your legs apart. You stared at the softness of his face, noticing every little detail from the faint (but visible) eyebags to the beauty mark on the right side of his face, just a little below his bottom lip. His focused expression and relaxed posture made your heart swell, and the way he would praise you while he cleaned you up. Saying things like “you did so good” or “you took me so well.” He even asked about you, how you were feeling while he carefully helped you get your panties back on, mindful of your shaking hands. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Questions about you, paying no mind to himself. God, it was torture, from his looks to his mere and genuine kindness, he had you wrapped around his finger and he didnt even know it. 

Everything about him was torture. 

That morning you awoke to his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, his sharp features softened, a quiet snore emitting from him. You sat up, his arms sliding down to your hips now. Staring outside one of his massive windows, you could see the reflection of you and him on the bed, his shirt fitted over your frame, once worn by him. It made your head throb, your heart ache. You stared at him for what felt like an eternity, still trying to really wrap your head around how you were feeling. Carefully, you slide out of bed, his arms dropping onto the mattress softly. You dress yourself, taking his shirt off and leaving it folded at the end of his bed. As you always do, even for your worst experiences, you left him a note, but trying to figure out what to say to him was difficult. You left without waking him, leaving him with the scent of wisteria on his pillow. 

But really, you couldn't lie, you did leave your phone number on the note, saying if he needed anything or wanted to reach out to give you a call. To your surprise, he did, about a few days later. He had asked to meet up again, and you physically reacted. You didn't know if it was excitement or regret for leaving your number, seeing him again, after all this is what you wanted, right? Of course you still went, it would be crazy if you didn't. He had made a nice dinner which you two shared and talked over, it wasn't long after that, his hands were all over you, studying your body and taking in the canvas of your skin, desperate to decorate it with his own colors. 

A part of you wanted to believe it wasn't just lust and rather he felt something for you too, but in situations like these it was hard to believe.. And when he moaned your name as desperate and softly as he did that previous time it was like it all came washing over you, cold water splashing onto your face, jolting you awake in the middle of the night. Kenji’s arms wrapped around you again, holding you a decent distance away but you could still feel his warmth. Three in the morning and you were wide awake, staring at his beautiful face, struggling with the viper in your head. 

It became repetitive.

Kenji would invite you over, have dinner, maybe even watch a movie or swim in his pools and then he’d bed you again. The more you spent at his place, the more confused you were but the deeper in love you fell. You didn't want to ruin what you two had going on and most of all you were terrified, fear stopping you from asking him out officially. What would he say? Would he laugh at you? He’s awfully arrogant sometimes. Would he end things with you, tell you to leave his house? If you did, would you ever see him again? Aside from the billboards, the Tv ad’s, not being able to see his face in person would destroy you. 

But none of that really sounded like him, honestly. You wished you had the confidence, the power to say something, you were confident enough to flirt with him, to get him to fuck you but not confident enough to tell him you wanted to be with him. It was weird, something that seems so easy is so difficult for you to do, you felt like a little girl all over again, afraid to ask your crush out.

So you lay there, always up before him because that viper won't leave you alone. When you get home, you can't help but wonder, hope, that you're on his mind as much as he's on yours. It's pathetic, really. You tried seeing other people when you weren't wrapped around him, but it all felt empty to you, a cold spot on the bed. The others would treat you like any other girl, fuck you, leave you a mess, and then tell you to leave in the morning, something you were used to after spending years of this same cycle, and when they moaned your name it made you want to vomit. Nowadays, you leave before they can kick you out themselves. 

And you always notice something about him, he only fucks you in the comfort of his bed. He never bends you over the table or sits you up on the kitchen counter, it’s always in the softness of his white sheets, surrounded by his room. Curtains halfway open, letting light pour in so he can see your face and so you can admire his. 

You hated yourself for this, you wished you never got caught up in this lifestyle. You don't even remember why you started, desperate for love maybe, touch deprived? It's all blurry to you now.  Eventually, you stopped hooking up with other people, but you stayed with Kenji. Your heart wouldn't let you leave him. And you know, his face has probably been buried in tons of other girls' thighs, even the days when you're not with him. But when he was buried between your legs, mouth working expertly at your core, deep eyes staring up at you, you couldn't help but feel, maybe he gave you better treatment than the others. Your love for him dripped out of your core, seeped into his mouth, staining his tongue, but he was too blind to taste it. 

You wanted him, not in a sexual, carnal way but in a loving, passionate, devoted way. You wanted to be in his possession, you wanted to be his girl. You would whine his name, countless times as he reached your sweet spot perfectly, hoping he feels that same shudder, that same tingle when he would moan yours. The feeling of love in just the simplicity of a name. 

One night you got home from work, a hectic day weighing on your shoulders, Kenji had texted you, asking if you wanted to come over. You broke down, suddenly, randomly, sobbing into your hands while you sat on your knees. You don't know why you cried, maybe stress from the rough day you had, or maybe it was because of him, oblivious, unaware, him. 

“Oh, okay.” he said over the phone, his voice echoing into your ears. “Is everything okay though?” Perhaps he could hear your sniffles, your quiet sobs. 

“I’m fine,” you responded, simple and quick. “Just had a rough day.” 

He said, “I understand, if you wanna talk about it—-you know I'm here, always.” 

You had tensed up, feeling sick to your stomach all over again. He sounded unsure, like he knew you were crying but didnt want to push, like hes never never had to comfort someone hes fucked before, only when theyre sore and hurting. You felt bad, wiping your tears as you tried to settle down after the rather short phone call. Again you were left wondering if he was thinking about you, that viper curled its scaled body around your mind, squeezing. 

On the rare nights he would cancel, he was busy and didn't want you coming over too late, he would offer to give you some release over the phone. Always putting your pleasure first, that's what he's done since day one. When he called you that first time, it surprised you, he cared enough about you that he still wanted to help you out in some sort of way. You'd tell him you were fine, to enjoy whatever it was he was doing and usually that would be that. But sometimes he catches you at the right time, when you're frustrated, needing release. He’d talk you through it over the phone, drinking up the sound of your soft moans as you pleasured yourself to his voice. His voice, god. It was the most devastating, siren-like melody you had the honor of hearing. He knew all the right ways, tones, words to get you off. His voice was indescribable, he could literally call you by your name and you’d be on your knees, it always sounded best after his own release. Once you were finished he’d talk to you a little more, at least until you stopped responding, and then he would hang up. 

He owned you, he owned your thoughts, your feelings. It was terrible, absolutely terrible. 

The real eye opener was a few months into this situationship, after you had gotten rid of your other hookups, right around the time baseball started picking up again. He grew busier so seeing him, being able to feel him after not being able to in a while was rewarding. You remember it so clearly, he was buried deep inside you, his eyes closed and mouth agape as he pushed himself to his release, soft moans and grunts coming out of his mouth. That was when he finally released and upon the bliss, he spoke freely. 

“I love you,” he gasped, not once, but multiple times, “I love you—love you….so much.” 

That was it for you, really it was. The once tears of pleasure turned into something deeper and you cried in front of him (unnecessary, embarrassing tears you would tell yourself). He didn't realize at first, his head was resting on your collar bones as he caught his breath, settling down from his release. But your quiet whimpers and sobs made him sit up, his expression changing when he saw you crying. He knew it wasn't a cry of pleasure, you were full on sobbing, covering your eyes and wiping them with your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, pathetically. “I'm so sorry.” 

Confused and bewildered, Kenji cups your face with both hands. “Hey, hey,” he says softly, “no need to apologize, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

“No,” you choke out, grabbing his hands as he holds your face, “no–” You couldn't even get the words out, it was embarrassing, choking on mucus and struggling to breathe. You weren't sure why you were crying, maybe because you felt bad, maybe because his words set you off, but why? 

“Then what's wrong?” he pushed on, his voice as gentle as ever. “You can talk to me.” 

You never told him, instead you continued to cry like a baby, until he pulled you into his chest, holding you tight. One of his hands running up and down your back soothing you until your sobs quieted to sniffles and then went silent. He was up before you the following morning, still rubbing your back softly, listening to your breathing, chest stained and damp with your tears. You left your mark on him that day, unnoticeable to the naked eye, but seen by him. 

For once, you thought about praying, praying to whatever god there was, up there watching you. It's not like you were asking for the world, you were just asking for him, is he really too much to ask for? A few days later, he had hit you up, asking if he could come over this time. So he showed up at your place, standing in the doorway while the rain pelted down, soaking his clothes and hair. 

God he was beautiful, he looked so good standing in the rain you couldn’t even find the words to express it. A tingle goes up your spine, making you shudder, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little turned on right now. That was his effect on you, just merely the sight of him can get you excited, turn you on, sometimes you even questioned yourself if it was your libido making you feel this way, but you knew it wasn’t, it was more. 

You gave him a towel to dry off as he looked around your apartment, given it was his first time in here. The first thing he noticed was the smell, your place just smelled like you. It was earthy and floral at the same time, hints of jasmine. He looked at your bookshelf, multiple books of all genres, dusty and showing that they hadn’t been cleaned in a while, a clear give away to the state of your mind. You make him some tea, butterfly pea for yourself and regular green tea for him, setting them both on the coasters of your wooden coffee table. Kenji sat down on your couch, the towel resting on his broad shoulders. You sat next to him, feeling the awkward tension, averting your gaze. His fingers tap on his cup, as if he’s debating on bringing up what had happened a few nights ago, he’s tense. 

“So, I didn’t just come here to-“

“I know,” you interrupt him, “I know.”

“You never told me what happened that night,” he continues, cautiously, watching your face for any change. You turn to look at him, pressing your lips into a line before trying to speak. 

“It was-“ you stop yourself, “I was just having a rough day, that was it. Sometimes it catches up to me at the wrong times, I’m sorry.” It was a lie, of course it was. You didn’t want to tell him what it really was, especially now of all times. It’s silent for a few moments until he suddenly reaches over, grabbing your face with one of his large, gentle hands, scooting closer to you. “Hey, there’s no need to apologize,” he responds softly, “you should've said something earlier.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. Moments like these are what makes you feel like there's more to this, more than just the sex but still, you keep your mouth shut.

He’s gotten more stingy with his time, finding it hard to see each other. A part of you wonders if he's chosen to move on after what happened the past week, wondering if he decided to drop you completely. You wouldn't blame him if that's what he was doing, at least he was letting you off easy. His texts and responses were still the same but they became slower and eventually you stopped texting him, it was foolish anyways, pointless. Why in the world would he freely talk to you, waste his time, when you two aren't even together? When you were bored, you would find yourself watching his games on the Tv, or at least whenever they came on. You would focus on him the entire time, ignore every other player, he was your star, your black sheep. 

You questioned if he would even enjoy seeing you at one of his games, after all he never invited you, you would have to invite yourself. So you did, the next game you went ahead and bought a ticket, clearing your plans for the night just to watch him play. Your seat was pretty good, you could see his face clearly from where you were sitting. His focused face always made you smile, always made you flutter, he was so indescribably charming it hurt. You kept your cheers quieter than everyone else, but it wouldn't really matter if you didn't, you would be fitting in with the crowd, but a part of you didnt want him to look up and somehow notice you, it would be hard to pick you out of this huge audience anyways.

After the game, you decided to stay, somehow finding where the locker room was, surrounding yourself with wives, even children of the other players, in a way you kinda fit in. You don’t know what motivated you to go there, maybe the ache between your legs? After seeing him play you couldn’t help it, something about a man with ambition, a man with passion. 

You were still sticking out like a sore thumb, nervously tapping your foot and feeling uncomfortable, it was obvious, you were just too dumb to realize. Your eyes bore into the door, waiting for him to come out, a new found nervousness filling your soul. “Psst,” someone tries to get your attention, you didn't realize it at first until a lady bumped shoulders with you. You turn to look at her, brown eyes meeting yours. She was older than you, probably around thirty maybe even forty but you dont assume.

 “I’ve never seen you before,” she says, voice friendly, “do you know one of the players?” 

“I guess you could say that,” you respond quietly, trying to find a way to explain who you were to Kenji but most people wouldn't take “we hook up all the time” as an answer. So you kept quiet until she spoke again. 

“Which one? I'm curious.” She pressed on, her tone dripping with some type of underlying excitement. 

You clear your throat, feeling a little awkward.”Um, Ken–Kenji, Sato,” you try to keep your voice from sounding too shaky, worried she might assume you're an obsessive fan. 

“Oh!” she exclaims, laughing lightly, tossing her head back and gesturing with one of her hands, “I’ve never seen anyone come see him, it's about damn time.” 

You can tell she's just joking a little, you smile as a response. “God wow,” she says suddenly, sounding astonished, “you have a beautiful smile, absolutely gorgeous, wowww.” 

“Oh,” the random compliment makes you smile a little wider, “thank you.” She nods, looking back at the door but then turning to you again. 

“You're a real pretty girl, you know,” she hums, crossing her arms, “and you seem nice, I mean you came to one of his games. Sato must feel really lucky to have you as a girlfriend.” 

Girlfriend. That word, the word you avoided for so long, what a terrifying thing to be called.

“Oh, I’m–” you stop yourself, should you tell her or not? What's the chance of her bringing it up to her husband and then he says something to Kenji. “He's not my boyfriend, we’re just friends,” you settled with that, she seemed to be a little surprised and ... .upset? 

 “Oh but you like him,” you blink at her, the response unexpected, “a mother always knows, I can see it all over your face.” 

Warmth spreads over your face, painting your cheeks a gorgeous shade of red and she notices, chuckling to herself. “I’ll tell you what I always tell my daughter,” she says, her tone morphing into something more firm, she turns her whole body towards you now, “it's always good to tell them before it's too late, you never know what’ll happen.” 

Were you really about to express your feelings to a random middle aged woman? “But,” you start, shifting uncomfortably, “what if he doesn't like me?” You sound pathetic, like how you did in highschool, crying to your mom because you were confused on why you couldn't love the way others did. You suddenly felt bad for your highschool lover. The real question you should have asked is why do you feel uncomfortable at the mere thought of being in a relationship. 

“His loss,” she rolls her eyes playfully, “but all you can do is accept and move on, it sucks and it hurts for a while but it gets better, trust me.” 

It was nice talking to her, you don't talk to your mom anymore since moving to Japan, she also just doesn't approve of your lifestyle. Having no friends(too distracted, driven by lust to try) made it hard to get advice or even someone to talk to about problems. Having someone to tell you this made you feel a little better, opened your eyes. 

“I guess you're right,” you mutter out, “thank you for the advice.” You smile a close lipped smile at her and she returns it. The locker room door opens and the first few players start to spill out, greeting their wives and children. Her husband comes out next and she turns to greet him, smiling widely as she wraps her arms around him. You can't help but feel envious, until Kenji walks out, hair messy and his bike helmet under his arm. Holding your breath, wondering if you should go up to him, his eyes scan the area, like he's looking for someone, then they lock onto you. You can feel yourself shaking, worried he’d be upset that you're here, especially after not talking in a while. His expression is unreadable for a few moments and then he smiles, you can't tell what type of smile it was. Happy? Surprised? Hiding disappointment? He walks over to you, a mixture between his cologne and sweat wafts into your face when he stops in front of you. 

“What're you doing here?” he asks, his tone playful. 

“Just thought I’d pay a visit,” you breathe, shoving your shaking hands into your pockets. “You played really well today.” 

Before he can talk, the woman from before taps on your shoulder, you look and she quickly hands you a sticky note before smiling at Kenji and then walking off with her husband. Kenji raises an eyebrow, watching the woman leave and then looking at you. 

“What was that about?” he questions, chuckling softly. You read the note, squinting at her cursive handwriting. 

I can tell by the way he looks at you, he is so in love. Shoot your shot and if you need anything, call me :) 

Her phone number was left under those words. “Just a friend I made while waiting,” you respond, shoving the paper into your pocket. 

“Making friends now?” he nudges you, making you laugh softly. He must've found out about your loneliness a long time ago, something you both had in common but never spoke about. You walk out with him, passing by the other waiting wives. 

And of course, he invited you over and you agreed, almostly immediately. Needing release, from your thoughts (thick scaled viper squeezing at your flesh), from your pent up arousal after not seeing him in what felt like an eternity. You were the one that latched onto him first this time, most commonly he starts it. Sooner than later he has you on his bed, legs spread, one captured between his in an attempt to keep you stiil. He lays on the side of you, fingers buried in your cunt while his lips stay attached to your throat, your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close. Cries of pleasure spill out your mouth, his name like a prayer on your lips. The sweetness from his kisses stuck on your tongue. Your back arches off the bed when your first peak washes over you, making you sob out his name sinfully as you always do, music to his ears. 

“You have no idea–” he grunts, his tip now nudging at your entrance before sliding into you slowly, his jaw clenches until he's fully inside you, “how good it felt to know you were watching me play.” 

He practically fucked you like he was thanking you, clearly appreciating your presence. For once your mind didn't wander other places(the viper loosened), too focused on the feel of his cock pressing against your sweet spot and his moans to even think about anything else. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, “My girl, my good girl.” Those simple words always made you crazy, a moaning mess in short. It sounded so filthy during the moment but afterwards, when he's bathing in the afterglow, chest heaving, the words leave his lips again, and they sound less sinful, more fond and tender. 

The next few weeks you ponder on what that lady had said to you, debating on texting her, asking her for more advice. As baseball started to come to a close, Kenji started having more availability. You started to invite him to more casual things, like coffee at your favorite cafe or a walk in the park just to talk. The whole time he was around you, a permanent smile worn on your face, he talked to you like you were more important than anyone in the world, however your time together was never long. This new feeling bubbled up inside you, happiness for once? Maybe excitement that you finally get to be around him without the sound of skin against skin. You invited him over to your place for some wine one night, sitting in your living room, music playing softly in the background while you two drank until your faces were warm and red. 

“Do you see other girls?” 

Fuck.

The question came off your drunken lips, a sober thought meeting your intociaxted mouth. You realized shortly after that you fucked up, quickly tensing up and waving your hands dismissively.

 “I'm sorry,” you rush, “that just came out, I don't really mind if you do, it wouldn't change anything.” His face was unreadable, but he turned to stare down into his glass. 

His response is simple, “No.” 

“You're the only one,” he continued after a few seconds, “I stopped seeing other people a while ago.” 

Your face heats up as if it wasn't hot enough already, a drunken smile on your lips, unnoticable by him. “Okay, sorry I asked,” you huff, deciding not to refill your glass this time, instead just setting it down on the coaster. 

“What about you?” 

His question probably catches you off guard as much as yours did. “I couldn't bring myself to do it,” you admit, “I did for a while but then things got complicated, so I cut everyone off, stopped going out to try and find sex and just settled with you.” 

The silence is uncomfortable for a moment, until he speaks again. “Why?” simple, just like his response.

