#so i'm thinking hm how would i communicate when i was on my own

[navramanan]

I have said this before several times but i miss andalucia man

[sysig]

Special Counseling (Patreon)

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Dead on main. Someone who knows you better than you know yourself.

Perhaps Fentons are not able to recognize their child, despite the fact that they hunt him day after day. But for childhood friends, who saw each other in absolutely ridiculous situations that parents are never allowed to know about, just one sneeze and a bored sigh is enough to realize that this weirdo fighting next to him is the same guy with whom you tasted soap and then stood looking at each other from different corners and giggling.

And so, the dialogue after the battle with the creatures of Infinite Realms, to which Constantine had to invite a potential ally not yet approved by the League:

Phantom: Well, mom always said you were bad news...But a crime lord, seriously? What happened to your plans to become a literature teacher? Red Hood: Hey! For Gotham, this is a very high-paying in-demand job. And I don't want to hear anything from Casper. At least I have my own business. What kind of part-time job do you have? Are you selling sheets to your buddies from this green goo? Phantom: This is ectoplasm. And they're not my friends, and anyway… Constantine: King Phantom, do you know Red Hood? Phantom: Do I know him? Ha! This street rat was Splinter of my beginnings until my family moved out of Gotham.

Red Hood: Wait, wait a minute. Phah...Holy shit. I thought I was the best example of what it means to be a disappointment to a family, but you beat me here. Oh, man, only you...The ghost king who is the son of the ghost hunters? Seriously? Hahah! I thought your rebellious phase ended the moment you told your father that you wanted to be an astronaut and not inherit the family business.

Danny*groans and covers his face with his hands*: My life is over.

Red Hood: Literally~ No, of course I always knew that your parents' disregard for safety in the laboratory would someday kill someone, but I didn't really expect this? Like, wow… Phantom: What makes you think it was an incident in the lab? I mean, there are so many possibilities around. It's ridiculous and…hah Red Hood: Dude, look me straight in the face and tell me I'm wrong if you dare. Phantom:…Fuck you, stupid bookworm. Red Hood: Stubborn nerd. Phantom: Red bucket! Red Hood: Pale toadstool! Nightwing: Um, can you guys please stop fighting? Red Hood: What are you talking about? This is how we always communicate. Phantom: Yeah! Well, in our defense, my sister always thought we both could use a therapist. Oh, man, he made me lose my train of thought. Where were we, J? Red Hood: Since when are you able to think? And I complimented your new hair and skin color. Phantom: Right, right… But, hey, not all of my parents' hypotheses really have a right to exist, and you know it! Hm, did I mention that you're built like a fridge and how does this leather jacket suit you? Red Hood: I believe not. And who's talking about your parents' work? You were an airhead when you were alive too to be honest. And as I see it, not much has changed. Why the hell are you still starting a fight with puns? Stop telling your opponent your position. This is terribly stupid! Phantom: Oh, please, these ghosts are definitely not a threat to me. What's wrong with having a little fun? The fact that you don't have weapons to handle something stronger than a blob ghost is your problem not mine, loser. But let's get back to our greetings. Red Hood: Sure. Then listen here…

~~~~~

Nightwing: Jay, why didn't you say right away that you knew Phantom? We've wasted so much time wondering if it's worth summoning him, and you just stood there and said nothing. Red Hood: Pfff…Because I didn't know that until today. He used to be human. And we haven't seen each other for a long time. So how was I to know that he would take such a ridiculous pseudonym? Nightwing: Then why the hell didn't you feel worried about teasing this creature? Red Hood: Why should I? It's just Danny.

~~~~

Tucker: Oh man, 84 murders, attempts to kill Joker and to much fights with Batman and Black Mask and… Danny: Yeah, yeah. It's all very interesting, but it's not what I asked you to find. Get to the point, Tucker. What I will wear to our dinner tonight depends on this. Tucker: Seriously? As far as I'm concerned, whether he's single or not is less important than all this shit. Aren't you afraid to show up at his house? Danny: I'm invited. And for that matter, I'm Amity Park's former public enemy number one. Which one of us should be worried, hah? So he's not dating anyone, right? Don't try to distract me. Tucker: Dude! Danny: Ugh, in my experience, when he acts like he's lost his mind, he usually has good reasons for it. And if not, given some of the events of my alternative future, I have no right to judge him, so…

[avatar-anna]

Save a Horse...

2024 Masterlist

"Reading anything interesting?" Harry asked as he entered the den, your favorite place to read.

Holding your Kindle to your chest, you said, "Uh, I guess. I only just started it, so."

Harry raised a brow skeptically as he sat in the loveseat across from the bay window where you sat. "Really?" he asked. "You've been in here a while."

"I—I got stuck on my phone for a while," you said. "You know how it is."

"Hm."

Not saying anything else, Harry picked up his own book and opened it. You watched him for a moment, brows furrowed. As far as you were concerned, he was working all afternoon. You didn't typically mind, you took the quiet afternoons to run errands, tend to your garden outside, try out new recipes, and read.

Most of the time, you read. Harry had always known you to be a bookworm, the first time you met you had a novel in your hand and one in the bag over your shoulder. Books were how you communicated—gifts just because, as a form of apology, ones you thought you might enjoy together, which rarely ever happened. You left them in places for Harry to find like his guitar case or his carry on when he left for tour, and he put novels in different purses of yours or among the stacks on your bookshelf to see if you'd notice the new addition.

It was safe to say that both of you loved to read, but quiet afternoons like this were typically ones you enjoyed alone, specifically so Harry wouldn't see you blush or question what it was you were blushing at.

You glanced down at your Kindle, at the paragraph you left off on. "Jack shoved Delilah against the barn's door before ripping her blouse wide open to reveal her bare chest. Buttons scattered against the floor, but Delilah didn't care, not when Jack kissed a searing path toward her—"

"You know what? I think I'm gonna start on dinner," you said, clicking your Kindle shut before standing up.

Looking at your boyfriend was the wrong move. Harry lay stretched out on the loveseat, his shorts riding up on his thighs revealing more of his toned legs than you would've liked. That wasn't the first...steamy scene in your book, and let's just say looking at your very sexy boyfriend wasn't curbing the feeling of need coursing through your veins.

Harry definitely wouldn't have been opposed if you crawled into his lap right now, but he'd ask questions, questions that were too embarrassing to answer.

"Dinner?" he asked, setting his book down in his lap. His reading glasses, which had been perched high on the bridge of his nose, slid down, his hair adorably rumpled. If you hadn't known he'd been in his home studio all day today, you would've guessed he'd just rolled out of bed. "It's one o'clock, baby."

"Or nap," you said, hating how skittish you sounded. "Maybe take a nap. I don't know, I'm not really feeling like reading right now."

"Well, that's a first," Harry said, his voice slightly teasing. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing!" you insisted, though you answered a little too hastily, and your voice might've been higher than usual. Scratching the back of your neck, you tried to quell your heartbeat. "Nothing. Why—Why would you ask that?"

"Because you're acting...strange," Harry concluded. A small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he looked you up and down. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the book you're reading on that thing, would it?"

He nodded toward the Kindle in your hands with a raised brow. It was a little too pointed, as if he knew exactly what you kept on it. You and Harry both enjoyed the feel of a physical book in your hands, but you had an e-reader too. For convenience, you told Harry. And it was convenient. Your Kindle was light, you could carry a library in your purse and it barely weighed a pound, and it conveniently hid your most scandalous book titles.

"N—No," you said, fighting the urge to hide your Kindle behind your back, or chuck it across the room until it broke and was unusable. "Like—Like I said, I'm just not in the mood to read."

"Okay, I'll join you then. I'm a little tired myself."

Harry stood up and stretched his arms high above his head, his t-shirt rising with him. Your eyes zeroed in on the sliver of skin that revealed itself. Tan, tattooed skin, taught with muscle, a light trail of hair that led into the waistband of his briefs. Your cheeks were already flaming red from the situation at hand, but seeing his skin, seeing Harry be...Harry without even trying was too much. You thought you might combust.

"Why?" It was a stupid question, one you knew Harry saw right through.

"Why are you so eager to not hang out with me?" he asked back, his eyes narrowing. "And what's got you so flustered today? Has Jack ravished Delilah again?"

"Wh—What?"

Harry smirked at you, his eyes filled with mischief as he nodded at the e-reader in your hands. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know what you keep on there."

What? "Since when? And how—how do you know about—"

"You fell asleep reading last night," Harry explained. "And the Kindle was still on. I mean, I've always had my suspicions because you're always blushing when you've got that thing in your hands, but I got curious."

"I—You—You snooped—"

"I'm sorry, baby. I wouldn't have looked if I knew you'd be upset about it," he said, stepping closer. "But you shouldn't be. Nothing to be embarrassed about here."

You looked down at the socks on your feet instead of Harry coming closer to you. He said there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but you couldn't help but feel it creeping along your skin. You didn't do anything wrong, but you felt dirty for some reason, like you'd gotten caught doing something you knew you shouldn't have.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you said, "So, are you going to tease me about it or what?"

"Nothing to tease about, baby. I already told you that. I just didn't realize you had a thing for cowboys, that's all."

You huffed. You knew you weren't getting off that easy. "Shut up."

"No really," Harry said. You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice. "I wish you'd told me sooner. I would've gotten a hat, gotten the right jeans. Is that why you're into that show now? The one with all the cowboys and horseback riding and—"

"Alright, alright. I get it," you said, finally looking at him. Looking up at him, more like. Harry was practically toe to toe with you, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You know what? I'm taking me and my Kindle upstairs and I'm going to finish reading Jack—what did you call it?—ravish Delilah."

Harry let you stomp away in a huff, chuckling at your back as you left the den. Going up to the bedroom you shared with Harry, you settled on the bed and turned your Kindle back on.

Your eyes flitted across the screen, tracking over each word but not really reading them. You wanted to lose yourself in the story, in the scene laid out before you, but you couldn't.

"So, is it the hats that do it for you? Or the accents?"

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your Kindle to the side. Harry leaned against the doorframe, his eyes still holding that mirth in them. Narrowing your eyes at him, you said, "The ruggedness, I think. There's something so...manly about a guy on a horse and doing honest work, manual labor. Know what I mean?"

His nose wrinkled as he laughed. "Ha ha. I think I'm gonna have to download some other kinds of novels on there. Ones about rockstars falling for their fans, maybe?"

Harry began crawling onto the bed toward you, only stopping when you pressed a foot to his chest. "Really?"

"Definitely more rooted in reality than your wrangler fantasies," he said, then turned his head to the side. Pushing back your yoga pants, Harr pressed a tiny kiss to your ankle, then worked his way up your leg, toward the back of your knee. "Take these off, baby. And pick up that book of yours too."

You didn't need to be told twice about ditching your pants, but the book part made you pause. "Why the book? You were teasing me about it not even a minute ago."

"I am going to make sure you enjoy it," Harry said, though it sounded more like a promise.

Excitement flipped in your belly, your cheeks flushed with anticipation. "Yeah? Maybe next time I'll get you a cowboy hat."

Harry raised his brows, a crooked smile inching up his face. "I could get behind that. Now don't make me ask you again, baby."

Harry tugged on your ankle until you lay flat against the mattress with a squeak. "I'm going, I'm going!" you cried with an excited giggle, shoving your yoga pants down and wriggling out of them. Harry's hands, which were calloused from years of playing the guitar were rough against your skin, but it sent a lick of curling heat down your spine.

"The book, baby. Go on."

Your lips pursed as you looked at Harry. His lips were wet from where he'd swiped his tongue over them, the pads of his fingers trailing up and down the skin of your inner thighs. The light stubble of his cheeks scratched your skin, but it didn't hurt, it felt thrilling as he looked up at you through his lashes, green eyes glinting with promise.

Keeping eye contact, you reached for the abandoned Kindle, clicking it on and looking down at where you left off. Harry continued to lean against your thigh, stroking his thumb up and down while you settled against the bed. Nothing for one page, then more nothing, then he began to prop your leg up, then the other.

