#it is hard to really internalize this and remind yourself to make space for hope and positivity...

[uncanny-tranny]

It's actually kind of heartbreaking how many people feel their life has ended right after high school or college, and honestly, the heavy romanticization of that period of time is so overwhelmingly predominant that it can be hard to avoid. It's insidious to constantly be told that ages 10-24 are the only worthwhile parts of life, that everything after is essentially meaningless and dull.

It's hard not to look around you and think that your life still is open and full of potential when you're told over and over again that the rose-tinted childhood is the last time you were alive. It's hard to realize that your life isn't over when you walk off the stage of your graduation.

We must realize that we will always be full of potentials. Your life won't be over until you take your final breath, and then? That's simply another chapter in your story, one of many. Let yourself realize that you're alive in the here and now. There will be good and bad, but never a complete loss of potential or hope.

[girlboybug]

daddy issues

“you ask me what i'm thinkin' about, i tell you that i'm thinking about whatever you're thinking about."

or the one where your boyfriend reminds you that you’re all he could ever want.

*unedited*

what’s playing 🎧: daddy issues by the neighbourhood

pairing : dilf!farleigh start x fem!reader (afab bodied)

word count : 3k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, age gap, dilf farleigh au mmm can you tell i’m ovulating, un protected sex, breeding kink, light impact play (he slaps reader a few times but nothing crazy), spitting, brief mentions of an exhibitionistic fantasy, size kink if you squint, cervix kissing yum, slight manhandling :3

TRIGGER WARNINGS : light slapping but nothing harsh and it’s all consensual, ermmm age gap with a power imbalance both professionally and morally but it’s all legal and reader is of age. if i’ve missed anything pls lmk.

a/n : hi guys! i know it's been a while since i've posted any work and i'm so sorry to anyone who has been wanting any updates. i missed you all, but life has been not the best. i won't share whats been going on, as tumblr is a safe space for me and id rather not bring my real life troubles onto here. i hope you guys enjoy this and forgive me for my absence <3

“you’re staring.” he says, not bothering to meet your eyes. you clear your throat, feeling flushed when you look away. “sorry.” you mumble, holding your legs close to your chest. farleigh sighs, shutting down his laptop and swiveling around in his chair before making his way towards you on the bed. your body lights up the second his proximity to you gets a little closer, and he sees it. 

it’s hard to not see it. 

he knows you try to hide it, to not seem like such an eager little girl, but your internal excitement when it comes to him is just so visibly external. it’s cute, it’s honest and it’s sweet, it’s one of the reasons why he likes you so much. 

you welcome him in with open arms, parting your legs for him to climb in between and nestle himself into. he picks you up from the mattress with ease, his large hands supporting you by the hips and the bottom of your ass to reposition you on top of him. 

he rests his hands on your thighs, watching as you rest yours on his broad chest, gently smoothing down the material of his white button up, the small embroidered dior catching your eye on the inside of his collar. 

“you’ve been quiet today.” he states, his warm hands bringing life to your skin beneath your silk slip. “because you told me to be,” you frown, slumping. he laughs, twiddling with the lace hem at the bottom of your short little slip. “yeah, but you never actually listen.” his thumb guides your chin upwards, pulling your gaze back up to his eyes. “so what’s making you actually listen today?” he asks softly, his hand engulfing your cheek. you lean into his palm, sighing to yourself. 

“i dunno,” you shrug, feeling small under his stare. “you dunno?” he repeats back, semi mockingly, but mostly full of endearment. you huff, glaring at him. he laughs again, and it makes something stir in your stomach. everything about him is so attractive, it can be upsetting at times. sometimes inconvenient.

there’s been more times you can count where you’ve sat on the sidelines while he conducts business meetings, strikes deals, makes compromises that are really more so situations that fully benefit him but worded to make it seem like they benefit the other person as well — and other business-y jargon you can hardly keep up with. but it doesn’t matter if you understand what’s going on or not, every time you sit and watch him in his element it lights a desire to stick your hand under your skirt and take care of the ache beginning to build. 

it’s just so hot seeing him be ahead of every single one of his colleagues, running circles around them with ease. his intelligence and capability is just so alluring. you think that it comes with his age too, the experience, the knowledge on life. you’ve always thought older men were the standard for attractiveness, and when you met farleigh, he somehow managed to raise the standard you had set in the stars and bring it to a level far beyond that. 

but with that, comes a sense of competitiveness with other women in his field. all closer to his age, more experienced than you are in almost every important aspect. it makes you a little insecure from time to time. you’re the first woman in her mid twenties he’s been with since he was in his mid twenties. he’s now approaching his early forties and it makes you nervous that maybe one day your company will bore him and he’ll crave someone else who can keep up with him. 

this morning at the bright and early hour of 7am, that fear was reignited in you. you watched from your desk, as your boss, your boyfriend, discuss things you don’t think you’d even really be able to understand, with a beautiful woman in his office. a woman closer to his age.

you watched as he laughed with her, as he let her run her hand down his forearm, watching as he let her hug him before she exited. to wrap a neat bow around the shit filled box, she made it a point to send a condescending smile to you on her way out, almost like she just knew. 

but, you know she’s just a coworker, she’s not even in the same department as he is, and is usually located in another location across the state but it felt horrible to see them interact. and it felt even worse knowing they would look good together, complementing one another with a high sense of class and elegance. 

farleigh anchors you back to him, squeezing your hip and gently patting your cheek. “what’s going on in that head of yours?” he murmurs, looking at you intently. “hmm?” 

“do you think i’m too young for you?” you suddenly ask, eyes already lined with tears. he’s a bit taken aback, not expecting the line of questioning. he takes a moment, swiping away your fallen tears. “no, i don’t. if i did, this—we wouldn’t be happening.” he says clearly, matter of factly, but there’s gentleness in his words, he wants to wipe away any doubt that might linger in your mind about you two. “why? do you think i’m too old for you?” he questions further, sitting up and pulling you along with him, making sure with every movement you remain close. you shake your head, sniffling.

“no,” you huff. “but i was watching you with…that woman in your office and i just…” you trail off, looking down at his button up again, smoothing down invisible wrinkles. 

“got a little jealous?” he can’t help the smile that grows on his face and raises his tone, it’s embarrassing and you return his inflating ego with a silencing glare. “yes.” you admit, somewhat annoyed, but you know it stems from your insecurity and fear that he’ll confirm it. 

“baby,” he sighs playfully, shaking his head. “i’m far from interested in her. i’ve got my eye on a new girl,” he grins, his tongue poking his cheek. “yeah?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest, suppressing your smile. “who is she?” 

he looks off to the side wistfully, exhaling with desire. “ohh i don’t think you’d know her,” he waves you off, sighing when he leans back into the headboard. “she’s my secretary. she wears these tight little pencil skirts, and she has a habit of bending over often. i think she does it on purpose.” he adds, his hands running up and down your thighs. your efforts in keeping a straight face fall flat, your smile betraying them and perking the corners of your lips. 

“oh really?” you giggle, leaning forward. “why don’t you make a move on her?” you tilt your head, wondering what his answer will be. “i’m thinking about it. i’m thinking about telling her how i watch her from my office when she thinks i can’t see her, how i think about bending her over her own desk and fucking her in front of all the little boys in their cubicles who think they have a chance with her.” 

warmth floods your cheeks like a tide pool, dragging you into the depths of nervousness. his smart tongue and dirty mouth still manage to catch you off guard, never failing in making you flustered and shy. he loves it, he loves how easy it is to play with you.

you can feel him getting hard under you, and it excites you, it makes that familiar ache trickle all over. “i don’t think she’d be against that.” you reply, trying to hide the shakiness in your words, but he hears it. he can always see through you and your little acts. 

“oh you think so?” he hums, squeezing your hips. you nod, leaning in closer, nudging your nose with his. “i think so.” you whisper, your lips brushing against his.

“you feel that?” he murmurs, lightly grinding his bulge against your panty clad cunt. you whimper softly, nodding. “it’s only ever for you,” he breathes out, pressing his lips to your lovingly with a chaste kiss. he peppers kisses to your lips over and over until he sinks into you, pulling you in with a hand behind your head. 

he moans into your mouth, gripping your hips and planting you firmly on his cock, rocking into you with haste. the pressure and friction ripples through your cunt, nudging your clit just the way you need. you cup his cheeks while you kiss farleigh, melting into him and sighing with content when he migrates from your lips, sucking hot bruises into the side of your neck. 

“i need you,” you whimper, meaning the sentiment in more ways than one. farleigh is the only man who’s ever made you feel the way that you do, emotionally and physically. you’ll always need him, whether it be a strong shoulder to cry on, or a strong shoulder to bite into when he’s got you nearly folded in half, fucking you stupid. 

“how bad?” he breathes out, bringing his hand between your grinding hips, pressing his long fingers firmly against your cunt. he can feel the dampness seep through the material, laughing smugly when you gasp. “real bad huh?” he adds, humming in agreement when you nod dumbly. “i know baby,” he coos, kissing the space beneath your ear. 

you shrug off the spaghetti straps of your slip, a breath of a shock being pulled from your lips when he acts faster than you, eagerly tugging down the white silk material to expose your bare chest. he groans to himself, lurching forward and taking your soft flesh in his mouth. 

you arch your back closer to him, eyes fluttering shut and mouth agape with soft moans trickling out into the dimly lit room. he plays with you, rutting his hips into yours, hands and tongue lapping up and groping your breasts, hungrily squeezing, licking and nipping at your flesh. 

your hands play with the curls at the back of his neck, tugging with a gasp when you feel his teeth graze your nipples. “farleigh,” you whine, throwing your head back, trying to grind harder on his cock. “need you,” he kisses your sternum, looking up at you with his hands far beneath your slip, wrapped around your sides, fingers gently skimming across your ribs. “i’m right here baby,” his voice cascading around you like caramel, enveloping you in its golden hue, rich and sweet. 

he pushes your dampened panties to the side, groaning to himself at the sight of your cunt glistening. he thumbs at your lips, sighing lowly and spreading you apart. 

his thumb rubs over your clit, chuckling when your lips part and a shaky moan escapes out. he rescinds his warm touch faster than you would’ve appreciated, softly cooing away your sounds of disappointment. he lifts you off of his lap, laying you gently down on your back. his large hand cradles the back of your head, lowering you down onto the pillow below you. 

he unties his tie, discarding it somewhere to be found by the maids in the morning, a shaky sigh fluttering from your lips at the view of him above you. the soft glow of the lamp on your shared nightstand wafts all around him, tracing the outline of his full curls, highlighting his cheekbones and drawing a line down the bridge of his nose. his lips tempt you without having to move at all, no movements in forming words, he just stares at you and with that alone, you’re a perfect malleable thing ready for whatever he has planned. 

“you’re beautiful,” he states in a breath of admiration, leaning back down towards you. “my girl,” he sighs, kissing your neck, breathing in the dainty vanilla, floral scent from the dolce & gabbana perfume you begged him for. but beneath the expensive perfume is your scent. your sweet natural scent he can never seem to get enough of, always crouching down to hug you from the back and bury his nose in the crook of your neck, sniffing right at the sweet spot. and now, it just turns him on further, fishing out his cock from his dress slacks, too bothered to take the extra steps in sliding them off his hips, too eager, too desperate to feel you, to be close to you, to be in you. 

he pushes in, tugging a deep gasp from the depths of your chest. he groans the second your cunt envelopes him in, gripping him in and squeezing. your walls pulse around the girth of him, trying to adjust to the intrusion. he grinds his hips, shuddering above you. “fuck baby,” he chuckles in disbelief, kissing your collarbone. 

“god,” you choke out, swallowing thickly, dragging your fingertips down his back. he starts pivoting his hips deeper in you, slowly pumping in and out, wanting to take his time with you, relishing in being able to savor your cunt. it’s been a few weeks since you both have had sex, he’s just been so busy with work, he hasn’t had the time to fuck you like you deserve, but now he has all the time in the world, and he intends to use it until the very last second. 

you feel so full of him and you find yourself somehow wanting more, wishing you could be with him deeper, but in the same breath as that thought, he knocks whatever you have left in your lungs right out, pushing into you deeper as if he could sense what you wanted. your calves rest on his lower back, keeping him flush inside you.

gentleness starts to shed, and an eager pace takes its place, his hips moving faster and his cock hitting harder. your clit brushes against his trimmed bristle of pubic hair, whimpering at the friction, tears already brimming your pretty eyes as he fucks you. 

and then you say something you’ve never said before, never even really thought of or fantasized about, but as you stare at him, watching him fuck you like he owns you, you can’t help it from coming out. “hit me,” you whimper pathetically, hardened nipples pressed to his chest with desperation. he stills inside you for a moment, panting with a look of confusion, unsure if you really just said what you said. 

“what baby?” he asks breathlessly, swallowing thickly. “hit me, touch me, please farleigh,” you plead, fisting at his button up, grinding your hips down to try and regain some friction. he’s ashamed with the way his cock twitches inside of you at your desperation. so unadulterated and unfiltered in the act of something so filthy. 

his hips start moving again, and he’s grabbing at your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pucker. “open.” he commands, and like a dutiful believer, you obey, parting your mouth for him. he spits and you swallow without being told to, moaning with a gasp when his hand lands on your cheek afterwards with zero infliction of pain, but enough heaviness to remind you his strength is there. it’s simply withheld to avoid hurting you and bruising your pretty face. 

your cunt squeezes around him, arching your back into his chest as his hips pivot harder into yours. he takes notice, landing another firm but lovingly smack across your cheek. before your moan gains sound, his large palm covers your mouth, his lips finding your ear. “be quiet and listen,” he murmurs, leaving the air silent. all you can hear is him fucking you, how wet and loud you are. “you’re so fucking wet,” he chuckles in your ear, and the moan that follows behind his palm just proves his point further. 

“do you hear that?” he shoves his hips in, pinning yours down with his available hand, giving more access for him to push in deeper. the fat tip of his cock nudges at your cervix, filling you out more than anyone ever has. “making a mess all over my slacks baby.” he grunts, but there’s no complaints to be found. 

when he finally removes his hand from your lips, he’s greeted with your heavenly moans, rendering him weak with his face in your neck, mouth baring hot kisses, groaning your name. 

his hand that nearly dwarfs your face comes back down, slapping the side of your cheek, his warm palm cradling it after the impact, his thumb running along your pouring waterline. “my little crybaby,” he grunts with humor, his hand sliding from your cheek to the nape of your neck, his other hand following suit. he presses down, forcing you to crane your neck downward, focusing your gaze on the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of your puffy cunt. “watch.” he utters in your ear, his teeth catching your earlobe before he pulls away. 

and you do. 

you watch him take you over and over, his hips slamming into yours, occasionally stilling in you to let the weight of his cock buried deep inside you hang heavy.

your legs tremble around him, unable to soothe them from the adrenaline that comes with getting fucked. “touch yourself.” he exhales, bringing his lips to your forehead. “wanna feel you cum,” and that alone could have made you finish. you bring your fingers to your aching clit, moaning a drawn out whimper at the stimulation. he watches himself fuck you, how he stretches you out and how your cunt accommodates him every time. 

“fuck,” you sob, panting heavily, sweat starting to collect around your neck and trickle between your breasts. “can i cum?” you plead through a choked moan, clit throbbing in excitement when he nods, picking up the pace in his thrusts. he releases your neck, traveling up to your jaw and bringing you closer to his mouth. his lips are pressed to your’s in milliseconds, drinking in every little sound you let out as he fucks you through your orgasm.

a bruising grip rests on your jaw and hip, like a wordless statement of how much of you belongs to him. which is everything. you can’t think of a single thing about you that you could say isn’t apart of farleigh; hell, you can’t think at all right now, not when your poor cunt is getting pounded into and your shaky fingers can’t seem to stop rubbing circles over your clit. the feelings that deluge through your body are addictive, it feels so good that it trickles into a delicious type of hurt. 

you’ve already cum, its existence proven by the white ring around the base of his cock, the sight has your hole weakly tightening around him. with no forewarning, he pulls out, leaving you hollow and empty, wincing from the loss.

before you can voice your confusion and protests, he’s flipping you around, guiding your hips back up, large hand pressing your cheek into the pillows below you. he’s back in you as soon as he exited you, groaning lowly to himself. “fuckin’ perfect.” he grunts mostly to himself, his cock twitching at the sweet little gasp you let out from the new angle. he travels into you deeper this way, nudging your cervix with every other thrust. 

he curls behind your back, his chest pressed flush against your shoulder blades, his lips nipping and sucking bruises into the crook of your neck, breathing in your earthy dulcet scent. he brings your wrists to the small of your back, keeping them in place while his thrusts start to become more and more sporadic. “gonna cum, tell me how bad you want it,” he grits, feeling his climax fast approaching, eager to finish to the sweet sound of you begging for his cum. 

begging for him to cum inside of you is as easy as breathing, if not easier, since he always manages to take your breath away, whether that be by his charming smile or with his hand wrapped firmly around your throat. “please cum in me,” you sob, tears staining the white silk pillowcases. “wanna be full of you, please farleigh, i need it, need it so bad,” you babble mindlessly, trying to fuck your over sensitive cunt onto him, your ass meeting him with every pivot he sends into you. 

normally, he’d push you a little more, too indulgent in his desires to let you have it that easily. but the way you fuck yourself onto him and cry for him is enough to make any man give in. his pants come out sharp, his thrusts matching the tempo of his thumping pulse, spilling into you with a loud groan of your name, his hips fused firmly to your ass. he pumps into a few more times, swallowing hard at the sight of his and your sticky cum and the mess it's made. “gonna pull out now baby,” he murmurs softly in your shoulder blade, kissing the skin lovingly. you wince, squeezing your eyes shut, collapsing back into the bed with your legs tucked close to you.

he crawls over on top of you, running his hands across your clammy forehead and temple. he peppers gentle kisses over your warm skin, humming quietly. “you okay?” he asks, laying beside you, pulling you into him after tucking himself back into his slacks. “mhm,” you nod lazily, shuffling around to face him. he chuckles, kissing your nose. 

his arm wraps around you, securing you into his chest, rubbing your back in relaxing circles. his hand sneaks between your legs, scooping his cum with his fingers, shushing you playfully when you whimper, your hips shying away from his touch. “behave,” he chastises lightly, bringing his fingers to your lips. “open.” you open your bitten lips, tongue darting out along his digits, licking him clean. you hum something of approval, kissing the pads of his fingers before he pulls them away. “good?” he mumbles against your cheek. “good.” you confirm, kissing his hair.

he snakes his arms around your waist, unsatisfied with how far you feel from him wanting to be as close as humanly possible. you’ve always loved how touchy he remained after sex, used to the two pump and dump cycle you’ve had with past guys.

unlike them, farleigh isn’t just some guy, he’s a man – granted a man old enough to be your father, but that never bothered you, if anything it added to the appeal. but regardless of all of that, he loves you, loves being near you even in non-sexual contexts. he proves it every day, like he is now, whispering about how pretty you look right now. “i love you,” he says softly, and it sounds like the first time he said it, gentle and nervous. it makes you smile, opening your heavy eyes to peer into his. “i love you.” you repeat back with just as much truth and confirmation. “i love you,” you kiss him, sealing your promise with your lips pressed together.