 You bit your lip, staring at him and then looking away to avoid eye contact. “I….” you didn't want to admit anything now, not when you're intoxicated at least, “I just didn't want to see anyone else.” 

He's silent again but then he hums, drinking down the final drops of red liquid before sitting back on your couch. “Come here,” his voice is quiet but strong, beckoning to his side with his hand. You hesitate but slide over to him, laying your head on his chest as his arm comes to wrap around your waist. Thoughts swarm your head (the viper slithers into action once again), but they are quieted when he speaks again (the ear bleeding hiss, silenced).

“I didn’t wanna see anyone else either.” 

Mentally you smile, physically you probably made a weird face he couldn't see but you stayed quiet, listening to his heartbeat through his clothes.

𓆙

The thought about what that lady said to you lingered in your mind. You’ve known Kenji for a year now, fucked him for a year now, at this point you shoudlve told him, save yourself the suffering. The winter was long, nights growing ever the more longer, you found yourself reaching out to him for warmth rather than just sex. 

And to your surprise, you came home after work to a freezing apartment, your heater had broken leaving you with nothing but sleepless nights in your freezing bed. You had complained to company numerous times until they finally got someone to come by and take a look, and to make things worse, it would take longer than usual for them to fix. You weren't really sure why, you weren't the only one having this problem in the complex, numours people had left because they were taking so long to fix them. Out of options, and exhausted, you called Kenji. You were worried he would decline but he agreed without hesitation. So, you packed up some clothes, your necessities and headed to his house that night.  

It was safe to say he was pleased by your company, upon living alone himself, despite having a supercomputer floating around, he still loves you being around. He respected your space, fed you, made sure you knew where everything was. Mina would talk to you when he was gone, you freely asked her questions about him, oftentimes she would give you a schedule of what he had going on today and when he would be home. 

Before he would get home from whatever he was doing that day, you would cook for him on your days off of course. He’s a late eater, assumingly due to him coming home late from practice or games, so you always start cooking a few minutes before he arrives. He comes home, smiles when he sees you in the kitchen, walks over to you and snakes a hand around your waist, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before disappearing somewhere into his huge house. Moments like those made you forget you weren't in an actual relationship, you don't even know what you would call it, friends were too simple, lovers were too complicated. Friends with benefits would be overlooking everything, you two were not close like friends but you two still hung out, had sex, no strings attached they would say. But still, there was never a right label to describe what you and Kenji were, so no labels were used, by either of you. 

Sleep was still hard to come to, difficult in such a large bed, you would turn to your side, expecting him to be there but he wasn't. Sometimes you would hear a faint beeping sound, then some rustling outside your room, a low rumble below you and then silence. It happened often, not so often it was repetitive, but often enough it made you curious, too curious.

 One night after the rumbling stopped, you left your room, tentatively heading to his room. You opened the door to see his bed was empty, your heartbeat quickened, slowly stepping into his room until Mina called your name from behind you. “Where’s Kenji?” you ask, shutting the door softly behind you. 

“His father asked for him,” she says simply, “you should go back to bed.” You were suspicious, there was no way his father was calling him at two in the morning, his dad was old but not that old that he couldn't take care of himself. However, you listened, heading back to your room, opening the curtains of the massive windows to look out at the ocean, something you always found peace in.

And then, you heard him come home around an hour later, hesitantly you go out to greet him. You catch him right as he’s about to go to his room, making him stop in his tracks and stare at you. He takes in your slightly exposed form, all you had on was a shirt and panties, acting as if he hasn’t seen you naked before. 

“You’re up?” He questioned, his face confused, he looked guilty of something. You stare at him for a few moments, blinking tiredness out of your eyes until you settle with a sigh, not questioning where he’s been. 

“I can’t sleep,” is what you settle with, yawning to make it more believable. A soft smile graces his face, and then he beckons you to follow him, so you do. For once since high school, you sleep in until noon, face buried in his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent. 

You knew something was up, you’ve always been good at figuring things out and Kenji was a terrible liar, also terrible at hiding things in general. You wanted to be respectful, mind your business and not act like an overbearing lover, if that’s what you would even call yourself, but you were desperate to know his little secret. That viper squeezed a little tighter these past few days.

 So you waited for him to come home after disappearing, sitting up in his bed with the lamp on, you had grown accustomed to sleeping with him rather than in your own bed, after all it was just a few more days until your heater got fixed and you wanted to savor this feeling as long as possible. Mindlessly scrolling on your phone, watching all the news about Ultraman and the recent, ongoing Kaiju attack. The door opened up to his handsome face, a visible cut on his lip still bleeding. Then it clicked for you, his awkwardness when coming in, the surprised look he had on his face. When he got in bed you hesitated to speak, but then he spoke for you. 

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

 “I’ve noticed…” you respond, trailing off slowly. You watch him seemingly debate with himself mentally, biting his cheek. He wets his lips with his tongue, some of the blood smearing but going unnoticed, he’s vulnerable right now, you tread carefully.

 “Kenji, you can tell me anything you know,” you hum, putting your phone down, “nothings gonna change my view of you or whatever.” 

“I’m Ultraman,” he blurts, looking more surprised than you. The expression on your face is probably what made him nervous, really he didn’t know what response you would give him. 

“Oh,” you say, quickly softening your face, “um well that’s something.” He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “Still, that doesn’t change anything,” you continue, pushing the blankets off and crawling on top of him, straddling him. 

You cup his face, your thumb on his bottom lip, wiping off the excess blood. “You’re still the same Kenji I know,” you sigh, wiping the blood off on your shirt. He makes a face, like he’s surprised but disgusted by what you had done, he starts to smile slowly.

 “Being a…twenty foot tall metal man doesn’t change how I feel about you,” your words make him raise a brow and it was then when you realized what you had just said. “And how do you feel about me?” He teases, grabbing your hips to hold on to you, his demeanor shifting slightly.

“The same way I always have,” you quickly try to change the subject, planting a kiss on his lips, “anyways you should get some sleep.” He holds you still, his grip on you tightening as you try to get off of him. 

“I’m not tired,” he coos, running a hand up your shirt to feel the bareness of your body. 

“Well I am,” you remark playfully, squishing his face with your hand before getting out of his grasp and settling down beside him. You reach over and then turn the lamp off, pulling the blankets back over you and closing your eyes. His secret was safe with you, and the fact that he was so trusting of you made you think, maybe it really isn't just his libido. Kenji stares at your back, a concerned expression on his face before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in. 

Your heater was fixed just a few days later and you left Kenji’s place with a heavy heart, standing in his doorway with your bag in your hand. It was weird, how you felt, that viper had become still for a moment and then it was back, hissing and sinking its fangs into your already hurting brain. You didn't know when you would see him again, but you knew it would be soon. 

The night before you left, Kenji had shown you a picture, his face a mixture of emotions. “Who’s this?” you ask, pointing at the woman next to him, it was a dumb question but as stated before, you dont assume. 

“My mother,” he responds plainly, the underlying hurt heard in his voice. He’s hurting, you can tell, and he's vulnerable. You dont push, instead you compliment her. 

“She's beautiful,” your eyes scan over her still face in the picture, noticing the same, signature beauty mark Kenji has, “I see where you get your looks from.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips, smiling fondly. 

The vulnerability he showed while you were staying at his house, made you fall ever more in love with him and it made you sick, the venom seeping into your brain and spreading throughout your body. 

𓆙

Rain pours down outside, loudly pelting against the windows, sounding like hail. The sound drums loudly in your ears, making your head hurt for once. The grayish blue lighting seeps into the expansive space of Kenji’s living room, the city fogged and rain wrapped in the distance. 

Placed on his lap, legs on either side, straddling him fully clothed, damp from the downpour outside. His clothes sticking to his skin, his chest and torso exposed under the soaked white fabric, visible to your searching eyes. Black panties pressed against his crotch, not in a teasing manner. Your shirt sticks to your skin but loosens as it dries in the chill of the room. Kenji’s eyes, gray and lustrous, staring up at your warm face, strong grip on your hips. His head rests on the arm rest, lifting it enough so he could get a good view of your precious body.  

The viper is still, its fangs frozen deep in your consciousness. 

His lips part, glossed over from the rain as well as his chapstick, he starts to speak. “You look so pretty like this,” he breathes, reaching up to feel your body, an empty canvas waiting to be painted, to be marked. 

You shift, eliciting a rather warm noise from him, a moan in short. His cock desperately wanting freed from the prison of his pants. The fabric of his pants rubs against your throbbing clit through your panties, making you hum a soft tune of anticipation. The viper moves, its teeth itching further into your ruined brain. Chewing on your bottom lip, you move again, a little rougher this time. 

“You’re tense,” he randomly points out, making you freeze, “relax, baby.” 

“I am relaxed,” you remark, rutting against his clothed cock again. 

“No, you're extremely tense, I can see it,” he pushes on, his voice hoarse, “keep your shoulders down.” 

“I’m frustrated,” you admit, dipping your head down so all he sees is your hair while you mindlessly tug at his pants. He watches you, lifting his hips so you can pull his pants and boxers down to his knees. 

“Then tell me,” he says suddenly, “tell me your frustrations, ride them out on me.” 

“Fuck,” you breathe, “I hate you.” You move your panties to the side, slowly sinking down on him with a delightful moan. 

He hums, watching you slowly grind against him, his tip already nuzzling against your sweet spot. The viper moves again, this time its scaled body curls around, tears suddenly stinging your eyes. This is the type of sex you liked, sensual, slow, the type he always gave to you. You grab one of his hands, interlocking your fingers together in a warm grasp, letting his hand rest near his head while you use it to steady yourself. “So beautiful,” he purrs, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, his other still gripping your hips. 

“I hate how good you make me feel–” you cut yourself off with a shaky gasp, “and how–how…” He raises an eyebrow, watching you with an amused expression, waiting for you to continue. “Mmhm,” he hums, eyes closing briefly, devouring the feeling of your walls around his cock. 

“You stress me out so much and you don't even know it,” you shudder, your body relishing the way he throbbed inside you, poking at your spot, “you really have no idea.” Playful banter at first, at least that's what he assumed, but you couldn't stop talking, couldn't keep your mouth shut. 

“So I'm the cause of your frustration?” he asks, his voice sickeningly sweet and playing his part, a melody to your ears. You gasp, lifting your hips and then sinking back down on him again, slow and steady. 

“Yes,” you whine hoarsely, “you're on my mind all the time, you have no idea how annoying it is.” His expression softens, going from a small smirk to a slight frown, he’s trying to debate if you were being serious or if you were still being playful. 

“I'm on your mind…?” he questions, sounding unsure, a deep groan breaks from his throat. 

“Fuck yes, all the fucking time,” theres a throb in your heart, “your like a fucking snake, squeezing my mind—mmmh—making my head hurt.” 

“You have no idea how bad I want you,” you whimper, throwing your head back when you feel him suddenly buck up into you. 

“But you have me already,” his voice is gentle, as sweet as candy, understanding. 

“No, I don't,” you roll your hips, squeezing his hand, “No–” His other hand comes to caress your bare skin, sneaking up your wet shirt, his sounds of pleasure starting to pick up in volume. You clench around him. 

“I don't understand,” he hums, “I'm right here, underneath you, feeling your body. I'm real, my love.” 

“Don't call me that,” you hiss, “please.” Your plea ends in a whine rather than a firm word, his expression completely changes. 

“Do we need to stop?” puzzled, he sounds concerned. “No!” you exclaim, a little louder than you intended. “No, please don't stop, I don't wanna stop.”

He gives you a questioning look, but allows you to continue riding him, your orgasm starting to build up deep within you. “I don't have you, Kenji,” you keep talking, suddenly feeling a whole new wave of confidence, maybe it was your mind torn between pleasure and the truth, maybe you finally realized it's time, “and it's killing me.” 

Endearing, that's what he thinks as you ride out your truth on him, spilling from both your cunt and tongue, staining him once again, but this time he can taste it, feel it, bathe in it. “You don't get it,” you sigh, keeping up with a steady pace, trying to bite back moans as you speak to him breathlessly. 

He doesn't talk, doesn't say a single word, why would he need to if you can see it in his eyes? He wants to know more, wants you to keep going. “Im tired–tired of this,” heat pools in your stomach, the feeling of release drawing ever closer, “shit..”

“I've been keeping this quiet for so long, too scared to tell you anything because–because I didn't know what you would say or do,” the viper freezes, your orgasm approaching, tears starting to fall down your cheeks, onto his shirt.

A mixture between pleasure and pain falls onto him in drops, he reaches up, wiping your tears with his thumb. You grab his hand, holding it on your face while you start to ride him quicker, desperately. 

“I'm in love with you,” you finally say, coming out more as a choked out sob than simple words,”I always have been.” You open your eyes hesitantly, looking down at him, unable to read his face. Expressive as he is, he had no physical reaction, he just stared at you, blankly. 

“I’m sorry,” you sob, “I know I just ruined everything, but I needed—fuck—needed to tell you before i dug a deeper hole.” His hand still remained on your face, flush against the warmth of your cheeks. Then he smiles, soft and understanding, a mix of relief in there too. 

You erupt into a whiny sob, digging your nails into the back of his hand. Your climax comes over you, a viper shedding its old, dulled, colorless scales into something new, bright, and colorful. Rebirth. 

While you're riding out your orgasm, pulling his out of him too, he sits up, quickly adjusting himself, and he captures your lips into a kiss, passionate and heartfelt. Your arms curl around his neck, sobbing against his lips as you kiss him back, your grinding coming to a slow even pace and then stopping completely. 

“I love you too,” he says, pulling away from your swollen lips, “as I always have.” 

Kenji is a terrible liar, you can see in his eyes, he's telling the truth. More tears well up in your eyes, body shaking, tremors from your orgasm. 

And then you cry again, a mixture between happiness and sadness, apologizing profusely as he pulls you in for a tight embrace, your tears staining his shirt that was once soaked with rain water. 

°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °

[orshii]

Guilty Pleasure

✟ Author: orshii

✟ Pairing: Choi San x female reader

✟ Word count: 4,6 k

✟ Warnings: cursing, suggestive

✟ Summary: You go back to your hometown for the summer vacation, not expecting the small town's priest to be a total eye candy. But he seems to be hiding dark secrets underneath his holy façade.

Will you find out the truth?

✟ A/N: *coughs in embarrassment* Uh so...I think I really went insane if I wrote this, there's no way back anymore haha. I really do feel guilty, but then I'm not, cause you'll see. *wink* To be honest I don't know what is this, I just got inspired in the church bruh-- I can't with myself, I'mma just go dig myself haha let's go. Anyways, enjoy I guess. Actually part 2 is out

My day started off boring, as usual. It was a holiday, so I went back home to the town I grew up in to visit my parents and relatives. I really needed a little break from work and from the adult life, which came out of the blue. I didn't really have time to ponder in my life choices as I finished University. I moved away to a big city to start working as an English teacher. It was very new for me, and very tiring, so, I deserved a little break as the summer vacation finally came and I could come home to rest a little before returning to my chaotic, big city life.

We were sitting in church with my parents and my brother, Wooyoung, as it was Sunday. My parents were mostly religious, and so, I had no other choice but to tag along with them. I can’t say I'm not religious myself, it’s just that I tend to give in a lot of times to the vicious temptations, to the guilty pleasure that consumes me like venom. My brain gets consumed by vices, and it takes a lot of time to find the cure to treat myself with. I learned to believe in myself, instead of God, after I had too many disappointments in life. I prayed for help, but it never came my way. So, I have decided that I'm better off on my own, believing in my own strength and whatever hardships life throws at me I will be able to overcome on my own, instead of believing in a God and waiting for guidance and to be saved.

People started filling inside the church as silence settled upon the hall, the priest coming out to stand in front of the altar. It was the moment I suddenly forgot how to breathe. My mouth fell open as slowly I leaned towards Wooyoung.

"Okay, since when did our old and dusty priest become a young and handsome one?" I whispered to my brother, surprised. The last thing I could remember, as I came here ages ago, was our priest looking like a cute grandpa. This priest on the other hand, was the complete opposite of the lovely old man.

He was tall with his body hidden underneath his black long vestment, but even that couldn't hide his broad shoulders, which could be compared to mountains. Wait a minute…since when were priests buff?

Am I in another universe, suddenly? What am I seeing? Why is he so handsome with his black framed glass?

His black hair was whipped back carefully, little strands falling to his forehead. And his face?! Oh my God, literally, I have never seen more beautiful features likes his before. His jawline was as sharp as a knife, his cat-like eyes watching the people whom came here to hear his wise words, that came from his pretty, almost cherry red, lips. I was very enraptured by this man and I felt very guilty for checking him out for thousands of reasons; one, I was sitting in church and these thoughts were very inappropriate; second…he was a freaking priest, which implied that he was the most innocent human being on earth, he can't even look at girls, let alone do even as much as touch them. My eyes fell on his hands, which were holding the Bible, his palm spreading out underneath it with the veins on his hands showing. I couldn’t control my thoughts as I imagined his long fingers tracing down my neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Wooyoung chuckled quietly, "He’s a newbie. Just got here a month ago, but everyone is all over him already." My brother's voice brought me back to reality as I shook my head to clear my mind of the embarrassing thoughts.

"My dearest brothers and sisters…" The priest started speaking, his low voice sending shivers through my body. The white rosary around his neck was on full display.

From then on, all I could see were his beautiful face and lips, which moved with each smoothly spoken word. I couldn't take my eyes off him; he was like a magnet and I was the iron being attracted to it. It was silent around me; all I could hear was my own quick heartbeat. Just until he started preaching. Suddenly, his soft voice reached my ears and everything just made sense.

"God is here to help you, even in times when you turn your back on him. He watches you still; he protects you still. But he can't protect you from everything. Bad things need to happen in your life so you learn from them, squeezing every lesson out of it so that you can stand up again with your head held high. People make mistakes, and that is what makes us human. Just imagine if God protected you from all bad things, not letting you make any mistake. You’d think that your life was perfect…" He paused so the people would consume what he’s said as he looked around, watching the people in front of him, who were looking up at him like he was God himself. As he was looking around, his eyes suddenly locked onto mine and watched me sharply. I couldn't breathe, "…but the reality is, no one can be perfect, because nothing is perfect. If everything were, life would be boring…we learn from the mistakes we make, because sometimes there's no one behind our back, just ourselves, to keep us going. This is the purpose of God. He gives you lectures in these alone times, so that you can learn how to be your own best friend, so you can love yourself before you love someone else. This is the reason we shall never turn our back to God, he gives us hope and brings us the light. Amen." His eyes were on mine all the while he spoke, and I was stunned. My heart raced like hell; those words felt like they were aimed right at my heart. It reminded me of my old self, who never loved herself, not even for a short period.