"Jack flipped Delilah over, his hands splaying across her bare back until they found purchase in the tresses of her dark red hair. 'Come on,' Delilah panted, already breathless from the mere anticipation of him filling her. It hadn't been long since they last fucked, but it felt like an age. She needed it more than she cared to admit. Badly enough that she was willing to do it in a dusty old barn. 'What are you waiting for—' 'Maybe I should put it in your mouth instead. That'll shut you up—"

"Oh." You gasped, pleasure tingling through your whole body.

"Is that me or Jack?" Harry asked, his voice vibrating through you, nose nudging against you in a way that had your toes curling.

"Jack," you teased, then arced your back against the bed with a groan.

"Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me," he said before parting your legs further. "Keep going. Don't put it down until I tell you."

"But—Ow!"

Harry kissed the juncture of your thigh, right where he'd pinched it. "Keep going," he repeated.

"Rude," you muttered but picked the e-reader nonetheless.

When you continued, so did Harry. It was hard to keep focus. Not when teased with his nose, or when he expertly worked you over with his tongue, especially not when he thrust his fingers inside you relentlessly. Still, you waited, still you read, waiting for Harry to tell you you could stop.

You were two orgasms in when he finally looked up, chin glistening and evil smirk shining as he glanced up at you. "I think that was all me, don't you?"

"Shut up and fuck me," you said airily, breaths still falling heavily. Giggling, you continued. "That I got from Delilah."

Harry crept up the bed until his face was level with you. His nose against yours before kissing it. "Tell me more."

"I could tell you," you said with a grin that matched Harry's. Reaching for the waistband of his shorts and briefs, you began to tug. "But I think we'd both have more fun if I showed you."

Harry leaned onto his back and rested his arms above his head, settling back with a grin as you climbed on top of him. His eyes rolled back blissfully to a single roll of your hips before they settled back on you.

"Show me then, baby."

[skyof-atlas]

Oh, to be blessed

Minors dni

[Summary] To be in a God’s presence is something that can never be forgettable, that’s something to boast about, but to personally be in a room with an Archon? What a rare moment to cherish. You really did cherish that moment.

Content Warnings: Fingering, oral, "pet names", nsfw :D, whining, Overstim, pussydrunk!Furina.

a/n: I love Furina and the thought of her being pussydrunk. not proofread

Paring(s) : Furina x gn!reader (afab)

You've been sitting here for about an hour, talking about an upcoming opera with Lady Furina and what ideas she thinks would be good to add in. “Le Comte de Monte-Cristo” they called it. Anyway, this isn't your first time speaking to Furina.

You work as a director for plays and operas and often times you help smaller troupes with their scripts. You gain quite a popular reputation among the opera community. 

Furina, who loves watching operas and plays, has taken an interest. It started off as short meetings with her about upcoming plays, then it gradually started becoming hour-long sessions sometimes even more, where you both talked about plays you both enjoyed and common interest. It’s become this routine that you and her developed.

Even Neuvillette sometimes joins in for a bit and shares his thoughts. Usually you’re so busy with plays but Furina has taken your interest.  

You've taken notice of how Furina would act around others like she herself is performing a play. Only other actors are capable of distinguishing acting and real life, but with Furina, the lines blurred. You never minded it, but it was a thought in your head. She always acted high and mighty but you wondered how she'll look like when--

"Y/N? Are you even listening to me? How rude to be ignoring your archon! Especially if she's trying to bless you with her magnificent ideas!" She said, pretending to be insulted and pouted. How cute…

"Apologizes Lady Furina. I was just thinking." You ran your hands through your hair and picked up the script off the table and tried to focus, but the thoughts of Furina were clouding your head-space. Furina took the paper and placed it down. You looked up confused.

"ngh! w-wait!" when Furina said that we should take a break, you didn't think this is what she meant. She bit your thigh close to your wet pussy, making it a nice purple. She left a couple more. 

Papers scattered across the table, all forgotten. Your beloved archon in between your thighs, eating you out like it's her last meal. 

"L-lady Furina..." Your hands snaked into her hair, pushing her closer, trying to reach that high you wanted.

Her small hm, sent vibrations through your body and made you moan loudly. You whined when she detached from your puffy clit.

"My my, truly you're severing your archon to the fullest." Your eyes were glossed and breathing was uneven. Your slick dripping down from her chin. You blushed and looked away. How embarrassing.

"Pretty girl, look at me" Furina grabs your face to make you look at her. You would’ve cummed at that. 

"Good girl" You bucked your hips trying to find some friction. You loved how she called you her good girl. 

"Patience pretty girl, I'm not done with you." She kissed your neck and bit it. You whined.

She brought her fingers back down to your puffy clit and stroked it. She played around with your entrance, her fingers barely entering. You were getting desperate and decided to take matters into your own hands. You grabbed her wrist and plunged her fingers in. You quickly straddled her and began riding on her fingers.

"A-ah Y/N?" From her perspective you looked gorgeous. Eyes half lidded, your sweet moans and whines from trying to reach your high.

"mm-ha...ha"

Furina moved with the rhythm of your hips. Her fingers hitting that one spot that you love so much. At this point, you're seeing stars and drooling. You began moving at a faster speed. Her fingers deep and hitting that spot repeatedly.

“ You’re so tight darling~ You sure do love my fingers hm?” She said teasing you as she pumped her fingers in and out, cum sliding down her fingers. 

"fuu--mm...cummin'--" Incoherent sentences were coming out of your mouth as you felt the knot tighten up and close to bursting.

A loud moan escaped your throat and cum covered your beloved archon's fingers. Furina slipped out her fingers and licked off your cum. She laid you down and stared at you, admiring her work. You were breathing heavily from your recent high.

Your eyes stared back at her. Legs spread apart with cum spilling and staining the couch and bite marks on your neck and on your thighs. Her eyes were trained on your puffy clit. She gave a quick kiss on your clit and began sucking on it.

"W-wait! I just cam--AHhh" you protested but she kept going. She wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon.

"Darling~ give me another one. I wanna taste you again. Please? Please cum again. Be a good girl for your archon.” who are you to deny her request? By all means, she can chain you up and fuck you dumb…that’s not a bad idea. 

You were nearing another high. Fuck she's good with her mouth. She sucked on your clit as she plunged her fingers back in you again. She was moving fast and hitting hard. Your legs had her head in a lock and you whined as you came all over her mouth for a second time. Your legs were shaking and your clit overstimulated from cumming back to back.  

"Fu-Furina~" Her name came out as a small whine. She could only give you a sweet smile but her eyes told a different story. 

"I love the way you taste. One more time?~" oh sweet archon. you certainly are blessed by her wonderful ideas...

[chamomiletealeaf]

Simon Riley teaching you how to shoot his gun.

warnings: kinda nsfw, suggestive, mentions of weapons, size kink, Simon is a cocky little slut and a bit more playful than he is originally, reader has Laswell's job (I'M SORRY LASWELL I LOVE YOU MY LOVE)

wc: 2,367

a/n: Sorry this prompt was so late. Final papers and stuff have been taking up my time so I haven't had much time to write full fics like this. I wanted to wait until I could really engage in it for y'all. Hope you guys enjoy 🫡 I tried my best and researched what I thought was necessary to be as accurate as possible when it comes to ranks, positions, and responsibilities of certain spots and jobs in the military. I apologize for any inaccuracies.

You are CIA. You're no stranger to the atrocities of the world, nor are you a stranger on how to deal with them. Your special skills in strategizing missions and intelligence analysis was something you were well known and respected for and did not go unnoticed by Captain John Price, which is how you got recruited as a Communications Analyst and Operation Overseer for Task Force 141.

You loved your job. The men you worked with on the Task Force became more than just coworkers and rather close friends over time.

You worked on base most of the time while the team was out in the field during missions, so with you being their boots on the ground and the birdie in their ears, you're like an omniscient entity, which they saw you as. You needed them and they needed you.

However, it was difficult being apart during missions knowing that if anything happened to you or them, you couldn't do anything to physically help each other in that moment, which is why you all needed to know how to handle personal enemy attacks on your own if needed. Luckily, you were all pretty good at that.

You knew how to shoot a gun, fight, outsmart captors, and take care of the team. You could definitely handle and take care of yourself pretty well. However, you still thought to yourself:

"There's always more to learn, right?"

-

"Oh c'mon Simon how hard could it be, you forget who I am." You laugh as you go to drink from your glass of iced tea.

You and the Task Force were celebrating your victory on your most recent mission in the common area of the base. The men had most of their gear off leaving their gloves and holsters on and Simon also with his signature skull balaclava and hoodie.

You sat on one of the couches in the common area next to Johnny with his arm sprawled across the back of it behind your neck. Your white button down was tucked into your black dress pants and you had the first few buttons undone, leaving less to the imagination. You also had on your black slightly heeled shoes, which were surprisingly very comfortable.

Simon sat across from you, body turned in your direction. Gaz sat next to him and Price leaned on the couch behind the two with a glass in hand.

"I'm just saying. Such a small thing probably couldn't handle something so big." Simon says and smirks under his balaclava as he looks at you, clearly amused by his innuendo.

You roll your eyes and Johnny laughs.

Simon didn't mean it, and you knew. He saw the way you handled things so efficiently and skillfully, whether it be a knife, a gun, intel, missions, or even himself, It's one of the main things he loved and admired about you, though he would never say it.

"I don't know L.T., you forget when she pinned me in seconds last time we sparred." Johnny says.

"I wouldn't underestimate the gal Lieutenant. You've seen what happens to the men who do." Price says, smirking and taking a swig of his drink.

"Who got you around those guards by hacking into the cameras and telling you where to go hm?" You ask Simon.

"You did lass." Johnny says as he lifts his arm to playfully poke your cheek.

You giggle and push his hand away.

"I'm not doubting her, it's just harder than it looks. Don't think she could do it as easily as she says she can."

"That's literally the definition of doubt L.T." Gaz says.

You scoff with your mouth open, smiling in surprise.

"Wow, ok, I see how it is, Lieutenant." You emphasized the title you called him to tease him, as you were the only one who ever called him Simon. Calling him Lieutenant meant you were either being dead serious, angry with him, or teasing him. And Simon would be lying if he told himself he didn't like it when you called him by his ranked position. He also loved how you were the only one who called him by his name.

"Oooohh fuck yer in trouble now L.T." Johnny said.

As the night went on and got older, you could feel your heart getting lighter as you forgot about the stresses of life for a while.

After a few more hours of harmless banter and laughs between the five of you, the men decided to help you clean the common area up and head back to their quarters.

Simon, however, was the last to leave.

As you placed your glass in the sink with the other dishes and glasses, another glass was placed in the sink by another hand.

"Thanks love." Simon said as he gently placed his glass down in the sink next to yours.

"For what?" you said.

"For getting us to forget for a while. For getting me to relax."

Simon never really was one to speak much about anything really. You weren't sure if it was the bourbon speaking but regardless, you melted at his vulnerability he trusted you with.

"You're welcome Simon." You turn to smile at him, both staring in each others eyes for a few seconds in silence.

"But you know what I didn't forget?" You ask, smirk creeping onto your face.

Simon raises his eyebrows in anticipation awaiting your answer.

"That you think I can't shoot a gun bigger than a pistol."

Simon laughs, throwing his head back causing your eyes to lose contact with his honey-colored ones, the sound causing your heart to drop with the weight of your lust like a star falling out of the sky.

"Ok, well, how 'bout you prove me wrong then?" Simon asks, a mischievous look in his eye.

"Challenge accepted, Lieutenant." You said, walking past him and making your way to the shooting range, expecting him to follow.

This time, it was Simon's heart's turn to drop.

-

Simon enters the range after you, and you've already got your safety glasses and headphones on, leaning against one of the dividers of the range with your hands on your hips looking at him as if you've been waiting for hours.

"Well Lieutenant, show me what you think I can't do." You say, and Simon doesn't say anything. He stops in the door frame and after a second, he silently goes to choose a weapon. He picks up a big gun, one of his, purposefully picking one that would be difficult for you just to prove that you couldn't do it. He was such a cocky bitch.