[panics-side-blog]

Had an idea in my head while I was writing some other stuff so I had to stop immediately to make this or else I would have forgotten it.

TLDR; Alucard realizes he is in love with you but never really accepts it and doesn't tell you his feelings, so he watches you become old and vanish out of his life without you ever knowing how he felt about you.

The word count is around; 856

Thinking about Alucard slowly accepting the fact that maybe he still can feel love and is now kind of annoyed that he didn't learn from his mistakes of falling hard for a human. It's the same song and dance, he genuinely develops feelings, slowly but surely and either gets rejected for being a monster or sees the human he loves so dearly die way too early while being together.

He constantly tells himself that he just cares for you like he cares for Seras yet at the same time he internally wrestles with the thought about just holding you. How it would feel to have your warm body close, to see the little light of life in your eyes and listen to your heartbeat.

How it would feel seeing all those different kinds of emotions come out of you just for him and discover what it means for you to be human, to be reminded how he was once in a sad nostalgic way and wanting to protect that part of you.

If you ever get comfortable around him and actually began to relax when he was there instead of freezing up a little bit or clearly showing signs of being intimidated, a small flicker if interest could be seen behind his glasses if you're really attentive. On the outside he's still cool and collected but on the inside he just really wants to feel your pulse under his finger tips and see that smile.

He admires in secret how you still have a certain way of showing vulnerability and softness despite your job, despite seeing the horrors of humanity and beyond, the resilience of believing that there is still good in the world and how badly you want to protect that little peace that exists.

The naivete, determination, kindness and stubbornness just makes him feel things he buried inside his dead heart long ago.

A weird mix of emotions bubbling up each time he sees you, you probably don't even know that he sometimes follows you around just to watch you being yourself. How you act when you think no one is around, he sometimes wonders what you think about him. Of course he could just read your mind or mind control you to demand to say it out loud but where is the fun about that?

It's a new way of playing cat and mouse, a much more innocent way that he wasn't even aware he could play.

Becoming more friendly to you, dropping extremely subtle hints that no one except him would understand, sometimes if he feels generous he will be more obvious but only to see that adorably stupid confused expression of yours. The way you gawk at him when he bumps into you even though there was more than enough space for you both or how he keeps up a conversation about relatively mundane things that aren't even about the job or next mission. The few, rare compliments about your personality always made you smile which didn't help the weird uneasy, warm feeling he gets each time you look at him.

At a certain point sir Integra became suspicious about it all, but like always when she asked Alucard, he is frustratingly vague or plays it off with his little smirk.

Yet, even when weeks turn into months and months into years he never told you how he feels, he hoped you might get the hint one day but it's hard to understand the vampire so you never did.

He stayed quiet and just watched you through a distance, a subtle longing for more in his veins that he never allowed to explore. It's better that way, you wouldn't want a monster like him anyway and he has way more important things than swooning over a puppy crush that probably will go away within the next few years.

But once you turn older, your hair becomes grey, your skin wrinkly and blemished, the feeling was still there. He watches in silence as your 30th birthday goes by, your 40th, 50th and one day you retire, not even working as a butler or maid for the organization. Your body became so worn out after all the fighting that you could safely continue any work here.

The money you gathered up and the extra benefits you gained from the job was enough to have a comfortable life.

So you leave and with that a part of Alucard's undead heart.

Somehow it always ends like this when he falls in love, not accepting it, ignoring it or thinking it's something else just to realize too late it was that serious.

He let you go without saying anything, maybe if he felt particularly daring you get a little gift that reminds you of him each time you look at it.

He would place a soft kiss on your hand as you leave the property and into your new life, a big smile on you and a soft one on him, waving you goodbye to never see you again.

He anyway was way too busy for something as foolish like love, the work will probably make him forget you anyway.

But it never did.

[sheepispink]

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑺𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑶𝑪𝑶𝑳 ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1: First Impressions

wc: 2.7k

It’s been three months since you first started your job at the division of security operations, a dream you’ve had since you were little. You’ve always wanted to be part of something meaningful, even if you were just a small function in the code. Speaking of code, you hoped to be on the technological side of things, never having really been a hands-on person—well, at least not confrontational hands-on like this job requires. You’d figured it was the perfect choice; what job wasn’t desperate for another programmer? The research you did on this place was insane; you wanted to make the best impression and land a job straight out of university, and your hard work paid off because pretty soon you got that letter. It was an assistant position for some random manager. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly what you hoped, but everyone started somewhere. Besides, experience gets you places you were sure you’d learn something in the time you spent working under them. Right?

Wrong. You rock back and forth on your chair for the third time that hour, absolutely bored out of your mind like a little kid restrained from toys. Sorting out the filing cabinets was suddenly the least of your problems when they gave you access to at least a hundred emails to read through. Not to mention your manager practically gave you permission to respond to them however you see fit (not without a glare and warning if you said something stupid, though). Every day you clicked a stupid delete button, the more you started wondering if this was an internship or just absolute hell. Once you hear your manager’s footsteps approaching again, you sit back up with a long sigh, knowing you could either continue this work or sit in a toilet stall and play games on your phone. The latter was looking more tempted by the second, but you quickly reminded yourself that you’re 23 now, and this is work! Clicking on the first email, you’re quick to delete another empty report from an intern.

Your eyes flitter over the next few emails, clicking away mindlessly before you pause..an escort is needed? Only two emails in, and this one seems a little different from the usual data assignment in an Excel document. This one was addressed by another manager, and damn, their title sounds fancy even if you don’t know what the hell it means. You sit up in your seat as your finger runs against the mousepad of the laptop, scrolling down the page. This could well be the stupidest thing to consider. Who would actually consider being an escort to some random agent all the way to Miami?? And stay there until he’s done?? In your own hotel?!

You, that’s who. You didn’t care if he made you carry his luggage or if you did paperwork for the whole plane trip. This could be your big break, working with an actual, experienced agent. If you could just help him out a smidge, that could take you a mile in your work! Peeking over your desk, you make sure your manager isn’t looking before quickly writing back the most sophisticated response along with a quick mention of your name as a candidate. You’d probably be screwed if he did find out you practically promoted yourself on his behalf, but realistically, he won’t. The chair creaks as you lean back again, groaning softly as you remember that an email response will definitely take a week to come back.

Before you know it, you're already switching departments and knee-deep in a tonne of new documents to fill out for the trip. Why the hell hadn’t this agent gotten his passport renewed?! ‘Does he never go on holiday?? Is he an overworker or just the biggest shut-in ever??” You weigh up all the options as you step your way into the small desk space they allowed you to occupy, your hands preoccupied with a laptop, papers, and way too many things in your head. Oddly, this busy office block feels like home, like the corridors of your university cafeteria. This also means you know how to manoeuvre through this situation with ease, getting to your desk quickly and efficiently with no awkward interactions. Though you used to take your time and wish you’d bump into the love of your life and he’d pick up your books, you wanted this job so badly that it was out the window. Thankfully, this had been one of the best first weeks you could have so far; it was practically second nature—

You bite your lip so hard that you can’t tell if the pain is from the blood on your teeth or the hot coffee seeping through the back of your new shirt. Groaning softly, you turn to face the culprit, hoping that they’ll be nice about it like you were. Accidents happen, you think; maybe he just slipped. After all, there’s probably a bunch of interns here too; they’d be in a much worse position than you. But there's no culprit waiting to say sorry or offer to fix your shirt—only a man swerving through the crowds with a suspicious coffee mug that is only half full as he rushes through. Great. Not even a prince charming who will pay for your dry cleaning.

It’s only a few days later when that same man walks by again, and again, and again, until eventually he stops in front of your desk. You lift your eyes from the small little corner you own, stacks of paperwork before you, just because the agent you were escorting was that important.

“Hey- you’re my escort, right?”

And unfortunately, that agent was this man before you. Yes, you would have thrown a fit about the coffee; yes, you would have refused to work with him or forced him to apologise. But damn, you just really wanted that job.

You nod your head, sitting up a little straighter as you push away any of the burning distaste for him and give him a polite look. “Yes, I’m your escort.”“You sure..? I mean.. you kind of just look like any odd intern, no offense. Actually, the interns get a better desk than you.” His blue eyes pierce into you, one hand rubbing at the stubble on his jaw as he raises an eyebrow at you. Only now have you actually gotten a full look at him and his well… unkept appearance. His hair is tousled, stray pieces fall over his face, and dark bags tug his eyes down. If you had to predict his future, you’d be sure he’s on the path to being the embodiment of a die-hard metal fan. You also had a pretty confident guess he’d end up being the boyish lazy agent upon seeing how he grabs one of the sweets off your small pot and pops it into his mouth.

“I can show you the documents, Mr. Kennedy, if you really want—I’m pretty sure I'm your escort.” His words had annoyed you a little, but you couldn’t just get angry at him. He’s practically a veteran agent, and it’s clear that he doesn’t even know you existed before today; no one really has.“I’ve had enough of doing paperwork; I’m just glad you’re doing mine. So, what have you got planned for me, escort?” He’s a little sassy, it seems, definitely not what you had expected, but you just had to remember to stay professional and keep to expectations. You stifle a sigh as you begin talking again. Maybe this really was a bad idea.

At first it didn't seem to be too bad; you’d carry his important documents stiffly as you escorted him to the meeting with another high ranking official or the like. Even if they were boring, you had to remind yourself that life had its stepping stones, and you’d just have to work yourself through this one to be able to comfortably pay your rent this month on top of chasing your dream. He’d disappear some days off on a mission before he’d come back looking far more grouchier than before. It only seemed to worsen as you soon came to realise that, in the simplest words, Leon had just as much hope left for himself as Chris Redfield did—which was in the depths of hell. You’ve watched him be shouted at numerous times in the passing days over lost work, unfinished reports, denial of missions, and straight up.. slacking off. It was concerning to say the least, and you’re starting to regret all of this already. Most days he barely even had a routine, too hungover from last night’s drinking session to think twice before he started another one at midday.

“Um.. Mr. Kennedy?” You have to speed walk just to catch up to his long strides as he heads towards the exit of this DSO building, already beelining for the bar. “What?” His voice is sharp and barely restrained as he slightly turns his head only to catch a glimpse of you and your meek face trying to ask him something. “Oh, it's just you, escort. What do you want now?” He raises an accusing brow at you as if you had just interrupted something so very important with something that seemed to have the significance of the size of an ant.

“Well, I need you to fill in these documents—“ You begin before he cuts you off, rolling his eyes at your words. “So? Just put it on my desk. Can’t you escorts do anything right?” That only makes you grit your teeth in anger— how dare he insult you because of his grouchy behaviour? “Mr. Kennedy, you told me that last week, and you still haven't done it!”

“Exactly, I told you to do that. So just do it.” With that, he reaches the double doors that lead to exit the building, pushing past into the evening air and leaving you dejected in the lobby.

You couldn’t just let that go, obviously not, so you’d return to his desk every day and slap down another high stack of paperwork onto his desk. If that's what he wanted, so be it—he can deal with it when he practically can't see over his desk. You have a smirk on your face as you contemplate that, imagining him huffing as he goes through the stacks.

However, you’re only met with horror as you realise he’s not even at his desk, already heading down the corridor with a bottle of beer in his hand again. What the hell? You want to scream right now because there is no way you could have landed a job this badly. Yeah, you’re a bit of a hard worker, but this is the DSO—you have to be one. This occurs more and more frequently, watching as he just saunters down to the bar again or maybe to the balcony for a smoke; either way, he doesn't intend to look at a single word of the work set out for him.

It gets to the point where you have Chris coming for you too, asking where the hell the mission reports are, but all you can do is show him the place where Leon’s desk is, the reports overflowing. The agent begins to dislike you after that, scolding you for “snitching” him to Chris and then stating he’s had enough of your persistence. So, instead, he tries to annoy you and slaps twenty dollars in your hands. “Go buy me a bottle of beer, and then i want you to go to that diner down the road, order the special, but specify that I want no mayo in the burger and a seedless bun”

So of course, you trudge yourself down the road to the diner, pickup the food all while cursing him out before returning only to be met with another twenty dollars and another order. This repeats again, and again, and he seems to seethe each time you give him that same unfazed look upon your face.

In the past four weeks of this job, somehow you had dropped from earth to hell and then lower. It was like he was actively trying to kick you out of this place, and if you didn't have the paycheck and a dream right now, you’d go in a heartbeat.

You didn’t realise the severity of the situation until you’re panicking on a Monday morning, trying to find him because you both have to be at a meeting in ten minutes and he still hasn't clocked in for his shift. You’ve practically begged every security employee to tell you if they see him, knowing that Chris might just have your head if you don't get there in time. It’s even worse that the meeting is twenty minutes away from the DSO building you’re always at—this is a guaranteed failure. The phone goes to voicemail again, so you reluctantly decide to just attend the meeting anyway. You usually weren't allowed to sit inside with him, but the least you could do was give them an apology to save the DSO some face. Even if they wouldn't take ‘I have no idea where he is’ as an excuse.

You stop outside the building, cheeks flushed from the cold since the traffic was so bad outside you had to jog over to the building. Taking the lift up to the meeting room, the other attendees give you a dirty look, assuming you were some stupid intern in the wrong place. Their looks almost made you cower, but you know you aren't doing anything wrong. “Excuse me, sir.”

You stand awkwardly in front of the meeting’s host, your body awfully rigid from your next words. “Yes?” He looks at you with disdain, not expecting to be spoken to by some kid.

“The agent I'm escorting here, Mister Kennedy, will be a little bit late or may as well not turn up at all. I.. uh, hope you understand?” You attempt to explain, not really sure how to word this.

What you didn't expect was for the man to grow furious, slamming his hand against the wooden table, which immediately made the entire room stop their menial chatter to stare. “What do you mean he’s not coming? He’s our top agent.” He barks out, and you have no idea what to say, backing up from him as you fumble.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon, but—“

“You’re only sure? What kind of escort are you?”

The red that coats your cheeks is humiliating, deepening with each second the silence continues on for. You grit your teeth, muttering out apologies as fast as you can before he eventually dismisses you, and you’re halfway down the stairs before you know it. The back of your hand wipes your face, small tears forming in your eyes at all the gazes fixed on you.

If that hadn't taken the cake, you didn't know what did. To think that he was getting away with all of this was a severe understatement; he was slowly deteriorating his own life from his habits. He’d been kicked off missions permanently now, and then work for him started slowly dwindling. It sounded good—less work right? Wrong. He was practically a week away from being fired altogether, which also kissed your job bye bye. The interns had already begun to snicker about it, even going as far as to ask you questions about him as well. As much as you hated his guts for his behaviour, you hated the sneers on their faces even more. It was the third time you’ve given them a dirty look now, even going as far as silencing one with a sharp glare. You couldn't help but scoff, a mere intern trying to mock an experienced agent? Who the hell did they think they were?

However, after another week passes with little to no improvement, you couldn't deny that the longer this continued, they wouldn't even have someone to mock anymore. The issue was, what the hell could you even do? Chris had fully given up on him at this point, as had most of the operatives here, and as much as you hated it, it seemed like you were his last hope.

————————————————————————

Next Series Masterlist

[softxsuki]

Hello, may I make an URGENT request, please?

Nxx boys with an s/o who isolate themselves when going through a depressive and anxiety induced episode. To the extent that they actively go out of their way to avoid people (including them), they texted them one message about it before leaving them on read) . When they check on the reader, they are super skittish and super anxious about burdening others. S/o insists that they are okay even though they are trembling to the point where they struggle to stand. S/o is anxiously fixating on being "clean" (showering and exfoliating excessively to the point their skin is kinda red, wearing a white oversized shirt ) and being "cold enough" (their place is dark, max ac, fans on max) (they are also just wearing a loose shirt and shorts trying to feel something). In addition, there are red dots on the shirt along the center of their body, indicating fresh self-harm.

(Thank you in advance, and my apologies if It's really specific and it makes you uncomfy)

Tears of Themis Boys Comfort S/O Who Tries To Isolate Themself

TW: Do not read it mentions of blood and self harm, along with poor mental state will make you feel worse, rather than comfort you!