I was still mulling over the priest’s speech in my mind as we stood outside the church, when suddenly I saw him standing in front of my family, still holding the Holy Bible. He was smiling at my mother as if they knew each for ages, his dimples showing on both of his cheeks, his eyes turning into crescents. I seriously needed to get my shit together.

"Is she your daughter, who moved away, Mrs. Jung?" He looked at me curiously.

"Yes, she is. Come here." My mother motioned for me to get closer as if I was still twelve years old.

The priest came closer to shake my hand, "I don’t think we’ve met before; my name is Choi San. I'm the new priest." He said with a soft tone as his face beamed with nothing but kindness.

I shook his hand, "Nice to meet you, I'm Jung Y/N." I slightly smiled at him, feeling a little embarrassed due to the thoughts that went through my mind during his service.

We were staring at each other; his hands still haven’t released mine as if the both of us were stunned into sculptures. My mother's voice pulled us back to reality, and San nervously coughed into his palm. What was that?

"My daughter teaches English to little kids in the nearby big town, she just graduated a year ago." My mother said proudly, her palm patting my back with a smile.

"Oh, that is a very great job. It needs a lot of patience, I assume." He seemed genuinely interested.

"Ah, yes, it's a miracle when the kids sit in one place. It's demanding and tiring, but I like it." I smiled at him, trying to seem mature.

"Hang in there, you’ve got this. I can imagine you as a teacher, it fits you well, and I'm sure you are good at it." I didn’t know if I was simply imagining it, but his smile dissapeared for a second as he was glared at me with sharp eyes. I swear to God, he looked like an animal full of desire. And for priests, desire was the last thing they were allowed to feel.

Days later I found myself sitting in a pub, next to San. I can't believe I'm saying this, but the night lead us somehow here, sitting at the bar and talking about anything and everything.  

The night started off with me going out with my childhood friends to drink something, because we have missed seeing each other. We went to a pub called Silver. The bar could be linked back to our childhood as a playground lay in its place instead back then, when we were mere kids. How fun life was, a place where we used to play as kids now was a place where we got drunk until we blacked out. At least my friends managed to do that, I was still hanging on. My friends had drunkenly rested their heads on the table where we initially sat at.

So, I had texted their husbands to ‘come collect their women’. They had come after them as all of my childhood friends had someone, except me. One of my friend’s told me that they were going to take me home. The night was wild, I could barely see, but somehow as I was looking around the bar, my jaw fell open as I saw someone. That someone being Choi San, the priest himself. He was sitting on a barstool, his back facing me. He was wearing a black turtleneck, broad shoulders on full display, which curved into a tiny waist. I was shocked over the fact that he was hiding a body like that under the black vestments. So, I told my friend that I would be staying for a little longer.

I had stumbled next to him as he sat by the bar, "Since when do priests drink alone in a pub?" I asked frowning, the words coming out of my mouth a bit slow. Giving him a closer look, the black turtleneck was tight against his thick neck, a silver necklace with a big cross reached between the middle of his pectorals, which were big. The black turtleneck he wore was tucked inside his elegant black pants. He looked like a God, but not a good one.

He looked at me a little surprised, his lips curving into a smile when he saw it was me,

"Is it set in stone that priests can't drink alone in a pub now?" One glass of whiskey was casually sitting between his fingers.

I frowned at that, feeling a little dizzy, "I mean…I guess not?"

He chuckled watching my face as I pouted at the realization, "You are cute." His smile never dissapeared.

I frowned again, analyzing his face, "Can priests say such things as well?" It was just weird; I spoke without thinking first.

San started to laugh at that loudly, his laugh was so soft it melted my heart. As he laughed, he raised his open palm up to his mouth, a golden ring decorating his index finger, his eyes formed into crescents as he looked like a cute cat, "So, do you think priests can't say anything at all? That they can't even look at cute girls like yourself?" He stopped laughing and leaned a little closer to my face, his voice low with bass.

My cheeks heat up from his closeness. What was he doing again? The man sitting in front of me was the world's biggest question mark, he acted very suspiciously. I leaned backwards, away from him as he looked at me with his sharp eyes, eyeing me up and down.

"Are you really a priest?" I folded my arms over my chest, looking at him suspiciously.

"Of course, I am." He smiled at me again with that adorable smile, which wasn't on his face mere seconds ago.

"You don’t act like it." I said leaning towards the counter to ask for some water from the barista.

"You didn't like my service on Sunday?" He asked, analyzing my face.

"I did, you said some wise words, I must admit." I said as I opened the water bottle to drink. As I drank, I felt his gaze fell on my neck, watching me as I gulped the water down. Chills ran through my body.

"C'mon, I'll take you home." He said, standing up.

"You were sipping whiskey minutes ago, are you crazy?" I said while looking up at him, as he stood next to me.

"Priests can drive while drinking, so come on, you are a bit drunk. I have to take care of the locals, as a priest." He said with a smile, his voice soft as a light breeze while he offered his hand for me to take.

I just looked at it, and after a few seconds of pondering, took it. He grabbed my hand firmly, and lead me out of the pub.

The summer night was a little cold, as clouds hid the stars above us, and the breeze sent shivers down my body.

"Are you cold?" San stopped, putting his hand on my back to caress it.

Okay, this was starting to get very weird. I just wanted to go home.

"I'm okay, just want to go home." I replied, trying to distance myself from him.

He silently led the way towards his car, which was an old black Dodge with some silver framing on the windows. Okay, he was a rich priest then, I guess.

The way towards my home was silent and a little uncomfortable. I just wanted to get away from this weird situation, away from him, because the longer I was with him, the stronger I wanted to give into the biggest sin trap. That being the realization that I started feeling attracted to a fucking priest.

When he stopped the car, I was ready to get out, but when I reached for the handle, it did not open. I looked at San frowning.

"Oh, sorry, it needs more pressure to open, this thing is as old as my grandpa." He slowly leaned towards me, reaching his hand out towards the handle. His face was close to my own, there wasn't even an inch between us. He cracked the door open, but his face remained close, and I was so stunned I couldn't move my limbs to get away from him. My heart was racing, I was terrified he might hear it. Then all I could see was him leaning closer, towards my cheeks, and he pecked it softly, like a feather.

"Good night, darling." He whispered into my ear. I could feel his hot breath against my cheek, which melted into my skin, not even letting my body process it. He leaned back in his seat and pretended like nothing had happened. I swear to God, I believed I imagined the whole scene.

When I came to my senses, I quickly scrambled out of the car and speed-walked towards my house, leaving him there without a word.

I might be going insane, but I just couldn't process what happened. This man was a whole mystery, there was no way a priest would act like this, at least not a real one.

My suspicions started getting valid as on some days, when I was walking home from the summer school I was teaching at, I accidentally saw our precious priest in casual clothes, which was opposite of what a priest would wear. For example, I saw him one time in ripped jeans and leather jacket, was it what priests wore these days? He was always with some guys as they seemed to be doing some business. The first time I saw him, I wasn't sure if it was really San, but when I spotted him the second time as well, I was sure it was him. And I couldn't believe he fooled a whole fucking town with his sweet and innocent act of a priest, one everyone adored. But the truth was that he was a fucking menace, lying left and right, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. I didn't know what was going on, but I wanted to find out. There was no way I was going to let him continue fool the whole town. I wanted to get some evidence so that he would be kicked out and punished, so that he wouldn’t get any more innocent people into trouble.

So, I started following him around. I saw him on days when he completed his priest duties, visiting families, going to church, holding services. He did his job well, his acting was very convincing, everyone believed it. But during the night? He disguised himself very well, so that I wouldn’t really understand what was happening, but I knew he was meeting with some sort of gang on some nights, giving money over to them for something in exchange.

One evening, as I was following San through an alley, he had reached the end of it. He had just turned left, so I followed after him. But when I turned left as well, I couldn’t see him. I looked around, frowning as I wondered where he could have gone so fast, when suddenly, all I could feel was being pushed against the cold brick wall, fingers crawling around my neck, holding me still. I opened my eyes, which I had closed from the sudden impact. I came face to face with San's furious expression as he looked down at me. His hair fell into his eyes and they looked deadly, sharp.

"Had a good time following me, darling?" His voice was low, like a furious thunder. When he tilted his head, he looked like a psycho. His leather jacket had tightened around his biceps as he squeezed my throat. The same cross was still around his neck, just like at the pub.

"Who the fuck are you?!" I looked up at him, words hardly coming out of my mouth as his hand was still around my throat.

"Stop sticking your nose into everything, and just go home!" He raised his voice a little and loosened his hand just barely around my neck.

I took that as an opportunity, and grabbed his hand, just to tear it off my neck, "What the fuck San? Are you insane? Stop fucking fooling everyone, and get the fuck out of here!" I shouted at him; I was shacking from anger that boiled inside me.

"You have no idea what is going on, so please, just go home!" He started calming down a little as he looked behind his back from time to time. He was acting even more suspicious.

"Then tell me what this is. Cause I'm so fucking conf—" I was interrupted by an ear cracking breaking sound, followed by a loud engine.

"Fuck, they are here." San quickly grabbed my wrist and pulled me along, running out of the alley to his black Dodge, that was parked on the sidewalk, waiting for us patiently.

"What the fuck is happening?" I said as he opened the passenger seat's door, and pushed me down into the seat.

"Just sit in the car, Y/N, there's no time for questions. We have to get away from here." He closed the door with a loud thump and ran towards the other side of the car, just to sit behind the wheel and ignite the engine to life.

My heart thumped like crazy, I didn't understand what was happening. All I could see was San driving like a maniac, checking the side mirrors all the time as I saw a big black Jeep following after us madly. San geared up and pushed the gas pedal to the hilt, we were almost flying. The engine threatened to jump out of the bumper from the sudden speed. We were on the highway, a lot of cars around us, but San very quickly dodged all of them. We sped past them like lightning, just for San to suddenly swerve right and get us onto a lane leading away from the highway, then he swerved right again, then left. I lost the direction we were going in, all I could see was the black Jeep that chased us now having disappeared into the cold, and scary, night. San hadn’t stopped yet, he was driving us far away from our little town. I was terrified to speak up, I just knew this was going to be the end of me. All because I'm stupid and I can't sit on my ass and mind my own business. All because I just had to follow a fucking priest, who wasn't even a priest.

After having driven for half an hour in deafening silence, we finally stopped in front of a big mansion. I looked up at it through the windshield. So, this was going to be the location of my murder? I guess it would be fine, right? At least it's a nicer place to be killed at.

I couldn't look into San's eyes, but I felt him staring at me. My body was still a little shaky from the sudden adrenaline, I tried to calm down myself and accept my ridiculous fate.  

"Hey, Y/N?" San spoke up after minutes of being in the silent and dark car. I guess he was waiting for me to calm down, and for himself as well.

I still couldn't look into his eyes as tears flooded in my eyes, the adrenaline was gone and its demise left nothing behind but fear. I don’t know if I was ever this scared in my whole life before.

I felt San's hand touching mine, very carefully. He might’ve realized that I was terrified, so he didn’t want to scare me anymore, "Hey, look at me." His voice was sweet again, like candies.

I breathed in and out, closing my eyes, to somehow fight against my fear, and then slowly turned towards him. As I looked at him and he saw my teary eyes and terrified expression, his features softened into a worried expression.

"Fuck, Y/N, I won't hurt you! I'm so sorry, darling." He cupped my cheeks, tears appearing in his eyes as well. Upon seeing his worried expression, I somehow felt kind of relieved.

"Aren't you going to kill me?" I asked in a whisper looking, down at my hands in fear.

"Look at me, Y/N!" His fingers curled around my chin to lift my head up. I somehow managed to look into his eyes again, and the softness I saw in them made me relax a bit more, "Of course, I won't kill you, don't say foolish things. I could never hurt you."

He cupped my face again, caressing my cheeks, "I'm sorry if I scared you, darling."

"What is going on?" I whispered again as the words hardly came out of my mouth, having gone dry like a desert.

 "C'm here." He took my hand and pulled me towards himself, making me crawl over the center console and straddle his lap. His hands immediately held onto my waist and pulled me closer to himself.  I circled my arms around his neck carefully as he pulled me down to his chest and hugged me tightly. I took a deep breath of his sweet candy-like cologne, the skin of his neck warm.

"I'm sorry for scaring you. I just…there is a lot going on, and I lost my head for a second. Please, forgive me…" His hands ran up and down my spine, caressing it, leaving nothing but shivers in its wake. His body was a like a magnet, I couldn't detach myself from it, it felt impossible.

"Tell me what’s going on." I whispered into his neck weakly, closing my eyes.

"Well, I'm not a priest." He said, still caressing my back.

I scoffed, "Wow, shocking news."

"How did you figure it out?" His hand slowly traveled up to the hair on my nape, massaging my scalp as I felt my body temperature rise, comically thinking that I was going to slip right through his fingers from the warm touch.

"I saw you a few times with those people…" The way he started massaging my scalp became a little firmer, and a moan almost slipped through my lips "…doing some business, I assumed. So, I started following you."

"My darling couldn't stay away from me, huh?" His hand resting on my waist slowly slipped under my blouse, his hot fingers starting to trace my warm skin up and down. Suddenly, the fantasy I had in mind while watching him in church, during the service, fought its way to the forefront of my mind, it being his hands slowly tracing down the curves of my body. I would’ve never thought that it was really going to happen.

I slowly lifted my head up from his chest to look into his eyes, which left a fire in its wake. The chill I felt an hour ago was gone in seconds, and I have never felt hotter in my life before seeing the heated desire in his eyes, it could’ve burned me up whole.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked him, trying to get rid of the tension between us.

"That’s a very long story, darling." He leaned his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. He pulling me impossibly close to himself as he held my waist with both hands.

"The night is long now that you have kidnapped me." I whispered barely inches away from his lips as they were almost touching mine.

"Yeah?" He whispered back, his lips hovering over mine, ghosting against them. His hands ran up my warm body passionately, his nails digging into my skin roughly.

I hummed at that, as words couldn't escape my lips, his hands on my skin making my stomach drop. He breathed shakily against my lips and I felt his body getting hotter as he finally pressed his lips against mine hungrily. I kissed him back with greed, our lips moving in sync against each other, my dry lips now fully wetted with his saliva, which tasted like sweet candies. His right hand tangled into my hair, running his fingers through it and it made me moan against his lips. San took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside my mouth, discovering every inch of it as my tongue danced along his passionately. I grinded down against his crotch, and he let out a guttural groan at the stimulation. His hand on my waist slipped down to my ass, and he grabbed it harshly just to push me down against himself harder. We both let out a moan at the feeling, and we separated to get some air as I slowly started feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen. His forehead pressed against mine as we both breathed heavily against each other's mouths.

"We should stop…" San whispered against my mouth, his lips touching mine as he kissed me again, now a little slower. He sucked on my lower lip to take it between his teeth, and bit it so hard that blood started to drop down my chin, seeping into the collar of my blouse. I winced from the sudden pain, making me grind down harder against him. I have long lost my sanity; I have lost against the sins that caged me in until I wasn't aware of anything at all around me.

"Why?" I asked weakly as we separated again.

"Because I want to fuck you properly, on a bed." He told me, sharp eyes boring into my own, almost as if I had no other choice but to obey him. My body shook from the desire I felt for San, and I really had no other choice but to obey his wishes and let him fuck me senseless, giving in to the guilty pleasures.   

Part 2->

[pesterquestrewritten]

Sorry if this is an inappropriate question to ask, but why do you want to rewrite pesterquest? Was there anything wrong with its original version, or are you just doing this for fun?

brain is a Lil Loopy rn so please excuse if this answer is semi incoherent - recovering from ankle surgery rn.

im gonna try to not harp on the original pesterquest as a project/talk about my percieved issues with it. from what I understand about the work environment where it was developed, it was hell -- poor communication, tiny budgets, little overall direction. plus every artist/writer involved was likely busy with other things at the same time (for example finishing the development of Hiveswap Act 2). they had so much going against them, and... it sorts shows in the final work, which isn't their fault. the original PQ team was passionate and cared and like. the absolutely last thing i want to do is disrespect them.

(generally also stating for the record that calling the original PQ "trash" or "replaced" is like. not good vibes. please don't do this if you're trying to enjoy PQR -- the last thing the original postcanon team needs is more harassment.)

anyway.

pqr is fanfiction, fundamentally.

i started making pqr because in september i was sick with covid, i wanted to learn renpy, and i wanted to study homestuck more. i wanted to figure out what made PQ tick, literally, figuratively, all of the above.

plus i really wanted to write a different story arc for mspar.

i also really love the side characters in Homestuck, and wish they all got more time to shine. the pqr prologue including a set of Spades Slick sprites just for a brief encounter i think helps establish what i want to do with the like. raw potential of the premise of a Homestuck visual novel.

damara is the other big thing -- i've wanted to make a story with her in it work for ages. (if anyone remembers the old MEGIDO hades mod, that was my first big public attempt. she was gonna be the protagonist, breaking out of scratch's mansion. turns out coding in renpy is WAY easier LMAO)

like. the plan wasn't even initially to have the prologue be a full damara route? i just let the writing take me where it wanted to take me. it's been deeply fun and cathartic.

the prologue's "bad end" has some incredibly intimate themes of like. inevitability, and worrying you've let everyone you love down, and i showed it to a college friend who i hadn't spoken to for ages and she set a screenshot from it as her background.

like. to me. that's pqr. that's why i make it.

pqr is the laundry room ending of rose's route, a deeply personal look into my own fears and anxieties as an author reflected back through this girl's circumstances. pqr is also the retcon ending of rose's route, a wildly stupid and indulgent romp through my own past fanfiction for a silly gag that people seemed to really love.

pqr is about dave and myself looking for a place to stay simultaneously -- pqr is about jade leaving prospit, and how i was adding to that part of the game in real-time as i dropped out of college, changing both of our destinies to something unexpected but hopefully better, at the same time.

pqr is also a silly extended sleepover scene. it's just fun to see them interact.

pqr is an excuse to turn over corners of homestuck and see if we can't peek behind them. what was it like for roxy, to think she lost joey and then find rose's meteor barely a year later? of course she'd think it's impossible for her to succeed as a mother. pqr is about finding empathy for yourself for your own mistakes, reflected back at you through homestuck characters.

because really, isn't that what we're all here for?

pqr is me coming back to my last long-abandoned attempt at an act 5 rewrite. pqr is an excuse to watch my girlfriend grow in confidence and style as she makes all the endcards and incidental art (except for joey route pt 2, but THAT was an excuse to work with a NEW friend!!!!!!!)

pqr is a friendship simulator that i am winning by having an incredibly supportive and collaborative group of friends in the dev thread who are cheering me on with every segment of text i post, friends who will hop in vc to check out the newest segment. friends like @dare0451 who literally yesterday rendered out some new audio to upgrade the June route to be even more fucking amazing and terrifying than it already was, AND DARE HASN'T EVEN PLAYED IT????? IT'S LITERALLY JUST. IT'S FRIENDSHIP MAN. PQR IS FRIENDSHIP

what the hell was this question again.

oh right.

yeah it's been fun basically. that's why i do it lol

[helioclematis]

Damn coffee shop AU curse

Eddie is trying to take care of the rest of the line, even longer than usual due to some crafts fair nearby, but that means Chrissy is, unfortunately, stuck with Brad. 