He approaches you with the weapon, and you look at it in his hands, stiffening up a bit at the intimidating sight of it, and Simon chuckles.

"This" Simon says, lifting the gun up for you to get a better look, "is an AR-15. It was created for ad-"

"Advantage over the AK-47." You cut him off, smirking in triumph as you once again catch the soldier in front of you off guard and he looks at you with an amused raised eyebrow.

"Ok smartass. Since you know so much, show me how to hold it then." Simon drops the weapon in your hands and crosses his arms, spreading his legs a little, standing in an even more intimidating position. The gun is heavy and big, causing you to stumble due to Simon catching you off guard this time. It's safety was on, as Simon would never put you in any danger, which is why he was so comfortable with teasing you in this setting.

He laughs to himself, thinking how cute you look with such a big weapon.

You look at the gun, then up at Simon, then to the target in the range. You make your way to one of the spaces between the dividers and lift the gun. It's heavier than you thought, but nothing you couldn't handle.

Simon follows behind, standing behind you with his arms still crossed and legs apart.

"Well go on, if it's so easy." Simon teases.

"Oh relax." You playfully snap back at him.

You lift up the weapon, and look through the sight, aiming at the target.

You look through the sight a bit longer, making sure you're lined up, as you feel Simon's presence even closer.

He comes up behind you, pressing his front against your back as he reaches an arm around to turn off the safety. You lift your head from the sight and lower the weapon a little, giving him room to access whatever he was reaching for.

"Safety is still on sweetheart." Simon says, voice dripping with cockiness as he continues to tease you.

"I knew that." You mumble. "Just testing the sight."

"Mhm sure bunny." He says, the nickname making your eyes widen a bit and your cheeks flush red as you look down at the weapon, not daring to look back at him.

You lift the gun back up, and you feel Simon move behind you once again as he kicks your legs apart and places his hands firmly on your hips. You feel him press his front against you once again, making you gasp.

"Here, spread your legs a bit. Left foot slightly in front of your right." He tells you lowly and softly in your ear, and you let him adjust your body, praying he doesn't feel the increasing heat radiating off of you.

He grips your hips and pulls them back against him so you're pressing directly into him.

"There you go, just like that." He says, and your breath hitches at the suggestive words and how he's handling you.

"The recoil can be a lot, so keeping your hips back and one leg slightly in front will keep you stable when you shoot." He says into your ear, hand still tightly gripping your hips, and you bite your lip and nod your head, afraid to make a sound that could possibly give away how nervous and aroused you were in this moment. You could feel him getting hard behind you, and you could feel how big he was, but you resisted grinding back into him.

Simon released his hold on your hips and brought his hands up and around yours. You noted how big his hands were compared to yours, making you blush yet again. He was so close and just so big compared to you, and you yourself weren't even that small.

"Now, lift this up a little more." He says, lifting the weapon up higher in your grasp.

He moves his left hand up yours up under the barrel of the gun a little more, helping you hold it as his right helps you keep your hand in place off the trigger until ready to shoot.

"There we go, atta girl, just like that." He says, and you swear he's gotta be doing this on purpose now. You feel yourself start to grow wetter between your legs as you start to throb, biting your lip even harder now, trying your hardest to not let out a moan at his words.

"Now." he says, as he moves his finger over yours to place it on the trigger.

"Shoot." He says into your headphone-covered ear.

As you press the trigger, the recoil thrusts you back, making you grind back into Simon abruptly, and he lets out a soft groan, and his hands fly back to your hips after you shoot. His noise almost distracting you from your perfect shot on the target, hitting the bullseye.

"Ha!" You yell out in excitement seeing your successful shot.

"Look Simon! bullseye!" You giggle and jump a little with joy, forgetting that your ass is literally pressed up against Simon's cock through his cargos. Your ass rubs against him as you hop and he ruts his hips into you and lets out a sharp moan, squeezing your hips again.

"Good job bunny." He says and smiles, and you remember the position you both are in, and you feel the shyness creep back into you.

You turn your head around to look up at him, still holding the weapon with both hands.

"Told you I could do it." You smirk up at him.

You notice Simon doesn't move from his position and how his hands don't leave their place on your hips. You're not oblivious to what he's doing either, but it's fun to tease him and act like you have no clue.

You go to turn the safety off, and as you do, you lean forward a bit more than needed just to press against him again, and you feel him twitch in his pants this time.

You turn around, and place the gun in his hands that left your hips for a second due to your new position.

"What's the matter Lieutenant, can't handle being wrong?" You tease.

Simon doesn't say anything and he goes to put the gun away. You turn back around to admire your perfect hit, and soon feel that familiar warmth behind you again as Simon presses himself into you again.

"Can't handle you looking so fucking good all the time and just being so perfect at everything." He says.

You laugh. "Was this your plan hm? To get me down here just to have me alone?" You ask.

"Maybe." Simon answers and smiles into your neck, hands going back to your hips again.

"Slut." You say.

Simon then bends you over the shelf of the shooting range booth as much as he can and he grabs your hair.

"Fuck you're such a tease aren't you?" He says.

You moan at the feeling of him manhandling you and pressing his weight into you.

"Only to you." You smile.

"God you're so fuckin small against me. And that fuckin shirt. Was practically eye fucking you all night." Simon continues to grind into your ass.

You let out a little whine at his words, pressing back into him, feeling him get fully hard this time.

"Yeah? show me what you were thinking of then Lieutenant." You say, and you know this was just the beginning of the night for the both of you.

a/n: There could very possibly be a pt 2 to this. Lmk if y'all would want that 🫣

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 12

<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: You and your husband adjust to life with Jake in the mix and Marc gone quiet.

Pairings: Steven Grant x gn!reader, Jake Lockley x gn!reader, Marc Spector x gn!reader. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3k

Content: fluff, some angst, spicy times (more under the cut)

Warnings: cursing, references to Marc's trama/past, food prep and talk about food (I know this can be triggering for some) sex implied, foreplay, handjob, but language is not overly explicit and is gn. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Steven arrived home from work, having narrowly escaped a London downpour. Setting his bag down right inside the door, he shed his damp jacket and kicked off his shoes, thinking Marc might pipe up and scold him at any moment.

Marc was the neat one. Like military neat. Like, don't leave a mess or mom will make you regret it, neat. Like erase your existence from your alter...from the authorities...from the world, neat.

Steven was the messy one. Scatterbrained, he'd been called by a boss or two. It wasn't so much scatterbrained as it was a bit of unaware brain sharing.

But he hadn't shared much of anything with Marc lately. Not since Khonshu had stripped him of his armor mid-fight and almost gotten him killed. That was two weeks ago.

Padding over to his fish tank, Steven placed his hands on his knees, bending forward to take a look at his tiny little school. There were four fishies now, which almost seemed appropriate. One for Steven, Marc, you and now Jake.

Narrowing his eyes, Steven scrutinized the colorful little creatures before reaching for some fish food.

"All right then, time to eat," he chimed. Dumping a few flakes into the water, he smiled at their eager nibbles, until his eyes caught his own reflection.

"You there?" He asked, not actually addressing anyone, but definitely thinking of Marc. "No? ...didn't think so."

With a sigh, Steven sauntered to the kitchen to start the kettle. The flat was dark - the thunderstorm outside made sure of it, and he worried, for a moment, about you trudging home in these conditions.

"Should be alright," he mused to himself, the way he was prone to do. "Not due home for a couple hours yet."

He stopped short when he saw a note on the kitchen counter. It was not unlike the several notes you had left for Jake, on the bedside table. Same envelope at least.

"What's this, then?" he mused, picking it up.

The letters, displayed in your handwriting, spelled 'Marc'.

"Hm. Left you a note. Best come read it," Steven tried to tell his alter. Hearing nothing, he chewed on his lip for a moment before turning the envelope over in his hand.

The contents really did belong to Marc, but Steven felt that maybe had had the best chance of actually communicating with him. So he opened the letter and began to read aloud.

"Hope you don't mind, but I'm going to be reading this," Steven said to no one, because apparently no one was listening. "If you're not going to look at it, you should at least hear it."

'Dear Marc, I can't remember the last time we've gone so long without seeing one another, or at least speaking. Even on your longest missions, it never felt like this. If I could go back to the last time I saw you huddled on the kitchen floor, I would have never let you out of my arms. I would have never ranted about what Jake should do, or how much I hate Khonshu. I would've just held on and told you the truth over and over - that you're everything. That it didn't matter to me if you wore the suit again without telling me because I trust you, and because you can make your own decisions. I've always trusted your judgment. You are the real Moon Knight and you had every right to put on the suit if you felt like you wanted or needed to. I would have told you I support you 100%, that you're needed, that you're loved - that my anger and my bright ideas about how we should march right up to Khonshu and punch his bony beak didn't matter, not when you were feeling so shut out, so displaced, so thrown backwards in time, made to feel any less than. You are not less than Steven. You are not less than Jake. Or me. And you sure as hell are not less than an ancient deity who needs a modern day human body to roam the streets of London. It is he who needs you. And I need you. I need you, Marc. I need to see you again so badly, I can't even breathe sometimes. Not at night, after Steven falls asleep, not in the shower sometimes, or at work, when someone asks after you. I need you so much. Please, this isn't about making you feel guilty. You're my husband. You are the love of my life. I know you're resting now. I know you're taking the time you need. Steven is taking good care of you. But when you're ready, please, please come back to me. I love you so much.'

Running a hand over his chin, Steven folded the letter and put it back where he found it. Peering at his reflection in the microwave, Steven waited...hoping...

But it was quiet.

The next night, you made it home first. Steven had spoiled you rotten the previous, stormy evening. He claimed he was treating you to some warm soup and a hot bath because you were drenched when you arrived home.

But you knew it was because he read your letter and wanted to cheer you up. In fact, you believed that Steven missed Marc too. They didn't always co-front - you typically were only with one of them at a time, but they did talk all the time, and what you had sworn to Marc one afternoon on the rooftop was true: he was Steven's best friend in all the world.

So, a comforting bath and cuddles in bed made you both feel worlds better.

Tonight you wanted to show Steven a little love right back. It was really too bad that you found yourself elbow deep in making vegan fajitas when you heard the front door, because you desperately wanted a big hug.

"I'm in here, babe!" You called, dripping your way over to the sink to wash up.

Steven would have normally spouted off a greeting, two terms of endearment and one fun fact by the time he reached you, but as you turned to see him leaning against the door frame, you only heard the sound of your name...in an American accent.

Your heart rate tripled - your face flamed hot...then you saw your husband's dark curls were covered by a flat cap.

Holy shit. "Jake?"

"Hola," he winked, folding his arms over his chest. Noticing your apparent distress - and automatically assuming he was the cause, the corners of his mouth turned downward.

"Mi amor?" He questioned, his eyes going wide like a child getting in trouble.

"Jake!" You breathed, rushing up to throw your arms around him.

His body sagged in relief, melting into yours until he found the strength to wrap his bigger, stronger arms around your frame.

"Oh my god, oh my god," you gasped, gripping him desperately. "You're here, I can't believe it."

Surprised but thrilled at how relieved and happy you seemed, Jake nuzzled the spot right above your ear, running his hands up and down your back soothingly.

"I hope it's all right," he whispered, his hot breath tickling your ear.

Easing back, you gazed up into his deep brown eyes. "What do you mean? Of course it's all right."

Chewing on his lip worriedly, he shrugged one shoulder adorably, still holding on to you. "It's not a bad time, is it? You're not...supposed to be with Steven? Or anyone?"

You melted. "Baby, it's your body. If you're here, you're here. You don't need my permission." Gently caressing his cheek, you shook your head in wonder. "I just - I don't think I've ever seen you before midnight."

Glancing down at his outfit, you realized you didn't recognize his clothing as Steven or Marc's. Your heart swelled, seeing this new piece of him - a faded, denim jacket over a striped t-shirt.

"And I've never seen you wear anything except Steven's PJ's or your driving uniform," you added, brushing your hand over his.