Pairings: Luke x Gn!Reader, Marius x Gn!Reader, Artem x Gn!Reader, Vyn x Gn!Reader

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, fresh cuts, blood, depression, anxiety, poor mental state in general, isolation, feeling like a burden

Genre: comfort

Post-Type: headcanons

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: In which you find yourself going through episodes of depression and anxiety so you try to isolate yourself from the boys

[A/N: Hello! Firstly, I'm sorry that this was as soon as I could write and post this urgent request for you, but I thank you for being patient and understanding! I tried my best to include as many details as you mentioned, but I did end up leaving some out. As we can see I went a little overboard, but I hope this helps you out <3. Hope you enjoy! Depression and anxiety are so horrible to deal with, trust me I have a few episodes as well, they come so suddenly and they definitely hit hard. Reach out if you ever need to, I'm here if you need anything! <3]

Luke:

As your childhood friend, Luke notices that something is wrong the minute you begin to isolate yourself from him

You guys always hangout together, whether it be him walking you home from work, or grabbing a quick lunch together between your busy schedules, both of you always made time for each other

So when you began messaging him that you couldn’t get lunch or see him, red alerts went off in his head immediately

He just wants to make sure it’s nothing serious and wants you to know that he’s there for you if you need him, so he sends you a quick text

You do respond, but your message is short and cryptic; however, after that, all his other messages get left on read

He acknowledges that you clearly need space, so he gives it to you, sending a check-in message to you every few hours as he continues his work for the day

By the end of the day with still no response from you, he decides enough is enough, so he races over to your place

He doesn’t want to be a nuisance and seem overbearing, but he was very worried now, this had never happened before since the two of you began dating

Arriving at your home, your door is surprisingly unlocked so he lets himself in, making a mental note to remind you to not leave your door unlocked when you are home alone…

But he’s met with pure darkness in your home along with a freezing breeze

He enters your room to find you on your bed in only a t-shirt and shorts to cover you from how cold is was in there

He does internally freak out for a moment and thinks the worst–probably stares at you for a while, holding his breath, until he sees your chest rise, indicating you were indeed alive, and only then is he able to breathe again

“MC,” he calls out in a whisper, not wanting to alarm you from his sudden presence as you lie on your bed with your eyes closed in the darkness

It does spook you a bit, but you could recognize his voice anywhere as you open your eyes and question why he was there, in which he quickly scolds you for keeping your door unlocked but sighs as he sits beside you on the bed

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“Nothing, I’m fine” you say quickly

Did you really think he’d believe that? He’s a detective for crying out loud, he could spot a lie a mile away, especially when it came from you, someone he knew for so long now

As his eyes get accustomed to the dark, he notices a dark stain on your shirt and leans forward to turn your bedside lamp on–and then it becomes very clear what was going on…that was blood

“Spill, I’m all ears”

You know he means business, and you can’t exactly hide the blood from your self-harm on your shirt either, so you let it all out; how low you’ve been feeling lately, and how you got a wave of depression and anxiety out of nowhere, hence your distance from him

“I just didn’t want to burden you with all these complicated feelings that not even I can handle. You’re busy with your own work and I don’t want to distract you from that…but I’m sorry for ignoring your messages. I did read them all and I appreciate your support and allowing me some space,” you sigh, feeling bad that he ended up in this mess anyway

“You’re not a burden to me, MC. You’re my lover and my childhood friend, we have a bond unlike any other. You don’t have to pretend to be okay around me. You’ve always been there for me on my rough days, so it would be an honor to do the same for you…I love you…a lot. I hope you know that I’ll always be here for you. The second you need me, I’d drop everything to hear you out and help you through it,” Luke expresses and he reaches out to hold your hand, pulling you into his arms

And just like that you felt a little less lonely through your feelings, you could get through this

After giving you some privacy to clean up your fresh cuts, Luke spends the night with you as he feels a bit nervous leaving you alone. He’d make you some hot chocolate or any kind of drink that you’d like to warm you up as he turns the fans off and lowers the ac, throwing a blanket on you

You wanted to feel something? Well enjoy the warmth this man provides you with as he joins you under the blanket and gets lost in conversation with you for the rest of the night until you both fall asleep

Marius:

Ahh yes Marius–this man is clingy and obsessive (in a good way) so the second you leave him on read along with only telling him through text that you ‘need some space’ he’s already at your front door, knocking on it

“MC! Honey, it’s me, please let me in,” He pleads loudly. (rip to the neighbors because he’d stand there all night until you decide to let him in)

Knowing how persistent he was, you force yourself up to unlock the door before plopping back down on your sofa, allowing him to let himself in

Thankfully Marius hears your lock click and opens the door himself, but he’s a little taken aback by the darkness in your home along with how freezing it was in there

He flicks on the light by the front door, which makes you flinch from the sudden brightness, and you find him running over to your side to embrace you as soon as he sees you’re only in a t-shirt and shorts in this freezing home

Your skin is as cold as ice as he tries his best to warm you up

“What’s going on? Why is it so cold in here and why did you leave me on read?” He pouts, not letting go of you

You do push him away slightly though despite how comforting and warm it was in his arms

“Nothing, I’m fine. I like the cold”

He squints his eyes at you, knowing you were lying because you weren’t looking into his eyes

Marius inspects your condition one for time, and that’s when he notices the faint dark stains on your shirt–blood, it had to be, unless you were painting with red paint somewhere in your home, but that seemed highly unlikely

“Please let me in,” he says in a softer tone, going a little more serious

This pulls at your heart strings, Marius never got serious unless it came to his father’s company or when danger was around, but you clearly weren’t okay and that made him worry, so you decide to just open up to him

You tell him about your feelings, how you’ve been feeling really anxious and sad lately, and you also explain how you blocked him out because you didn’t want to be a burden to him

“If anyone’s a burden, it’s probably me, beautiful,” he sighs in relief, happy that he finally knows what’s been going on. “Of course filling my fathers place as CEO is a little stressful, but darling, time spent with you is my only time to be myself and to truly relax, even if that means hearing your worries and feelings. It’s my job as your boyfriend to protect you and keep you safe, but I’m failing at my job if you don’t let me in…”

He pulls you into his embrace as tears start to fall from your eyes

“Please let me be your shoulder to cry on, let me be the one who helps you feel alive, who helps you feel something. I’m your person, the one you’ll never feel alone with, just say the word and I’ll take all those burdens off your shoulders”

Slight relief fills you at his words…you really weren’t alone. These feelings didn’t have to feel as overwhelming as they did

After more hugs and a few kisses, Marius makes it his responsibility to clean your cuts up and press kisses to each of them

Afterwards, he’d order some takeout that you like as he offers you professional help if you thought you needed it (he wouldn’t force you, but he wants you to know that there are options and that was one of them) as someone big in the industry, he had many connections and he could find you the best psychiatrist in Stellis with the snap of a finger

But whatever choice you decide to make, just know that he’d support you through it all no matter what

Artem: 

Intellectual Artem has a more direct approach to helping you out

He doesn’t pick up on you isolating yourself from him that quickly, because he’s always swamped with work, and you usually give him his space anyway when he’s busy

But one weekend when he had the day off and you didn’t reach out to him first, he was a little…sad? Disappointed? Something like that

He becomes worried and messages you but you only tell him you’re fine

Every message he sends after that gets left on read, so he then catches on that you are very clearly not fine

“You can be honest with me, MC. We’re lovers…I just want to be there for you. Please message me when you get the chance,” he messages you

Artem wanted to give you your space, but he was worried. Did he do something to you without even realizing that he upset you? Were you really okay? So his plan of giving you the weekend to yourself goes down the drain as he finds himself at your front door with some homemade food he cooked at his own home and packed for the two of you to enjoy

He knocks softly at your door and clears his throat, “It’s me, Artem” he announces himself, feeling a little awkward…what if he was just overreacting? He was still pretty new to the whole dating scene after all

However, as your disheveled self peeks through the slightly open door, he knows his fears weren’t for nothing

You don’t even get a chance to speak before he’s already opening the door fully and stepping into your home

The darkness of your home along with the freezing temperature hits him like a truck as he turns back to look at you, with furrowed brows…what exactly was going on?

The light from outside illuminates just bright enough where he can see what you’re wearing, a t-shirt and some shorts. You must’ve been freezing

Needing to change the environment around you both, he places the food down and helps you close the front door, opening up the blinds to let in some natural light along the way

Seeing one of your candles nearby, he lights one up and guides you to the couch where he places a blanket over you

He’s quietly studying you, trying to piece everything together, but this is a case he can’t entirely solve on his own

“MC…” he says, not really knowing where to start. “Is everything okay?”

Clearly everything was in fact not okay, and he did notice the blood stains on your shirt, but he decides to keep his observations to himself, you’d tell him if you wanted to

“I’m great. How are you? What brings you here?” You feign interest, you weren’t in the right headspace to have casual conversation

“I know you’re probably holding back and pretending to be okay because you think you’d be a burden to me. Trust me MC, I know how to read you well, you’re my partner after all. I’d be foolish to believe those lies. It’s okay though, I won’t push you to tell me, but just know that you aren’t a burden. You’re the only one I’ve let into my life and I just want to make sure you’re happy. As your man, it’s my job to make sure you’re doing well, and it seems like I dropped the ball, so for that I am truly sorry.”

Not wanting Artem to blame himself anymore, you decide to just tell him everything that’s been going on, from everything you’ve been feeling, and why you’ve been avoiding him, as well as informing him that you self-harmed

It wasn’t like you didn’t trust him, you did, you were just scared to lose him or have him not want to deal with the baggage you carried

Your body began to shake as you explained everything and Artem quietly listened to each word, scooting closer to you as you spoke, so he could hold you, in an attempt to calm your nerves and ease your shakes

“I see…I’m sorry for not noticing sooner. Though work takes up a lot of my time, you’ll always be my number one priority. I’ll do better. I promise,” he sighs, holding you tighter to him as if you’d disappear from his grasp

Even if you reassure him that it isn’t his fault, Artem takes this very seriously and would work more on checking in on you throughout his day, no matter how busy he is

“I know you’re going through a tough time right now. I’m not sure how I can be truly helpful other than just giving you my support, but we can look for a professional's help as well if that's something you’d like to do…” He brings one of your hands up to his lips and leaves a lingering kiss to your skin, “You’re not alone, never. It’s okay to reach out for help when you need it. You can reach out to me anytime, even if you just need to hear my voice. I’ll always make time for you MC, I love you. I promise we’ll get through this together”

After everything, and once you’re a lot calmer, he’d put on a movie for you both to watch as you eat the food he brought, making a mental note to check out your wounds later on, but for now he’d try to keep things bright and hopefully distract you, even if it was just momentarily

He does take a few days off of work so he can stay by your side and give you the support you need as you decide what step you want to take next

Vyn:

Nothing slides by Vyn, this is his specialty after all

You and Vyn frequently got together to drink tea and just talk about life or go on walks at a nearby park, Vyn always made time for you at the end of his day after seeing patients all day

So when you text him to cancel your plans one evening, he already knows something is up

“Something came up, I can’t go out this week. I’ll text you when I can,” you message him

“I am coming over,” he responds immediately, pulling his things together as he heads to you

Though he does have a spare key to your place, he doesn’t use it, knowing that suddenly invading your space, especially when something was obviously going on with you, wouldn’t be a great idea

“Darling, mind letting me in? I would like to speak with you if that is alright,” he speaks calmly through the door, knowing you were probably expecting him and listening on the other side somewhere

It takes a while. It’s silent, which worries Vyn as he debates whether he should just let himself in, but his worries vanish as soon as he hears your lock click open and the door slowly creaks as you open it

“My love,” Vyn whispers, eyeing the darkness behind you as a chill hits his face from the open door, but he keeps a smile on his face, needing to remain calm and not act shocked or alarmed which could potentially scare you off or have you close your heart to him, “Can I come in?”

You nod softly and open your door wider so he can come in, you were expecting him anyway since he said he’d be over soon

Vyn is still in his doctor coat which he slings over your shoulders, noticing you’re only wearing shorts and a t-shirt when you had the ac on blast. It was freezing in your home

He turns on a small lamp, not wanting to blind you with the bright light of the room, but needing to change the feel of your home subtly

Taking a seat on your couch, he pats the spot beside him, eyeing your bloody shirt until you’re seated

“May I?” he asks, gesturing to your shirt and whether he could see the damage you made. You knew there was no hiding things from Vyn. He was used to this and probably already knew what was going on, so you hesitantly nod, sighing in defeat as you begin to shake

You were scared of what he’d say or think about you after seeing your fresh cuts…

Vyn gently lifts your shirt and takes in the sight of your cuts with a neutral expression, then walks away to get some supplies to bandage you up so they don’t get infected

When he returns with a first aid kit, he quietly and softly cleans you up before speaking again

“I am all ears if you would like to say what led you to do this? And before you say it, no you are not a burden, no I am not upset, and no I do not hate you, darling. I am still very much in love with you despite how much it pains me to see you hurt yourself like this. I would just like to understand from your perspective if you would let me in,” he smiles softly, ready to hear you out

And as if he had some kind of magic pull on you, you find yourself revealing everything to him, from the complicated emotions and episodes you’ve gone through for the past few days, to how it all led to you eventually harming yourself, so you could feel something for once…something other than your depression and anxiety

He understood now, from your isolation, to the state of your home, and your desire to feel something, hence why it was so cold in your home and why you were wearing shorts despite how cold it was. All the pieces started to come together in his head

Vyn takes your hand in his now that he finished treating your cuts, he laces your fingers together as he speaks, “I first want you to know that what you are feeling is normal. It happens to a lot of people who are not aware of how to properly cope with these intense feelings. Depression and anxiety are more common than you think, but perhaps taking matters into your own hands caused you to feel worse?”

“Perhaps,” you nod, agreeing with his words. This was something you always tried to deal with on your own, which is why you tried to isolate yourself in the first place, you didn’t want to drag anyone else into your problems, you felt this was your own burden to carry

“Now…speaking not as a psychiatrist, but as your boyfriend, I want to say I care about you more than anything in this world. You are the light of my life, the one and only person I look forward to seeing everyday, so please do not lock me out of your heart, darling. It is my actual job and my duty as your lover to ensure you are okay. But you can count on me to help you through this if you would allow it”

Whether you take his help or not, he’d still show you his love and support for whatever decision you make

After a few hugs and more chatting, Vyn would make you some tea to calm you down

He’d squeeze you into his business day if you choose to seek counseling with him…after all he’s the only person he’d trust to truly help you through this

Through the good and the bad, Vyn will always remain by your side and hear you out, even with your smallest issues

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 7/18/2023

[mweothe11e]

Hi, Elle! This is my feedback for your "Home" tarot game.

To be honest, I don't even know where to begin. You mentioned a lot of points that describe my situation, or how I act considering things in general. Let me start off by saying thank you for this reading.

Yes, if money wasn't an issue, my house/apartment would be a space I'd be comfortable whether I'm busy or stay at home for months so it would have all my interests in there. Thanks, I also wish you get the house and life of your dreams!

Also, the only earth placements I have are my Jupiter and Saturn in Taurus (Tropical), with Capricorn as my Venus (Vedic). However, I think what strongly relates more with your assumption is my Saturn conjunct MC. I have them EXACTLY conjunct with each other, which probably explains this need for me to be productive and make use of my time. I'm really working on being more lenient with letting myself rest though.

Also, off-topic, I just want to say that I've had quite a number of reading that usually have either the Death or Emperor card. Sometimes, even both. It could also be for any reading, not just self-improvement 😭 I just felt like this was interesting and all telling me something more about taking more initiative and being more open to different aspects of my life.

Speaking of changes, I'm going to skip first to your Phoenix comment. I think I understand your confusion since my relationship with change is this: I know it so well that I could even thoroughly explain what kind of changes should happen in my life and how it should happen. I understand and acknowledge the need for it. I accept and look for these changes, but it feels like inaction happens when I actually have to change something. It's not that I don't want to, but despite efforts, I still have fears I haven't fully resolved. So, that's probably why I reasonate with the Phoenix. This, then, brings me to my routines. As a matter of fact I do love having routines - gives more direction to my life. The thing is, yes, I can hold quite a grip on my routines for fear of possibilities of things that could happen or people that could screw me up (I'm really working on this but so far, this is my hardest "challenge"). I believe I've been more selective of the people I let in my life and I'm proud of myself for that. However, I can't distance myself from some of my relatives yet when I'm still not stable enough to do that. Haha.

You also hit the bull's eye with your momentum comment. Since, yes, I am someone who needs to acknowledge that I do need to change but not at the expense of burning myself out. However, I think I'm still in the process finding my rhythm that I do give my time a long time to rest, then I feel the need to make-up for it since what if I over-extended my rest? There's that kind of feeling sometimes. Thank you, though. I know it isn't a sprint and honestly I'm not getting outer pressure anymore but from time-to-time, I tend to push myself more just because I know I can (though I know even if I rest I still can reach it, it's just my need of having this stability).

This was a great reading and reminder. Thank you once again <33

Hi dear,

Thank you so much for sending me such thorough and heartfelt feedback. Life has been rather hectic, so I'm only able to properly respond to this feedback now~

I seriously wish you get to live in an environment where you feel safe to exist and just be yourself as unapologetically as possible. With my dream house, OMG I hope so too! Actually, let's both work hard to get it! Best of luck for us in the future!

With the astrology part, having earth placements does have that kind of effect on people. So just do what you feel called to do.

Maybe those two cards have some sort of significance in your life since they kept showing up in your other readings.

Ohhh interesting, this inaction can also be perceived as an internal resistance to change. I do really like your take on the Phoenix. But hey, don't beat yourself for being strict about your routines, especially if you have dealt with unreliable people in the past who mistook your kindness for weakness.

I'm also proud of you that you're learning to discern that not everyone deserves to have any access in your life. You don't have to go about it so abruptly, just pace yourself and take your time. You'll get there eventually. Yup, you're right about that.