Brad is pretty much everything Eddie hates in a human being and a customer, and today Brad's brand of bullshit involved his cappuccino, that he insisted on weighing. 

Not that a drink that was two grams 'off' from whatever standard Brad pulled out of his ass this week was different in any way that could be perceived by a human being, but Brad probably huffs his own farts.

Chrissy looks like she's about to cry, there are at least six people in line desperate for their caffeine of choice, and Eddie is making three drinks at once and closing the milk fridge with his foot. 

The dilemma:  Eddie still isn't allowed to kick Brad's stupid Oakley shades and plaid pants wearing ass out, nor is he allowed to rip him a new asshole, which is tragic and would probably do him good. So Brad just freely continues to be the worst-

"Hey, dude, I realize that you have severe limp dick and nothing helps you get it up like harassing service workers, but can you not make it their problem? I want coffee, as does everyone else here, so can you take your two hundred and fifty-eight-gram cappuccino and shove it up your ass so the rest of us can get on with our fucking day?"

For a second Eddie thinks his inner monologue is suddenly audible to the entire coffee shop, but no. That came from Preppy Hottie, who is sort of obnoxiously hot and has never said anything before today other than 'Can I please get X' and 'thanks,' and Eddie is having entirely inappropriate thoughts about him. 

Like, ‘hey do you want me to just bend over right here’ level of inappropriate. 

Brad starts to say something, but Chrissy giggles. The girl with Preppy Hottie (Steve, says some part of his brain that must have read it off his cup some weeks before the quagmire of the holidays, associated Beverage Hell, and now gross winter) laughs, as do the rest of the people in line. And he deflates, because a guy who is hotter and less of a douche has gotten women to laugh at him, and thus Brad's entire sense of self is ruined. He takes the cappuccino off the counter, says something about a Yelp review but splashes milky espresso out of the top of the cup, curses, and walks out.

Chrissy smiles at Steve-slash-Preppy Hottie. "Whatever you're getting, it's on the house." 

"Nah, that's okay. He's a dick."

"I insist." Steve smiles and Eddie almost drops the latte he's finishing. Damn. That’s…the man really looks like he escaped from the nearest modeling agency.

"Okay, just a medium skim latte with an extra shot and...Rob, what do you want?" 

"A dirty vanilla chai, please." The girl, Rob, smiles at Chrissy too, and oh she's pretty, and Chrissy's type of pretty. Eddie’s gonna be subjected to the glacial pace of watching queer girls flirt. 

But they put money in the tip jar, so what the heck, they can live here if they want after all that.

It's Steve who comes to get their drinks, and he smiles again.

Red Alert. Red Alert. Eddie is too gay for this, Red Alert.

"Uh. Thanks man. For getting rid of Brad." 

"Oh, I've been holding back on that for years. I did food service all through college. Nightmares, man, nightmares. It's practically therapeutic to be bitchy to assholes now." Steve smiles again, like he’s licking something sweet off his lips, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear. 

Eddie is lucky the world doesn't operate on cartoon rules because right now he'd go full wolf, awhooooooooga! “Well, any time you need the catharsis, feel free to work that out here. We’ve got plenty.” Steve takes a sip from his latte. “Well, if it means you making my drinks, how can I pass that up? Later.” Eddie is only fifty percent sure he actually says something human-ish as Steve walks away and walks into the tiny ‘back’ of the shop to slap himself. Focus, he can’t be horny gay mush while on the clock. That’s how you get burned. 

He gets steamed milk all down his apron anyway.

(Am I gonna do anything with this? No idea, but it exists in the universe now anyway, and I thought it was cute.)

(Brad is based on a real customer, who I still hope is walking on a moist carpet.)

[rotworld]

9: Bedside Manner

being a private medic for an elite mercenary team is stressful. rumor has it that there's a mutually beneficial way to blow off some steam.

->explicit. contains dubcon, gore, medical, threesome (kind of), workplace fraternization, D/s dynamic, verbal degradation.

.

.

.

It’s four in the morning and you’re camped out in the breakroom with all the other unlucky medics, huddled around the coffee machine like it’s a bonfire in a blizzard. The hum of fluorescent lighting is seared into your brain. You make smalltalk, complain about protocol and office decor and that bullshit at the last personnel meeting. It’s all ritual, everything stale and the same as it ever was. This is the worst part of your job and it’s nice to commiserate. 

“It’s bioweapons,” Ward says, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “Myers told me. His unit did cleanup for the same company a little while back and it was gnarly, like something out of Alien. That’s why it’s taking so long.” 

Dunn raises a brow. “Really? Mission Control hasn’t said anything.” 

“Mission Control’s probably got their hands full. And it’s all the same ‘need to know’ restrictions as usual, I’m sure.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Kauffman says. “Why wouldn’t we need to know? Do we need to prep the quarantine bay or not?”

You fidget nervously, picking lint from your blue scrubs. There’s a stylized three-leaf clover emblazoned on the pocket, Trefoil International’s innocuous company logo. You’re new and it shows. Everyone else is a groggy mix of irritated and bitterly amused, but you can’t stop pacing, drumming your fingers against the side of your coffee cup. 

“This your first delayed arrival?” someone asks. “Relax, newbie. There’s plenty of mercs in the sea. They’ll replace anybody who doesn’t make it back.” 

“Don’t be a jackass,” Kauffman says. “There’s nothing wrong with giving a shit. I’m worried about my boys, too.” 

Ward frowns, looking distinctly disgusted. “We’re not all fucking our units, Kauffman.” 

“You’re missing out, then.” 

The conversation goes on like nobody said anything mildly inappropriate and you’re still gawking at Kauffman’s shameless smile and nonchalance. A shrill tone plays over the intercom to signify a coming announcement and you all flinch, listening for familiar names and numbers. “Unit 030 is en route to Medbay A-2,” Mission Control says. Ward mutters a curse that sounds strangely relieved and rushes out of the room. 

“Was he serious, just now?” you ask. You can’t help yourself. You’re high-strung and curious, and for just a second, you’re not consumed with fear thinking about your unit in some top secret lab or underground bunker or wherever the fuck the bioweapons people have a mess that needs erasing. “You’re, uh…involved with your unit?”

“Plenty of us are,” Kauffman says.

“Not plenty,” someone says. “Just you and a few other degenerates.”

Kauffman rolls her eyes and works her way across the huddle to stand next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “Listen,” she says, “it’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. They’re stuck in the barracks most of the time, we’re stuck in the office or the medbay, nobody’s got time to date or hook up. The solution’s obvious, I think.” 

“They’re like animals, Kauffman. Why would you want to get into bed with that?” 

The intercom chimes again. “Unit 087 is en route to the Medbay C-1.” 

You just about spill your coffee all over yourself in your hurry to drain the cup and toss it in the trash. The other medics wish you luck as you rush. Kauffman winks. 

Bland office walls and carpet shift to harsh, hospital white, your footsteps echoing down a metal corridor. Mission Control sends a heavily redacted debrief document to your tablet that you read while you walk. Bioweapons, just like Ward said, something hypercontagious and horrific. A failure to follow protocol led to some experimental nightmare getting loose. You skim what few details you’re permitted. It doesn’t really matter what happened, because none of it’s going public. The company hired Trefoil and just like that, an entire research center has been expunged from existence, no survivors and no witnesses left. 

C-1 is an observation ward. Soft quarantine, nothing more than a mask and gloves required. Your operatives have been through decontamination and viral screening already, cleared as uninfected. Whatever awful thing they were hired to clean up was potent, showing symptoms within thirty minutes of exposure. You’ll be stuck in there with them for an hour just to be safe. You swipe your employee ID, give a retinal scan, and the door locks behind you.

Your eyes hone in on bare, bandaged skin. Vulture’s sitting up on a cot, stripped out of his black fatigues with only crumpled bedsheets covering his lower half. You’re his medic. You’ve seen him naked before. But Kauffman’s voice drifts through your thoughts and it’s like you’re seeing his strong biceps and scarred, chiseled abdomen for the first time all over again. He’s hunched over, clutching a bloodied rag to a wound in his shoulder. Short hair, early growth out of a military buzzcut, is mussed and sweaty from hours spent in a helmet. Hawk’s sitting next to him in a little plastic chair, still covered head to toe in tactical gear, and they’re talking quietly. His voice is muffled and his face is hidden by a full respirator mask.

When you step into the room, they both go silent and turn towards you, like dogs sensing an intruder. You can’t see Hawk’s eyes, but you’re sure he’s looking at you with the same cold appraisal Vulture is, the way they look at anything that moves. 

“Welcome back,” you say. You make sure your movements are obvious and audible. Some operatives are a little jumpy fresh out of the field. “Glad to see you’re in one piece, more or less.” 

Vulture doesn’t quite laugh, just exhales sharply. His respirator’s sitting on the bedside table, freckled with dried blood. “Were you worried about me, doc?” he asks, smirking. He’s mumbling a little, probably loaded up with painkillers. “Cute.” 

“I wasn’t worried at all. I know you’re perfectly capable.” You wheel a surgical cart out of the corner and grab the essentials. Pen light, forceps, needles and sutures. Vulture lowers the rag and you see a tunneling wound, the glint of shrapnel lodged deep in brutalized tissue. Hawk scoots his chair over, giving you room to work. “You don’t look injured, Hawk,” you say absently. “Here for moral support?” 

You swear he’s staring at you under his mask. “Something like that,” he says. His low, gravelly voice does something embarrassing to you. He’s the older and more experienced of the two. You’ve never seen him except for a single routine checkup, and he hardly said a word the whole time but you felt his gaze burning into you every time you turned around. 

“Well, you know the drill. I’m sure they asked you all of this at exfil, but I have to do it again. Did either of you get bitten in the field?” 

“Nah,” Vulture says. Hawk shakes his head. 

“Any suit breaches?” 

“No. We’re good, doc. Already went through screening.” 

You run through the whole checklist of symptoms anyway. It helps, gives him something else to think about while you pluck debris what out of his shoulder, sopping up blood and pus with a disinfecting wipe. Vulture is a professional and handles it well. You only have to stop once when he hisses, clenching his fists, before nodding and letting you continue. “I’ve seen you in worse shape, honestly,” you tell him. “You’ll need some time off but it’s not too serious.”

Vulture whines about it like you told him he needs an amputation. “I barely even feel it. Can’t you just clear me? I’m already confined to the barracks for a week for observation, I don’t wanna get stuck with bed rest, too.” His squirming shifts the sheets in his lap just a bit. You see the V of his hips, thick pubic curls, and—

“Vulture,” Hawk says. “Shut up.” 

“You’d give a shit if it was you,” Vulture grumbles. “030’s going barhopping this weekend. I haven’t gotten laid in fucking forever.” 

You’re new, but you’re not an amateur. Your hands don’t shake, even with the jolt Vulture’s low, rumbling words give you. What does he even look like in civilian clothes? You have no idea. It’s hard to picture him at a bar or a club, anywhere normal people go. Anything he wears would be tight, right? He’s huge and every inch of him has been honed to lethality, quick reflexes, dexterous fingers, the strength to kill a guy unarmed. “If 030 came back from the same place today, they’re not going anywhere, either,” you say. Boldly, you add, “So I guess nobody’s getting laid this weekend.”

Neither of them say a word, but you feel them looking at you. They’re not expecting something, are they? Waiting for you to volunteer, maybe? You take a deep breath and focus, tossing another tinkling, bloody shard into a tin on the surgical table. Almost done. Just need to get him stitched up, and—

“They’re getting laid,” Hawk says casually. “Passing around their medic right now, probably.” 

He’s bullshitting for sure, trying to get a rise out of you. They do it less and less these days, but when you were brand new, they’d do it all the time. Little jabs, threats, a few quips about previous sexual conquests, just to see how you’d react. This is more of that, you’re sure of it, because Ward? Seriously? Crotchety, uptight Ward with his perpetual scowl and constant snide remarks about his own operatives?

But normally Vulture’s face would give it away, and he’s not twisting up trying to hide a smirk. He looks genuinely frustrated. He leans back a little bit and the sheets fall a little further down, and you quickly avert your eyes. You’re a professional. You’re not going to stare at his cock, even though it’s right fucking there and he was just lamenting the fact that he hasn’t fucked in a while, and now you’re thinking about what his dick looks like in his hand late at night when no one’s around. 

“We were just talking about that earlier, actually,” you say, and now they’re both openly staring. “Medics and their units, I mean. I’m pretty sure Ward’s not the type.” 

“He’s not the type to admit it,” Vulture corrects. He sits up a little straighter when you start pulling the suture through his skin and the sheet’s useless now, bunched up in the corner by his feet. He’s thick and uncut and—shit, he definitely caught you looking this time, because his eyes narrow and there’s that little, sneaky smile you’re used to seeing. “That’s funny, though. I didn’t know the medics gossip about it, too. What do you think about it, doc?” 

“What do I think about what, exactly?” 

“About being a cumdump for your unit.” 

He doesn’t notice that you shiver, does he? You swallow hard and look only at his chest, which doesn’t help all that much. “I think that’s highly inappropriate,” you say, narrowly avoiding a nervous stammer. Just get it over with. Push the needle in, slip it out, pull the stitching through. You think, with a flare of emotion you don’t care to examine, that you’re still not off the hook even after closing the wound. You’re stuck in soft quarantine for an hour. You put your tools away with stiff, mechanical movements, half aware of what you’re doing. You’re suddenly nervous to turn your backs to either of them. 

“So if I asked you to ride me, you’d say no?” Vulture asks. 

You’re not sure how he says this kind of brazen bullshit with such earnestness. You stall, give yourself time to put the surgical cart away and stay at the edge of the room. Vulture leers at you and Hawk probably does, too. Just say no, you tell yourself. Shut this down before it goes any further. This is some new game they’re playing, just another way to shock you. So why are there nervous, excited flutters in your stomach? “You shouldn’t be doing anything strenuous right now,” you say. You feel a little lightheaded. You’re not enjoying this, are you?

“Killjoy,” Vulture says. “Suck my cock instead, then.” 

You take another deep breath. Okay. Reality check. These two are career mercenaries. Wetwork experts. They clean up massive corporate fuckups and kill people for a living. And they’ve made comments about mysterious workplace accidents that might’ve happened to previous handlers and medics, things that you still aren’t sure are jokes. This is just asking for trouble. This is a huge fucking mistake.

“You’re interested,” Hawk says. “We wouldn’t be asking otherwise.” 

Deny it, your rational mind screams. You don’t know where your filter went this morning—shriveled with every passing hour and cup of coffee, probably—but instead, you ask, “What makes you say that?” 

You wish he’d take his mask off. You want to know if you’re just imagining the weight of his gaze, the heat of it. He shifts in his seat, spreading his legs a little further apart and your gaze is drawn naturally downward. You can’t see anything. His fatigues are too baggy. But the gesture is unmistakably inviting, like he wants you there, kneeling in the space between. “We just know,” is all he says. Vulture’s gaze rakes up and down your figure and his cock twitches. 

“Come here, doc” he asks, licking his lips. He wraps his fingers loosely around his cock and gives it several slow pumps. “You’ve been staring at it the whole time. Come see how it tastes. Nobody’s gotta know.” 

The command is what breaks you. They’re different like this. There’s a lazy grace to how the operatives move around headquarters, like satiated jaguars. You see that flash of danger, the shape of a thing that kills to live, but it’s always weak and untargeted. This is different. They’re focused and hunting just like they would in the field, and you’re prey. Your pulse picks up and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought about this, even before Kauffman’s pointed comments. You had fantasies about your unit, these dangerous, unreadable men, cornering you in some dark hallway and doing whatever they wanted with you. You’re distantly aware of your body moving, your feet carrying you back to Vulture’s bedside. He smiles, reclining, looking you in the eye while he strokes himself. He’s half-hard and a lot bigger than before. 

“Is that what you want, doc?” he asks. “You wanna sit back and let someone else call the shots?” 

Hawk’s firm, gloved hand falls on your shoulder and you’re pushed down to your knees. They’re completely in sync with one another’s movements, shifting around you, closing you in between their bodies. Vulture swings his legs over the edge of the bed and you bite back a reprimand, wanting to tell him to be careful, mind his injury, when you feel Hawk’s presence behind you. No longer seated, he looms over you, his hand on the back of your head. They’ve barely touched you, just pushed you around a bit, but you feel dizzy with need. Hawk tugs on your hair and you wince, a little gasp slipping out, and Vulture shoves himself into your mouth. You could fight, push him away, bite him.

You don’t. With arousal heating the pit of your stomach, you rest your hands on his thighs. It feels unreal, and yet completely right. His half-lidded gaze brightens with amusement when you start to kiss and suck his tip.

“You owe me fifty bucks,” Hawk says. Leather creaks as his gloved fingers sink into your scalp and massage your scalp, a soothing motion that makes you lean in more, open your mouth even wider. 

“Never been so glad to be wrong,” Vulture groans. He bucks into your throat when you swirl your tongue around his length. “Been a while for you, too, doc? You starved for cock? Don’t worry. Gonna fix that.” 

Hawk digs his fingers in, pushing you onto Vulture. You grunt when he goes too far and you choke, squeezing Vulture’s thighs, but he doesn’t let up. “Breathe through your nose,” he murmurs. That unrelenting pressure stays until you follow his orders and Vulture lets out a pleased sigh at the flutter of your throat around his length. It’s easy now, past the point of no return. You don’t think about the embarrassment, the unprofessionalism of it. You just bob your head and slide your lips up and down Vulture’s thick shaft, and everything is good and simple.

“Hawk knew before any of us,” Vulture tells you. “Made a bet with the whole unit that we’d finally gotten a medic up for some fun. You had me fooled, though. Thought I’d just have to jack off thinking about what you look like under those scrubs forever.” He’s fully hard and throbbing, the salty taste of precum heavy on your tongue. He fucks your mouth with easy dominance like this is the natural order of things. Hawk’s presence behind you is like a wall with eyes, an unfeeling, unblinking barrier that keeps you in your place.

“I know medics,” Hawk says. “Gone through plenty.” The pressure lets up and he’s stroking you, carding his hand through your hair. “First time I saw you, I knew. You’re a perfect fit for us.” 