"Or nothing at all," he cheekily added, biting his lip, waiting for your reaction.

You grinned like a fool, giggling as he swooped you up into a tender kiss. He sampled your lips one at a time, sucking gently, taunting you - until you licked hotly into his mouth, sinking your fingers into his curls. This knocked the cap off his head, which made him growl in response.

Two strong hands dragged your thighs around his waist and in a few long strides, he planted you on the countertop with an 'umph!'

"Sorry," he murmured, his forehead touching yours affectionately as he squeezed your hips, settling right between your spread thighs.

"Was that an offer?" you whispered, referring to him wearing nothing at all. Peppering his smiling lips with little kisses and driving him absolutely crazy, you added, "Is that why you're here?"

Easing back slowly, he swallowed. "I just wanted to see you," he earnestly admitted, a little uncertainty creasing his forehead. "I thought...maybe we could have dinner together. Is that okay?"

He was pretty new to this whole...you thing. Being married...sort of. Making an effort to...be with you. And not just sleep beside you. So he wasn't entirely sure if he was barging in to a special evening with Steven. He also wondered if you were hoping he was Marc. Actually, he was pretty certain that the surprise on your face when he first called your name was you mistaking him for Marc, for just a second.

"Come here," you softly cooed, pulling on his jacket to drag his mouth back to yours. Brushing your lips over his, you used your legs to urge his body flush against your center. "Yes, we can have dinner together..." which reminded you - you were mid-fajita prep when Jake arrived.

Tapping him cutely on the nose, you kissed his mouth one more time. "To be continued."

As you carried on with food prep, a different energy sizzled in the kitchen with Jake, most notably because he was a different person. Marc cooked with you plenty of times. In fact, he probably cooked more often than anyone and he was pretty good at it.

Cooking with Marc was precise, detailed - he knew what he wanted to do and you willingly played a supporting role. The two of you moved with practiced synchrony, like a well-rehearsed dance.

With Steven, it was all about experimentation. As a vegan, Steven was used to substituting ingredients and making things up on the fly. He also left a huge, hilarious mess behind, and typically ended up wearing a portion of his recipe.

For this reason, you had bought Steven an apron that said, 'Team Herbivore' which made Marc roll his eyes every time he saw it. Not because of the slogan but because it had three cute little veggies with smiling faces on it.

With Jake, there was no precise exchange of places, nor an experimental mess. Jake moved right with you from behind, loosely caging you in, picking up a spoon you would set down, stirring while you reached for a knife. You chopped and he added spices. He didn't even ask.

Once your hand was knife free and scraping veggies into the skillet, he was nuzzling into your neck and humming.

You lost your concentration a few times because he was just so close.

"This okay?" He would ask periodically, slipping his hand around your waist to sway with you.

"Where did you learn to cook?" You giggled, melting at the sound of his apparent singing voice?

He paused, going a little stiff.

Hoping you hadn't hit a nerve, you turned around slowly to find him smiling wistfully. "I used to watch my mom."

Your eyes widened as you tried to figure out what to say. Marc had never mentioned cooking with his mom, or her really cooking much at all. He had mentioned going to bed hungry though.

"I know...how she was," Jake softly interjected into your buzzing thoughts. "Especially with Marc." His gaze dropped as he eased back a step. "But sometimes, she would sing in Spanish. And cook. Sometimes I helped."

Reaching for his hand, you gently squeezed. "I didn't know you guys spoke Spanish until we met," you admitted, trying your best to connect a little more with Jake. "That sounds like a wonderful memory."

"One of the few," he sighed. Almost shyly meeting your eyes, he smiled warmly. "I've never told anyone that - or anything...about her."

Using your hold on his hand to pull him closer, you slid one arm around his waist. "You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

"Mm-hmm," he hummed back, nodding over your shoulder toward the sizzling skillet. "Better stir, mi vida."

Jake's seasonings were totally on point and dinner was delicious. The two of you cleaned up the kitchen and headed to the living room to relax. You noticed Jake sat a little awkwardly on the sofa - in total contrast to the smooth, panther like movements you were accustomed to, late at night, in your bedroom.

"Jake, you okay?" You asked him, grabbing your current reading material and settling down beside him.

He nodded unconvincingly. This was wildly foreign to him. Jake only did a few things in this world: protect, kill when he had to, serve Khonshu, sleep and fuck. He didn't even eat that often - his alters usually saw to most of the body's physical care.

"What...what do you do? At night? What should I do?" He adorably asked.

You almost laughed, it was so cute, but you didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Well...Marc and I play card games or do puzzles. We watch baseball games or old action movies - "

"You like baseball?" He asked, his eyes lighting up.

"I do," you confirmed with a smile. "The time change is a little weird from here to Chicago or New York, but we watch some afternoon games, or we watch older games."

He nodded, absorbing the information as you went on.

"Steven and I read together, or he reads to me. We like documentaries too. Sometimes I help him study for school." You chuckled, wondering if this all sounded boring to such a night owl like Jake. "Sometimes we have word search races - like, to see who can finish the fastest."

"I do crosswords in my car sometimes," Jake shrugged, as if he totally understood the appeal. "Do you like crosswords?"

"Mm-hmm," you grinned.

It was on. The two of you found a crossword website online and printed out two copies of the same puzzle. Turning on your phone's stopwatch, the race was on.

Jake kicked your ass.

"Let's go again," he chimed, finding another crossword on the laptop. "Loser has to take of their clothes."

You gasped, pretending to be offended. "Mr. Lockley," you playfully scolded.

Hearing you call him Mister anything had him shutting the laptop and scooping you up in his arms, almost racing to the bedroom. "Fuck it," he chuckled. "I surrender, I'll take off my clothes."

You howled with laughter as he deposited you on the bed and kicked off his shoes. Next came his socks - then he went for his belt. Shit, he wasn't kidding.

Crawling backwards on the bed, you settled back to enjoy the show, propped up on a pile of pillows.

Jake had peeled off his jacket while you were cooking, so once his pants were loose, he tugged off his t-shirt. You licked your lips at the way his abdomen flexed at the motion, and almost mewled at the way the shirt's collar mussed his curls. Then he paused, checking for a reaction before removing his pants.

"Don't let me stop you...Mr. Lockley," you teased, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

The corner of his mouth curled as he pushed his pants and boxers all the way down. Leaning forward to kick them off his feet, a loose curl fell across his forehead.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him naked and ready for you. Climbing onto the bed on his hands and knees, he hovered over you, reveling in the way your eyes devoured him.

"Your turn," he purred, teasing you with a nibble to your lips.

Running your hands all over his smooth skin, you felt between his legs, teasing his length with your fingertips.

Hissing in pleasure, he more than willingly allowed you to have your way, licking wickedly into your mouth while grinding into your palm.

"Do you really read and study all the time, mi vida?" He groaned out, rolling his hips in time with your strokes. "Or is this more your idea of fun?"

"Definitely this," you breathed against his mouth. "A fucking lot of this."

Spending the evening with Jake was a balm to your tender heart. You had seen him since the night Khonshu healed him - since your first night together - but only late at night, for a quick conversation, or for a repeat performance.

So spending an entire, domestic evening with him, ending up between the sheets for hours, before falling asleep draped across his naked body - you were in heaven. Maybe Jake really was going to ease into your life - actually be in a relationship with you.

Your heart swelled with love for your husband - for all the lovely, wonderful parts of the system he was. You would have to grab some extra ingredients from the store and plan another vegan fajita night for Steven, since Jake enjoyed the first batch. Not that Steven minded, angel that he was.

Which only left Marc.

Even with your heart so full and alive, there was still a gaping hole. As always, you tried not to put the other two in the middle of any situation, or treat them like messengers to try to get to Marc. But they were more than ready with updates.

Steven had confessed to reading the letter, and trying to talk out loud to Marc several times a day. Jake said the same, finally asking you if maybe it was his fault that Marc was so absent - so silent.

The three of you agreed that Marc just needed some time. As always, you decided not to take it personally. This was about him.

You beat Steven home again the following evening, and this time, waiting on the kitchen counter, was an envelope bearing your name.

next->

@stormydaysxx @laaundromat @kindlover @deezisnotreal @stevenknightmarc @imonmykneessir @marvelouslovely-barnes @evilbubu @usualsworld @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra @this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face @avengersinitiative2012 @lockleywife @poppyflower-22 @thursdaywritings @scoliobean @peregrine-nation @local-mr-frog @ren-ni @valkyrie05x @randomhoex @tsukkie-daisuke @flyestvenustrap @spxctorsslxt @cicithemess2000  @bitchotine 

dividers by saradika

[hanafubukki]

I'm back with another Lilia thought! This one isn't mafia au though, so you can wait with reading it so it won't spoil the immersion lol ( I'm so glad you liked it btw 😭)

This one is about you being Lilia's fae s/o. When he went to NRC with the boys he gave you a cell phone to stay in touch with him with. You use it to play games together and communicate (I think it'd be mostly texting as to simulate writing letters to your loved one who's away), but something he'll never tell anybody about are the more private messages you share. Because he's an old man, sensing lustful messages with Lilia is like writing prose. Taking turns to write and seeing the messages show up in real time...there's just something about this old man and language when it comes to intimate times. He'll save the conversations to re-read whenever he's needy. There's not much video/photo sharing (again, to fit with the whole writing letters thing), but it'd be fun I think if you discover the Twisted Wonderland version of Only Fans and jokingly tell Lilia that you wanna make an account and have him as your only subscriber. He actually loves the idea, of you being needy and the way he finds out is a ping notification that you've uploaded a new photo of yourself- for his eyes only. You'd want the account to be private since it's for personal use but I can see Lilia maybe being adventurous and being into teasing other men knowing they'll never have you. They can see a few clothed pictures but the number of people who can see it all never goes above 1.

-Fake Date Sebek Anon

[Talking about this fic]

Hello Fake Date Sebek Anonie 🌺🌷💞

That Lilia Mafia ask really just hit me suddenly and released all the core memories I had and I couldn’t not make it into a flower shop combination. Thank you Anonie, that AU lives in my brain rent free 💞💞

God can you imagine?? The text messages switches between Victorian flirting to modern flirting and sometimes the combination. Texting each other how much you missed the other so.

Telling him, how you miss his warmth and his touch. How your own imagination and hands can do so much. Even magical toys do not help. Gradually it shifts to this account you see humans use.

How innovative and advanced. Of course you bring it up to Lilia and he’s down. As long as it’s only him that can see it. He loves knowing no one can have you. You’re his.

He loves to show off your more casual pictures but he’s full of pride. No one else can see you, feel you, or touch you. No one else would know your taste.

Hm? What’s this? It’s as if you heard him. You sent him a new picture. He’s happy that fae’s have an abundance of magic. Silver, Sebek, and Malleus can look after each other for a few hours.

He’s going to teleport to you right now. The urge to feel and taste you too great. His hands itches to shred the clothes you have on and Lilia is not one to deny himself of his favorite treat. 💞🌺

[sobriety-circle]

The comments on this post make me so upset as a sober person because it proves that a lot of people who drink don't respect sober people.

The implication that I get from this is that all sober people need help, and that support groups are our only safe space. While a lot of people do reach out for help in a variety of different ways for different reasons, especially if recovering from addiction, there are plenty of people who don't need help, or have recovered enough to not need help. These people still need safe spaces. We should be able to access fun things safely without needing mental treatment. (Also there is a growing inaccessibility of queer centers in my area, and I'm guessing this isn't a lone situation.) (Maybe I read too much into the comment but my points still stand without the context.)

I love libraries. Great idea, libraries are a great space for everyone, but we need more than just libraries. We need places to eat, and play, and environments that stimulate things beyond what a library can do. I'm sure libraries also can help with resources for those who need, and we should make this information more public without stigma. Also SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL LIBRARY.

And that's your own choice to make! If you think I'm meeting people WITH alcohol, you're wrong. The difference is that people like you likely have an easily accessible space for that. Sober people have to try harder to find these spaces, especially as a queer person.