Just get stable first before making a big move, also do it secretly and discretely. Unfortunately, there are certain relatives that are shameless and uncouth, that the moment they get a whiff that you have a bit of money, they'd come barging in your front door, demanding for a piece of the pie. The same people are so quick to shame you for putting healthy boundaries when you don't give them what they want, like some entitled spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum.

When it comes to momentum, try to sit down and assess yourself first. How long can you hold focus? How many minutes or hours does it take before your brain doesn't wanna accept any information anymore? What effective mental recesses do you already implement in your life? Which productivity hack works and doesn't work for you? What kind of planner are you? How do you best retain and master a certain information or technique?

Then take notes of your progress.

How long can you consistently show up to a certain habit with this specific strategy? What do you like about this strategy? What do you not like about it?

Treat your progress, as if you're keeping track of all the developments and occurrences that happen when observing a science experiment.

But overall, I'm truly happy that you resonated with the reading. I do hope and wish all the best for you and your endeavors.

[vixenanswers]

How to get past depression and start getting my grades up and be proud of my work when I'm productive

Hey there rein-raus!

So as already established I’m not a mental health professional. There also is a huge difference between a depressive episode (which I as a lot of people have gone through) and chronic depression, because you can’t really “get past” chronic depression.

-> In that case I can however share a overview of recourses, information about financing therapy & resources for queer and black people specifically and international recourses

And I can also give you tips for getting through a depressive episode, getting your grades up and being proud of your work:

Getting through a depressive episode

What is a depressive episode?

try to keep doing activities you used to enjoy

stay connected to friends and family

exercise regularly, even if it’s just a short walk

do something relaxing like Yoga or Meditation

stick to regular eating and sleeping habits as much as possible

avoid or cut down on alcohol and don’t use illicit drugs, which can make depression worse

talk to someone you trust about your feelings

seek help from a healthcare provider

Getting your grades up

The most important thing is to participate in the lesson. It isn’t enough to just be present, you need to actually show your teacher that you’re paying attention. I know it can be hard to say something in class when you’re shy, but it is really important for you’re grade. Keep a list where you write down every time you raise your hand, so that you remember to do it a certain amount of times per lesson. If you really struggle; start of with trying to say something once per lesson to overcome that hesitation

Plan your revision. When exams are coming up, plan out your study time; plan in time to study every day. Make a list of specific task that you can tick off so that you always know what you have to do. But stay realistic e.g. if you come home from school at 4 p.m. you probably don’t have the energy to start working right away

Set Short-Term goals. I already talked about writing down specific tasks and you’re gonna want to break these tasks down into smaller tasks. Not only does this make it much easier to actually do these tasks, it is also helpful to really focus on individual topics

Review your past lessons. This can be helpful to make sure you really understood the lesson and to remember the topics. But some teachers also tend to ask at the beginning of a lesson what happened in the last lesson, so by being able to answer that you already raised your hand once that lesson

Find your study space. Different people can work more or left effectively in different spaces. Some people like to work in their room, others can’t concentrate there - some like to study in the library, because there are other people working, others prefer the buzz of a cafe. Find a space where you can be comfortable and productive

Look after yourself. You need to make sure that you’re okay, before you worry about school. Take time for yourself and don’t push yourself to the point of burnout - because that’s actually less productive.

Being proud of your work

Write down your tasks so that when you finish them you can tick them off and have a visual reminder that you did well

Reward yourself; eat a pice of candy you like, take a nice bath, watch an episode of your favorite show etc.

Say positive affirmations to yourself

Think about why you have trouble being proud of your work in the first place; try to fix the root cause

If you have trouble being proud, because you feel you didn’t do enough, try to change your perspective on things; You maybe only studied for 10pm, but you did study - you maybe only started studying late into the evening, but you did end up studying - maybe you didn’t study at all that day, but you rested and can now do it tomorrow

=> I really hope that was helpful and you’re doing better. I know that you’re trying and that’s the most important thing. You can do this, I believe in you♥️

Thanks for the question!

[acidrcins]

did you hear the latest scoop ? we’ve got a new student joining us ! a little birdie told me that they’re called CHAE SEORI, but they kinda remind me of BAE SUZY — don’t ‘cha think ? you’re probably thinkin’ they’re just another TWENTY-SEVEN year old in their FIRST year of some MASTER'S DEGREE IN BIOCHEMISTRY , but wait ‘till you hear about their POISON GENERATION ! nifty, huh ? they’re pretty PRINCIPLED on nullivi, but you should watch out for their VINDICTIVE just in case ! anyway — if you wanna check them out, i heard they’re staying at the YELLOW HALL. oops ! you didn’t hear that one from me !  ༊*·˚

hello, i'm liv and v excited to b here! im a sl*t for anything superpower related and im also still off that gen v high so very excited to be here! all i can offer is this intro post, which i hope covers all the Key Aspects of miss chae seori. if i may summarize, shes just trying her best to be a good person while making questionable decisions and internalizing everything bad that her family has ever said abt her ‪♡‬ a cate dunlap wanda maximoff dupe rly

do like this post if u would like to plot because i would LOVE to and i much prefer d*scord hehe

also tw for mentions of nausea

𖥸 ─ basics

chae seori (often seen with gloves and a mask)

scorpio sun, pisces moon, scorpio rising

born 12 november 1996 in a small town in the outskirts of seoul 

currently a first year masters student, studying biochemistry & living in yellow hall

makes poison out of her fingertips & can infect those through physical contact or through air (if in close proximity)

there have been rumours going around that seori is able to give a kiss of death but she would like to debunk those rumors! her lips are harmless really its just the air around her

big on wearing patches but she wont tell you. will make u guess whether she has one or not. (justifies by saying shes just having fun)

𖥸 ─ personality

tl;dr morally grey girl, who's trying to prove herself as a good person (but it's hard when your powers are literal poison). a little bit of a manic pixie dream girl too

positive: principled, collected, intuitive, charming, inquisitive

negative: reticent, elusive, vindictive, temperamental, self-centered

alignment: chaotic neutral (the only principles she follows are the ones she sets for herself)

character inspirations: heavily inspired by gen v's cate dunlap, the hunger games' finnick odair, mcu's wanda maximoff, looking for alaska's alaska young, yellowjackets' natalie

archetypes: the vixen, the philophobic, the antihero

associated aesthetics: shades of gray, smiles that don't seem to reach your eyes, making questionable decisions but finding ways to justify them to yourself, dark eyes and darker nights, flirtatious touches with a hint of danger, red lipstick, unexplained headaches and waves of nausea

in control of her emotions but has tendencies to lash out. she is working really hard to be a good person!!! (by her standards) (she is thisclose to just saying fuck it and just embracing that she is a Villain tho pls someone enable her)

but she can get very resentful lmfao (example A: in her most recent biochemistry class, she told herself urself it was ok that the guy in class just mansplained a concept that she had already understood in middle school but then also gave him a wave of nausea once class ended because he was so fucking rude and deserved it)

keeps up a facade of being coquettish and flirtatious ( i never watched doona but that was the vibe i got from her gifs lmfao ) i think she can be quite charming tbh the queen of breadcrumbing ‪♡‬ keep them close enough, but never enough to touch. it's sort of a coping mechanism. safe space where no one can see what a shit person she really is and how she doesnt really deserve love

no one really knows much abt her and she intends to keep it that way

heavily motivated by wanting to know more! generally the kind of person who would conduct wild ass experiments or "would you love me if i were a worm" i kinda picture it like how finnick in catching fire is like he's paid with secrets!! same vibe with seori :D

𖥸 ─ background

pretty ordinary life growing up. parents are not particularly rich but they don't struggle either. happy small town family ‪:)

shit hits the fan when shes twelve and her brother is fourteen and they find out hes an anomaly. superhuman strength and speed. finds out after he saves a dog from getting hit by a car

if it had been anyone else, perhaps, they would've been the town's outcast but because it's her older brother, all conventional good looks with conventionally lauded powers, they worship him. he becomes the town's superman, girls come up and take pictures with him, he even gets featured in the town parade and seori is just there in the shadows

it gets even worse two years later when she finds out shes also anomaly! but unlike her brother, seori causes an incident of projectile vomiting after a particularly envious moment where her family forgets her birthday and instead, spends the day with her brother. it is messy and disgusting and it happens in the town center. no one forgets. and seori is no longer there in the shadows, she's actively cast out, whispers about why she cant be more like her brother and this is why anomalies should not be given rights

it takes seori some time to figure out her powers but she gets the hang out of it. not that it matters lol shes the black sheep, the 'villain' because goddamn shes literal poison. even her family treats her that way

she doesn't believe those words until one day she gets into a heated argument with her family. tells her mum that shes a person too and wails her father that no one has called her by her name in years and she's nothing but a stain in their family. they don't deny it and in a fit of rage and hurt and anger, she manages to cause irreversible brain damage to her brother

and that is the moment seori realizes she is the villain everyone talks about and she is the monster (doesnt help that her pupils are dark and her veins are black) !!! not a pretty look (think the monsters in sweet home before they transform kind of vibe) and so she runs

runs and runs and runs to seoul where she gets by on illegal means. she is ashamed of the things she has done (e.g., disrupting the storeowners vision long enough to get food to eat, sent someone into unconsciousness and pretended to be their granddaughter caring for them to get a house to stay, batting doe-eyes to boys who will buy her a pack of ramen) and since then shes actively working on being a better person

swears to keep her feelings in control, only uses her powers when justified (although her moral compass is cracked)

𖥸 ─ wanted connections

thank you if you made it this far! ‪♡‬ ‪♡‬ mwah mwah i appreciate u also i love plotting and just brainstorming so here are some rough ideas but OFC always open to talk !!

friends ! or better yet, friends who only meet late at night and you talk about the stars and your feelings and in the morning you pretend you have no other who the other is

someone who's immune to her....

fellow individuals in #STEM

ok this is really specific BUT what if.. our muses were enemies... and they kissed... and seori's feeling INTENSE emotions and accidentally fucks ur muses' vision up and gives them a headache and she has to pretend like it didnt excite her

she doesnt believe she deserves to be loved, so i would LOVE an angsty first love breakup thing. bonus points if she broke ur muses heart

she accidentally poisons u (she swears its an accident)

u catch her doing some immoral shit and tell her shes not a good person

a sam/cate situation. someone enable her to just fuck it youre not a good person so embrace it!!!

i love angst and antagonism so lets beef (ic)

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Cw sexuality and porn, just mentioned

Hello. I have a hard time with my bisexuality, in a way I always see my attraction to women as something bad. I can't explain why and it is easier with an example.

Recently, I found a porn I really liked. The women are a couple in real life and are super cute and talking all the time, if the other one likes it or what to do, etc. Like a real and healthy couple. I am somewhere in the asexual spectrum, so it is rare that I really have sexual attraction or really like sexual media.

I was thinking about this porn sometime after, how I really liked how they talked to each other and laughed together, etc. And that I like cute women. This was kinda where the issues began because with this thought, I felt like a 60 year old man prying in 18 year old students because "they are cute." Though I am 20 myself.

I often have such thoughts. When I find someone or a trait attractive, there's always a thought in my mind, in which way this is actually unhealthy and toxic. As if I deep down believe, I am toxic, and make up the reasons for it, on the go.

I don't know where this comes from, I wasn't raised homophobic or religious or anything. But I think half my asexuality is me, judging myself for every attraction.

What can I do against it?

Hi anon,

I think to some degree it can be healthy to maintain a level of awareness or mindfulness over whether or not your consumption is for healthy reasons, but it sounds like these worries are starting to impact your life. I can see how these concerns could stem from some internalized biphobia, homophobia, or queerphobia, but I can also see how it could be influenced by being ace and how that can frame sexuality as a whole. While general awareness around media you consume isn't unhealthy, the obsessive self-judgement and extreme distress you describe goes beyond normal self-reflection.

It may help to try writing in a journal when these thoughts come up to process where they stem from. It may also be worth reminding yourself that you are worthy and whole, surround yourself with LGBTQ+ spaces promoting self-acceptance, and find support groups. If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional such as a therapist could help explore this with you further, and they may have much more useful insights.

If anyone has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[thissithhappens]

i literally could not eat properly until i was with him again. i have a bunch of my favorite snacks here and tried to nibble here and there, but it was difficult and uncomfortable. but i could eat again once we were together. when i got hungry, i WANTED to eat. even if I couldn’t finish all the things i had, i had good leftovers and motivation to eat them once i departed for the night. that’s never been a THING— being around another person has never really helped calm my nervous system when it comes to eating. we went through a lot for a while when it came to accommodating and compromising certain habits and means of eating.

i think we scare each other. as they’ve always said about falling in love and melding your life with another, as I said to him, as he said to me: you can only hide from yourself for so long. especially when you have the similarities and parallels that we do. i think that frightens both of us, because we’ve always been most candid about our individual, separate selves when we’re “apart”. i do believe that i have gotten to see a level of closeness and concern that he hasn’t had with many- if any- others. he’s always made it clear that in theory he at least WANTS us to be healthy and good for each other. i think we both were acting out of that fear, the fear of seeing the other person go. we both might think that to know us is to no longer love us. like so many people, we both carry a deep weight of being uncertain about whether we are the things we’re aiming to be and not becoming the things we can’t stand.

with the ways we each express and internalize, and in conjunction with our commonalities, even without trying too hard we were able to push the exact buttons on each other that make us feel transported and raw. my walls made him feel like he wasn’t enough, and his response to my frustrations made me feel like i was too much. all we wanted was to be seen, accepted, and supported by the other. but we BOTH fell hard into self-preservation. absolute meteors shifting each other’s entire worlds AND sense of self. that’s not as scary to someone who’s always been transformational, but differing rates of growth can be.

he thought that having to try meant that he wasn’t doing it right at all. he has asked me to try to consider that people can grow at different rates, but that he still WANTS to grow and just wants to do it in a way that is safe and sensible to him. i’d had suspicions that i was asserting too much of my own righteous attitudes about how people should live, anywhere, and that ask of his really brought me into clarity. ive constantly asked for people to give me the space to just be me, to figure out my journey in a way that’s best for me. i should’ve been giving more space and curiosity to the way that he approaches growth and change. i’m honestly a bit disappointed in myself that, after all the work I’ve done and experiences i’ve had, it’s like i just threw everything i knew out the window. that’s not supposed to be who i am.

my biggest concern is that we would fall back into our same routines and patterns, but he even said himself that he thinks we could be good if we truly and openly commit to actually improving together and supporting each other properly. and i don’t think we’d get this far into disclosure and trying to understand if there wasn’t something deeper going on. since ive been in the city, he’s the one i’ve spent the most consistent, real, and present time around. we know each other so very well, yet still have plenty to discover and actually listen to, now that we can start moving some of the rubble of our own previous disasters away.

i do hope we can do it, and do it right this time. i hope we can make it stick. it just makes sense for us. maybe it hasn’t been about differing levels of want, because we can’t leave each other alone for SHIT. maybe it’s always just been about the treatment, the self-love. the scary mirrors. i love you because of you, because you remind me of the parts of me i like. it scares me to be with you, because you reflect the parts of me i don’t. we both want to be better, we both want to be good. we have all the ikea pieces and parts, and the instruction manual was unfortunately in Swedish, but we’re finally using our resources, we’re finally taking a breath, we’re finally reflecting on ourselves and not just bouncing back and forth off of one-dimensional views of each other.

i love you. nobody else feels right, nobody else ever would. if we mean this. if we both mean this. i think we can make it all the way to the end. i never wanted to kill you— only to die right next to you.

[ladywithoutababy]

9 weeks 2 days pregnant: heartbeats and the end of shots

Whoops, it's been a few weeks, but things are moving really fast. I went in for my first ultrasound on March 20 and had all the same nerves as last time: trying to hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Everything is so scary in the first trimester when you have no real symptoms (or at least I don't, other than the fatigue) so it's hard to convince yourself there's anything going on in there. It didn't help that they were super busy so I was waiting more than hour to go in for my appointment.

But once I got in there, the doctor popped in the wand thing and we IMMEDIATELY heard a strong little heartbeat. Or at least I thought it was strong – she said the heartbeat was 113bpm and ideally by this time (I guess 6.5 weeks?) she'd want 120, so I had to make another appointment to come in the following week. But at least she reassured me that she wasn't worried at all, which was nice because I felt like that gave us permission to finally celebrate a tiny bit. With IVF, once you hear a heartbeat, there's like a 90% chance that you'll have a baby at the end. So it finally felt real. She took pictures and the baby looked like a little tiny ghost. But even though it was so tiny, it's always wild seeing it suddenly go from an empty uterus to one with anything in it.

I went back in a week later, we checked again, and the heartbeat was 163, so she was very happy. She even gave me a hug! It's still so weird – we have such a different relationship than the last time around, when I was so tense and upset all the time. It's really nice getting to experience some of these milestones with a different attitude. I got some new pictures, and this time it was a very visible tiny ghost – it went from being almost invisible to taking up like half of the space! I asked the doctor what the embryo (baby?) was attached to, and she said the yolk sac (which becomes the placenta). This reminded me a little too much of my backyard chickens and I was not able to eat eggs for a few days.

Anyway, as of this point I officially graduated from IVF! So now the next step is to go see my normal ob/gyn (although they seem extremely unconcerned and I won't be able to go in until May, so we're back in the dead zone between information. But whatever).

We had a bit of drama with the wind-down schedule for the shots. We found out after my first ultrasound that the very last week of shots (the "wind down" week, when you start lowering your dose) overlapped with an international week-long trip for work that I couldn't get out of. So we scrambled and booked my husband flights and arranged child care and animal care for the week. But when I went back in for the second one, I mentioned this to the doctor and she said it was totally fine to just switch to crinone suppositories for the final week instead of doing the shots. So we pivoted again and my husband didn't have to come with me. Very nice for him. I made him say out loud that he appreciates me dealing with the suppositories. Not looking forward to the ~~~leakage~~~ but at least it's only for a week. I'm here now on my work trip and got to experience inserting a suppository in the airplane bathroom. It was less interesting of an event than I was hoping for, but at least I can say I did it. (I don't know how or why I would ever say this to anyone.)