Vulture starts moving his hips and Hawk pushes onto every thrust. It starts slow but not gentle. They don’t handle you like you’re made of glass. The languid pace is all that helps you adjust to Vulture filling your throat and bumping up against your gag reflex every time. Caught up in the moment, you reach down to touch yourself.

Hawk makes you take Vulture to the root, your nose buried against his pelvis. You smell him, a musk of sweat, dried blood and antiseptic. “Hands off,” Hawk says. The words are a harsh growl and you obey with a full body shiver. 

“Don’t let ‘em up,” Vulture says. He adjusts slightly, pushes himself to the very edge of the bed to give himself some leverage. Hawk holds you still through all of it, smothering your face into Vulture’s abdomen until you’re squirming and whimpering around a mouthful of cock. “You’re pretty like that, doc. You like it? Being my personal cocksleeve?” 

You don’t have the capacity to answer. You just stare up at him, eyes hazy and pricked with tears. Vulture laughs and then Hawk’s hand on your scalp is suddenly gone, replaced by Vulture’s on either side of your head. You hear movement behind you and then Hawk is crouching, right there against your back, the filter of his mask resting on your shoulder. You can hear him breathing. You can feel the hard edges of his tactical gear, pouches of ammo and god knows, what digging into your back. Vulture holds you in place as he starts hammering into your mouth and Hawk starts to speak in a low, steady voice. 

“Let him use you,” he murmurs. “Relax your throat. Breathe through your nose. Look up. See how good you’re making him feel.” You obey every order, filled with heat and distant pangs of shame from the obscene sounds of Vulture’s cock pounding your throat. It hurts a little, your jaw sore and your knees getting bruised on the hard floor, but the pain is a faraway, forgotten thought when you see Vulture looking utterly wrecked above you. A bead of sweat slides down the side of his neck, face pinched with exertion, lips parted and moans shamelessly spilling out. Saliva and precum dribbles past your lips and adds a wet sloppiness to the sound of his hips slapping your face.

“Gonna cum,” Vulture says. 

There’s a hand in your hair again, giving a threatening tug. “You’re going to swallow,” Hawk tells you, and you’re overcome with a frantic sort of euphoria, desperate to follow the command. “Don’t think. Just listen, and suck, and swallow. You’re just a hole that takes cock and cum. That’s all you have to be right now.” 

You do everything he says. You listen to him, his voice, Vulture above you. You hear yourself gagging on spit and precum and every inch of hot, throbbing flesh pistoning into your mouth. You suck. You don’t worry about moving, or thinking, or anything else, because they decide everything for you. Vulture holds you in place and uses you, rides the wave of his pleasure until he’s straining, hips stuttering, and it feels so good. 

When he cums, your name slips between his teeth. You’re not ready for the sudden rush of cum pumping into your throat and you struggle with it, your nails digging into the meat of his thighs. But you swallow. You almost gag, almost throw it back up, but you force yourself to stop and try again. You don’t want to let them down. Vulture watches you with glazed, lust-filled eyes and blown pupils, muttering an awed, “Goddamn, doc,” as the last bulging swallow goes down. 

When they let you go, you’re trembling. Your skin is prickling and hot, your head spinning, your neglected sex pulsing with arousal. Vulture wipes a smear of cum from the corner of your lips with his thumb and then he gets back in bed like nothing happened, pulling the covers back over himself. Hawk saunters back to his chair. You touch your mouth with shaking fingers. 

“Thanks for patching me up, doc,” Vulture says. 

You nod numbly. You don’t know what else to do. You have to hold onto the bed to pick yourself up, the weight of what you just did suddenly crushing. Was that a mistake? Are they going to pretend it never happened? You’ve got at least half an hour until you can get out of this room. You don’t think you could bear it if they were just fucking with you. 

“Doc,” Vulture says. You wouldn’t call his tone gentle, but it’s not the usual, abrasive bravado, either. “We’re not gonna tell anyone, alright? We shoot the shit with each other, yeah, but the other medics aren’t gonna know, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I wasn’t…” You don’t even know how to finish the thought, suddenly overwhelmed with humiliation. “Look, just…if that was just hazing or something, then—” 

“Come by the barracks tonight,” Hawk says. You heart skips a beat. “If you want,” he drawls, and you get the distinct impression you’re being teased. You stammer out a half-excuse, trying not to sound too eager. They’ve probably given you a mountain of paperwork, medical reports to fill out, bedrest mandates and field ready certifications to sign. 

“Maybe,” you say, “after I’m done with all that…” 

Half an hour passes quickly in companionable silence. You draw blood, check their vitals, fill out some of the preliminary paperwork on your tablet. The door lets out a beep and the autolock clicks out of place. You linger for just a second, looking back over your shoulder at Hawk’s steady gaze. 

“See you tonight,” he says, just as the door shuts.

[partyanimal167]

The Informant Pt 3- Miguel x F!Reader

I took a little rest to let this story settle in my brain. I think I'm going to move a bit towards the action than I planned but the relationship aspect is still important obvi. I'm happy people are reading this. Let's see where things go

Part One Part Two

CW: fem reader, mdni, author knows some Spanish, some action, non-descriptive violence, Afro-Caribbean reader in mind

It takes a lot for some one to be as demanding as he was with you. It was starting to take a toll on you mentally that maybe you couldn't get out of this one alone. But luck seemed to be on your side with your new superhero friend.

In normal, non-superhero circumstances, it would be inappropriate and creepy to search you up the way he was trying to now. However, this was more for your sake than even his curiosity. Somehow, the worlds of Miguel O'Hara and Spiderman were starting to blend in a way he wasn't expecting.

Miguel chomped on a shitty sandwich while he took a five minute breather away from his experiment to look over what Lyla found on your personal history. So far, nothing was standing out too much. Your father and his family immigrated a few decades back. Grandma opened up her restaurant, parents married. You grew up--got accepted into a business and arts high school. Siblings-

Miguel paused when he saw a news article about a shooting incident. It was between two rival mobs that had an innocent boy as the sole casualty. It was reported that there were no credible witnesses which was bullshit. It was a different time, and no one would speak up at risk of their safety. Miguel knew he had seen the boy's name before. He was going to go back to some previous documents to double-check, but his attention was thrown elsewhere when a knock sounded.

A secretary announced that he had a visitor waiting for him in his office which was...odd.

Miguel had been recently promoted, but there wasn't really any reason should seek him out. His office was more of a glorified cubicle space than something to be fawned over, but that wasn't the point. He was just coming up the ranks as a scientist, but there were other more-notable people in the building to speak with.

Who could- Miguel tensed when he saw the older man from the night before sitting across his desk. He stood when he saw Miguel and shook his hand. Miguel waved off the secretary and took a seat awkwardly at his desk.

"Can I help-,"

"I'll make this brief." the older man's expression was cold and disinterested just like when he barely spared Miguel a glance at the lounge. "If you're some lackey being used by Alchemax to get at y/n, then I suggest you piss off." he sent daggers, and the tension rose immediately.

Normally, Miguel would have gotten aggressive at the rudeness, but he could see the protectiveness in the man's behavior. He released his clenched jaw and exhaled. "I don't know what you're talking about," the man opened his mouth to speak, "and don't interrupt me again." he sighed. "I don't know what this is all about, but I don't have any ill-intentions with her."

The man starred down at Miguel--reading him and taking in different details. He stood to his seat. "I've heard about you sticking your nose into some shady shit, so don't lie to me. Are you one of those scouts snatching people up and testing out drugs?"

How deep in is this guy? Miguel played dumb and held out his hands. "No, no! I just look into ingredient trades is all...when the bosses need something last minute." Which wasn't exactly false. Except, Miguel was keeping an eye out on smuggling and getting things for his personal experiments if there wasn't enough to use at work.

The man starred Miguel down before getting up. "Excuse me then...it seems I've overestimated your position." he quipped.

"Wait!" the man turned around to face the man. "What's...going on? If this is about her, then I want to help. Is everything alright? Why- why do you even care? Aren't you working for-,"

"Don't. Say his name." the man's face relaxed a little, and he took a seat. "Yes, I do work for him, and I never wanted her to get mixed into all of this. I- I should have known better. After Chris died," the man paused for a moment then shook his head, "my name is Raul. The girl is like a niece to me. I've looked after her since she was born. We're from the same neighborhood." it seemed like he wanted to figure out how much to share with Miguel. "There are powerful people who want what she knows. And I'm afraid I can't keep her much safer for now." he messed with his hands then stood up again. "I'd leave her alone if I were you. If you were looking for a play date, go somewhere else. She's got more important shit to worry about." he then stood and walked away for good.

Rude...Miguel sat in his chair and thought for a moment. There was certainly something more going on with the company that he needed to start looking into. If Kingpin would go so far as to use an employee to lure you out, then maybe his patience was getting thinner than you assumed.

~~~

'I think I need that favor.'

You didn't want to send that text to Spider-Man, but after seeing a few unfamiliar yet intimidating faces at your Grandma's restaurant earlier, you knew that you needed to at least show face to the Kingpin to get him off your back. 'No,' wasn't a good enough answer it seemed which meant that things were a bit more complicated than you wanted to believe.

You were cocky at times, but not dumb. You didn't want to cause any unnecessary violence in your neighborhood, so it was better that you returned the call instead of just ignoring it. Kingpin was a real threat, but that type of business never really involved you. You could thank your uncle, Raul, for that, but you didn't want to push your luck.

You took a deep breath before knocking on an old wooden door that separated the outside world from the schemings of the underground.

The door opened immediately, and you were shocked to see a different lackey (not Raul) on the other side. The man didn't say a word to you before turning and leading the way. You followed through the old brownstone hallways and up a flight of stairs. The man knocked before opening a door to a dimly-lit office and moving aside for you to enter.

"Well excuse my manners, I'm so glad you could make it." he stood up whiling putting out his smoke and reached out a hand. You shook it before going back to holding your elbows--fighting the urge to fidget a little. "Please have a seat." and you did.

You cleared your throat awkwardly as you saw the Kingpin himself scribbling notes while puffing a cigar and messing with a calculator. He looked up and brightened seeing you.

The man did a little gesture with his hand and within a moment there was a glass of red wine in front of you. "Oh, uh...thank you." you took a sniff before sipping.

The man repeated your actions. "I hope you like it. It's a zinfandel. A buddy out west sent it to me." he shared. He took another sip before relaxing in his chair. "I'm glad you came by, honestly. I've heard great things about you; some things I can't even believe." he chuckled. He acted calmly as if not to intimidate you, but it was already too late considering his size and command of the room.

"I didn't want to make a big fuss out of anything. I was just curious when I heard there was a girl with a great memory who knew enough people that could find me the connections to a couple of sources I'm looking for." he went on, but you stayed silent. "But shit imagine my luck when I heard that the same girl had connections to that Spider-Man guy."

You couldn't stop yourself from showing your shock. You knew word would get out about that, but it shouldn't have been assumed that you actually knew the hero. You held up your hands. "Wow, I'm sorry sir, but I've only met him a couple times. I don't know what you'd want from me."

The man shrugged and smiled. "Oh relax doll, nothing much. I was just hoping I could meet the guy." you didn't speak. "I think he's great stopping all those bad guys and keeping the streets safe." Tensions started to rise a bit in the room. "But I know how these heroes are--heard about the others across the country. I have a feeling this Spider-Man guy is going to want to take down a big operation. And see, I got a lot of money coming in from my operations. I hear he's been asking about me."

"Mmm," you nodded as if you were following along.

The man looked at you for a moment before beaming again. "But I can deal with that later. That's not why I've been looking for you. See you, you know where I can get some vibranium. I have a arms guy who can make what I need, and I'm ready to pay the price. I got some plans with a few guys at Alchemax who are ready when I am. "

Your lips pulled thin and you could only stare for a moment. "I- I'm not sure if I'm the one could help with that." you trailed off.

Kingpin didnt say anything for a moment before flicking his wrist. A lackey you didn't see placed a briefcase on the desk. It flashed open and revealed stacks of cash. "Listen, I understand the value of information--really. It's a business, and I respect that. I went through a lot of people trying to find a reliable source. I had fuckers lie to me about who they knew or where to go. But you," he pointed and grinned, "you are a reliable source--a respectable business woman. Plus, I can get you more. Money's not everything, so I'll get what you want."

You didn't like how things were going. You were trying to come up with a plan to get out, but you knew there were too many men to fight your way out. You weren't a superhero, just a confidant to many with a powerhouse of knowledge in your head. What were you going to do; spit out addresses to gun warehouses? "I'm not sure if I'm following."

"You are I have similar enough circles, so I did a little research." Kingpin leaned a bit forward onto his desk. "I know what happened when you were younger, what you saw, who threatened you, the ones who made you quiet and loyal." a heavy feeling sunk into your stomach and you wanted to hide. "It wasn't a nice thing for that boy to die, and I'm sorry--really. But I know who did."

"I do to!" you bit out. You huffed before quieting again.

The large man seemed to understand your outburst. "Yes, but I can send him to jail."

It was your uncle who stopped anyone from going after you to permanently shut you up, but you lurked around to find what you could.

The room was silent for a moment.

Silence. You watched your friend die right in front of you but couldn't say a word because of those goons running the street. That feeling followed you everywhere. You could turn a corner and see the thugs out in broad daylight without a care in the world. They didn't bother with who they killed and probably didn't even remember why they did it. But you remembered. You remembered everything: height, weight, hair, eye color, clothes, where they threw the gun, who picked it up, all of it. But you were only a kid--too young to stand up and too powerless even if you could.

You turned to the side. "It doesn't matter anymore..." was all you said.

Kingpin had his hands folded and took a deep breath. "I don't think you believe that." he reached into his coat pocket, and you stiffened. He took out an envelope. "Look into this for me at least. I got your payment already in there."

You grabbed the heavy envelope--turning it around feeling the weight and noting its plainness. You glanced back up. "Who says I'll do it?"

The man's expression dropped coldly. "You will." He grabbed his cigar and brought back to his mouth. "Have a good evening miss." the lighter flickered.

You took that as your cue and stood up--leaving.

Kingpin watched as you left and listened to your footsteps echo down the halls.

"Follow her."

~~~

Miguel watches as you high-tailed it out of the unassuming building and noticed a group of men exit from the back and were trailing behind you. You tried to seem calm as you tried to flag down a cab yet were unsuccessful. The men split up as you approached a subway entrance.

Miguel webbed his way down and quietly caught the men one-by-one, sticking them to the sides of the buildings. He wanted to talk to you, but it would be better if they were secured and silenced. It was a risky move Miguel knew. After all, he heard everything, so when the goons blabbed that they got stopped by the hero, Kingpin may pin that down on you.

But he'd deal with that later.

...

You wanted to ignore the tapping on your bedroom window but knew it was useless. You wiped your face and took a deep breath before opening the window. You leaned forward and watched as Spider-Man leaned against a fire escape rail.

You smiled--resting your bosom on top of your folded arms. The night air chilled your arms since you were only in a tank top, but you couldn't be bothered. "Hey there Spidey, I got home safely, so I assume you kept an eye out."

The man could hear the exhaustion in your voice which he didn't like. "Yeah I did...I'm glad you reached out, bonita." In this moment, Miguel wasn't quite sure what to say. Most of the time as Spider-Man, he was being heroic--saving the day then quickly swinging away from the crowds. Even his conversations with cops and civilians were short and to the point. He wasn't sure how to act when someone didn't know who he was really, but there was some type of relationship going on also.

You smiled a little before glancing up. "Oh yeah before I forget," you reached in your hair and pulled out a discreet hair pin. You handed it over. "I don't know how much hearing my sob story helped, but I did feel better with you listening in."

Miguel took the pin in his hand and was quiet for a moment. "Don't call it that...everyone's story is important. There's a lot we carry every day."

You shrugged and went back to fidgeting with your hands. "We all aren't Spider-Man." You mumbled.

Spider-Man stood up and wiped a stray tear from your cheek. "You don't need to be...and it seems like us meeting is causing you some trouble." it was more intimate gesture than he was going for, but it didn't seem like it bothered you. "I want you to be safe." the words hung over the two of you. It wasn't necessarily a good-bye, but Miguel wasn't sure what to do next.

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders. "I will be...but what about you? You heard what he said. Kingpin is serious about stopping you from becoming a problem."

In your moment of stress, you still had it in you to care--even if it was for a genetically-altered superhero. "Well that's for him to worry about. He's the one stirring up trouble."

You giggled unsure of what to say. A large part of you wanted to stay with the hero and enjoy his company, but you didn't know how to go about that request. No one knew who Spider-Man was, and it wasn't like he was going to start opening up to you. "By the way, I did hear that little compliment of yours. I wouldn't have thought Spider-Man was a flirt."

Miguel straightened up at that. He couldn't stop himself with that one especially seeing you dressed down and remembering what happened the last time you saw each other--when he was just Miguel. He scratched his cheek awkwardly. "I...don't know what to say to that."

You stuck your tongue out a little a winked. "My boy-toy might get jealous if he knew Spider-Man was tryna get with me."

"Boy-toy!?" Miguel was thankful yet again for the mask covering his face. He hadn't really let himself think of how to handle your relationship with Miguel since things were intertwining more. He figured the smart thing to do was cause some space, but...he didn't know how to go about it without seeming like an asshole.

Your sweet laughter brought him out of his musings. "Just kidding. You know that guy hasn't texted me in like three days? We ran into a little trouble on our date, but I didn't think it'd scare him off."

Oh shit, why haven't I texted her? Miguel cleared his throat. "Uh well, maybe not..." he didn't know how to casually defend himself while not obviously defending himself. An alert sounded; he needed to go back to HQ and check on the other Spiders. "I, uh, have to go..." he wasn't sure what else to say. "Please be safe. Whatever that job Kingpin wants you to do...just, you know where to reach me."

You nodded with a soft look in your eyes. "Thanks." And with that, you watched the man shoot away and disappear into the night sky leaving no trace behind.

You let your eyes watch the night lights around your building sparkle. You took the moment to relax before your phone buzzed. You saw the homescreen light up with a notification.