I'm sorry you feel attacked as a "bar enjoyer." You should not feel discomfort caused by other people for your own decisions. As sucky as that is, this goes both ways. Stop telling sober people to suck it up, or that they're missing out (real things I have been told). Sober people and even recovering addicts do not often have equivalent safe spaces as those who drink casually. If you don't want to hear us complain, help us build dry bars.

Hm. I wonder why it's stereotypical that sober people don't like going out. It's almost like some people don't feel comfortable being in non-sober spaces and feel attacked when we ask for a dry space to exist. I would love to go to a late night venue and get out more, but I can't do that without anxiety. Others can't do that without risk of relapse.

The sobriety community is a very diverse place. I've met right wing sober people. Even Trump himself doesn't drink (nor does Biden if you were wondering). So this leads to a huge need for not just sober spaces, but sober spaces for other minorities. "We need queer friendly sober spaces," isn't something that should be made fun of.

I won't be a person who insists that all people who drink need to get sober. All I'm asking for is respect and understanding. I don't agree with a drinking lifestyle for me, and you don't have to agree with the sober lifestyle for you. I am just frustrated that sober people raise some very basic points about how we have a hard time finding places, and we are met with underhanded backlash.

If you (or someone you know) is struggling with addiction and is looking for help, I support you. Recovery can be rough, but you're so strong, and life can be so much better in the end. The fight is worth it. Stay safe, speak up, and be strong 💜

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I love The Other Half so much!!! Tell us: How would it go the first time Bruce asks his Shop Girl to go to a fancy schmancy Gotham elite gala with him??? I'm dying to know!

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Warnings: Some angst; mostly fluff; Bruce Wayne's Top Notch Communication Skills and secret keeping

You and Bruce drive back to your apartment in relative quiet, only mentioning the odd nice thing about the evening. You don’t ask about the gala; he doesn’t mention it. You just watch the city fly by, and try not to let your irritated feelings completely choke how much you care about Bruce. You figure that he must’ve forgotten about the gala—or that he’s had a good reason for not mentioning something so significant. And the evening had gone so well up until then. You just want to revel in that, and not in the puncture wound Liz had made in your otherwise buoyant evening. You may not know Bruce’s reasons are, but he must have them. 

Frankly, if he doesn’t, you’re not sure what kind of solace you’ll be able to take in his omission. 

You give Bruce a tender kiss before you start to get out of the car, trying to force away your wary thoughts away. 

“You didn’t get your picture,” He comments.

“Hm?” You frown, turning back to Bruce. 

“For Michelle.” 

“Oh,” You huff a laugh. “I’m not worried about that.” 

“Maybe next time.” 

You open your mouth, then close it, biting back a smart remark. You just give him a small smile. 

“Maybe.”

“Are you working tomorrow?” 

“Mhm.” 

“When’s your shift end?” 

“Six.”

“Alright.”  

--

“When’s your shift end?” 

You could’ve sworn you told him last night, and it twigs your irritation. You’re not sure what’s even brought Bruce to the store. He could’ve called, or texted. He didn’t call or text you last night to discuss what had happened at dinner. Maybe he’d needed to cool down as much as you had; maybe he’d gone to bed early; maybe he’d gotten up to something else. You glance at the clock over the counter opposite you before you go back to restocking one of the display cases. 

“In a couple of hours,” You answer. 

“...Would it end now if I bought out the store?” 

“What would you do with the inventory?” 

“I’d figure something out.” 

“Maybe donate some of it to charity?” 

“I’m not sure what someone in need would do with a…” Bruce reaches out, plucking a jewelry box off of the shelf, gaze sweeping its contents, “Diamond and garnet encrusted brooch. How much does this cost, anyway?” 

You glance down at the box, brow furrowing as you wrack your mind for the cost.

“Mmm…Thirteen hundred.” 

“Hm…Want it?” 

“What?” 

“Do you want this?” 

“No, Mr. Wayne,” You scoff, turning back to face the display case again. 

“Oh, I’m Mr. Wayne here?” 

“If you don’t want me to get into trouble with my manager again, yes.” 

Bruce grunts beside you, holding the box out to you. You reach out, taking hold of the box and putting it away again. 

“What do you want?” He asks. “Hm?” 

“If you could pick one thing on this floor, what would it be?” 

You hesitate before glancing down, eyeing the floor beneath your feet. 

“Not much to be found on the floor, but your shoes look quite nice,” You offer, turning back to the display. 

“You know what I mean,” Bruce chuckles, “Though I could get you a pair of these if you like.” 

“I like my own shoes.” 

You expect Bruce to say something else, but you feel him simply watching you. You glance over at him, arching a brow when you find him watching you expectantly. 

“What?” You laugh a little nervously. 

“If you could have one thing on the floor—in this department,” He clarifies pointedly, and you turn away, fighting back a smile at his insistence. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Nothing springs to mind?” Bruce presses, leaning back against the counter beside you. 

“Please don’t lean on the display, Mr. Wayne.” 

“Would I be allowed to lean against it if I buy the place?” 

You roll your eyes openly, fighting back a smile. 

“I suppose you could. You really gonna buy it?” 

“I wasn’t going to, but now I’m thinking about it.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Don’t dare me, sweetheart. We both know where that leads.” Bruce straightens up, tucking his hands into his pockets and looking around. His eyes seem to land, then catch on the far end of the room. 

“What is it?” You ask, nudging his elbow with yours. He shakes his head a little bit, turning to look around at other sections of the department. 

“That was where the,” He waves toward the hall he’d first looked down. “Where the robbery was?” 

“Attempted.” 

“Right.” 

“Yes.” You think for a moment, then go still, brows furrowing as you look at Bruce, your mind racing. He turns back to you, brow twitching as he catches sight of your expression. 

“What?” He frowns. 

“How did you know that it was back that way?” 

“What?” 

“I never told you where in the office it happened.” 

“...No. No,” He shakes his head, “I saw it on the news.” 

Your mouth works wordlessly for a moment, your eyes narrowing as his face remains a mask of calm. 

“Look,” Bruce adds, “I’ve got a meeting to get to, but uh—” He glances around before he leans in, pecking your lips. “I’ll pick you up at six?” 

“Okay…” 

Bruce winks at you before turning and heading for the elevator. You turn back to the display, slowed in your work. It’s strange. You don’t think that you told the news the way back to the office…But maybe you had. It had been such a panicked rush—you’d just wanted to go home. You hadn’t watched it back when it had aired, but Michelle had recorded it. You’re certain it’ll still be on the DVR…

You scoff, shaking your head. You’re being unduly suspicious. Just because Brue didn’t mention the gala to you and knows where the back office is doesn’t mean there’s anything else going on. Honestly—you’re starting to think like one of those stupid magazines Michelle brings home. 

--  

“Can we talk about it?” You hedge, peering into the empty wine glass in your hand.

“Talk about what?” 

You think that Bruce is playing dumb, but when he turns back to you with that confused, contemplative little look, you realize that he really doesn’t know. You wait until he rounds to the couch, sitting beside you and setting down the newly opened bottle of wine. 

“About what Liz said last night,” You clarify, setting your empty glass down. Bruce seems to grimace before he nods. 

“It wasn’t anything I thought you’d be interested in,” He offers, scratching the back of his neck, “And truth be told, I haven’t even thought about it. I never pay attention to those things.” 

You arch your brows as Bruce pouts. He has that sweet pout, the one you first saw at the store when he wasn’t sure what to buy Alfred.

“Which is fine, and I know we hadn’t known what we were getting into, but I felt…Pretty blind-sided, Bruce.”

“I know. Sorry.” He reaches out, taking hold of your hand with both of his. You curl your fingers around his, leaning against him.  

“...Do you want to go?” Bruce hedges softly. You smile a little, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“No, I don’t think so. I really do have work that night.” 

“You could get the night off.” 

“I don’t think I could.” 

“Sure. I buy the place, you can set your own schedule—” 

You burst out laughing as Bruce goes on: 

“Liz gets someone to design your dress—we’d be ready in no time.” 

Your laughter dissolves to giggles as you shake your head. 

“Seriously, it’s fine. I don’t think I’d suit those kinda things.” 

“..I don’t suit those kinds of things,” Bruce points out. “I still go.” 

“You still have to. I’m not the face of the Wayne Foundation.” 

Bruce grunts. He loosens his grip on your hand, raising his arm to wrap around you. 

“I’m barely the face,” He grumbles. 

“Mm, you’ve very much the face. The handsome face,” You tease, raising your hand to pinch his cheek. He smiles, turning his head and brushing his lips against your knuckles. 

“Alright, no gala for you,” He agrees. “How about something else?” 

“Like what?” 

“I’ve got an invitation to a fundraiser. Small guest list, nice venue. Pretty low-key.” 

“Define low-key, please?” 

“Fewer cameras, less old money…Fewer people looking at us.” 

That makes your stomach twist. You find yourself looking down at your hand where it still grasps his. Maybe that was his concern: a lot of people seeing Bruce Wayne with you—with someone outside of their tight social circle.

“...You worried about that?” You ask softly. “A lot of cameras?” 

“It takes getting used to,” Bruce soothes. “I don’t wanna shove you under that microscope before you know what it feels like. I’m used to the cameras, but I don’t want them turning up at your place and hounding you.” 

You sigh softly, tipping your head back against the couch. “Maybe we should just let them keep thinking you’re dating Liz,” You mumble. 

“We can do that.” 

“Oh?” 

“We can do whatever you want.” 

You let your head loll to the side, smiling when you find Bruce watching you closely. 

“A fundraiser sounds nice,” You concede softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “What’s it for?” 

“Uh…Research, or…An animal shelter? I honestly can’t remember.” 

“I take it you can’t remember when it’s happening, either?” 

“The thirtieth.” 

“I can probably swing that.” 

“Yeah? Good,” Bruce draws you closer to his side, nuzzling your temple. “Maybe you’ll make one of these damn events bearable for once.” 

“...Bruce?” 

“Mhm.” 

“You won’t keep insisting that we don’t have to go over and over again, will you?” 

“No I will not.” 

“Promise?” 

“Scout’s honor.” 

--  

You try not to overthink all of Bruce’s little inconsistencies, but you can’t help but notice them. He either feigns or truly forgets the things that you tell him. He cancels plans at the last minute, and either neglects or forgets to text you when he’s home. Sometimes he turns up at your apartment very early or very late. On those nights, he just slouches in and practically face-plants in your bed. You see the odd splash of a bruise across his shoulder, his back, his arm. When you do ask, he waves it off, explains it away—with polo, spelunking, some other rich guy crap. 

You don’t always buy it, but you let it go. If you let yourself give into your little lurking suspicions, you’ll never be able to get past them—but there are some days when you look at Bruce and see nothing but a mound of questions. 

--  

The day of the fundraiser isn’t as harrowing as you think it may be. You take the entire day off to get ready for it. You get your hair and nails done, spend the day brushing up on the news, the latest social gossip (it’s the only time you’re happy to have Michelle’s magazines around). You’ve had your dress for a week—it’s one that you picked out at the store, and got a decent price for it with your employee discount. It’s designer, and you like it, but you do worry that it’s not fancy enough for the circles that Bruce travels in. 

If it isn’t fancy enough, Bruce doesn’t say a damn thing. He just gives you a long, slow once-over, a smile growing on his lips as he draws you into his chest. 

“You look beautiful,” He murmurs, head dipping toward you, then stilling just an inch from yours. “Am I gonna mess up your lipstick?” 

You grin, giving Bruce a gentle, obliging peck before back again, smoothing your hands over his coat.

“Save it for after the party.” 

“Screw the party, let’s just go to mine.” 

“Nu-uh. I spent way too much time and money on this get-up. C’mon,” You insist, hooking your arm through his and steering him toward the elevator. “You driving?” 

“Alfred is.” 

“Better keep your hands to yourself then, Mr. Wayne.” 

“We wouldn’t scandalize Alfred.” 

“We won’t be scandalizing Alfred.” 