When I was trying to figure out the switch from shots to suppositories, and the 6 hour time difference, I was getting really worked up about gradually moving to the new time, making sure it stayed roughly 12 hours apart, etc. When I talked to my doctor about it, she did not care at all (it seems like the wind down week is really mostly just a formality) as long as I don't go 24 hours without a dose. So we're just winging it. If I get a UTI from excessive crinone use I'm gonna be mad though.

But! Switching to the suppositories meant that Friday was our last shot ever. Recently they've been hurting a lot ("you're like a pin cushion", my husband keeps helpfully saying while he stabs me) but this one went in like butter. Right when I was commenting that it didn't hurt at all, he pulled it out, screamed, and said "Ahhh don't look!" (I know, weird reaction.) Blood was just spurting out of me like in a horror movie. All over both of us, all over the floor. It finally just kind of stopped on its own and I suppose like so many other things we'll never know why it decided to do this this time. But I found it pretty poetic for our last hurrah.

[strawbearytae]

pretty📎

“popular”! jungkook x underclassman! reader

genre: angst + hurt/comfort + fluff

synopsis: trying to get some alone time at taehyung’s party is practically impossible. So here you are on his veranda trying to avoid a certain boy in a certain costume matching yours…

series: part of my papercuts smau

Escaping the stuffy air of Taehyung’s apartment, you found yourself at his veranda. You wanted some time alone to yourself to process your thoughts and feelings… and ultimately get yourself space to calm the fuck down. The cool October air brushed against your cheeks as you stood shivering, trying to will yourself not to think about a certain boy in a certain Gryffindor costume.

It felt odd… truly… to continue liking him even after knowing who he was. You were sure that when Jeon Jungkook graduated, he was out of your life. For good. He was like a broken bone that had healed over the course of a few months. The thought of him was painful but a good lesson that shaped how you acted in the present. You had changed, Jungkook had certainly changed… So why in the world was it so hard to move on from who he was? When he was Jeon Jaegguk, his past didn’t matter to you. But why did it matter so much now?

You glanced back at the familiar locks of black hair that waved drunkenly with the happy birthday tiara on top. You knew why, you just didn’t want to admit it… Miya reminded you numerous times that her relationship with Jungkook was far too toxic and unstable that even if you hadn’t been in the picture, their façade would’ve fractured sooner than she wanted to admit at the time. You weren’t blind. Miya was attractive, charming, and overall beautiful. You noticed how boys from all departments mooned over her little giggles and numerous smiles, yet she never went on a date after her break from Jungkook.

She said she was over him, but was she really? You had told her the same only a few weeks ago but the identity of your current boyfriend suggested otherwise. Your teeth slightly chattered through the thin black cloak that was draped over your shoulders, the cold air didn’t seem to do what you wanted it to do and instead brought memories of Jungkook more intensely than you wanted.

At the sound of the veranda door sliding open behind you, you sighed. So much for being alone.

“Sunny?” You turned around to see the certain Gryffindor uniform that you were trying so hard to block out of your mind.

You quickly pulled your mask back up as if hiding behind your mask would act as some kind of shield to your identity that Jungkook seemed ignorant of. You wanted to scream internally, how did he not recognize you? He’d seen you without your mask before, why didn’t he notice? Had you changed that much?

“Jaegguk.” You smiled with only your eyes, “What are you doing here?”

“Needed some air.” He shrugged as he leaned on the railing next to you. His sweater brushed up against your sleeves making heat rush to your face. Why did everything feel so hot suddenly? “You?”

“Same.” You looked down, hoping that the darkness would shield the color that was blooming on your face.

He nodded before his eyes darted to your shivering figure, “Are you cold?”

“No.”

“Sunny you’re shaking like a leaf.” He stepped back and pulled off his cream sweater, exposing tattooed arms in the process for a few seconds. You had to look away before your face glowed from the amount of blood that would rush to it. “Here.”

You stared at the sweater for a second before pulling it on. Fabric softener. You buried your nose into the drooping collar, how did his scent change so much from high school? Back then he smelled like a well-groomed boy. Deodorant, soap and tangerines. But now… he smelled like a soap shop. Bath and Body Works seemed to have a new competitor.

“Thanks.”

“It’s nothing.” He continued to look at the empty night sky, void of any stars or light except the crescent moon that illuminated parts of his face. “So…” He tried, “We’re matching.”

“Slytherin and Gryffindor.”

“Ah…”

“They’re enemies.”

“Enemies to lovers?” He nearly snorted with amusement.

You nearly choked at the mention of such ship dynamic, “I’m not sure if that’s what I’d call us.”

He cocked his head to the side to look at you, “Oh? Then what would you suggest?” His voice dropped slightly as he stared, moonlight illuminating the twinkles in his eyes, “As a fanfic connoisseur?”

Damn him, no one should look that alluring while talking about ship dynamics.

You cleared your throat, exes to lovers, “Friends to lovers.”

Jungkook seemed to consider the trope, “Makes sense.”

And the both of you fell silent again, he stared at the moon, and you pretended to stare at the moon while stealing glances toward him. That was when you took a look at him, a good look at him. He looked so similar yet so different. Similar enough that it made you want to repeatedly bash your head against a wall for failing to recognize him but different enough that you could recognize how much time had passed. He looked older, more mature. The baby fat that he had once carried almost completely disappeared, leaving a sharp jawline and more angular cheekbones. He grew into the nose that he had once confessed to you in whispered facetime calls at midnight to have made him insecure. And his doe eyes seemed to have lost some of its glimmer of mischievousness. He was a man. Different from the boy that you had fallen for so easily at 14.

But the man and the boy seemed like different entities entirely, Jungkook was loud, chaotic, understanding and had an aura of confidence that 14-year-old you had found very much attractive. But Jaegguk… He was patient, calm, witty and calculated. He was goal-oriented but accommodating, his body had been the thing to catch your attention but his ability to strive for self-improvement while remaining humble had been what had kept your attraction from fleeting. How could you fall for two completely different people, people that were near polar opposites of each other, and still find out that you fell for the same guy? You glanced at the doe eyes that made you melt, whether he was Jungkook or Jaegguk, your knees were always weak for those eyes. Damn, maybe Tae was right. Maybe you did have a thing for bambi eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook’s concerned voice snapped you out of your thoughts, you didn’t realize that you were staring at him until now.

“I- you- we- um…” You fumbled over your words; you hadn’t been this awkward since you were 17. What the fuck was wrong with you? “You’re different.” You blurted out, “You’re really different from the first time we met.”

Jungkook’s eyes seemed to widen slightly, “I am? Since when?”

Since high school.

“Since the gym.” You lied, fumbling with the sleeves of his sweater, “I didn’t… expect you to be so…” You struggled to find a word that encapsulated the man in front of you.

Funny? Well, you didn’t exactly expect him to be boring, did you?

Charitable? You didn’t really expect him to be the Grinch either…

Understanding? What was he? A therapist?

“Pretty.” You wanted to pull your hair out in frustration.

How can you explain in a mere adjective that you found him so and utterly mesmerizing? He, in a sense, was like unknown specimen in some ways. He was intriguing, mysterious and surprising. You wouldn’t have guessed a gym rat was so interested in guitars or art. You would’ve never guessed that for someone who hated to read so much, he excelled in your marketing class. And for someone so gentle and keen with his camera, you wouldn’t have expected him to box. He had a range of interests that seemed to clash and melt so perfectly into one another. He was like a new species that you had originally taken interest in for its rarity but found so much more. He didn’t seem real. He couldn’t be real. How again, in the fucking world, could you fall for the same guy?

Jungkook laughed, bringing butterflies fluttering against your stomach once again. But if these butterflies were from the remnants of your heartbreak with Jungkook or the newfound interest in Jaegguk… you did not know.

“Pretty.” Jungkook rolled the word off his tongue before staring down at you, “You are too.”

Such simple words. Such cliché words. But from him they sounded like a love song.

You froze. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him.

You had kissed Jeon Jungkook once. No… Twice now. The first time was your first kiss, an awkward and stomach-butterfly-releasing affair that you would rather not dwell upon at the moment since it was laced with the memory of the very man breaking up with you less than 72 hours later. The second was when you were intoxicated and thought he was a different guy… only a week ago.

The air between the two of you seemed to thicken, both of you glancing towards the bottom of the other’s faces before darting back to the eyes. No one dared to make the first move until he brought his hand over so that his thumb brushed against your ear. His thumb danced around the side of your mask, bambi eyes asking for permission.

And for some reason, you nodded.

His hands slowly pulled off your mask and he stared. Did he know?

He stilled, a painting against a backdrop of illuminated darkness.

“You’re pretty.” He finally whispered before he guided your chin towards his own.

He was so close that didn’t take much energy for you to rise on your toes so that his lips met yours. They felt familiar yet so foreign like he did. You grasped onto his shirt to bring him impossibly closer as his hands made their way to the railing on each side of you. Your back was pressed onto the cold metal, making you shiver against his chest.

You nearly mumbled ‘Jungkook’ against his lips but luckily his own voice stopped you, “I like you.” He muttered in between kisses.

Sunny or Y/N?

And in all honesty, you didn’t even know who you were. You were Y/N, yes. The girl you were from 17 was almost long gone but she lingered. Her behaviors and habits had been amended and criticized by your current self. The self that had molded itself in the gym and through self-love journals into a caricature of perfection and wellness. You were her too. You were Sunny, you had to be Sunny.

Sunny was confident and beautiful. She was well-liked and intelligent.

But there would be glimpses of Y/N… time to time. Her laugh, her facial expressions, her little quirks and habits would suddenly bleed into your current self. The mask would crack, the caricature melted. You bashed her back into the deep parts of your mind in those moments. You were Sunny. Well, Y/N still… but a better version. You were “that girl,” you were healthy, you were beautiful.

And you had continued that mantra for the last 18 months. You were better, you were happier and healthier than Y/N. You were a new, updated version of her.

You are better.

You failed to realize that you hadn’t used that mantra for a while.

“I know, Kook.” You replied with hesitation that you hoped was masked. For a fraction of a second, he seemed to still before you started pulling at his shirt tighter. You were half afraid you would cause it to rip.

“No…” He trailed off as he placed his hands gently over yours before guiding them to his hair where you kept them buried while he continued to kiss you. His lips started to move away from your own and to the curve of your jaw, planting butterfly kisses along your throat that made your skin burn with contact as he uttered something you couldn’t catch against your skin.

You fluttered your eyes open when he pulled away for a moment, he looked unsure of how to proceed. How you would take him. So, you took in his appearance. The mussed hair, untucked dress shirt and swollen lips as his eyes travelled from your eyes to your lips then to your jaw. His tatted hands slowly traced your jawline before the fingertips grazed your throat with impossible delicacy. He was agonizingly slow and careful as if you were made of glass. He then pressed a kiss against the base of your throat, it took all your willpower not to mewl.

You pulled at hair at the base of his neck, urging him to continue, “Kook-“

He earnestly pressed his lips against yours, swallowing your whines of his name with his lips. And you melted into him with fervor. Each mumble sending you deeper into him. There were no questions answered, no words exchanged, but one thing was made extremely clear: You and Jaegguk were falling. Quickly. Dangerously. And maybe you had been for some time.

But you weren’t sure if Jeon Jungkook was falling with you.

*A/N: So, I literally wrote this part of the fic like 6 weeks ago and waited until I updated the chapters before it. And guess what? I scrapped the whole thing.

When I originally drafted Y/N, I wanted her to be a superhero. I wanted her to be unhesitant and unyielding and willing to accept every challenge that came her way. But the more I wrote Y/N, the more insecurities surfaced, I realized that even confident people… can be insecure. That even the people we regard as “perfect” (or seemingly so) can be faltered and fearful.

Y/N is confident, she had moved on from Jungkook and she had herself a “glo-up.” But I don’t think self-love can come before self-acceptance, what Y/N has been doing is just locking her past self away and hoping she doesn’t return. Without Y/N coming in terms to with who she was… this would just become a cycle. So, I wanted to write a character who’s still learning. She needs practice to really accept herself just like Jungkook needs practice as well. She’s still struggling, but that’s okay…

I know this may sound very annoying for the plot but it was really important to me to create a character who was able to develop into herself and really learn to accept herself fully.

also I know I said I would post this on Friday but maniac is still horribly edited and I already had this laying around… so… hahahha

thanks for reading! please remember to hit that rblg button as a pat on the head for me for a good job (•ᴗ•◍)!*

synopsis: flirting with your crush of 3 years wasn’t something you thought of when first getting twitter, a nasty breakup wasn’t what you expected either… but why is it that after 3 years and loads of droning on self-improvement and trying to become “that” girl, your gym buddy reminds you of the one person you wanted to forget?

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[superworldunkown]

Like Father Like Son

AN: Ya’ll, I’ve had this internal argument with myself that despite the overwhelming real evidence that Bakugou gets most of his personality/features from his mother, I am convinced in a relationship he is 100% his father. Like, simps for his partner, lets them do whatever, submissive AF. Sure he’s got his barky attitude, but there is no bite. His partner could walk all over him and he’d grumble at it, but like enjoy it at the same time. What facts do I have to back up my theory, the facts in my mind of course. 

Link to PT 2

It is a known fact that Bakguou Katsuki simps for his girl...period (choose your own partner insert here but I’m 100% leaning on my fav power couple Bakugou x Melanin Queen Black reader) 

Fact’s I’ve made up that Bakguou would simp hard for his girlfriend

Breakfast in bed: Sure you get up early, but this man is up well before the sun. On mornings when he’s home with you, you wake up to breakfast and a glass of water. And somehow he always knows the exact time you wake up because you’ve never had a cold breakfast in the entirety of your relationship. Sure he gripes about crumbs in the bed, but he’s never stopped serving it to you. 

Spoiling your sweet tooth: While you two are an ideal match and compliment each other so well, there is one glaring difference between the two of you (besides the fact that you are outwardly sweet and gentle with others and Bakugou tends to call his closest of friends extras and idiots), you have a big sweet tooth. Bakugou detests sweets on most days. ‘They’re bad for you, dumbass’ , ‘They’ll rot your teeth out’, ‘You have such a terrible appetite’ you’ve heard it all. However, when your stress level is the highest he’s always walking into your apartment, tossing a bag of your favorite candy in your lap without a word. And when you think of complimenting him he always has a witty remark - “Yeah Yeah, I an’t putting up with your attitude to tonight so if this will get ya to calm down, whatever.” That’s Bakugou’s way of saying ‘I hope you feel better babe’

You can be messy...within reason: Bakugou is really really finicky about keeping his personal spaces clean. He always gripes about any time a towel is on the floor or if a couch pillow is out of place. However he get’s super salty when you do a deep cleaning of the house without his knowing and there’s nothing for him to complain to you about. Some would say...he somewhat likes picking up after you.

Nicknames your way: Aside from Midoriya, you are the only one that gets to give Bakugou a nickname. Even if he hates it, he’ll allow it. Currently BoomKat is your favorite and even though he yells about how stupid it is, he always thinks he’s in trouble when you call him anything else.

You always get your way...always: 

“Katsuki!”  “What?! I’m right here why you gotta yell so damn loud!” “Can you lace up my boots for me?” “Hah? Get lost, lace them up yourself. Shouldn’t u’ve bought them if you can’t even wear them.”  “Aw c’mon! I got them because they reminded me of your hero boots...fine, I’ll just change into something else-”  It was in that moment you were pushed to a set on the end of the bed and Bakugou knelt in front of you and pushed your foot against his chest “You’re a real pain you know that.” he would mumble while lacing up your shoes in the same manner as his own, keeping his head low so you couldn’t see the prideful blush creeping across his cheeks.  “Aw thanks BoomKat...hey while your down there can you rub some lotion over my legs.”  “Hell no! ...Fine! where’s the damn thing at?” 

Wash Day: We’ve said it before, Bakugou likes to keep his home clean. However, on Wash Day, he lets you do whatever you want and make whatever mess you want. He knows better (from personal experience. the first and last time he gave you attitude about all your hair products in the bathroom you gave him a talking too so harshly he was surprised he still has hearing). Honestly, he’s grown to like the smells that waft through the house and the hums that leave your lips as you pass the time from wash, rinse, blow-dry and braid. 

White Boy Wash Day: Yes, you’ve even roped him in to taking care of his own hair in the same manner as you. When you had first begun dating you were ... terrified that this man used a 3-1 on his hair. Every now and then you wrestle him into the shower with you and goad him into a 30 minute wash routine. He argues and protests the entire time but the way your nails hit his scalp when you massage the product into his hair...bless. You really are a queen. His queen.

You both have knees that kill: Sure Bakugou’s studded knees are for taking down villain's. Your knees however, are mostly for taking down Bakugou. Sometimes you don't even mean to do it; when you are feeling yourself, dancing with Mina or when your favorite song comes on when you are in the house, when you roll your hips and dip down and put the knees to work, let’s just say your knees 1, Bakuguou -7 

Groceries never touch your wrists...ever: You will not carry a thing in his presence. You bought groceries, he’s got them. You bought that thing he said you didn’t need but you still got...whatever he’s carrying that too.

He’s a puddle when you cuddle: Bakugou is the explosion hero, attitude and all. But, when he’s in your arms, he’s puddin. Anytime you wrap your arms around his waist or curl into his body, he becomes soft. In public it’s a little looseness of the shoulders and exhale. In private, he’s melting into your touch and snuggling back 10 times harder (boy has to be better than you at everything). His favorite is when you two lay on the couch, Bakugou on his stomach with your posture giving him ultimate access to crawl and lay his head on your lap and stomach, allowing him to get lost in your shea butter smells and doze off while your nails would scratch against his scalp and back. 