Miguel: Hey beautiful, sorry I've been MIA. How are you? 😉

You chuckled to yourself as you leaned back in your room and closed the window. Well, I was just talking about him.

~~~

Okay, I think I'm gonna get a little spicier in the next chapter or two. I just enjoy the unique role a civilian can have in a superhero universe. Like what!? So many possibilities.

Thank you so much for reading! This story is also posted one A03 if you want a collected place to read. I do think that Tumblr will be a little more ahead with updates, but I'm not sure.

Ciao~

[the-fangirl-diaries]

Hello!

For those who are just following me or who've just become mutuals with me, here's a post that can help you get to know me a little bit more.

My name's Jessyca and I'm from Canada. I post now and then if I have anything remotely important to say or just wanna spew random thoughts. I'm also Batman, but you're not supposed to know that so forget I told you.🤫 (This is a joke, by the way. I WISH I could be that awesome!)

I am in a lot of fandoms including (but not limited to) Avengers, Good Omens, James Bond, Peaky Blinders, Pirates of the Caribbean, Puss in Boots, Sherlock Holmes, The Sandman, Three Musketeers (2011) Twilight, and Umbrella Academy. I'd be happy to talk about any of those topics, or maybe you can introduce me to some new stuff.

Sometimes it takes me a bit to truly feel comfortable with someone, but I promise you I don't bite! 😁

As far as activity goes, it's a bit of a toss-up. I will usually pop on in the early mornings before starting my day or at night just before bed, but other than that anywhere from 11:00AM - 8:00 PM is usually when I am busy with projects or staring at a blank screen watching the cursor blink.

Sorry, I was trying to be funny there.

Seriously, though. I have about five or six different stories that I am working on and have yet to publish to the world wide web, including two fanfictions, I make audios for YouTube and Patreon that I have to write scripts and record, I also make edits for TikTok.

By the end of the day I am left feeling pretty worn out mentally, so sometimes all I want to do is kick back, relax and watch a little bit of TV and unplug from social media.

On top of that, there are real life obligations I must tend to, as I am sure a lot of you do, and I have family coming over almost every week, which I honestly desperately need because it encourages me to unplug for a bit and live in the moment without worrying about deadlines and stuff.

It is tricky to juggle it all at once and schedules can change and if I don't respond to comments, messages and posts you've mentioned me in right away, please be patient with me and understand that I am in no way doing it on purpose and will respond when I can, even if it takes me a while to do so.

I wish I could just set a consistent schedule and tell myself to work on one thing at a time, but my brain hasn't gotten the message yet, so until then, I greatly appreciate your patience.

Just because we don't talk everyday or sometimes have periods where we don't speak for weeks or months at a time, it doesn't mean we're not friends, it simply means we trust each other enough to check in every now and then.

We all have struggles, some we keep hidden from the rest of the world, we all go through rough times, and if you are one of those people, I see you, I love you and I support you and I want you to take care of yourself, even if it means taking that extra step. Find your safe space, find a place where you can forget about your troubles for a bit, be it online or offline. If you are not in the right headspace to be on social media and need to take a break for the sake of your mental health, please do so!

I value healthy friendships, which means when we have conversations, we both feel comfortable around each other and we respect each other's time and feelings. Therefore, I am not obligated to respond to messages that are inappropriate or rude. Like I said, if I don't respond to messages, it is because I am busy with the things listed above, or I am asleep and I don't have the talent to text people in my sleep and need I go into time zones? They are wacky!

I am sure a lot of us would prefer to keep any sort of conversations light-hearted, and I can understand that because I do tend to worry a lot about everything and everyone, sometimes to the point I can't even sleep at night.

Anyway, that's all. I am sorry if this is long, I feel like I just needed to post this just in case any of you wanted to know a little more about me and my life behind the screens. Get it? Instead of behind the scenes? ...... I'm gonna show myself out now.

[vulpine111]

I just woke up and this is something that comes back to haunt me a lot, still. (Even years later.)

I remember while I was recovering from living in and out of wards at the mental home, I was out of it to the extent I had an unrealistic idea of when I'd die. This was due to an HPV diagnosis and a biopsy where they found abnormal cells. I wasn't sure if I would die while under anesthesia for the procedure to burn off the start of cervical cancer or how good my kidneys still were after prior attempts to end it all.

It can also take years to fully bounce back from the level of psychosis I suffered. I was still low-key psychotic at that place because the meds they had me on were sub par and my dad was trying to say I'm not "allowed" to advocate for myself and try something that might work better.

Due to fear/anxiety, I asked one of my then friends something rather rude. Basically, if I could stay with her. I didn't think it would be for long either. I just needed someone to agree that their address was where I was headed to prevent the mental home from filling out a missing person's report. I didn't want to just rot there.

It was an inappropriate question which I am wholeheartedly sorry for, but I still don't understand why she took it muchly out of context and cut ties with me. She went a step further to insult me and my character before doing it too.

I was dealing with a lot of emotional abuse from my parents at the time. My mother fed into my fears. When I explained I wanted to be buried here in New Mexico, she said I "wasn't coming home." I was going to be cremated and sent to some plot she owns in Ohio because I'm not even worth the cost or time a proper funeral entails.

In such a vulnerable state, I don't know how to fully explain how much it messed with my head to be treated like some irredeemable, worthless monster who doesn't truly care for anyone or even deserve the courtesy of having my remains handled as I wish.

I do care about other people. I care about everyone at least a little bit. Even people I don't understand.

When I'm psychotic, I don't, though! Why? Cuz I ain't there! I wish people wouldn't take it personally, but it can be hard not to if you've never been mentally compromised, I suppose. I basically just didn't have the "room" to care.

The capacity. The bandwidth. Whatever you want to call it. It wasn't there because I was depleted from my brain doing what it does instead of work the way it's supposed to.

I understand (to outsiders) psychosis is disturbing to deal with over the years, but imagine how it must feel for the person going through it. I tried to explain all this to her, but she wouldn't hear me.

She said, "Psychosis sucks but it isn't a reason to be nice to you."

As if we schizophrenics are sub-human and less worthy of compassion. It still hurts, okay? It hurts. It hurts I was dismissed about something I can't even help and am doing my best to manage. Psychosis doesn't just "suck." It's devastating.

Many people still demonize and stigmatize me for what I've been through even though they wouldn't last one day in my shoes and I'm just tired. Sometimes, the grief eats at me and I cry.

It's a huge burden to carry and I don't comprehend why God gave it to me while depriving me of what I hoped to have by now.

Some people are lucky. Their lives are full. I wish my life was like theirs. They have careers, partners, homes, pets, and other blessings I wish I had. This friend who dropped me is way more fortunate than I've ever been.

She has a family. A husband. A house. An education. A job and the ability to hold that job. She's appreciated and loved in ways I probably never will be.

The least she could have done was be there for me while I try and pick up the pieces of my shattered psyche, but after a while, people get sick of tolerating the poor pathetic mental patient.

I wish God had dealt me a better hand.

It's not fair.

[schlenting]

You always heard of childhood romance, having your best friend be a guy while youre AFAB in a latino household I was surrounded by people shipping us. Teachers, friends, strangers, even our own family, but we didnt try anything until after we graduated highschool. We've known each other since kindergarten, him a needy kid with glasses and a but awkward while I, at the time, was a social butterfly who got along with anyone but I did have specific interest girls didnt like hut he did

We clicked, spent everyday together, told each other everything. Highs, lows, it didnt matter, we were always there for each other. We both got crushes on each other, but they never timed right for us to want to date, it was always he'd crush ok me when I didnt want to deal with anyone or I crushed on him while he was chasing someone else. But, on our second year of university, things changed.

We stayed in the island, but his campus was all the way across the island, so we stayed in contact via frequent visits and discord calls, but then Pandemic happened. We couldnt move, we couldnt see each other when we were so used to seeing each other daily for the past 13 years, so when the ban lifted, when we could finally spend time together again, the emotions were overwhelming. We kissed, the confessions and the song he dedicated to me, as cheesy and generic as it was, it made sense. La Flaca, I was skinny for most my life, bordering on anorexic, so the song was perfect. The timing was just right...

Things weren't perfect, im over emotional and hate talking about my problems, preferring to suffer by myself in silence over serious things, and he's complicated emotionally. Its not that he doesnt feel, of course he does, but the way he thinks and internalizes things makes it seem like he's cold, and we tend to clash over it but it wasnt much, at least not in my opinion. We worked, out interests were drastically different but it was almost complementary, he struggled with social issues, I picked up on them and acted accordingly. I suck at math or things that are overly technical, but he's a programmer, a coder, wouldve gotten valedictorian if our school didnt fuck him over... So, again, we clicked, at least in my eyes...

Things slowly turned sour when he began taking internships, talking about wanting kids, the type of house we'd get... I didn't want kids, and I hated the extra distance between us for each internship. I visited when I could and I loved every second of it but I wasnt sure, Ive always preferred adoption than having to go through the birthing process, I didnt want to deal with the early years of toddlers and dirty diapers... but slowly that changed, because it made him happy, and thinking about it... thinking of us, alone, dealing with a kid of our own... it slowly wormed its way into my head and heart.

Instead of shutting down the notions I began actively responding, teasing and joking about life when we finally moved in together. But my head wanted more, my mother didnt help, poisoning my mind with the ideals of engagement rings... I hate rings, I lost my senior ring and I didnt really care sense I didnt want it in the first place... but this stupid ring, this silly and overpriced piece of jewelry showing ones dedication to their lover? I wanted it... I didnt push it, hell I never said it out loud, but he noticed the lingering stares whenever we'd stop at a shop to get him new earrings or rings, and Id scan to see if I found something I knew I wouldnt get...

I knew things would come to an end soon, my brain has a beautiful ability to know when Im going to go through shit, and prepares me by giving me nightmares... It started, breakups, him leaving me for someone else, and Ive always been insecure, especially when we had a talk about him inappropriately dancing with a female friend of his, as well as other acts that for privacy's sake I wont divulge, but slowly crept in the back of my mind. The paranoia began.

He's been talking to me less, spending more time with his friends, and I didnt think much of it, he's graduating university, who am I to tell him not to have fun? Besides, most days I was tired from my shitty retail work so why not let him have fun when I cant call... but when we did, Id bring up thinking about us buying furniture together, how we'd decorate the house, when we had a wedding who to invite, how big to make it and we always agreed to keep it small... but he let me talk, oh, he let me yapp and hope knowing he'd leave...

So, he took a deal, a fucking great deal. A job offer of the century, and I couldnt be prouder. I just wish he had told me sooner, that he'd talk to me before making the decision. But he didnt, and he consciously made the decision not to discuss it, to just accept it and move away and I'd find out in a family dinner for my stepdad's birthday. A party I didnt want to invite him but gave in when he said he felt like I was making it seem like he didn't want to go. How I regret it.

So now we're here, still seeing each other, still holding each other, kissing each other, hell we even had sex like nothing is going on... but it kills me inside. Ive cried everyday for the past week, I cant tell anyone, I dont feel like I can talk to him anymore either. Hell, Ive succumbed to using Character AI rp's to cope by venting and ranting to my faves, but its not the same. Ive cried going to see him, Ive fought crying attacks when were together, I bawl on the drive back home, I cry myself to sleep, repeat until I either see him again or go to work, and then I suffer from random emotional spurts because my bods hates when my coworkers and I talk, so Im alone with my thoughts and I have absolutely nothing positive going for me right now....

He leaves in September but he's booked a few flights to go house hunting, as well as a vacation to go see family, so we dont get to see much of each other this summer I guess. He even planned all of it without telling me, when we kept planning during the semester and talked about going on a trip this summer, just us... I dont know what to do, 17 years of friendship and a an almost 4 year relationship (our anniversary wouldve been in September too, few days before my birthday, around the time he's leaving), all out the window... I want to scream, frankly I want to kill myself. I didnt want kids, a house, or want going through the troubles of painting walls and arranging furniture. I didnt want to share a space with anyone, make bug changes to my life in that way until you and now I cant have any of that anymore. You were the only person I trusted for all of this, the only person I saw myself with even until a week ago.

So thanks, and I can at least now say without fear, the bear wouldn't hurt me like this, betray me like this. I'd just be dead, and its looking like a damn good alternative right about now. I wish you the best, but I hate you.

[that-is-just-so-typically-me]

Today I heard on a lovely little podcast that I listen to a discussion on jealousy. It was about relational jealousy as an entirely natural, guaranteed phenomenon, which I of course knew but hadn’t been ready to let go of my (unearned, trauma-based) shame enough of to think too much on it in a long time. I learned people first display signs of experiencing jealousy as young as six months old. We are made to feel and swallow shame about our jealousy, while being inundated from our earliest stories about how jealousy is a sign that we are cared for. One thought I’m pondering is how important it is to love and accept with tender compassion the part of us that feels jealousy - how it is born from the primal fear that who we love, the people who tether us to community (a connection which through the history of species informs our physical survival), will leave us. It is pointless and self-destructive to shame ourselves for feeling it, especially when we have trauma around certain warning signs that in the past accompanied an eventual abandonment. But another part is I think equally as true: your jealousy will not protect you. That is such a profound thought for me now, one that I had never considered in such stark but obvious terms.

“Your jealousy will not protect you.”

You can feel such big jealousy that it feels almost alive, but it can’t do a single thing to protect you. Because it can’t control what others do (and any attempts to control what your loved one does is abuse, and abuse attempting to hold onto love kills that love in its grasping).

If their heart stops appreciating you, it will. If their eyes wander and they fall for another instead, they will. If they want to cheat on you, they will. If they want to leave you, they will. When has feeling jealousy ever saved anyone from the pain of betrayal or abandonment? Whether that feeling is tiny or as tall as a building? Whether your fears are founded or whether you are tipping at windmills, the outcome will have always been the same regardless of whether you felt jealous or not.

And as we all know, *acting* on our jealousy in inappropriate ways either leads to unethical manipulation of others if we succeed, or to the diminishing of their love or even their decision to continue being with us. We can act on it appropriately by sitting with it, talking about it to our loved ones, and of course, talking to someone trained to listen and help.

I needed this reminder as I step my terrified first few steps back into dating. I’m so scared that my worst fears will happen all over again. I’ll be left yet again for someone I fear is more valuable than I am, who people really secretly want, and I am just a placeholder, a joke, a foster partner who keeps the seat warm for the person someone actually wants to love. I am terrified my pain will come out sideways despite all progress I’ve made, all the time I’ve taken to be alone and work on myself. I still feel so fragile, in the “handle with care” sense, and my post-trauma brain has no new data so far to override the only experience I have which is that I will always be left for someone else. I’m so scared I’ll get jealous so quickly and it will poison everything. I miss the feet-first, recklessly trusting heart I had before my last relationship, so much. It kills me if I think about it too long. But I just need to hang on and believe in who I am now, who is strong and wise and has only become a hundred-fold kinder and more compassionate because of the pain I’ve suffered and how I had to pull myself out of it all alone, when it would have been so much easier to let it turn me into someone bitter and vengeful and destructive. I feel so much more protective now of recklessly trusting, open hearts. They are a rare thing in this world and it is an honor to protect them. I know my heart is just as big and full of magic - no one can take that from me. I just need more to feel safe now, more time to establish that trust and let me trust someone recklessly again, and I hope I can find that safety someday.

Well that meandered as always, but I’m grateful to be following these thoughts tonight. I needed this thought to chew on.

But it’s not all hard realizations. I’m so grateful for this past week. I just turned 30, surrounded by dozens of friend who came out on less than three weeks notice to celebrate with me. I was overwhelmed by how much I got loved on this weekend. It makes me feel hopeful for the future. I also hit the ground running today with my aggressive job search, and I’m applying for some weekend volunteer opportunities - I’ve missed volunteering so much! I feel my body healing, even if slowly, after this month without school - I even look quite a bit more rested, too! I even drew a real sketch a couple of days ago, my first in ages, just on an impulse. I feel myself stirring back to life in all of these little ways, one weak but very real step at a time, even as I carry this pain with me. It’s like a stone in my pocket that I can’t ever get rid of - but it’s smoother now after wearing it for so long. There’s good in that pocket, too.

[mjolnir-steve]

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair. 

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too. 

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot. 

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you. 

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings. 

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night. 

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work. 

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.” 

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder. 

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d. 

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?” 

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides. 

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

[letarasstuff]

Showing the Bird

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you have fun reading it!

Summary: Spencer's daughter always is quick to pick things up she shoudn't do, this includes a certain gesture with her hand and middle fínger.

Warnings: A kid showing her middle finger

Wordcount: 1.6k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

Spencer is a technophobe. That’s why (Y/N) has limited access to any kind of electronics, which is a good thing for a three year old. The only sort she is allowed to use is the TV in the living room and even there her choices are limited to the several DVDs the little family owns and cable TV. Emily is in the process of persuading him to get a subscription to a streaming service for (Y/N)’s sake.

“Ok, Sweetheart. One hour of TV today before eating dinner and getting ready for bed, like we negotiated”, Spencer reminds his daughter before turning it on a kid’s channel. She nods, already engrossed by Peppa Pig hanging up on that sheep for being able to whistle.

Earlier the two Reids made a deal: If (Y/N) got all the states and their capitals right, she is allowed one hour of television. This may sound like he forced her to learn this information, but it’s really just a way to stimulate her brain and the toddler is eager to learn. Spencer only has to make it look like she has a gain in it.

The young doctor doesn’t like to leave his kid alone while watching TV. It’s not because he can’t leave her on her own for a few minutes. Spencer wants full control over what (Y/N) sees and what not. Especially he can tell what effects something has on a child and he doesn’t want her exposed to things she shouldn’t be subjected to at her age.

“Daddy, why are the animals talking to each other? I know they are translating all languages to us, but a pig speaks not sheep language.” Spencer is slightly baffled at her question. It’s mostly cute that she explains most things to herself in such a plausible way.

“Uhm, well Sweetheart. You have to-” Saved by the bell. Or more like the ring of his cellphone. Still he hesitates to get it. It’s Morgan, who probably calls because the team needs help with the case.