--  

The first few minutes are a little rocky—you have a few hiccups together. Bruce doesn’t know how to introduce you, and you don’t know how to tell anyone what it is you do, or how you met. Bruce finally settles on your being a close friend; you begin to tell people that you’re Bruce’s personal shopper. Everyone titters with the insistence; it makes Bruce’s lips twitch with a smile every single time. It’s a little white lie—one that you’re happy to invoke for the evening. Besides, you’re certain you’ll never see these people again. The two of you get split up briefly—Bruce gets pulled into an impromptu business proposal, and Liz takes you by the arm, drawing you into a conversation with a few of her modeling friends. 

It’s probably not polite to say so, but the conversation is stupefyingly boring. They’re all quite nice, but Bruce catches up to you in the knick of time. 

“Excuse us, ladies,” Is the easy way that he cuts in. He takes hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers and guiding you away from the group with a murmur of, “C’mon.” 

You smile, turning and giving the group a small wave before you rest your hand on Bruce’s upper arm. “Nice timing.” 

“Was it?” He asks. 

“Practically perfect.” 

“Total coincidence.” 

You slow a little as you see Bruce guiding you toward the small dance floor. 

“Uh…Not sure I’m wearing my dancing shoes, Bruce.” 

“Just a little spin,” He plies. “They’re playing a slow one.” 

You hesitate before you give an abiding nod. Bruce curls his arm around your waist, slotting the two of you in among the other well-dressed couples. You rest your hand on his shoulder, gaze wandering the room. It’s another few moments before he draws you closer.

“Am I boring you?” He murmurs. You bite your lip, trying not to giggle. 

“Not at all, Mr. Wayne.” 

“I don’t know if I like this Mr. Wayne business.” 

“I’ll put a cap on it.” 

“Thank you.” 

You shift your hand on his shoulder, tipping your head to the side as Bruce’s gaze wanders your face. 

“Are you having fun?” Bruce asks. 

“Honestly? I did not think I would, but yeah,” You nod, “I really am.” 

“You didn’t think you would?” 

“No. I mean,” You chuckle at Bruce’s gobsmacked expression. “I knew I’d have a nice time with you, but I didn’t think I’d have a nice time, like…In general.” 

“Yeah? Having a nice enough time to attend another one of these with me in the future?”

“Maybe.” 

“Is there anything that’ll sway you toward a favorable answer?” 

“You give me plenty of heads up and ask me reaaaally really nicely.” 

Bruce smiles, nodding, his gaze lingering on your lips. 

“I can live with that,” He murmurs. “Tell you something.”

“Mm?” 

“I wanna take you home—” 

“I figured you would—” 

“—Right now.” 

You grin, glancing around. “Well is there, uh…Is there something stopping you?”

“Figured we’d finish this dance first.” 

“I think I can stand that…Bruce?” 

“Mm?” 

“We are still not scandalizing Alfred.” 

Next Part

[winepresswrath]

hi! i always love your MDZS/CQL takes; can i ask what are the questions you think CQL is asking, as compared to MDZS?

I haven't actually revisited either canon in ages, which is making me nervous. what questions the novel is interested in can be pretty contentious all on its own! @mikkeneko has an excellent answer in the notes here which I reccomend to everyone. My own thoughts are honestly pretty scattered- I keep on deleting things and going hm, that's not quite right.

So, for the obvious-to-me example, people reasonably zero in on the creation of innocent doctors/radish farmers who Wen Ruohan is holding hostage. In CQL it's easy to infer that Wen Qing and Wen Ning are maybe the only cultivators and almost certainly the only combatants among the Wen remnants, and their status is much more ambiguous in the novel, which I personally think is asking, essentially, "and so what? were they wrong to run, when they had a chance? Do they deserve what Jin Guangshan will do to them if they go back? Aren't they just people, actually?" Whereas the question that CQL is asking is more to the effect of "What does Wen Qing owe these people, when she is their only defence? What is she entitled to do to save them, at other people's expense? If she fucks up that moral calculus, what then? Does it matter if she's personally fond of some of the outsiders who are going to get hurt? If one of them saved her brother? Later, this question will flip to what Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, and the parallel to Jiang Cheng's situation in particular is, I think, genuinely pretty fun. You're giving up the Wen as soldiers who've laid down their arms in exchange for Wen Qing also grappling with leadership and the question of how many horrors she can stand to look the other way on to protect her own people. one reason I keep deleting so much is that a lot cql's changes were motivated at least in part by censorship, which I think we mostly share a general and justified distaste for! but I also think that within the bounds of that censorship the creative team put a lot of work into actually doing something interesting with those changes. Or, for another example- nieyao! There's a much greater emphasis on the nmj-jgy relationship, it's unambiguously very close and they are clearly extremely important to one another, and I think that's because the cql team has a lot to say about love, trust, power, and the ways those things interact, and that reflects back on all of the other relationships in play, including Wangxian. Almost every time, when CQL chooses change a relationship they make the characters in question closer- that's true for Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, for Wen Qing and the Yunmeng contingent, for Zixuan and Mianmian, and Huaisang and Meng Yao. It's even true for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, who have a close and trusting relationship in first life! CQL puts a much greater emphasis on "all right, so you care, what next?" How do you choose someone and then choose to be good to them? What if there's a massive power disparity between you? What if you seriously disagree about your priorities and morals? How do you trust someone who's betrayed you? When is it a stupid choice to trust at all? How do you have faith that you know someone well enough for that trust to be meaningful?

for legal reasons i would like to specify that it's not that mdzs isn't interested in these problems. i do remember wangxian's literal trust fall. cql is asking these questions all the time about everyone. also for legal purposes i'm not suggesting that cql lwj and jc love each other. but! they establish a three month wartime partnership looking for wwx and then jc immediately drops him on wwx's say-so despite apparently having a positive enough opinion of him to tell wwx he thinks they should make up twice. lan wangji will later tell wwx he thinks he should loop jc in on the second flautist! these are people trying to navigate some kind of relationship/shared interest/community, as opposed to a hateful void. cql wants to say hey, how do you go about this? while I'm here and rambling cql also puts a lot of emphasis on wwx's connection to yunmeng and changes things up so instead of feeling alienated right before he leaves our last glimpse of him there is happily picking lotuses and playing with a kid! in both stories the narrative is asking who do you protect? who do you leave behind? can you ever get it back? but the angles are very different.

[healingagoddess]

Stranger

Pairing: Ajak/Wanda Maximoff/F!Reader

Summary: MINORS DNI. One night Wanda comes crashing into your shared homestead with Ajak and soon takes over your home incluiding Ajak, but it is you what she wants. Events after MOM.

Words: 1856

Warnings: mommy kink, degradation, fingering, use of heavy language, cnc. English is not my first language. If I missed any warnings let me know.

Note: *foaming at the mouth* NOBODY ASKED FOR THIS, NOBODY WANTED THIS, I DON'T CAREE!! I'm going to put it out here since I already wrote it and it is now y'alls problem. I had written some Thenajak, but my laptop was broken and I lost everything. So, bear with me and I just don't care. I did not re read it to edit nor fix my grammar, I can't re read what I write. Thank you :3.

It’s not that you hated the idea, in fact, you humored it a few times. When a redhead came crashing in the middle of the night seeking refugee before passing out on your living room, you and Ajak immediately took her in. She was healed in an instant, yet there was something dark holding her down. You could feel it, and you knew Ajak did too. She kept quiet for the most part, neither you nor Ajak wanting to make your guest uncomfortable, whatever trouble she had it was yours too.

It started with a few glances, both of them staring at each other communicating something between them both completely ignoring you. The way they raised their eyebrows at each other with no words needed. It made you feel small. Unwanted.

Mommy was never like this, she never ignored you, she was always ready to care for you and to tend to your every need. You were her special girl that she would nurse every night to sleep. You did not like this change. It was as if she had been consumed by a dark energy. This was far from being the woman you loved so much.

Whatever they had grew into something else, meanwhile Ajak was still the same when the both of you were alone, at times it felt like she was holding something back. Her mind seemed to be miles away in a distant place you could never reach, and it was different from other times. The way she was condescending with her care for you and her actions hurt the most.

It was night time when the both of you had gotten ready for bed. Mommy had bathed you and changed you into your long nightgown - the white one with pink roses. She had opted to sit in bed with her back resting against the headboard ignoring how you stood by the bed waiting for her to tuck you in. When she didn’t you crawled in bed silently smiling at her waiting for her attention as you sat back looking at her. Still nothing. Now you had to be more direct with your need as you laid your head on her lap looking up at her.

“Mommy” you called out softly.

“Hm?” She asked not looking away from her book.

You tugged at her own nightgown.

She looked down at you with a raised brow. “What is it, mi niña?”

You signaled down at your body. “You forgot about me.”

“I could never forget about you.” She smiled fondly.

You smiled back dumbly.

“Do you think we could tell stories before we sleep? Or maybe we could-”

The sound of somebody opening the door cut you off. You frowned at the intrusion as you looked at who had just walked in. It was Wanda dressed in her own sleeping clothes, a soft smile on her features as she stared at Ajak. A book of her own in her hands, you did not pay it any mind as you sat up waiting for an explanation. Looking back at Ajak you found her smiling back at her. And you felt small again.

“Mommy?”

“Sorry, Ajak! I was just reading one of your books and I thought that what I found was interesting and wanted to share with you.” She didn’t care to pay you any mind as she made her way to your bed and got in right next to you facing Ajak. 

“It was one of my favorite books a long time ago. It holds so much truth of the world.” Ajak responded.

You pouted immediately adjusting your body to lay on top of Ajak with your arms on each of her side embracing her as you rested your head on her chest. You knew that it didn’t matter what you said or did, they would ignore you or treat you like a child anyways. You focused on the sound of Ajak’s ticking of a heartbeat and the soft raising of her chest gently swaying you as you drowned their voices in the background. You closed your eyes for a moment, ignoring the way they made you feel. You felt somewhat safe when Ajak did hold your body against her wrapping her arms around your hips. Then you fell into slumber.

It was dark when you woke up still late into the night and noticed you were on your side with your head slightly nuzzled into Ajak’s side facing into her direction. What was odd was the pressure you felt on you back and a strange sensation between your legs. It was definitely Wanda with one arm resting against your hip while her fingers rubbed at your clit – gown pulled up around your hips and panties slightly down. You whined as you tried to pull away reaching out for Ajak, but soon you felt her free hand pressing against your tummy holding you in place.

She shushed you down quite loudly. “It’s okay. Just let me play a little bit with you. I know you’ll love it. You don’t want to wake up mommy, do you?” Her tone was condescending.

You whimpered against her, the words dying out in your mouth as you felt the heat travel through your body. For a moment consumed by the sensation you rocked your hips with sleep still in your eyes and movements as you tried to focus on Ajak’s figure. You were not supposed to enjoy what Wanda was doing, but having been asleep when she started her assault on you there was an obvious reaction from your body, the wetness between your tights that stained the sheets were an indication of this. It felt so good your breath quickened, almost falling into the lust until you felt guilt. With one of your hands, you held onto Ajak pulling your upper body close to her while Wanda continued to rub at you. Before Wanda could stop you Ajak was awakened by you holding onto her and shaking her a little.

With a slap to your pussy Wanda spoke “you brat, you woke up your mommy.”

You began to cry.

Ajak’s sleepy eyes met your teary ones, a moan escaped your body as Wanda pressed her fingers inside you slipping in with ease. She pulled out her fingers rather quickly and spanked your exposed ass earning a yelp from you.

“Mommy.” You cried out.

“Sh, sh, sh,” Ajak hushed you cupping your face and wiping away your tears “it’s okay, I’m here. Let Wanda play with you a little bit. She’ll make you feel good; be a good girl for her.”

You shook your head no and cried some more as Ajak wasn’t even faced with the way Wanda was treating you or what she had done to you. Note ven caring to truly comfort you like you wanted her to.

“No, don’t be a bad girl and let Wanda please you. She’s being so kind doing so.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at you and rolled onto her back. “She already woke you up; she deserves to be punished.”

Ajak’s hand cupped your dripping pussy, humming when she felt your wetness. Desperation overtook your senses as you felt guilty and caught with your arousal, but also scared as a punishment was mentioned. You never got punished before.