All of this to say...you were a royal pain to this hero, but he wouldn’t have his queen any other way. 

[bestiesenpai]

Hostage - Okkotsu Yuta

At first when I saw this my internal response was that there was nothing that I really wanted to write, no scenario that would warrant answering such a question. But I’ve given it time and well...what better thing to write than a horny for love delusional yandere? Gender neutral and Okkotsu in this has graduated from the school, I imagine him to be mid-20s 4.8k words

Content warnings: yandere shit(which in this context includes kidnapping, past stalking and being really fucking creepy), manipulation, noncon hand job

How long had you been here in this dark basement with only a red couch and a TV that wouldn’t turn on? There wasn’t a single window to tell you if it was day or night, no clock on the wall to say if it had been ten minutes or ten hours since you were kidnapped. You didn’t even know who could have taken you, knocked out from behind after hearing a mysterious voice.

There wasn’t a single lead to go on except for the fact that you would pass out from time to time and wake up to food on the low coffee table, hot meals that helped to soothe your otherwise empty mind and body for however short a time it allowed. Sometimes there would be candy stuffed into your pockets as well, candy that you never ate and let pile up in one of the corners of the room.

The door at the top of the stairs leading down to where you were stayed locked at all times and no amount of banging and screaming and trying to break it down worked. All your efforts were for nothing, you didn’t even make a scratch in the wood.

Whoever put you down here seemed too hesitant to show you their identity. You never heard anyone outside the door and whenever you thought you did, you would wake up however many hours later with food and no recollection of what happened before then.

Until today, when the door silently swayed open and there was the barely there tap of footsteps coming down to greet you. Scurrying behind the couch and crouching down, you were scared to finally meet your captor.

“Hello there.” He wasn’t at all what you imagined. A young man with noticeable bags under his eyes, hair with a few strands that fell into his face and an otherwise unassuming and slim build. His voice was soft and gentle like he was talking to a baby as he roused them from slumber.

He immediately noticed the way you were trying to stay away from him, making sure to keep the couch between you as he rounded it. A sad sigh left his lips, a short sound like he was already getting frustrated with what you were doing.

“Darling, why don’t you sit down? There’s a lot to discuss.” Gesturing toward the couch, he took a seat at the end. It was then that you noticed the sheathed sword he had on his back as he took it off and laid it on the table.

Your mouth hadn’t been used to speak to anyone in a long time, tongue heavy and foreign in your mouth. Having given up screaming for help a long time ago, you didn’t speak to anyone unless to yourself, and even then it had devolved to being just thoughts in your head.

So you shook your head no, trying to keep your sudden anxious breathing down to a minimum. You’d waited for this day to finally see who took you but now that he was here in front of you, just his presence brought you great stress.

“Are you feeling okay?” The man asked again, brows furrowing slightly. The look of genuine concern on his face is what caused you to speak, spiking anger in your heart.

“No!” You shouted, surprising both him and yourself.

“Why don’t you sit down, hm?” He patted the cushion next to him and you shook your head harder.

“No, no. L-let me go!” Tears were already beginning to collect in your eyes, some spilling out the sides. Were they from anger at being held captive? From how concerned he looked when he was the one who put you there? Was it from fear of what he could do to you? Perhaps hopelessness at the whole situation was starting to set into places you tried so hard to keep it out of.

“You shouldn’t yell, (Y/N), it’s not good for your throat.”

“What the fuck would you know.” Now anger was truly taking residency inside your chest, making it tighten with each pounding beat of your heart. This man had the nerve to call you by your first name as if he was a friend, the syllables rolling so smoothly off his tongue it sounded as if he had said it a hundred times.

“Don’t swear at me.” He snapped, face immediately going hard as he stared you down. The look made a shiver go down your spine, the anger quickly making space for fear to come as well. He sighed again, glancing at his sword before looking at you again. “Now please, won’t you sit down?”

This time when he asked, you listened. Hovering on the very edge of the cushion farthest from him, your entire body was painfully stiff and unyielding even to your own breathing. It was different when you were standing and he was sitting, it felt like there was a level of control that you still had.

But this felt like you were just a pitiful little rabbit with their neck caught right in a lion's mouth.

“Oh darling don’t cry, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” His tone immediately shifted back to the soft and gentle one from earlier. Reaching his hand out, he stopped short of touching your arm when you curled yourself away. Putting his hand into a fist and tucking it back into his lap, he let out a sharp exhale. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t touch you, should I? You must be nervous now that I’m here.”

Sniffling and nodding were all you could do to answer him. Maybe there was a logical reason he might have taken you, there had to be a solution to whatever problem he had that involved you.

“It’s funny, I’d say. We’re soulmates and yet we’re still so nervous with each other.”

What?

“Why, it took me almost two weeks just to do this much! I finally stopped having Inumaki put you to sleep and-”

Huh?

“Before you know it this will all be a distant memory, we’ll be living together-”

“Wh-what the fuck.” Your voice was meek and trembling and there were fat tears streaming down your face that couldn’t be stopped now. Listening to this man go on and on about this life he’d made for the two of you all in his head was going to drive you insane.

“What was that?” He paused, a hopeful smile on his face. Glancing at him, you set your bleary eyes on the sword.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” As the swear left your lips, you flinched at his sudden inhale. “I-I don’t- I don’t know you. We’ve never met.” Burrowing your face in your hands was probably a bad idea, it was probably best to keep him in your line of sight, but you just couldn’t face him.

“Physically we’ve never met, but our hearts have. Our souls are connected, we just had to find each other.” There was a dip in the cushions and the ghost of his knee brushed yours.

“I don’t even know your name!” You croaked, further curling in on yourself by dropping your head to your knees. At this rate you were set to fall off the couch and onto the floor and you welcomed the reprieve not being next to him would bring.

“I’m Yuta. Yuta Okkotsu.” The first touch of his fingers on your shoulder made you yelp and jerk away, and you could imagine his hand hovering in the air. “But you can just call me your boyfriend, okay?”

“You’re fucking crazy.” Getting up from the couch the second time he touched you, you pressed yourself against the furthest wall next to a chess table with no pieces.

“Darling-”

“No, don’t fucking call me that!” Stamping your foot on the ground, you ignored his warning tone.

“(Y/N), I told you-”

“I don’t give a damn! I don’t want to be part of whatever bullshit you said earlier! Just- just let me go!” You were getting hysterical at this point, your whole body was hot and sweaty and your face was on fire. It was hard to hear anything over the ringing and pounding in your ears giving you headache.

Except you were able to hear the sound of a knife going through the air and feel it graze your cheek before sticking into the wall behind you. Everything fell away as you looked at the silver blade glinting in the harsh fluorescent light above you. There was just the tiniest hint of red at the edge, further proof that what you felt was real.

“I don’t mind you getting upset, I don’t mind you yelling and screaming at me. It’s a normal reaction to such a new situation.” Yuta’s low voice cut through the sudden silence and he stood up slowly, swaying slightly on his feet before planting them firmly on the ground. “But what I won’t have is such ugly words coming out of your mouth. That type of language doesn’t belong in a mouth as pretty as yours.”

He walked over to you slowly, building the tension with every step he took. It was then that you noticed, when he was only a foot away, that the silver of the knife matched the silver buttons on his shirt.

“If I have to remind you again, I promise I won’t miss.” Letting the sentence hang in the air, Yuta gave you a once over before grabbing onto your wrist and upper arm tightly and dragging you back to the couch. His strength was much more than you first assumed, there wasn’t a chance in hell that you could ever hope to wiggle out of his hold.

Sitting down with a huff, he pulled you onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him. Putting your hands on his shoulders, he settled his on your hips, making sure you were properly seated on his outstretched legs. Staring at the buttons on his shirt, you tried to avoid getting too close - keeping at least some semblance of an arms length between you and making sure your sex was far from his.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” It was amazing how easily his mood shifted from one to the other. What had just been a quite heavy and intense moment was washed away by a little uptick of his lips and the tilt of his head to the side.

The things you wished to say were lodged in your mouth, waiting on the tip of your tongue for you to open up and let them fall out. But you couldn’t afford to keep testing his patience like this, not after what just happened.

“I suppose.” So you bite your tongue hard and say what you think will get you closer to getting out. Whatever it is he wants you can give him so long as it keeps him happy and lets you walk free.

“I knew you’d come around.” The smile on Yuta’s face takes proper form, pushing the apples of his cheeks up and wrinkling his eyes. One hand on your hips dares to venture further onto the small of your back. The warmth of his palm would be comforting in another setting.

“Y-yuta.” It almost makes you sick to say his name.

“Yes?” It makes his eyes light up.

“When will I get to leave?” Somewhere along the line you’d stopped crying and now only your eyes burned with the memory of the tears.

“When I know you’re ready, (Y/N).” He said softly, rubbing a hand on your back.

��Ready how?”

“I just want to make sure of a few things before we start our new life together. Is that okay?”

Did you really have a choice?

“What things?” You pushed, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Don’t worry about that right now. We’re together now and that’s all that matters.”

“Please tell me, I really want to know.”

“(Y/N).” He sang your name but it was anything but cheery. “I don’t want to talk about that right now, so drop it please.” Even though he was speaking his mouth barely moved, jaw locked tight in hardly hidden frustration.

“Okay.” You quickly let the subject go.

“Now darling…” Yuta brought a hand up to your face, trailing his fingers down your cheek softly. “Won’t you smile for me? You have such a pretty smile.”

The question of how he knew what your smile looked like cropped up in your head but you quickly stamped it out. Now wasn’t the time to worry about those things. Doing as he asked, you gave him your best smile.

“Absolutely gorgeous.” Skimming his thumb along your bottom lip, Yuta grasped your chin in his fingers. “I’ve been missing your smile so much lately, the recent missions I’ve been on have really put a damper on my mood.”

“I’m- I’m sorry to hear that.” Extending an olive branch wouldn’t hurt, right? It was clear he wanted your compliance in this scheme of his, desperate to have you love him. Your words shot straight into Yuta’s heart, making him bite his lip in to stop a shy giggle from coming out.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I have my darling with me.” A light blush went over his cheeks and Yuta let a sliver of the giggle out. “But there is something that would make me feel even better.”

“What’s that?” It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he meant when his thumb touched your lip again.

“A kiss. Just one, I promise.” Licking his own lips, Yuta grabbed onto your jaw more firmly. “I swear I’ll be gentle.” Weighing your options, the inkling that it wouldn’t be ‘just one’ was in the back of your head. But as long as it stayed just kissing, maybe you’d be okay.

“One.” You repeated, allowing him to pull you in and close the gap between you. Kissing Yuta was something that, once again, would feel nice in any other circumstance. The texture of his lips wasn’t bad, his breath didn’t smell and he seemed to know what he was doing. Maybe in another world, you really could have been soulmates.

Breaking the first kiss to take a short inhale, Yuta immediately went in for another. The hand that was on your jaw slid up to the back of your head, holding it firmly in his calloused hand to make sure you didn’t move.

“Y-yuta!” Whining against his lips, you tried to push away from him.

“Just one, I know! I know but-” He mumbled back, the tip of his tongue daring to touch your pursed lips. “I can’t help it, I love you so much.” Crushing you against him, Yuta got his tongue into your mouth when you gasped for air. The urge to bite him arose and you almost did, but he pulled away right as you made the decision to.

“You said only one!” Giving his chest a hard push, you wiped the spit off your lips in disgust.

“I know, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Putting his hands on your back, Yuta grimaced at you. “I’m sorry darling, I just got excited! I’ve been dreaming of kissing you for so long, can you blame me for wanting more?”

You could blame him for that and a few other things. Wiping your mouth off again, you huffed angrily and avoided his sorry eyes.

“Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t lie to you anymore, I promise.” Yuta mumbled, already forcing you closer again. “Let me make it up to you.”

“Yuta, no.” Shaking your head, you put a hand over your mouth. The blush that was on Yuta’s cheeks got darker and a hand gripped the back of your neck.

“It may be a bit soon, but there are other places where I can kiss you.” Latching his lips onto the side of your neck, Yuta sucked on the skin lightly. He didn’t want to leave any unseemly marks on you and he wouldn’t dream of using his teeth.

“Yuta, get off.” Tugging on his collar, you squirmed at the feeling. “P-please, Yuta, get off.” You were getting more desperate by the moment, accelerated by his lips going down the column of your throat and to the collar of your top.

“I just want to kiss you, (Y/N).”

“No, no I don’t-” As his head nudged your chin up, you started to sweat and really yank at the fabric in your hands. “I don’t want you to kiss me there, Yuta!” Your voice reached a crescendo and the soft sound of his kisses stopped. Pulling away slowly, Yuta kept his head ducked down.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Releasing the hold on your neck, Yuta smooths his hand down your back once more and threads his fingers together at the base of your spine.

Struggling to catch your breath, you force yourself to relax and let your head dip down, uncurling the fingers fisting the fabric of Yutas shirt and letting the blood naturally flow back to them.

As the silent seconds tick by, there’s something that comes into your consciousness that can’t be ignored. There’s already a good amount of heat built up between you and Yuta from the kisses you shared and the struggle that ensued.

But was he that much of a repressed man that just kissing your lips and neck had his cock standing at half attention? It seemed so, because when you made a face at it, he chuckled sheepishly.

“Sorry.” Yuta wasn’t sorry for what was happening. He didn’t feel remorse for any of this, especially not the thing that was causing you distress now. It was only natural for such a reaction to occur! You were squirming so much on his lap while he kissed you that it was like you were begging him to get hard.

Gently raking his nails up and down your back, Yuta stared hard at your lips. His gaze almost pierced right through you and he wasn’t subtle about wanting another kiss. Another slurry of apologies left Yuta’s lips as he once again grabbed the back of your head and forced you to kiss him. His words got mushed together, spoken against your lips as he tried to work his tongue into your mouth.

Whatever screams of protest you had didn’t matter in this moment, Yuta was a man on a mission and desperate to take what was his. He felt bad about pushing your boundaries and ruining the chance of growing an actual relationship any time soon, but those were things he was willing to sacrifice.

And after all, good boyfriends help their partners grow in uncomfortable situations.

Moaning in a high pitch when your crotch just barely grazed his, Yuta took advantage of the fact you were too busy trying to push him away to focus on your lower half. Grabbing you tightly at the hips, he dragged you forward and fully pushed you against the front of his pants.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He panted as he moved your bodies in tandem, getting bolder and bucking his hips like a sad teenager dry humping for the first time. This continued for a while and you were sure he was going to cum when he suddenly stopped and flopped his head back against the couch.

Fervently wiping off your lips, the urge to slap him came over you in a blinding rage, and you quickly swiped your hand down. Fully expecting to make contact with his face, you put all the strength you could into the motion only to be stopped by Yuta grabbing your wrist.

“Hitting isn’t very nice, (Y/N).” He sounded like a disappointed preschool teacher and when you raised your other hand to try and slap him he caught that one as well. Holding both your wrists tightly in his grasp, Yuta stared at your heaving chest as he thought about what to do.

“Let me go.” You said, trying to tug yourself free.

“Sshh, I’m thinking.” His eyes wouldn’t leave your chest and he licked his lips. “I think I know a better use for your hands.” Letting go of one of them, Yuta was quick to go to the button on his jeans and undo them.

Your fingers were touching his clothed cock before you had a chance to protest. The speed Yuta moved at was dizzying and you seemed to be about 10 seconds behind him, left to scramble and catch up on whatever he’d done.

“Just a little, please?” Yuta whined and gripped your fingers around his cock, digging into the fabric of his dark underwear and outlining the shape of his cock.

“Yuta…” Back were the tears, a light misting this time that blurred your vision. It was gross touching him, even as the scent of a minty body wash rolled off him. This was gross, the heat from his cock and the way the skin moved beneath your fingers all felt horribly off.

“Just be good for me, (Y/N), I know you can do that.” Giving your lips a quick peck, Yuta let out a shaky exhale. His hand was holding yours so tightly your hand pulsed, throbbing from lack of circulation.

Touching him through his underwear quickly became not enough for Yuta and he hurriedly pulled his cock out, shoving his underwear down his thighs a bit to make more room. Unbuttoning the large overshirt he had on, Yuta let out another exhale as the sweat evaporated off his body.

“Are you shy? Here, touch it like this.” Gingerly now he wrapped your hand around his shaft, squeezing with just enough pressure to make sure you were really holding it. You tried to avoid looking at it, staring at the tanktop Yuta had on underneath his other shirt.

Tilting your head up, he kissed you gently as he worked your hand up and down his cock, slowly loosening his hold the longer he went until he was able to let go and you were still stroking him.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. “So, so much.” You whimpered in response, keeping your eyes tightly closed to avoid looking at him. “I’ve followed you for so long now, it feels amazing to finally be here with you.”

“Followed?” You didn’t want to know, you didn’t want to know, you didn’t-

“Six months. For six long, agonizing months I watched you from the shadows. Making sure you were safe, following you home from work to make sure no one messed with you, going into your home when you weren’t there to make sure you didn’t have the stove on-”

“Stop.” Sniffling back another wave of tears, you shook your head. “I-I can’t, please-”

“You’re right, I’m killing the mood.” Chuckling softly, Yuta kissed at the corner of your eye. Putting his hand back on yours, he sped up the pace and bucked his hips up. “A-and I really don’t want to do that.”

Kissing you again lest he start rambling again, Yuta moaned freely into your mouth. He had dreamed of this moment and so many others, staying up late at night just fantasizing about you touching him and finally being in his arms.