Spencer had to stay behind for this one, because he planned on taking his vacation days with (Y/N) to fly up to Las Vegas to visit her grandma. But Diana spontaneously took the opportunity to go on a trip with the sanctorium. Now the two do all the things they don’t have the time for in their regular day.

They already were at the aquarium, visited three different museums and even went to the movies once to watch the latest disney movie. Spencer really had to keep himself from pointing out the inaccuracies to not spoil (Y/N)’s fun.

Now the father debates taking the call. He doesn’t want to leave his daughter alone while the TV is on, but also doesn’t want to talk about a case right in front of her. The option of turning the TV off is also from the table, because this would be just plain mean.

So he answers it, afraid that the voicemail will turn on. “Hey Morgan, wait a second, I’ll have to leave the room”, then he puts his hand over the speaker and turns to the toddler. “Sweetheart, I have to talk to your Uncle Derek real quick. I’ll be right back.” She nods and goes back to her cartoon.

But while her father is in the room next door, the audio gets awfully quiet. Frustrated, because she isn’t able to understand properly what they are saying, (Y/N) looks for the remote. And there it is, waiting patiently for her and her little toddler hands.

But instead of turning the volume up, she accidentally changes the channel to an old cop movie. Curious about what is happening on the screen, the girl leaves it on for a few seconds. Upon entering a room, another man greets him with his middle finger raised. (Y/N) looks at her own and tries to copy that movement. On the third try she kind of gets it.

Getting bored of not knowing what the plot of the movie is, she turns it back on the cartoon she watched earlier and settles back down on her little chair next to the table full of books (Spencer put it there to avoid her sitting too close to the TV and straining her eyes while watching her shows, the distance is perfectly measured).

Just as (Y/N) sits down Spencer re-enters the living room, feeling relieved because he was able to help his team. “Hey Sweetie, is everything alright?” Happily she nods, showing him the bird.

Spencer’s face? Just imagine the shook Pikachu. “(Y/N)! You don’t do that! This is really mean!” He tells her in a stern voice. Where did she learn that from? He doesn’t know it, but the genius is almost a 100% sure she saw someone on the street doing it, (Y/N) always was quick to pick things like these up.

The toddler looks at him with a sad face, close to tears. “I-i-i didn’t know. I’m sor-sorry”, she says, beginning to cry. Oh no, this is not what Spencer was aiming for. “No no no, don’t cry. It’s alright. I’m not mad at you. You just don’t do this, people can get really hurt by your gesture.”

After calming her down, he thinks of something they can do outside of their apartment, to forget the little incident. “Do you wanna go to the office with me? All your aunts and uncles are going to get there soon and maybe we can go eat dinner with them?” Excited by the thought of seeing her family, (Y/N) nods and jumps up to get her own little go bag.

It’s a bright pre-packed backpack with small coloring books, normal books, pencils and other knick knacks she might need when she goes out with her father. The only thing that they have to put in is her favorite stuffed animal of the day. They call it like Spencer’s work bag, because the toddler once overheard the word at the office and refused to call it something different than his.

��Hey, look at who decided to give us a little visit!” Penelope exclaims as soon as the team leaves the elevator. (Y/N) tries to keep up with her preppy step, desperately holding onto her hand to not lose her.

As they finally come to a halt in front of everybody, the little girl smiles sweetly at them. “Hi”, she says in the most adorable voice. But instead of doing her usual wave, she raises her small hand with her middle finger standing out.

You just hear a faint “NOO!” and a crashing noise before Spencer comes along in a jog. He scoops his daughter up, looking her into the eyes. He takes a few steps away from where the team is standing.

“(Y/N), what did we say about this gesture”, he asks her in a serious tone. Instantly tears start to form in her eyes again, but Spencer knows he has to be strong now. “(Y/N), you have to stop doing it. It can really hurt people. Do you remember when Jason made fun of the braids Auntie Penelope put your hair in?” She nods.

Meanwhile the team stands awkwardly in the background, not knowing what to do. They never really witnessed the genius reprimanding his daughter in front of them. Though it’s not directly in front them.

“You were hurt by his words. The same is with the gesture you just made. We don’t do this to people, we don’t want to make them feel bad. Now, I don’t want to punish you, because you didn’t really know the meaning. Just apologize to your Aunties and Uncles. Next time you do it, there will be a hard no on TV for a week.”

Quickly wiping her eyes, the toddler mutters a small “Ok Daddy.” Spencer’s heart hurts a little at that, but he needed to be stern in this one.

She wiggles out of his grasp and slowly makes her way over to the others. (Y/N) gives each of them a hug, apologizing individually to them.

“So, who wants to see the new pictures of Sergio I got on my desk?” Emily asks in a cheerful tone to break the awkward tension. Immediately the girl takes upon that offer and bounces off to the desk with her godmother in tow.

Spencer still stands near the elevator, watching the interaction going down through the glass doors. Hotch pats him on the shoulder. “I know it’s difficult to be mad at them or strict even, but you did the right thing”, he reassures him briefly before making his way to his office. The genius smiles, as a parent you seldom get encouraging words about how you raise your child. It kind of feels like walking down a path with closed eyes. But on both sides are deep rivers with piranhas in them.

Derek takes a place beside his best friend. “You know, as serious as this is, it’s also as funny. I mean how she just smiled sweetly as a cupcake and deadass pulled her middle finger up like nobody’s business? My man, in your case I would keep a close eye on her during (Y/N)’s teen years.” Both laugh at the bizarre situation.

But luckily the toddler learned her lesson from this and stopped showing people the bird as a greeting. This is until she learns the next inappropriate thing, she should rather not do.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[thatadhdfeeling]

The differences between HYPERFOCUSING and HYPERFIXATING

Tl;dr: Hyperfocusing is intense, uncontrollable concentration that can be productive and/or harmful. Hyperfixating is an obsession that can take up a lot of time, effort, and money, but is suddenly dropped. Both of these are common experiences with ADHD and other disorders, and hyperfixation can be mildly felt by neurotypical people, but to a lesser extent and far less frequently.

Hyperfocusing

is the state in which your attention is solely focused on the current task. This could be as simple as filing a nail, or as complex as reorganizing a room. It could be a minute, or several hours. And I don't mean this task is your main focus, I mean it's your ONLY focus.

Nothing else in the world exists to you. People struggle to interrupt and grab your attention. Time isn't a construct you understand anymore. Your nervous system stops sending alerts to your brain about physical symptoms. Hunger and a full bladder don't exist. Being in pain from not moving or muscle aches from heavy lifting aren't a recognizable thing.

It can be dangerous. When your body doesn't recognize hunger and you forget humans need to eat, you can cause digestion issues, low blood pressure, low brain oxygen levels, heartburn, etc. When your body doesn't tell you to stop and go pee, you can cause UTI or bladder infections and fevers. It is not a choice, it's not just working through lunch, and it's not just being super interested in something (although 99% of the time hyperfocusing is related to a task you find interesting).

Once you come out of the hyperfocusing state or are successfully interrupted, executive dysfunction tends to sink in and returning to that task is almost impossible. And everything hurts! It hurts to pee. It hurts to not eat. No time to prepare food, only to eat the food. You can feel very faint and confused due to lack of brain oxygen levels and lost perception of time. It's honestly not a fun experience to come out of. But you can get a lot of detailed work done while hyperfocusing! Hopefully something useful, but as it's not a choice of what on or when it happens, it isn't always productive.

Hyperfixating

is being obsessed with something. Could be anything. Learning a new skill, picking up a new (or old) hobby, an object, a person, a TV show.... Anything. But it's not just liking this thing a lot. It's an obsession.

Spending hours doing or researching or practicing or reblogging about it, even during inappropriate times. Sneaking it or something you can use to look it up with into work or school. Risking a lot to immerse yourself with it. Constantly thinking about it. Dreaming about it. And possibly hyperfocusing on it.

Everyone can enjoy a hobby or be a fan, but this isn't just enjoying it, it's obsession. It's the craving for that dopamine hit as though it were a drug. You find yourself spending so much money on it, and you're convinced it will last for a long time. You have this overwhelming desire to share it with the world. You'll tell your friends and family about it. Show them. Try to get them involved. Have your entire world surrounded by this hyperfixation by inserting it into every part of your life.

And then it's gone.

There's no warning, no getting bored period, no slowly becoming disinterested. You wake up one day and you don't care any more. It's over. It might come back in a few months or years, but more often than not it doesn't. And this can be a very low period. You feel incredibly dissatisfied and bored, but nothing fills that void. Nothing compares to the feeling of the thing you hyperfixated on, including the thing itself. It's like finishing a book or show and not knowing what to do with yourself after. When people ask you how it's going with that project or interest, it feels like a walk of shame to admit you haven't touched it for a very long time and no longer want to. That you spent so much effort and time and money on it and told yourself and everyone else that you weren't going to get bored of it. But you did.

And then the next hyperfixation comes along...

Hyperfocusing and hyperfixations are two common symptoms neurodivergent people experience. Mostly found in those with ADHD, but can be seen in other disorders as well (I believe autism is one of them. I am not autistic, I can't speak for members of the autism community on this). Both hyperfocusing and hyperfixating have their pros and cons, and neither can be controlled or started/stopped at will. The subject matter is also not a choice. Many neurotypical people experience times of intense focusing or obsessions with interests, but not quite to the same extent as often. Neurotypical people can mildly hyperfixate, but it tends to be for a longer time and usually includes a more gradual decline of interest. Some people are able to turn careers into it. If you are neurotypical and truly hyperfixate on something, congratulations, you've discovered your passion. But for someone with ADHD, they may struggle with this, as the hyperfixation can stop suddenly after a shorter time so they can't use it to help with career advancement. These are things that take over the lives of neurodivergent individuals. People have lost jobs over it, gone bankrupt over it, caused health problems because of it.... It's not just something everyone experiences. Neurotypical people can, but it's rarer and less intense. ADHD isn't a lack of attention, it's the inability to regulate it. So while we struggle to maintain focus, we also struggle to stop focusing at times.

If you know someone who's neurodivergent and tells you about these experiences, just listen. Let them teach you about their interest. Let them passionately talk to you about it. If they are hyperfocusing, follow up with them later. Even if they responded to a question during that period, double check if it's important to make sure they remember. Prepare them food ahead of time. Let them know if it's been hours since they got up and walked or went to the bathroom. Don't shame them for dropping an interest, or tell them their hyperfixation is annoying. Understand that they can't control hyperfocusing. Care for them, because they'll need it.

I don't speak for everyone with ADHD, this is just me trying to explain the differences and how strong they can be. I don't speak for anyone else, neurotypical or neurodivergent. Yes, everyone experiences these symptoms sometimes, but not everyone experiences them to the same extent and less frequently. That's why disorders are classified as they are. Please see my "Why saying everyone has ADHD is harmful" and "Disorder and disability aren't bad words" posts. I also have no sources, just personal experiences and what I have been explained by my therapist (who also has ADHD) and other neurodivergent people. So hey, I could be wrong. I'm always open to education, and wish for the world to understand that neurodivergent people are different, and that's not a bad thing!

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Not A Date

Summary: You’re Bruce’s cute little intern and he has a crush on you, but doesn’t want to admit it. Except Thor’s kind of his best friend and can tell. He just needs a little push.

Pairings: Bruce Banner x black!reader x Thor

Warnings: smut, mmf threesome, age gap, daddy kink, swearing

(A/N: decided to change it up a little to celebrate 500 followers 🥳. It’s a little long. Enjoy, like, and reblog.)

Tagged: @titty-teetee​, @harrysthiccthighss​, @iam-laiya, @sweeterthanthis , @night-of-the-living-shred​, @mariahthelioness29, @liquorlaughslove, @blackmissfrizzle

Bruce would have never thought about being with someone that worked under him until you. He liked to think of himself as a man with integrity when he wasn’t the Hulk. Yet he found himself thinking about you in the worst ways.

It was worse because you were half his age. He never wanted to cross that line. Despite Tony trying to convince him to ask you out for drinks. He didn’t wanna freak you out or make you think he was a creep. You really had no business looking that sexy in a lab coat, though.

What was worse was that it seemed like he couldn’t get a break from you. You genuinely enjoyed his company. You were eager to learn and Banner was definitely eager to teach you.

The only problem? Thor had taken a liking to you. How the fuck was he supposed to compete with that.

Would you rather have Banner? A nerd that spends all day in the lab or Thor. A king from another planet whose people had been forced hereafter said planet had been destroyed. The choice seemed pretty obvious to him.

Not that Thor wasn’t great. After everything that’s happened Bruce and Thor were practically best friends. Thor gotten him through a really rough time and obviously Banner had been there to help the god save his people. Then after everything with Thanos. They’d bonded in a way neither of them had expected.

He doesn’t even know why he tortures himself thinking about it. It was bad enough that the King of New Asgard was making googly eyes at you. Or that you seemed to be reciprocating it.

You were doing it right now. Laughing about something he said while his friend trailed his different colored eyes up and down your body. He couldn’t even blame him.

“Banner, you want to come out with us for dinner?” Thor had asked as you’d started taking off your coat getting ready to leave the lab for the day.

Bruce sighed. Why did Thor have to torture him like that. “No, it’s okay.”

“Oh, come on, Dr. Banner,” your voice was so smooth and sultry. Like you were always about to whisper something dirty. “Come out with us. All work and no play make you a dull boy.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on your date,” he said as he finished packing up.

You tilted your head to the side with those confused puppy dog eyes. “Date? This isn’t a date. We’re just bored. And I wanna get drunk.”

“Yeah.” Thor nodded. “Just three friends having a few drinks and dinner.”

Banner looked between the two. Both of them with those sweet looks on their faces. Why the fuck did Thor have to be one of the nicest beings he’d ever met. It was hard to say no to him.

“Okay fine. Where are we going?” He asked as he finished packing up.

“It doesn’t matter as long as I get nachos!” You replied with a grin. “But I need to change first. I feel icky.”

Bruce had decided to do the same. He didn’t want to admit it, but he wanted to at least look nice for the first time you’d be seeing him out of work. Not that he was planning on acting out on any feelings. Again. He didn’t wanna freak you out.

“I know your secret.” Thor narrowed his eyes with a smirk on his face making Bruce almost smack onto him when he’d walked out of his room.

“Jesus, Thor!” He put his hand over his heart trying to not freak out completely.

He put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I do know your secret, though.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You like Lady Y/N. Am I right?”

His jaw dropped, but he tried to sober up quickly. “Wha- what. Why, why would, what makes you think that?” He stuttered.

“I’m a fertility god.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “I can tell these things.”

“Oh...” he trailed off his cheeks getting bright red.

Thor laughed. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. She’s beautiful.”

“She’s half my age,” he replied.

“So?” He frowned in confusion. Of course, Thor would have no concept of an age difference when he’d lived through centuries.

Bruce sighed. “So, it’ll look odd if I start dating my twenty-five-year-old intern, Thor.”

He shrugged. “Look I’m sure Stark has done much worse. Don’t worry about what people will think or you’ll never get your chance.”

—

You sipped from your margarita from your spot beside him. Why’d you have to be so close. Not that he was complaining. You’d started drinking the tequila before you’d even gotten the chance to get your food.

It was so different seeing you out of the lab and compound. You were dressed so simply in a white v neck tucked into your black jeans and a pair of black boots, but you looked so good. Your hair was up and done in your natural look. Like a cute pineapple.

“Wait, can either of you even get drunk?” You asked.

Thor had set down his beer and nodded. “I can, there’s nothing like Asgardian mead, though. What about you, Banner?”

“I don’t drink. Not sure how the big guy would react,” he answered.

She nodded. “That makes sense. Hope you guys don’t mind if I get drunk as fuck.”

“Feel free,” Thor replied. “We’ll protect you. Won’t we?” Thor kicked him lightly under the table.

“Yeah... yeah,” Bruce replied.

“Dr. Banner, loosen up. We’re here to have fun.” You nudged him.

“Yeah you’re right,” he replied a tiny smile appearing on his face as he tapped his fingers against the table. “I guess a beer wouldn’t hurt. If anything, we can just stay at Tony’s.”

“How many homes does this man have?” You asked wrinkling your nose. 

—

Thor spun around with you on his back as you guys walked towards the entrance of the complex Bruce had told you that Tony wouldn’t mind if the three of you crashed in for the night. Just because Stark Tower was gone didn’t mean the billionaire didn’t have other properties around New York.

Banner laughed as he walked behind the both of you. He’d stuck to a beer to be safe and had loosened up at least a tad. He’d enjoyed seeing you have fun more than anything. All those stories the three of you would share. Of course, nothing compared to the odd adventures Thor had over the centuries, but still entertaining nonetheless.

Once you’d made it in you pretty much skipped inside as you looked around the penthouse. “Wow is it weird that I’m surprised that he’s trusting us with this place?”

“What’s not to trust?” Banner asked with a chuckle.

“Oh, come on. This is the face of a troublemaker.” You made a kissy face at him.

He shook his head. “You look like you stay up watching Bill Nye the Science Guy.”

Your jaw dropped. “Hey! Bill Nye is a national treasure. I used to have a crush on him. I think I have a thing for nerds.” You shrugged as you walked over to the kitchen.

Thor wiggled his eyebrows at Banner before motioning at him with his head. Bruce in turn shook his head at his friend. “Just talk to her,” Thor whispered still a little too loudly.

“No,” he replied.

“Think Tony will get mad if I drink some of his wine?” You asked as you took a wine glass.

“Eh, Stark will be fine,” Thor replied. “Enjoy yourself.”

So, the three of you had settled down to watch a movie. You’d also maybe raided the pantry which led to you and Thor throwing M&Ms into each other’s mouths while Bruce munched on chips. “At least Tony let us stay in the place that has snacks.” You laughed.

“Or does he know?” Thor asked with a smirk leaning over to steal one of Bruce’s chips.

“We’re not breaking and entering, are we? Because you guys might be able to get out of it, but...”

“We’re fine,” he answered, waving you off. “This is like the party house.”

“Yeah and where he goes when he wants to snack away from Pepper,” Bruce said with a smirk on his face.

“Wow shady, Dr. Banner,” you gasped with a giggle.

He groaned. “How many times have I told you to call me Bruce.”

“What if I like it?” You teased. “Besides if I call you Bruce I’m gonna end up calling you Brucie.”

“How about you can call me whatever you want then.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he knew he was in for trouble. “Fine. What if I call you Daddy?”

For a minute, Bruce was sure his brain had short circuited. As soon as that word left your mouth, he could feel it happen. He closed his eyes for a minute. Almost like he was savoring it. He opened his mouth ready to say something witty or flirty or anything and, “Uhhhh...” It was like his voice had short circuited.

“Bruce, I’m kidding.” You laughed as you stood up, poking his shoulder. “I’ll be right back. I have to pee.”

As his friend was trying to process what had just happened, Thor sat beside staring at him with a dopey grin on his face. “I told you,” he teased waving his hands excitedly.

“She was just joking,” he quickly retorted.

Thor shook his head still absolutely beaming. “No. She’s totally into you.”

Bruce groaned because even if you were, it was still so inappropriate. “Thor, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Who’s going to stop you?” Thor shrugged. “Now fuck the twenty-five-year-old or whatever that is.”

“Thor!” Banner said, feeling himself almost lose control. The Hulk must have had a crush on you, too, because he did not like the other man talking about you like that.

Thor quickly sobered up, not meaning to push him that far. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said.