“Bebé, you are so wet,” she said contemplating, her fingers pushing through your folds “don’t say no to her; you are practically begging for it.”

“How can you say that?” You asked in disbelief. “I only want you, not her or anybody else. Just you.”

“Really? Then why are you messing my sheets with your wetness? You want this. Now, don’t be a bad girl anymore and I promise there won’t be any punishment.”

“Tonight.” Wanda added with a smirk.

You gave up knowing you did not have the power nor the energy to fight them, or to say no to Ajak. You couldn’t even say no to Wanda as your body reacted so well to her. They were right: you liked it and you wanted it so bad. Laying back down on the bed with no more resistant Wanda practically pounced on you holding you back like she did before, but this time she buried her fingers deep inside of you. You groaned at the feeling fixing your gaze on Ajak who seemed quite pleased with your obedience, she got closer to your face pressing her forehead against yours as she whispered sweet nothings and praises for being so good.

“You can try and deny it all you want,” Wanda whispered in your ear, “but look at how well your body is reacting to me, taking both of my fingers so well into your pussy like the whore you are.”

You moaned loudly against Ajak, your hips bucking against Wanda seeking more friction.

“You are so desperate it is kinda pathetic, don’t you think Ajak?”

Ajak hummed, she didn’t know how to feel with how easily you actually gave up, but at the same time it’s what they wanted. You were to submit to them, being their precious little thing that you were meant to be.

You were consumed by pleasure, too dumb to say anything other than to moan and groan against both of them. It felt so good to be filled by the redhead, and when your mommy reaching down to rub at your clit you were gone; lost in the lust as your eyes rolled to the back of your head with your lips parted letting out little whimpers. Other than the only sound in the room was the sloshing wet sounds from Wanda’s fingers rapid movements. You could almost see stars in your state, you felt the tightness on your belly ready to burst and your moans higher pitched by the second.

“She is about to cum. No warning.” Ajak said.

“Do it then.” Wanda ordered.

 You came right away with a loud cry, your walls clenching around Wanda as she tried to hold you in place with your trembling body. Ajak taking you by the hips as she held you in place making it easier for Wanda and for you to ride your high. Your senses were overtaken by Wanda, she was everywhere inside your mind and there was no way to fight it. You didn’t know it was all her using her magic to force your submission faster, it was her controlling your body. She was surprised to find she could have her way with you either way, you were far too dumb and innocent to resist her experienced advantages.

When you came back from your high Wanda shoved her fingers inside your mouth forcing you to suck and taste your sweet juice. You did so messily with a moan, nothing new as you had tasted yourself many times on Ajak’s mouth. The healer brough her own fingers to her lips and cleaned them with a hum.

“Such a good, girl. I’m sure you’ll be ready for your new mama in no time to take in her special toy.” Ajak whispered hovering on top of you and pushing your legs up as she descended your body. “Time to clean you up.”

[desceros]

Y'kno. Leo could have taken that little secret to the grave. Woulda sucked to live with it and he'd have deserved some inner turmoil for treating some random chick like dirt. Yet V was naive, trusting and loving enough to let it go if he'd never had brought it up.

But no, he had to clear his guilt. Unburden himself. Dump that shit on her.

And fuck, he's so used to her giving he was probably half-expecting forgiveness for it.

Gotamn, V can't catch a break. One one hand you got a guy you thought you were BFFs with who

a) hated you

b) used you as an emotional crutch for his whole family

and

c) couldn't even shut up about it to spare you the extra heartbreak after literally EVERYTHING ELSE.

And another guy who you thought was as into you as you were into him because he apparently can't communicate about feelings since he's shut himself out from that part of life and you gotta use hyperspecific, robotic wording to not get your heart broken again like you're signing a contract with some fucked up version of the fae.

None of them are putting in the work to mend any of their personal shit and you're the giving type that gets easily taken advantage of, even unintentionally.

Honestly, neither of them are shitting rainbows to be worth all the effort you gotta put in their asses for any semblance of a functional friendship/situationship.

Also

"You weren't part of the family."

U kno what, he can keep it. They're the only people who'll be able to stand him at this rate.

so i addressed the first part of this in another ask re: ableism here but i'll briefly summarize things here.

leo didn't tell viola-chan what was bothering him because he wanted to "clear his guilt" or "unburden himself. dump that shit on her." he told her because she has made it repeatedly clear that she values honesty. i imagine he would have never told her... but keeping a secret felt like a betrayal. so when she asked, he told her. even though he knew it would hurt and change everything.

With a sigh, you fold your arms, then look at him. “What does this have to do with what you wanted to talk about, anyway?” “Everything,” Leo says, looking at you with a heavy stare. “Because… I have a confession to make. One that’s… that’s going to change how we are. One I really don’t want to make, but it’s—it’s eating me alive. And I don’t think I can continue being friends without telling you.”

that said. i'm not defending his actions. this is abominable behavior. but it's not selfish. not this time.

as for donnie. i'm going to take some righteous issue with how you're saying this. i've spoken before about ableism that's cropping up around this fic, but so far it's been pretty. hm. things i can brush off. but this, i feel, really crosses a line for me.

your framing of an autistic person needing someone to "use hyperspecific, robotic wording to not get your heart broken again like you're signing a contract with some fucked up version of the fae" is ringing quite poorly in my ears.

as an autistic person myself who has specifically made requests to my own loved ones that this is the exact kind of language i need to have smooth relationships, i don't appreciate your wording.

in symphony, donnie doesn't use the label 'autistic'. but he is. and he doesn't come up to you and say 'hey can i please have his kind of language used with me.' because he hasn't had to do that before. everyone around him has had his entire life to adapt to his needs. but viola-chan hasn't, hence why they have friction and misunderstandings. a large part of this story is the two of them learning to communicate. and part of that, i am sorry to tell you, is that autistic people often need language that can come across as "robotic" and "hyperspecific". so i'm going to ask you to deal with it, or perhaps look for a different fic. i'm not going to change that interpretation of things, because it comes from my own experiences as an autistic person.

lastly, you say "none of them are putting in the work to mend any of their personal shit" and that just?? isn't true??? this is literally just poor reading comprehension. an inability to look past the limited point of view of the protagonist. the entire first arc of this fic (ch. 1-11) is donnie stretching out of his comfort zone to tackle this serious problem he has. the second arc (12-20) is him pushing past things he's never done before so he can heal and touch his brothers again. leo comes to you and tells you about his issues with his sleep, where they come from, and lets you help him. not to mention mikey and raph, whom i assume you're leaving out of this ask since you haven't mentioned them. draxum even mentions, specifically, that viola-chan's presence is making them change. and the way he says it is very specific.

“Blue has been much more lively since you came around, and Donatello is much less crabby. Michael was also telling me you gave him some good exercises for his wrist. I was impressed. I’ve been meaning to ask you to work with Red as well on his trauma response since you seem to have a knack for it.”

work with. not on. i know i'm subtle, but come on.

anyway. this got quite long, but i'm not going to put it under a cut because i want these things to be open and visible. i've had a couple people say some somewhat similar things about donnie's part in this and i'm. getting kind of tired of it lmao. but thank you for reading, and i do appreciate you taking the time to send in your thoughts!!

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Malleus Draconia Dorm Uniform Personal Story: Part 2

"Briar Valley's own."

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lounge]

Lilia: …Which is why it is an issue that you weren't at the Dorm Leader meeting.

Malleus: I hadn't realized such a thing was happening while I was absent. I've caused you such an inconvenience, Lilia.

Lilia: I'm not really inconvenienced. However, the others were saying things that could affect your reputation.

Lilia: So I promised you'd come "next time," without thinking.

Malleus: I see… I myself have been wanting to attend these meetings.

Malleus: For this meeting in particular, the notice was sent out quite a while ago, so it was not as if I had forgotten it.

Malleus: However, that notification came as a mechanical message. That strange board would not allow me to view it.

Lilia: Mechanical message… Strange board… Ah, you mean your email and smartphone?

Malleus: That's right. I could not read it, so I did not know the time and place of the meeting.

Malleus: I attempted to estimate the time and place, and so I ended up waiting in the Lecture Hall…

Malleus: No one came after two hours of sitting alone, so I headed towards the library and waited for an hour, before finally making my way to the Headmaster's Office.

Lilia: Malleus… Most humans won't just sit and wait in one place for one or two hours like that.

Malleus: Is that so? Humans sure are restless…

Malleus: It also isn't ideal that they move the location of the meeting as often as they do. It would be best if it were always in the Mirror Chamber.

Lilia: The Mirror Chamber is often used by those visiting the school. It would not be unusual for the meeting location to be changed on short notice.

Lilia: However, if you did not know the location, you ought to have asked. There must have been someone who would have known.

Malleus: Well, of course I attempted to ask.

Malleus: However, they would immediately scream and scamper off. I had even tried smiling as I called out to them, as you taught me…

Lilia: I wonder what could have possibly gone wrong there? I feel you have a very cute smile, especially when you can catch a glimpse of your pointed fangs… Hm.

Lilia: Then, I suppose we should make sure that you carry your smartphone with you as a means of communication.

Malleus: The smartphone, hm. If we're talking of that thig, it has not made a peep since this morning.

Lilia: I thought so. But we had it repaired just the other day! What could have caused it to stop working?

Malleus: I do not know. I did not do anything, and yet it broke.

Lilia: Malleus… When someone says, "I didn't do anything, but the device broke," that usually means they did something.

Malleus: You say that, but I cannot fathom what may have happened. I believe the last thing I did was…

Malleus: I cast a cleaning spell on it because it had become rather dirty.

Lilia: WELL, THAT'S WHY!!

Lilia: Most devices are weak to water. Hypothetically, even if it were waterproof, it would definitely not be able to withstand the might of your magic.

Malleus: That may be so. There was indeed a crack in the screen.

Lilia: So something had happened to it! And you thought to say you didn't know anything about it being broken.

Malleus: Your phone also has a cracked screen. I thought it a normal occurrence.

Lilia: That's just because I'm a bit rough with it!

Malleus: I cannot imagine that is anything to be boastful about… But alright, I understand. I will refrain from cleaning it from now on.

Malleus: Nevertheless, these devices certainly are inconvenient.

Malleus: It recently returned from servicing, and yet it seems I shall have to completely replace it now.

Lilia: Come to think of it, how did it break last time?

Malleus: I went flying through the sky with the smartphone in my pocket.

Malleus: In the process of moving back and forth from a high altitude to the ground several times, I eventually found the inside of my screen had become wet.

Malleus: According to the repair shop's findings, the rapid temperature change caused condensation, which in turn caused it to break.

Lilia: How high were you flying for the temperature to drop so low as to cause condensation?

Malleus: Prior to that, I was told it short-circuited when I touched it while I was still imbued with lightning...

Malleus: And even before that, it melted when it was exposed to the high temperatures of my fire breath.

Lilia: Hmm. Then, why not leave your phone behind when doing those things?

Lilia: You do that with the little drago-kun I gave you a while back.

Malleus: What do you mean? There is no purpose to a smartphone if it is not carried with you at all times.

Lilia: I know that, but…

Malleus: It's susceptible to water, low temperature, lightning, and fire. These phones are quite frail.

Malleus: Do humans truly value such a useless object? It is past simply being intolerable… I am starting to find it a nuisance.

Lilia: Wait, wait, it's still too early for you to give up. You've come all this way upon leaving Briar Valley, so you must familiarize yourself to human customs.

Lilia: I'll teach you how to use the device again once more from the beginning to make it easier from now on.

Lilia: Here, you can borrow my phone, try to hold it properly. Don't summon any lighting, now.

Malleus: I understand… Hm?

Malleus: Some text has appeared on your screen. It says, "New Message."

Lilia: Ah, a notif. Someone must've uploaded a new post onto Magicam.

Lilia: Looks like it's from Kalim. Let me see…

Lilia: "PARTY TIME WITH ALL THE DORM LEADERS!"