To say he was pent up was an understatement. Ever since he saw you, Yuta vowed not to touch himself, wanting you to be the only one that gave him such pleasure. It was a painful wait, but every time he saw you he knew it was worth it - and it was. He was already nearing an orgasm and it hadn’t even been that long.

“Oh darling-” His face started to screw up and Yuta broke the kiss, putting his head on your shoulder and making your hand go faster. “God I love you, (Y/N)! I lo-love-” He was babbling now, unable to focus on any full sentence coming out of his mouth. “Say it- tell me.”

“Say what?” You asked, struggling to keep your breathing even as you felt him get closer to the edge.

“You love me. Tell me you- tell me you love me, even if it’s not true yet.” Yuta was so close it hurt, but he refused to cum unless you said those words.

“I-I-” The desire to not say it was strong, keeping you from really forming the words. It wasn’t true right now and it would never be true. You would never love Yuta for as long as you lived.

“Say it, say it please!” Yuta wailed, his other hand gripping your waist so hard you were afraid he was going to break something. “I love you so much, just say it back!”

“I love you! Yuta, I love you, okay?” His hold was really starting to hurt and as soon as you said it, he let go. “I love you, I love you.” You repeated over and over until his body locked up and he came with an almost sobbing moan.

“Oh god, darling, I love you.” Yuta wasn’t crying but he might as well have been. His hand stopped for a brief moment before continuing, coating the back of his hand and your fingers in his cum. He kept going until he was able to squeeze the last drop of cum out of him, swiping at the tip with his thumb until the sensation began to hurt.

It was too quiet now in the room without Yuta’s frantic breathing and mindless babbles. Taking deep, gasping breaths, he forced himself to calm down and let go of your hand, letting his softening cock fall down against him.

“Here.” In his pocket he had a handkerchief and Yuta wiped your hand clean, diligently going between the digits and getting every last pearly drop. Throwing it onto the coffee table, Yuta collapsed back onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

His face was impossibly blissed out, a dopey smile stretching his face and showing off his teeth. He couldn’t be happier in this moment, the weight of your body on his lap a constant reminder that this was real life, the reality that he had been dreaming of and striving for for so long.

The door he had entered from creaked open much faster than when he entered, and there were thundering footsteps descending the stairs quickly. Yuta immediately perked up, hugging you close to his chest as he turned over his shoulder to look at who came in.

“This is a surprise.” There was a tall, lanky man standing at the bottom of the steps, his white hair sticking up in all directions. You wondered how he could see with a blindfold on and Yuta seemed happy to see him.

“Gojo, hello!” Rushing to fix his pants, Yuta helped you off his lap and stood up.

“I see you’ve finally made yourself acquainted.” Gojo grinned, his head flicking towards you for a moment.

“Mhmm! We uh- we’re having a great time getting to know each other.” Yuta flushed, trying to not make it obvious that his pants had just been undone and that you’d just been jerking him off.

“Well I hate to break up a happy couple, but there’s a visitor here for you. I think you’re going to have another mission soon.”

“Really, so soon? I just-” Glancing at you, Yuta bit his tongue. “I’ll be back soon.” Grabbing his sword and the knife still stuck in the wall, Yuta gave you one more look before walking past Gojo and up the stairs. As soon as the door clicked closed, you shot up from the couch and walked around to Gojo.

“Please, you have to help me, get me out of here!” Clasping your hands together in front of you, you pleaded as hard as you could. “H-he’s absolutely crazy, please help me!” Unable to look Gojo in the eye, you could only assume he was looking back at you from the way his head moved.

“That’s not very nice, now is it?” He questioned, quirking a brow and crossing his arms. “Yuta loves you so much, you shouldn’t say those things about him.”

“Sir please, you don’t understand!” Shaking your head hard, you let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t belong here! He kidnapped me, don’t you understand?!” It felt like you were the only sane one left in the world. Gojo chuckled and sighed, placing a large hand on the top of your head and leaning forward.

“Actually, Yuta wasn’t the one that actually kidnapped you.” A soft ‘no’ escaped your lips and Gojo laughed again, drinking in the sinking feeling in your gut and the way it twisted your face in agony. “It was me.”

[the-insomniac-emporium]

RE8 Ladies + S/o with chronic pain HCs

Type/cause of chronic pain is kept ambiguous, but some of the hcs might seem geared towards migraines, since that's the main thing that I personally struggle with (and these are very definitely comfort hcs). Features Alcina, Bela, Cassandra, Daniela, Donna, Mother Miranda, and as a 'lil bonus Ava. Not particularly long, but the combined length of every character is enough to be put under a read-more (About 2,500 words in total).

Alcina:

It’s difficult for her to know that you are suffering, but be unable to deal directly with the source of the problem. Chasing off unwanted nuisances or hunting down threats to the castle was one thing, trying to solve complicated medical issues was another thing entirely. If only she could tear your condition asunder without tearing you asunder.

That being said, she’ll still support you endlessly, however she can. It doesn’t matter how expensive or hard-to-access possible treatments are. If there’s something you haven’t tried, and are interested in trying, she’ll find a way for you to get it.

The biggest, and arguably most helpful, thing that she does is set up a space for you within her office. She spends quite a lot of time there for her family’s business, but doesn’t want to leave you alone on bad days. So this was her idea of a nice compromise.

There’s a very comfortable sofa that folds out, a cabinet filled with the softest blankets, and several pillows of a few different sizes. Servants are instructed not to interrupt Alcina’s work without good reason, but she has a couple who ensure your snack cabinet is always well stocked.

If there are certain environmental factors to your condition, such as sensitivity to light and sound, she does her best to reduce their effects. Lights remain dimmed (or she’ll rely on candlelight), her music will be kept quiet enough to be soothing, and she’ll refrain from taking any calls while you are with her.

Bela:

To think that Daniela once tried to claim that Bela would “never need to know any of that (medical) stuff”! Sure, there haven’t been many people who have needed (and received) treatment from her, but that didn’t mean the skill was useless. Admittedly, she doesn’t know enough to replace one of your doctors, or try to create her own version of a cure, though no one really expected that much from her.

Still, she knows enough to help soothe your pain. Obviously there are different techniques for different kinds of pain, and she does research before trying anything specific. Bela’s also aware that you’ve been dealing with this for far longer than she has, meaning that you probably wouldn’t be pleased if she came in, acted like an expert, or assumed that you hadn’t really thought about the most popular remedies. So she’s tactful with how she approaches things, always checking if you’re familiar with a subject before she tries to explain anything.

Bela ends up surprising you with a lesser-known skill of hers: Massage. Studying anatomy has given her a decent idea of the body’s more sensitive spots, and the rest she’s figured out through her own, ahem, experiences. Regardless of where you’re in pain, your girlfriend can help reduce your suffering. Okay, well, if your pain is more internal than external, it’s a bit harder for her, but she can still help you relax.

One of her favorite things to do after giving you a massage is to just pull you in close for some cuddling. Preferably you’ll be in her lap, with her arms around your waist, her chin tucked on top of your shoulder. Then she’ll do her best to whisper you praises, reminding you how strong you are, and that she’s incredibly proud of you.

Cassandra:

She’s, uh, not great at this. At least not at first. Maybe she’ll never be more than good at it, though. But she’s definitely trying! And learning! By Jove, that’s something, right?

First things first, she’s always ready to try to distract you, primarily through kisses and gentle touches. Fingers softly trailing over your skin, lips tickling your neck, featherlight in all the right places… It’s not inherently sexual (though it can quickly go that route if you ask), just intimate. It’s harder for your brain to process pain when you’re also processing pleasure, so there is some science behind Cassandra’s methods, even if she herself isn’t entirely aware of that.

While she’s not great with words, there are certain things that she manages to articulate well enough. For one, she makes sure you know that you aren’t a burden. Taking care of you- no, helping you take care of yourself- is a labor of love, if a labor at all. More than that, she knows full well that you probably don’t like feeling pitied, or coddled. That, over time, being sick ends up being beyond frustrating. She never wants you to feel like your condition defines you, or like it puts any strain on your relationship.

That said, she’ll avoid telling her family any specifics unless you do first, and ensures that the staff know how to accommodate you (without telling them why, because it’s none of their fucking business, and she’s their boss, and for fuck’s sake it’s their job to do what she tells them. Maybe she gets a lil bit overzealous with it). At no point will she ever complain about helping you, or otherwise indicate that your needs are “troublesome”.

At the end of the day, the best comfort she brings you is her presence, simply being near you, endlessly loyal, tireless in her affections. Especially considering she gets clingier the worse your symptoms get.

Daniela:

Hope you enjoy cuddling. Seriously. There’s nothing Daniela loves more than curling up with you, and that goes double for bad pain days. Some adjustments will be made position-wise if you need, but she’ll still hold you as close as possible, for as long as you need. Although she might eventually fall asleep (because damn are you comfy), she’ll play with your hair or run her fingers along your scalp until she eventually dozes off.

If you want a little more from her than light snoring, or if she feels like going above and beyond, or honestly just if she’s thinking about how much she loves you (so all the effing time), she’ll do something she’s always loved in movies/books: Reading to you! She’ll pick special books that neither of you have read before, so you can experience them together on your sick(er) days. Which does, of course, mean that it might take months to finish even a single one. Surprisingly, Daniela won’t even briefly consider reading any without you. Even if the plot is really good.

But, uh, if you wanted her to read to you on a day where you aren’t bedridden? Hell yes, my friend, she’s absolutely down for that!

On days where she’s too busy to spend hours upon hours in bed with you, or days where her ADHD is just particularly bad, she tries her best to leave you with a “substitute”. AKA a massive fucking teddy bear, in a reddish brown color, with a green bowtie. Custom ordered (The Duke did not dare tease her for it). There’s a heart stitched onto the stuffed animal’s chest, which features your first initial alongside a D for Daniela.

Additionally, she has a blanket she only brings out for you, which she periodically sprays with her favorite perfume. That way you can hold it close when she’s not around, as if you were cuddling her. For her sake, though, don’t hold the teddy bear or blanket too tightly when she is around. Homegirl here will get jealous of inanimate objects, even ones that she gave you.

Donna:

“I think I have a tea for this…” Damn right she has a tea for this. Donna has a massive garden, with dozens if not hundreds of different plants, including a variety of herbs/spices. At least one of them has to be a little helpful for you. Whether it relieves pain, helps you nap off some of your misery, or just distracts you by tasting bloody-well delicious! Besides, few things make you feel quite as loved as holding a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hands, knowing your lover made it just for you. Like a hug in a mug, it is!

Similarly to Alcina, Donna will also try to create a comfortable space for you, but isn’t likely to put it downstairs with her workshop. Instead she’ll let you take over one of the larger guest rooms, customizing it to suit your specific needs. There will be some easy to care for plants for decoration (ones that won’t mind potentially missing out on natural sunlight), a couple relaxing paintings, and a shelf near the bed with things to help you pass the time, mainly books.

Furthermore, she’ll do her best to keep you company as often as possible. She’s naturally a fairly quiet person, so you won’t have to worry about sound if that’s something you’re sensitive to. While she prefers using a sewing machine, she’ll do things by hand while you’re in pain, just to reduce the chances of you getting irritated by the sound.

Speaking of potentially irritating sounds… by god can Angie be difficult to be around when you’re ill. Thankfully, Donna is perfectly understanding of this, and, as the only person Angie ever listens to, makes sure to give the doll a stern talking to about your health. To your immense surprise, it actually works. You’re not exactly sure what was said, but Angie certainly becomes a lot more compensating afterwards. She’ll keep her antics to herself, and usually even on another side of the house from where you rest, but only for as long as you’re tucked away in your room. As soon as you set foot outside, her restraints are metaphorically removed. All hell breaks loose (as is her universe-given right as the physical embodiment of both Chaos and Entropy).

Mother Miranda:

If the two of you weren’t lovers, there’s a decent chance you would completely misinterpret her actions. She might come off as irritated, like she has bigger concerns than your health, you fragile little human. After all, she is a goddess (well, practically). But the truth is that she’s aching inside every time you have a bad pain day, knowing that (for once) she cannot cure your ailment. Maybe if she had infinite subjects with the same condition as you…

But, at the end of the day, that’s the problem. There’s only one of you. One of her beloved, her little human darling, so dangerously fragile in comparison to the scale she works on. Even with all the time in the world, which she most certainly has, she cannot cure you without taking incredible risks. With your life at stake… It is a gamble she refuses to take. You are hers, and while she hates to see you suffer, the truth is that she’ll always be selfish enough to let you endure on your own.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t help, though, just that she doesn't do a full-out experiment on you. Instead, she keeps notes. She’ll track your activities, bedtimes/when you get up, dietary habits, when you have pain, what you do to treat said pain, how effective the treatments are, etc, etc. All of this can be very useful in establishing patterns (a skill she’s gotten very good at, in her many decades of being a scientist), which can in turn lead to less pain days.

(For example, many people with migraines find that certain foods seem to trigger a migraine, or at least increase the chances of getting one. Though admittedly they don’t always end up cutting the food out of their diet. I mean, come on, you want me to give up chocolate? You want me to drink normal milk, like an adult? Kidding, kidding, I don’t have any food triggers. Nor do I particularly enjoy chocolate milk, nor do I dislike it.)

Moving on! While her work seemingly takes precedence over your condition, Miranda is not heartless, and she does do some things to lend you more direct comfort. Specifically, she tries to work in the same room as you when she can, normally while making electronic copies of physical documents, or while looking over the details of a finished experiment. She’s not always one for cuddling, so she won’t often get in bed with you during the daytime. But at night? Yes, fine, she will wrap her arms around you, maybe one of her wings too if you like how soft they are.

Just don’t think that she secretly loves every second. It’s not like she’ll spend half an hour whispering about how sweet and adorable you are as soon as you fall asleep, or anything like that. It’s twenty minutes at the most.

Bonus!Avaskian Caldwell:

“Oh, fuckin’ mood!” Followed by a solid thirty seconds of pure regret. Seriously, though, Ava has spent xer entire life (starting at age 10) dealing with chronic migraines. For a while xe also dealt with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), which meant lots of chest pain, but that (thankfully) faded as xe grew into an adult, as is fairly common with the condition. If anyone in Castle Dimitrescu understands unrelenting, unexplainable pain, it’s xer.

That being said… Ava never really managed xer chronic pain, at least not when xe was at xer worst. Xe had to drop out of school because of it. Hell, xe didn’t have a “real” job until xe was almost 23! Didn’t have a chance until things just calmed down for xer. So xe gets anxious whenever you talk about your health, worried that things are (or will at some point be) as bad for you as they were for xer. Other than that, though, you might initially think that xe doesn’t care, or didn’t understand the conversation.

Truth is, xe knows how absolutely fucking ANNOYING it can be to have to explain your health to every new person you meet (like the dozen different doctors you’ve met over the years, possibly every nurse who takes your pulse and thinks it’s a little bit high). So xe did a shit ton of research on your condition, in order to reduce how much you need to explain. Sure, xe will still have questions, and there are always aspects that only you can tell xer, but it’s a nice gesture.

As for helping you destress, xe’s pretty much a mix of Bela and Miranda. You’ll get plenty of massages (because Ava has learned from personal experience what sort of touches help with which sorts of pain), but also some scientific insight on any noticeable patterns. Lots of holding you close and telling you that you’re the coolest person in the world, and that Ava feels beyond lucky to have you.

[generallybrontidefeelings]

Stressed

Rating: NC-17

A/N: Brought to you by this post. I'm tired and sleepy and don't want to make any decisions. The degree is an actual MS you can get from American University in DC. U of Tennessee’s anthropology dept. hosts what’s called a body farm. It's a lab for forensic pathology students. Do NOT I repeat DO NOT look up pictures.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you

Summary: Marcus Pike is an associate faculty member at your forensics college. You ask him to be your second reader for your thesis, even though you have a huge crush on him. Nothing is better than something, right? By the time you pass your exam, you're so pent up you could scream.

Warnings: cadaver talk, pining, age difference, some power dynamics?, annoying college talk, sex, dirty talk, a God awful metaphor curtesy of Blanche Devereaux, 39

“Take a deep breath.”

You huff in a small shallow breath. Then let it out, and take in a longer, fuller one.

“Now let it out.” You let your cheeks puff up as cool air streams past your lips. “You’ve made huge improvements, and you’ve studied hard. The paper exam will be easy, and the oral will be a cinch.”

You gulp. “I know. It’s just...pre-show jitters, you know?”

He gives you a full smile, and flips the document shut. You hand him the binder clip, accidentally brushing his fingers when you do.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

You swallow, fiddling with your paper edge. God you feel like a twelve year old. You're fucking twenty-seven and about to apply for the FBI, why are you such a sap? He’s not available. Not even remotely. He will be gone in a year, back to the Bureau. There is no reason to nurse a crush. And you curse yourself for asking a man you’re attracted to - you, idiot, idiot! - to spend more time with you. Even if it is reading your dull chapter.

"No, I have everything I need, thanks."

"Then scoot. I have to read like...thirty pages of Tanner's chapter before he gets here."

You pull your bag to your shoulder. "you're not going to get that far," you scoff. The tensing in your shoulders relaxes a little when you stand to leave.

"We'll see," he says. He opens the door of his office for you. You glance back once more, and he's still in the doorway watching you go. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." Your mind swirls back and forth between thoughts of Mr. Pike, your thesis, Pike, your oral defence, your paper exam in two days, Marcus crossing his ankles in his reading chair. And you walk. Straight ahead, not looking back. But when you get to the door handle you turn around. And he's still there. Watching.

You've never been so stressed in your life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

You met Marcus Pike on a muggy afternoon in August deep in the heart of Tennessee. The air warped off the pavement as you drove together to the School of Anthropology to visit your cadaver lying relaxed and prostrate in the middle of a fenced field. The air is already warm, then lightning flashes in the clouds to your right, and plopping rain drops scatter across the lawn, and dampens A-0017’s second hand suit. His raisinette hands lie against the grass almost like he’s communing with the earth. You watched the water hit his face, and permanently closed eyelids, and shaved head.