“Is everything okay?” You asked peeking out of the bathroom. You looked a little panicked because in the few weeks you’d been helping him you’d never seen him go Hulk. This was the first time you’d even gotten a glimpse of him.

“Yeah. Just...” Thor looked at Bruce. “Give us a minute, Sweetheart.”

“Okay,” you replied softly biting your lip and close the door again. You’d already been over so many evacuations plan for just in case it happened, but you kind of cared about him so it would be kinda hard to see him like that.

“You okay?”

Bruce had his eyes closed and nodded. “No. I’m fine. I just... he wanted to come out and play a little.”

“You sure? We can go for a walk if you want. Clear your mind or whatever.”

He laughed. “No. I’m okay. Thanks. Y/N, you can come in!”

You peeked your head out again, looking between the two of them. “Everything cool?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Bruce answered feeling a little bad if he’d scared you. 

You came back over and took a seat on the couch that was across from them. Like you weren’t sure if you should get close. 

“Y/N, you can sit here,” he said, looking down at your former spot on the floor. 

You knew he hadn’t done it on purpose, but this kind of felt like a command and you found yourself complying. You weren’t even sure if it was from what’d just happened or from the daddy thing. “Okay,” you replied softly, making your way over.

You sat criss cross applesauce in between them. Thor peeked out from over the top of your head, staring him down. ‘Do it,” the god mouthed to him. You looked over and groaned. “Shoot forgot to get more wine,” you said standing up again.

“Banner, be a man,” Thor mumbled.

“I could say the same thing for you.” 

“I am a man. I would have kissed her already. Taken control. Like a man.”

“I don’t want to scare her off.”

“So, you do like her!” Another grin grew on his face. “I told you.”

Bruce groaned softly. “Why would I want to do that with you here anyway?”

“Just trust me on this,” he replied as you walked up with another glass. They probably should have stopped you because by now you were pretty tipsy.

“Ohh, trust you with what?” You asked, sitting back in your spot.

“Nothing,” Banner replied. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, but he won’t admit it.” Thor added with a dramatic sigh. 

You scrunched up your face in this cute pout as you got on your knees to wrap your arms around Bruce’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Brucie. I won’t let Thor bully you.”

Thor was so giddy. 

Your breasts were so close to his face. “I thought you were supposed to call me Daddy?” He asked, looking up at you.

You got back on your knees your arms still around him. “Bruce! You’re so bad.” He could have done it. Just moved a little bit closer. Instead he froze again. 

At that exact moment. While you were waiting right there. For him to just move closer to you. To connect your lips. His fucking phone rang. He groaned, resting his head against your shoulder. He dug it into his pockets to answer it. “Fucking Tony.”

You retracted your arms as he got up to take it. You leaned back resting your ass on your heels. “What, Tony?” He said a little harshly into the phone after he’d made it into the hallway.

“Where’d you put my wrench?” He asked and Bruce could hear the clattering of things being moved in the background. 

“Seriously? This is what you’re calling me about?” Bruce laughed sarcastically.

“I texted you, but you never got back to me. I knew you three were out on your date thing.”

“It’s not a date, we’re just hanging out,” Bruce replied clearing his throat. “Why would you call it a date?”

“Yeah, whatever. Keep lying to yourselves. Anyway, where’s my wrench?”

It took a minute, but he’d finally found it and he was hoping he could get back to where the two of you were a moment ago. 

It didn’t even make any sense. He was a fifty-year-old man, he shouldn’t have even been trying anything with you. Yet there he was ready to risk it all. For as Thor kept putting it, twenty-five-year-old pussy.

Of course, though, Bruce had the worst luck in the world. Between the Hulk and that whole thing. Making Ultron. Yeah, he’d fucked up a few times. Apparently walking away from you was one because there you were with his one of his best friends making out with you just like how he was supposed to.

Thor pulled away from your mouth to start kissing her neck. His hand went to one of her breasts. You looked up at him with this troublemaker eyes. “I told you to be a man, Bruce,” Thor said, in between nips on your skin. “So, I’m showing you how.”

He could feel his face getting hot. Like the big guy was threatening to come. He didn’t want you to see him like that, but as you stood up you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“It’s okay. I have enough holes for the both of you.”

His jaw dropped, but he couldn’t respond as you’d already smashed your lips into his. Your mouths worked together. His hands stayed at his side as you pushed him back until he could sit on the couch.

You climbed on his lap. Straddling him as his hands went to your ass like it was an instinct. He could pretty much hear the Hulk actually giving him kudos for doing it.

“See how much better that is,” Thor said sitting next to the two of you as he started kissing your neck.

Bruce thought for a minute. He should be telling Thor to go away, but the fertility god was just trying to help him out. Maybe he could play and not really touch.

“Brucie,” you moaned as he started to trail down your neck with his lips.

“Been teasing me all night. Haven’t you?” He said, into your ear.

You nodded with a chuckle as you started to roll your hips against him. He moaned into your neck as he cupped the bottom of your ass. You gasped, “Daddy.”

His dick rubbed into you in the most delicious way. Fuck he felt so damn good. “That’s such a good girl,” Thor said, coming to sit the beside of you.

“Thor!” Bruce pulled away.

Thor rolled his eyes. “Stop making this weird.”

You laughed grabbing the man who’s lap you were currently on top of. “It’s okay,” you said in such a cute way, your body perking up.

He sighed before looking at Thor who started to kiss your neck again. You didn’t even give him a chance to think as you smashed your lips against his. It didn’t take long for that to become his focus.

One of them started to pull your shirt up making the other follow. You helped them as you pulled it from your body, lifting it over your head. They kissed the tops of your breasts as Thor reached behind to undo your bra. “Look at these beautiful fucking tits,” Thor said licking your nipple.

Banner went back up to your lips, grabbing your ass with so much more force. Suddenly Bruce stood up with you wrapped around his waist. Ended up dropping you so your back was against the couch. You squealed then laughed as he started kissing you again.

There was still enough room between the two of you to where Thor could fondle you and kiss your neck. Honestly you felt like a fucking goddess with the two of them worshipping you like that.

You started to undo Banner’s shirt needing so much more. He helped to undo the rest while you reached forward to unfasten his belt. He was quick to help so you could start to work off your own pants.

It all happened so quickly. Before he knew it the both of you were naked and you were ready for him to fuck you. “Please,” you whined.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“For you to fuck me.”

Just like that he slammed into you, not being able to wait anymore. Fuck it had felt so good. He’d been wanting to do this ever since you started coming around. All that pent-up sexual frustration.

The noises coming out of your mouth were perfect. He couldn’t believe he was finally inside of you. “Yes,” you moaned.

Thor had taken his dick from his pants as he watched the two of you. Bruce never thought he’d find himself here. Fucking you with his best friend stroking himself as he watched. It was probably hotter than any porn he’d ever watched.

“Harder,” you whimpered.

“Fuck her like a man, Banner,” Thor groaned. “Like the slut she is.”

“Yes,” you mewled.

Banner groaned before pulling out of you. “Turn over.” He demanded.

You did as you were told, flipping onto your stomach so your ass was in the air. He wasted no time in slamming into you making you yelp. “That’s good, Banner. Fuck her just like that.” Thor reached out to stroke your cheek. “You look so beautiful getting your cunt stuffed.”

You moaned looking up at the god with big doe eyes. The way you were biting your lip. Banner honestly felt intoxicated just from being inside of you. As he worked his hips back and forth while you worked back against him, he honestly felt like he’d died and went to heaven. Even Hulk was giving him props.

“That’s it,” Thor groaned as you finally put your mouth on his dick. As much as he was trying to resist it before, it was kind of hot to see you getting your face fucked by Thor as he fucked your pussy. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned taking your mouth off of Thor. Bruce rubbed your clit making trying to coax it out.

You tightened around him. He honestly felt like you were trying to milk his dick. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Cum for me, Baby. Be a good girl and cum for Daddy.”

His words made you explode because you were not prepared for him to say anything like that. Banner pulled out of you helping you flip back over onto your back. He once again wasted no time to enter your overly sensitive pussy.

You scratched his back and he noted that it was probably his favorite feeling. The way you raked your nails up and down. “Oh, Daddy.”

“That’s a good girl,” he groaned.

Thor got on his feet so he could get access to your mouth once again. You turned your head, ready to serve. “Thor!” Banner groaned.

“It’s okay,” you moaned. “I like it. And, look at how pretty it is.”

“See, Banner. It’s okay.” Thor moaned feeling your tongue back on him.

Besides it felt kind of good to be this desired. As a woman of science there was something so hot about Bruce Banner fucking the shit out of you while your mouth was full of dick from an alien god king. This was like your dream come true.

Though hesitant at first, Bruce was finding himself enjoying seeing your mouth be used by Thor at the same time as he fucked you. The way you licked it like he was your favorite popsicle before taking into your mouth. He could tell you were having a little trouble me multitasking since you kept pulling away from Thor to moan.

“Fuck, Daddy!” You whined having to pull away from the other dick once again. Your head was swimming because it was almost too much, but you were determined to please.

“Ah, ah, ah, Pet, I didn’t tell you to stop,” Thor scolded grabbing the puff of hair on top of your head so he could push back into your mouth. Even at the strange angle you were sucking his dick like a perfect little cocksucker.

It honestly looked so good. Seeing you moan as you tried to keep up. Bruce’s mouth was practically watering as he looked down at your spread-out legs and the way you attempted to take his best friend down your throat. He wasn’t sure if you could because Thor was as big as he looked like he’d be. Then again seeing you choke on him sounded kind of hot.

Slobber drooled down your chin. You were making such a mess, but it looked like that had been exactly what you’d set out to do. Bruce had only seen blowjobs that sloppy in porn. “That’s such a good girl,” Thor groaned. “Look at that. Doesn’t she look so pretty like this.”

“So pretty,” Bruce grunted as he fucked you getting more on your body now. He buried his head into your neck as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

You were slurping on Thor’s dick and fuck you were so wet. How was your pussy so damn wet. “Been teasing me all this time, huh. How long you been wanting this? Is that why you applied for the internship? So, you could take my dick?” He angled his hips in a way so that he could go deeper. His cock surrounded by your spongy walls.

As much as you’d fantasizes a long time about him, you never thought it’d be like this. Fuck were you pleasantly surprised.

“Answer me, Honey,” he said, looking back up at you.

Thor’s hand was still gripped in your hair and he forced you off of him long enough for you to speak. Except at that moment you finally reached your breaking point cumming around him. You felt yourself milk his dick and all he did was keep fucking you. “Yes!” You cried. “Fuck me, Daddy!” You begged.

“Such a good girl,” Thor cooed before shoving himself back inside your mouth.

You moaned around him. All that spittle on your face. Bruce wanted to kiss you so bad, but considering your mouth was a little preoccupied he hesitated. It did look good, though. He glanced up at Thor who was mostly watching you take him like a good girl.

He noticed Bruce’s eyes on him before looking down at him with this slight smirk, shrugging his shoulders. As a god and until recently a prince, he had no shortage of lovers. This meant from different beings to whomever. Men or women or anything else. So, with the way Bruce was looking at him, he wasn’t really shocked.

Bruce on the other hand had only been with a handful of women. As Thor’s thick cock was just right there in front of him with your lips sucking at it, he felt like he couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward to lick what you hadn’t been able to fit into your mouth.

Thor hissed at feeling your mouth and his tongue now added. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.

You smiled around the dick in your mouth and pulled out with a giggle. “Daddy!” You squealed. Bruce blushed, pulling way. You leaned into him to connect your lips with his. He stopped moving and instead held you there. “It’s okay. I’m having so much fun.”

“Me, too,” he said, his face still red.

“Banner, it’s okay,” Thor said, rubbing the other man’s salt and pepper curly hair. 

Bruce found it more comforting than he even expected before lifting away from you so he could lick it again, tasting the saltiness. You moaned underneath him connected your lips to his neck. “Don’t stop, Daddy,” you whispered in his ear before nibbling along his earlobe.

He ground himself, starting to move his hips again. This time fucking you with slower, deeper thrusts. This tingle that had already built up inside of you grew more intense. He was working your pussy so fucking good. Then seeing him do that you could feel a new orgasm building up inside of you.

“Help me, Baby,” Bruce said.

Thor smiled because he was happy to see the teamwork. Besides two mouths were definitely better than one. “That’s it.”

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum again,” your voice shook as you suddenly clung to him. This one was definitely going to be more intense. 

You squealed out your moans opening your mouth before biting down on your lip only for your jaw to drop again. You lip quivered into a pout while your brows tensed up. He couldn’t help it has he mesmerized the little details. Noticing how your eyes got so desperate looking. And it was for him. For what he was doing to you. Of course, you’d clearly enjoyed what Thor had done to your mouth, but he was the one fucking you into two orgasms one right after the other.

“That’s it, pretty girl, cum for Daddy,” he grunted because he could feel himself ready to also cum inside that pretty pussy. “Want Daddy to cum all in this pussy?”

You nodded, but you were so sensitive at this point because your orgasm was intense. Bruce quickly followed behind unloading into you. Tremors ran through your body as your eyes closed.

When Bruce looked down to see he immediately got off of you. “Shit, Y/N,” he said, he rubbed your cheek. “Hey, hey,” he talked to you ever so softly.

Thor got down next to you. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

You wrapped your arms around him and he hugged you back tightly, kissing your temple. Bruce rubbed got down beside him, so he could rub your back. “I’m sorry. It was just a lot.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bruce said. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No.” You laid back down as Thor kissed your forehead.

“Why don’t we go lay down?” Thor suggested.

“That’s a good idea,” Bruce said, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles.

Thor carried you to one of the many bedrooms. Your legs wrapped around his waist; chin perched on his shoulder. Bruce trailed behind watching the glazed look in your eyes.

As Thor laid you down, he made sure the blankets were pulled over you before kissing the top of your head again. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you answered contently.

“Need anything?” Bruce asked. “Water? Pretty sure we’ve been through most of the snacks.”

“Can you lay down with me?” You asked looking between them with big eyes and a pout. Thor grinned before getting in beside you, Bruce quickly doing the same. You got snuggly between them. Thor against your backside and Bruce in front of you so you could wrap your arms around them.

You were enjoying the closeness of them. They would kiss you softly wherever they could reach and traced their fingertips on your skin. All the affection was making you feel like you’d settled into his haze.

Thor tickled your side and you giggled trying to get closer to Banner. “Daddy, tell him to stop.”

Bruce chuckled and kissed your nose. “Is Thor teasing you, Baby?”

“I’m the tease?” Thor gasped. “I’m the one who didn’t even get to cum and somehow I’m the tease?”

You laughed. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be sorry,” he said, as he brought his hands further down over your butt, squeezing your flesh.

The jealousy Banner would have felt earlier was gone. Instead replaced with curiosity over what he could possibly do to her. The anticipation was making him hard all over again.

“Daddy!” You gasped; eyes wide as you looked into Bruce’s. “He’s touching me!” It sounded like you were trying to tattle and Bruce couldn’t help it as he laughed.

“Oh yeah? What’s he doing?” He asked with a smirk on his face.

Thor had lifted your leg up so he could stuff his large fingers into your cunt from behind. “His fingers are in my pussy,” you replied with a moan.

“Does it feel good?”

“It feels really good,” you whimpered.

Bruce chuckled as he pulled you in so he could kiss your lips again. Thor kissed your shoulder as you started to leak all over his fingers. “That’s such a good girl. Why don’t you ask Daddy if I can fuck this pussy,” he whispered in your ear, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, Daddy, can I?” You asked.

“That’s not how you ask politely, Sweetheart,” Bruce scoffed.

You swallowed down a moan because fuck Thor was really working you over good. “Daddy, can Thor please fuck me?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he said. He felt like he was drunk off of you. For once even Hulk was at peace.

Thor grabbed you making you face him as he kissed you greedily. You climbed on top of him straddling his waist. He grabbed your hips to lift you up and then eased you back down onto his dick.

“Oh.” Was all you could say. Your face felt hot all of a sudden. It felt like you were almost too full from him.

Bruce smiled at the dazed look on your face. You looked so beautiful. “How does it feel?”

“He’s so big,” you whimpered.

“You wanted a God’s dick baby,” Thor said beginning to move you up and down his length. “You have to take it.”

“Is it too much?” Bruce asked taking his hardening member into his hand because watching the two of you was so perfect.

“I can take it,” you whimpered through gritted teeth because you weren’t entirely sure you were telling the truth.

“That’s such a good girl,” Thor groaned. Fuck your cunt was tight. If you weren’t having such a hard time now, he would have been slamming in and out of you. Your pussy felt so damn good.

Bruce’s watched intently as the other man fucked into you. He wasn’t sure what had come over him tonight, but he doesn’t think there’s any coming back from this. “Fuck, Thor,” he groaned, “your dick is too big for her.”

“Is it too big for you, Sweetheart?” Thor asked. “Too much?”

“I promise I can take it,” you cried because you felt like you were gonna be split in two.

“You better fucking take it,” Bruce said.

Thor finally started to pick up the pace. You threw your head back, biting your lips, eyes squeezed shut with your eyebrows furrowed.

You looked so gorgeous like this and even though you’d just made Bruce cum in that pretty pussy he wanted to do it again. Thor had this smirk on his face because there was something so funny about this little human woman struggling to take him.

Thor looked at Bruce as he’d glanced over him and Bruce wasn’t sure what came over him as he pressed his own kiss to Thor’s lips. Thor always needing to dominate kissed the other man deeply tongues fighting against each other.

You finally opened your eyes noticing the change in Thor’s movements as he tried to keep up with both at the same time. You started to move your hips faster because fuck they looked hot together and even though it felt like Thor was going to break you, you needed it.

“Fu- fuck!” You yelped as your orgasm came through. Thor smacked your ass and laughed against Bruce.

“See I told you her twenty-five-year-old pussy would feel good,” Thor couldn’t help himself from saying.

“Thor!” Bruce groaned.

You stopped moving, a laugh wrecking up through your body. “What?”

Your night pretty much went the same way. Getting used by both men until you were completely tapped out. You fell asleep nestled between them as they whispered sweet nothings to you and surprisingly each other.

Bruce couldn’t believe the smile that was on his face. Whatever aftermath happens after this he could deal with it. As long as you and Thor were there. Well mostly you since Thor would have to go back to New Asgard at some point. 

—

“I don’t even know how she found out!” Tony complained to Happy for what was probably the millionth time.

The other man shrugged. “Maybe the kid let it slip?” He suggested as they finally came through the door. The both of them looked at each other as they saw the bowls of snacks around the floor and the only have drunken glass of wine.

And all the clothes.

“Who the fuck...” Tony gasped.

“I’ll do a sweep of the place,” Happy said already getting into protective mode.

Of course, Tony not being able to be patient wanted to see who the hell it was that had clearly had sex on his damn couch and didn’t even clean any of the evidence.

His jaw dropped seeing you in bed all safe and sound with Bruce. All of the irritation he felt was suddenly replaced with shock, but also relief because at least it was just Bruce. Besides he needed to get laid.

Thor came out of the bathroom at that moment, making Tony’s eyes widen as soon as he saw the god in all his naked glory. “Hi, Stark.” Thor greeted him with a grin as he went back over to the bed.

“I fucking called it!” Tony shouted, jolting the two of you awake.

You let out a scream before throwing a pillow to hit him in the face. Happy had covered his eyes because this was too much for him. “We’ll just wait outside,” he said, grabbing Tony’s shirt to yank him away.

“I knew it was a date!” He giddily yelled.

“Well, at least we don’t have to tell everyone because Tony is probably having Friday text everyone.” Thor shrugged, before scooping the both of you into his arms. Fuck, Tony. He was going back to sleep with his two small humans and then take them out for breakfast.