You had no business being so fidgety while kneeling next to a cadaver. Agent Marcus Pike and the facility director chat a couple feet away, leaving you to your business with A-0017. Pike had never been to the school’s mysterious forensics lab, even though he had plenty of time to when he was earning his own masters. That’s what he said in his email to you three weeks earlier. He’d heard a first-year student was running a fibrous material experiment and asked to tag along. And you said yes. Why not? He was faculty. It wasn’t unheard of. His email was so polite too, letting you know if you weren’t comfortable he understood. Pike. The name rattled a memory somewhere. So you emailed him back, and the next morning he sent you his itinerary: he would meet you in Tennessee. He’d even pay for the rental car.

You sent your advisor a quick text to ask if he was ‘crazy.’ She’d sent back the laughing emoji. No, she said, Marcus Pike isn’t a crazy. You’ll like him.

You did like him. He was waiting for you at the Hertz desk, and heat licked up your skin when you realized - he was striking. He was the type of man you’d make eyes at in a bar without any hope of even getting a number. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he had a softness brought on by a light scruff that didn’t hide his dimples. You barely registered that he was apologizing for not getting to introduce himself before flying out, but promised he was who he said he was. Even pulled out his credentials.

“Bureau?” you said to his badge. “I thought you were an associate professor?” You want to smack yourself.

Oh, “I am,” he replied. He dug in his wallet and pulled out a campus ID that matched yours. “I’m taking an interim year. I thought teaching would be a nice way to ease into DC life.”

Now he was here, sweating under the storm clouds while watching you unbutton A-0017’s shirt, and half listening to the director tell him all about how they kept the lawn looking green despite, ahem, fluids. You sternly told A-0017 to be on their best behavior while you pulled their shirt back to examine some fiber swatches stapled to his rubbery chest.

On the flight back Pike asked you all about your thesis plans. You stuttered as you began. He waited, patient. You were writing on how the FBI could contribute to cultural repatriation efforts internationally by returning art pieces. Do you know what it could do to boost scholarly opportunities? The doors it could open! Why put it in cold storage when it could revitalize movements? Art breathes, after all. You were exhausted by the time the plane landed. Both from answering questions, and from keeping a steadily building tension under wraps. You hoped he didn’t notice how you crossed your legs.

“I’d love to read it.” He handed your backpack down from the overhead bin.

“Maybe you should be my second reader.” You got serious when his face perked up. “I still need one.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

That was nine months ago.

Your exams are in a week, and instead of thinking about preparing, all you can think of is that once everything is turned in, you probably won’t see Marcus again. He’s been your anchor these last months, and you’ve gotten used to his solid presence and encouraging platitudes. You cup your hot cheeks because it’s a dirty thought.

He lets you work in his office for a couple hours a week every week. The crammed little space is tight quarters, but he makes room for your laptop anyway. Sometimes you worked together heads bent for full time. Sometimes he read pages from your thesis, and you help him grade some papers from his first-year art history course. And sometimes you drink three pm coffee together and don’t work at all. It’s your favorite time of the week. The glow his praise gives you is embarrassing. And he’s an easy companion - nope, colleague. Your heart beats and your mouth waters every time you’re fifteen feet from his office door. The cold door knob jolts you took. You harbor a secret. Keep it warm in your belly. It swirls hungrily deep in you.

But now it’s a problem. You’re so distracted. Every time you leave his office, you’re tense from want. Your body is already over-caffeinated and achy from sitting in hard library chairs so long. But you keep going. Every time an anxious heat lights up the alarms in your head your instinct is to ask him what to do. You have to rest your hands in your head and remind yourself: he isn’t your babysitter, he’s a grown man who doesn’t have boundless time to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourself. Even if you really just want him to tell you what this or that section needs, is the title here misleading, is it lunch time, do you think the tone here is condescending?

What do you think? What do you want it to look like?

You think you want to grab his dumb button down collars and bite his lip. You want it to look flushed and tousled and desperate. You want to ride him in his reading chair with the door locked. It just isn’t fair.

The night before your first exam you take z-quil, drink lavender tea, and read a chapter of your favorite book to relax. Your phone buzzes at nine. It’s Marcus: good luck! You’re going to do great! Well. Better take some more Z-quill now that your heart is palpitating.

You pass both tests in excellent standing - MS in International Relations: complete. Pike attends the oral exam. Your skin goes hot when he smiles at you when the committee declares you exceed expectations. He invites you for a celebratory drink in the next couple days, which means you have two days to sternly wrangle your crush back into the dirty corner she came from.

You fail miserably.

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“Look,” he says, setting his beer down on the glass bar counter. “I know it’s not my business, but you still look stressed out. Are your grades bothering you?”

The rim of your gin and tonic is wet with condensation from where your finger circles it. “No, they’re great.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Then what’s the damage? You’re jumpier than a…” he trails off thinking a good metaphor. He squints at you a little.

“A virgin at a prison rodeo?” you supply. He inhales sharply, eyes wide. “You can laugh.”

“I didn’t know you watched ‘The Golden Girls,” he says. His tone is admiring. “I was going to say jumpier than a graduate student giving their defense.” You purse your lips when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I help at all?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he takes another sip of his beer. The soft orange lights in the bar spill around his jaw and throat, they flicker in his irises. His face in three quarter profile is august. You’re utterly exhausted from the polite ‘student mentor’ dance you’ve had to do for months while keeping your desire at bay. And more than that, you didn’t want to answer. You wanted to show him and let him decide. The sultry washboard and piano music give you that last boost.

You make sure he’s watching you, then you slowly reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist.

Then you wait.

Marcus pauses from lifting his beer bottle, eyes glued to your hand on his wrist. It’s petite against him. He stares at your baby blue fingernails pairing beautifully with his Stirling watch - and he feels himself harden.

All the skin on your body stands at attention when he meets your eyes. Everything in them tells you he wants you just as bad. There’s a hesitant curve above his eyebrow though. You get it. You were his student - he’s such a sweet man he wouldn’t even dream of using a power dynamic like that to get laid. Your breath comes in short heaves.

“The semester ended thirty-six minutes ago,” you say over the music. He takes a deep breath. You aren’t his student anymore. Not according to the school, anyway.

You want him to decide. If he doesn’t, you’ll go home and fall apart under your fingertips thinking about how hot it would have been to lift your dress and sit on his cock while wearing your thigh highs.

“Do you want to leave?” You nod, resisting the urge to bite your lip.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Marcus’s apartment is homey. Streetlights flood the floor of the living room through the street facing windows. You turn this way and that to inspect the dark areas that look like bookshelves while he hangs up your coat. You squeeze your hands at your sides, because this is happening. You’re in his house. The hardwood floor is cold under your stocking feet.

You jump when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind you, holding you a mere inch from his body. You bite your lip when his nose bumps into the back of your head.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You already asked me that,” you reply, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. You want so badly to tell him to tell you what to do. That you don’t want to make any decisions. Brain is worn out. That you want to please him, and not think. Oh, to be a freshmen simply sponging up information.

“I know,” he slides his hands to your biceps and turns you around. “I can check in again, can’t I? He cups your face when you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” you have to stop yourself from saying something incriminating, like mister Pike, or sir, or professor.

You clutch the front of his button down to anchor yourself when his lips brush yours. His mouth is soft. It coaxes you to open so he can dive into you, his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you respond by pressing into him. You stay pliant under him, letting him lead. Your legs feel on the verge of collapse when you break away. You can’t stand it anymore.

“I want to suck your cock.”

Both of you freeze. For a second you wonder if you’ve given him a heart attack. But you watched his thighs on the car ride back and couldn’t stop thinking about kneeling between them. Your mouth waters. Marcus can’t breathe. He’s straining against his zipper. After your declaration he wants it too.

“Okay, honey,” he breathes. He brushes your ear with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do that.”

He tries to draw you backward toward his room where he can turn on a lamp and properly pay tribute to your body, but you pull him back. You tug him to his mid-century armchair - he has the twin to it in his office. His mouth goes dry. You have to know. He looks into your face, and from the way you’ve averted your eyes, you know.

“Please?” you say. It sounds like a sob.

From this close you can smell the vanilla and bergamot of his soap. He sits, waiting for you. When you don’t move he holds his hand out for you to take.

“Come here, honey,” he draws you close. The top of your dress swings a little and he groans when he sees the break of your dress to what he thought were tights. Marcus studies your face in the second hand street light - your mouth parted, your eyes blown wide. Your hand in his is hot. “Hey, if this is overwhelming, or not what you want-”

“It is,” you correct him.

“Tell me what’s wrong then,” he requests. You feel pained. If you don’t say it now you never will.

“Tell me what to do.” Your head aches from the stress of carrying it for so long. “I’ve had to make my own decisions for months, and I don’t want to anymore. Just - for five minutes-” you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them against your hot skin. You watch as he realizes what you want. He nods in slow motion.

“Okay,” he says. “Kneel for me.” He gets even harder when you sink to your knees. Your hands rest in your lap. Waiting. He can’t believe this is happening. Thank goodness he’s going back to the Bureau in three months. He couldn’t face the other faculty - fuck, your advisor - after this. Leaning forward he cups your chin and kisses you. You squeeze your thighs together. He kisses your ear and says lowly, “take my cock out, honey. I want you to suck me off.”

When you take him in your mouth as far as you can, you look into his face. His mouth has fallen open. His ears have turned red from flushing. It’s indescribable. It makes your mouth water further around his hard length. It’s heavy on your tongue. You move up and down his shaft leisurely, trying to savor it. Letting saliva run down onto his skin as your tongue works the spongy head. You reach up to work the base with your hand when he tells you ‘no’.

“Just your mouth.” Fuck. You moan around him as a ripple pulls from deep in your core. The vibrations of you moaning make him jolt and heave. For a few moments he apologies while you breathe deeply, then resume. You take a mouthful of him. It’s feasting. It’s mindless.

His fingers brush the side of your face, and tenderly cups the back of your head. You want to make him understand this is what you want. So you slide down as far as you can comfortably, and wait. Swallowing thickly around his length

“Fuck, honey,” he groans. He gets it, taking both hands and moving your head the pace he wants. You can tell he hasn’t been asked for this often. Maybe ever. You close your eyes and just feel. His cock filling your mouth. Aches forming around your jaw. Tears leaking out of your eyes from your concentration. Your pussy wetting through your underwear. Marcus pulling your hair. You swallow hard, then he stops. And pushes you off.

You whine in protest.

“I hear you, honey,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse. “Another time. I want you to unwind right now.” Your pussy clenches.

He takes you back to his bedroom and helps you undress. He lifts your dress over your head, and kneels to help you out of your thigh highs. One day, if you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you with them on, but he likes to see all of a woman the first time he does anything to her. He kisses the bit of skin above the waistband of your panties before standing to kiss your lips. Your help him push them down your hips until they fall to your ankles. The soft gasp he lets out at the sight of your underwear and bare body is nothing short of gluttonous.

“Lay down.”

He strips while you watch. He does it without taking his eyes off of you. There’s hunger in them. This man has an appetite, you know it. The fabric rustles pleasantly between the sound of both of you breathing. Far away, ambulance sirens blare in another neighborhood, but here in his apartment the wet sound of cars passing in the rainy street are the closest accompaniment.

“I want to touch you here,” he tells you, palming your sex and making you squeak. It’s so forward.

“Do it,” you breathe, and part your legs further for him. He leans in and kisses your temple, murmuring ‘good girl’ and you swear you could black out.

You’re already so wet when his fingers part your folds to greet the new territory. “Did sucking my cock get you wet?” He sounds amazed. He tastes one fingertip before putting it back to tease your folds. “I wonder how wet you would be just holding it in your mouth while you read.”

“Oh-” a ripple works down your spine. He smirks. The tip of his finger brushes just inside your lips to tease your entrance.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you. You,” he pauses to kiss your cheek, “relax. You earned it.” He rubs his nose up and down yours, and you nudge him back just as he slips one long finger into you. You’re glad he’s being sweet like this. It’s the perfect blend of firmness and care. You want him to dominate you one someday, maybe, but right here and now, the combination of his low voice and steady fingers is ideal. Marcus kisses your cheek and mouth as he works his finger in and out of you. It’s thick and reaches further than you ever could. You spread your legs even further to tell him, more.

Without removing his hand he moves down your body to lick your clit. He sucks and flicks it as he coaxes more wetness out of your leaking cunt. Carefully he pulls the finger out and presses his wet hand to the inside of your thigh to keep you open. He laps into you, covering the muscles with lubricant because you’re going to need it. You see his face just as he decides you’re ready; it’s contemplative, like he’s concentrating. Then he slides two fingers deep into you.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” your voice crescendos. You reach for his shoulder as he comes up to lie beside you. His skin is warm under your palm. You buck your hips looking for something else, seeking, wanting-

“Stay still.” You still immediately. “Just feel it, baby. I want you to be ready for me.” You know what he means. His cock is thick and smearing against your hip. He was big in your mouth, he’s going to be big while pushing into you. His fingers keep moving while he kisses the tips of your nipples. When he takes one between his teeth and tugs you break. Your mouth opens, and your legs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Your pussy gushes around his fingers - you can feel it. You can feel how his movements change from a drag as a slide. He keeps pumping. He doesn’t give up until he’s sure you’ve felt every aftershock. He’d love to take his time and work a third in one day - if he can - but tonight, he wants to move on. After you swallowed his cock in his sitting room chair he’s been thinking of rewarding you.

You feel him slip his fingers out, and roll away to the nightstand. He looks back at you, and his eyes soften a little before he asks, “do you want me to use a condom?”

“No,” you say and reach for his bicep to pull him back toward you. He comes willingly. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.” He smiles, flinging the packet over his shoulder. It makes you giggle, but it sounds hysterical to your ears. You watch him reach down and pump his cock with the hand that was just inside you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes snap open. Marcus crashes his lips on yours. The hand not dripping from your cunt cups the back of your head. “I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.”

His blunt head breaks into you, you lose all thought. He sinks further in, until you’re squirming on his length because he’s stretching you. You suck air in and will your body will stay still like he suggested for his fingers. You look into Marcus’s eyes the whole time, trying to tell him how good he feels. You can’t make the words leave your throat. He pulls your head to him, kisses your mouth until you compose yourself and lie still. Then he gets to work. The breadth of him stills you anew. For the first time in months you fully relax, hardly making a sound as he thrusts steadily. You stare into Marcus’s eyes while your mouth falls open as he slides into you, and listen to the wet sounds of your pussy and the bed frame creaking.

Then he starts talking.

“Do you know how good you look in those blue trousers? I want to grab your ass every time you wear them,” he rumbles. His pace picks up a hair, and he feels harder in you somehow. He drops to his forearm. “I love watching it when you walk out of my office.” You knew it. “And that damn cardigan you never wear a shirt under? Those buttons slip right open, don’t they?” He punctuates it with a deep thrust that makes you squeak. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Wear it over for dinner. I’ll bite your tits through it.”

He fucks into you harder, sending shivers up your spine with every thrust. It moves you up the bed until you have to reach a hand up and press back against the headboard. You clutch him with the other, looping around his shoulder to feel the muscles in his arms pull and tug as he moves in you, working you up to another release Soon enough, the coil in your belly tightens and he reaches to worry your clit with deft fingers. His eyes never leave you. You think this man could make the hardest fuck feel like making love.

“I need more,” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to ask for what you want. A tear leaks out of your eye because his thickness is so good, but you want something else too. You always underestimate him. He grins because he knows - he’s a detective. He figured it out. He leans down to rest his forehead on your temple.

“You’re doing so well,” he says. You arch up into him, your breasts brush his chest. “Your wet pussy is so sweet. It’s taking me so well. Are you gonna be respectful? Gonna listen?” You have to hold your breath as your hips tense. “Be good and come on my cock.” Oh fuck. “Say it.”

Your voice is wet with joy. “Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Sparks lick up your back and through your cunt, forcing Marcus deeper into when you lift your lips. He slows to let you enjoy all your release. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips. Then when he hears your content sigh, he buries his face in your neck and chases his own release. He comes with an accompanying rumble from deep in his chest. You moan in return and lift your lips to catch him as he slumps, barely holding his weight off of you.

Water runs in the washroom as you tug the sheets back. The light clicks off, and Marcus appears with a washcloth. His dimple appears when you lean back and let him clean your tender flesh. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your hips, running his knuckles on the soft side of your breast.

“Stay the night,” says. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”

“Hm,” you say, mock contemplative. You run your fingers down his chest. He preens under the affection. “I will. I feel really good.” Your cheeks tingle at the admission. He smiles wide and bright.

He comes back from putting the cloth in the hamper. You roll so he can run his hands the length of your side

“Thank you,” you murmur. He lifts his face from where he’s been peppering your waist with kisses. His brow is furrowed in amused confusion. “For being good to me. For caring about what happened to me.” You’ll tell him the horror stories your friends have from their college another time.

He sighs and cups your cheek. “I like doing it. You’re bright. Supporting you is a privilege. Especially when I know that brain is going to put us all to shame one day.” You could cry.

“I’ve liked you since the body farm,” you admit. He wrinkles his nose. “I know. Not very romantic.”

“I liked you since you thought my campus ID was more official than my FBI badge.”

“I didn’t think that!”

“Get some sleep,” he says. A wicked glint comes to his eye. “I am going to wear you out before lunch.” You wiggle to get comfortable in the sheets and he curls over your back to hold you to his chest.

Orange light peeks through the gap in his blackout drapes. You eye him over your shoulder then settle into the pillow. All the tension in your shoulders is gone.

part 2