Malleus: …Is this a photo from the meeting earlier? Everyone looks terribly happy in this picture.

Lilia: Kalim must've taken it after the meeting. There's a few frowns, but it's quite a wonderful picture of all the Dorm Leaders together!

Malleus: …

Lilia: Well… I mean…

Lilia: All the Dorm Leaders except for you, who didn't attend…

Malleus: …

[CRACKLE, CRACKLE, CRUSH!]

Malleus: Oh. I accidentally destroyed it.

Lilia: MY PHONEEEEE!

Lilia: How could you, my screen is shattered… Oh, no, it was always like that.

Lilia: What do you think you're doing, Malleus!?

Malleus: Apologies. Seeing those people enjoy themselves while excluding me…

Malleus: I just couldn't control my ire in that moment.

Lilia: If you just destroy the phone whenever you get mad, there's no meaning in me trying to teach you how to use it!

Malleus: Calm down, Lilia. Don't get angry.

Lilia: You don't get to say that, as the person who broke my phone in anger!

Lilia: Sigh… Malleus. Are you truly wanting to participate in the Dorm Leader meetings, or their little get-togethers?

Malleus: …Are you now doubting my true feelings about this? You, of all people?

Malleus: Humans are quick to fear creatures of the night. They are often unable to talk to us out of fright.

Malleus: The ones who taught me that was you, Lilia, and Grandmother. And it is the truth.

Malleus: It is not my fault that I am unable to show my face at those gatherings. It is because those humans have decided to fear me.

Lilia: No, in your case, that is not the only issue at hand. You fail to understand what is going on around you!

Lilia: Faes and humans are different both in their sense of time, and in the tools they utilize. I fully understand how you may have troubles when you first come in contact with them. However…

Lilia: it has been 3 years since you left Briar Valley, you know? And you haven't changed at all in that time!

Lilia: It isn't anyone else's fault. You have to first look inwards. Have you actually put forth the effort to attend these meetings?

Malleus: Put forth the effort…?

Lilia: We've said that, because of your position, it is an unavoidable fact that you cannot join gatherings of people. However, there is still a limit to how shielded you can be.

Lilia: As the heir to Briar Valley, and as the leader of Diasomnia,

Lilia: You need to carefully reflect on how you should conduct yourself.

Malleus: …He got angry and left.

Malleus: It has been quite a long time since Lilia has scolded me like this. It seems it was not smart to crush his phone.

Malleus: …

Malleus: Indeed… It is possible that somewhere in the back of my mind, I may have thought that faes and humans are incapable of comprehending each other.

Malleus: Perhaps that may be the reason why I refrained from making an effort to meet them halfway. But if a change in my conduct can change this atmosphere…

Malleus: What can I possibly do in order to become closer with the other Dorm Leaders…?

Malleus: I shall have to think on it.

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)

[thelampisaflashlight]

Everything Goes On Pt. 2

[It's all very complicated. Part One Here. Not suitable for younger audiences.] Below the cut.

It's chaos when the other ghouls find out.

A mixed up, confusing mess of emotions, and far too many fingers between pointed in one direction or the other, when, really, it's none of their business.

Except it is.

Even if the two had separated on better terms, the others would be, at the very least, curious.

Relationships like the one between Aether and Dewdrop are...

They're different.

In the pit, dating isn't a thing.

You maybe find a mate you can tolerate and spend the night with, maybe pop out a few kits, more so to keep the species from dying out than any real desire to have and raise children, and then you go on living mostly solitary.

That's just how it goes.

But on the surface, it's different.

A pairing like Aether and Dewdrop wouldn't have happened otherwise.

Their bond had been instant, or at the very least if you asked Aether, he'd certainly say it was.

Dew on the other hand...

"It's not that I don't love you, this is all so... so new."

He fell slowly.

"I don't know if I'm doing this right, but... but I'm going to try."

Carefully.

"I can't imagine waking up without you snoring in my ear."

Deeply.

So while Aether is preparing to leave it all behind for greener pastures, and maybe find a lover who can love him right, Dew is left wondering what he did wrong.

What he did to deserve this.

To not deserve someone as wonderful as Aether.

And he stews in those thoughts.

Lays in the bed one of the custodians who tends to the abbey went out of his way to set up for him in the room that would now be... his.

Just his.

It's smaller.

Barely bigger than a glorified storage closet.

That's why none of the other ghouls took it for themselves.

Crammed in-between Mountain and Cumulus' rooms.

But it's... it's better than having to go back to the room he shared with Aether.

"Once we have one of the larger rooms cleaned out, we can move you in there if you'd prefer?" the taller man proposes, "I know it's not much..."

"It's fine." Dew says, setting down the backpack he stuffed his clothes into on top of the small box of the other miscellaneous bullshit he owns, "...Really."

"Hm..." he looks around the small space, then gestures towards the corner of his room, "I'll bring you a desk and a chair later this afternoon... and you're sure there's no other furniture you'd like? Nothing from your old room?"

Dew thinks for a moment.

"Maybe... maybe my bookshelf?"

"Bookshelf. Got it."

And just like that... Dew's alone again.

He gives himself a little tour of the space.

In that he turns and looks at one wall and then the next before going to take stock of the small on suite attached to his new room.

It has a toilet and a pedestal sink with a cabinet set behind the mirror, but no bath or even a shower.

It's cramped, too.

Clearly an afterthought.

If he wasn't still reeling from what he walked in on the day before, on thinking the others were standing around mocking him, then he might consider asking to use one of theirs until he works up the courage to start using the communal baths again, but he's still...

He's sore about.

He never did bother to check in, to ask what they were laughing about...

But why would he?

Would they even tell him?

Or would they just laugh and look down on him?

He side-eyes his phone.

He never did check who messaged him last night, and now he doesn't want to.

If they cared...

If the others care about him, they can come here and see him themselves.

But they haven't even looked at him when he passes them in the halls.

Maybe they're ignoring him under the impression that that's what he wants.

That he needs space.

It's a generous thought.

More understanding than he would have been in the past for sure.

But...

Dew sits down on his unmade bed.

Feels himself sink into the foam, held aloft only by the mattress cover.

...he could really use a friend right now.

.

.

.

Mountain isn't sure how to handle this.

The situation between Aether and Dew.

Or really the lack of a situation.

Both of them have been his friends for years now, and, although he loathed being a third wheel, this felt... messy.

The others are also conflicted, but, well...

"It's not... It's not any of our business." Mountain sighs for the hundredth time, "Just leave them both be."

"It's going to be our business if Dew goes nutty without Aeth around anymore." Swiss comments, looking to Cumulus and Cirrus, who nod, "I love the dude, but he's never been the best at handling rejection, and I-"

"Oh for the love of Satan, shut up!" Rain hisses from the couch, "Listen to Mounty and leave it alone."

"You know I'm right though." Swiss crosses his arms, "Aeth balances Dew out!"

"Aether taught Dew how to balance himself out, the rest Dew managed on his own. He fucking had to, that's how that shit works." the water ghoul huffs.

"I get where you're coming from, Rain, but we all saw what happened to Aether's stuff after he talked to Dew yesterday..." Cirrus frowns, "...it was all very deliberate and spiteful."

"Tell me you wouldn't be even a little fucked up if Cumulus left." Rain counters, "And then, imagine, that after all of that, half of your friends are saying you're the problem, or that you're unbalanced because you're upset!"

"It's not the same thing."

"...but it is." Cumulus speaks up, "I'm sorry, Cir, but Rainy has a point..."

Mountain pushes his chair back and stands.

"Where are you going, big guy?" Swiss asks, watching the earth ghoul head for the hallway.

"I'm not going to sit around and listen to you guys debate over whose fault it is that those two broke up. I'm not going to... demonize one over the other because of this." he says, "And, seriously, I need you all to think about why you immediately jumped to the conclusion you all -barring Rain- did... Like, really, isn't Dew our friend, too? Why are you acting like he isn't hurt by all of this?"

"Well..." the multi-ghoul hums thoughtfully, "Why are you on Dew's side then?"

"I'm not on anyone's side." Mountain glares, "Both of my friends are hurting right now, and I don't want to hurt them further by trying to judge who's right and who's wrong."

The walk back to his dorm is an introspective one.

While he does feel need to be there for both of his friends in this trying time, it's hard for him to wrap his head around Aether's decision to leave to begin with, but to end things with Dew, too...

"...Can we talk?" Mountain asks, watching Aether pack his things from the doorway, "It's fine if you don't-"

"Nah, it's... Sure." Aether sags, tired, "Sure, let's talk."

Not wanting to fully intrude, Mountain leans against the doorframe.

"Why are you doing this, Aether?" he asks, "Why now?"

"It's better to rip off the bandaid now, rather then leave it be, ya know?" Aether says, picking up a shirt from his dresser and tossing it on the other side of the bed, "A few months of separation and Dew would have broken up with me instead of the other way around."

"If that were the case, you should have told him a month ago, when you found out your application got accepted, or, I dunno, maybe you should have told him you applied for a ministry job in another country to begin with..."

"I was going to, but..." Aether pauses his sorting and turns to face Mountain, leaning back on the dresser, "I love Dew. I really love him but we're not... We don't want the same things anymore. He and I... we both deserve a chance at meeting someone we actually click with."

"What do you want, Aether? What is it that you want that you can't have with Dew?" Mountain questions, "He... You know he's going to wonder about this. If you really do love him, don't leave him hanging without giving him that much."

"Why should I?"

"What?"

"Why should I have to spell it out for him every time there's a problem?!" Aether growls, "He's a grown ass man, if he can't figure it out for himself-"

"Aether."

"...I'm sorry." he pinches the bridge of his nose, "You want the truth, Mount? The honest to god truth? I want a family."

Mountain watches the sadness in his friend's eyes grow over the steely haze of frustration that had been building there moments ago.

"I want a family, and I can't have that with Dew."

"...Why not?"

Aether stands up straight and heads over the shut his suitcase.

"Can you imagine Dew as a parent? He could barely take care of himself up until a couple years ago, and that's only because I spent ages trying to learn what makes him goddamn tick." he says, "I'm ready to step back from things and slow down and he's... he's still acting like we're a couple of kits. I... I don't have the energy to put up with him anymore, so I ended things now before things got any... any worse."

"I'm tired of being his caretaker, Mount."

Mountain pulls away from the doorframe.

"...I see."

"You can tell that to Dew if you want." Aether says, resuming his folding, "...He probably won't give a shit one way or the other."

"You know..." Mountain tilts his head, "...You're entitled to feel however you want, but..."

"But what, Mount?"

"I might be your friend, Aether, but I'm Dew's friend, too."

"...And? Going to pick sides like the others?" Aether scoffs, "Go ahead. Give it a week and you'll see I'm doing what's best for both of us."

Mountain stares.

"...Maybe it is a good thing you two broke up."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, because Dew doesn't deserve to be with someone who looks at him like a burden."

Aether clicks his tongue.

"Well, at least one of us can see the truth."

[mikeysbabygirl]

Ken Wakui could have created healthy, mentally stable characters honestly, ones that would communicate with each other easily but he chose the most toxic of them all.

So what ? You gonna tell me I'm wrong ?

He chose to create Mikey, who clearly has that soul crushing overwhelming guilt, the one that makes him think he doesn't even deserve to live, that everyone always ends up dying or wanting to kill him. And instead of coming to you, and having a decent conversation with you about his secret anxiety, that guy would just manipulate you until you're none but a puppet on his string.

-" You're my fucking Achilles heel, 'kay ? Tell me how the hell am I supposed to let m'baby go out without me ?"

The scars of falling in his lures wouldn't even be visible for you, as he brings you closer to him and holds you like there's no tomorrow, far away from anyone's eyes, he was still him, Manjiro.

-" I know I'm fucked up, but you'll stay, hm ?"

-" You'll stay with ya man, wontcha, love ?"

You gonna tell me I'm wrong?

He created Rindou, who feels like the strongest, the smartest, and anything else until Ran's in the equation. Don't get me wrong, he loves his brother from the bottom of his heart, yet alongside all that love and admiration, he had never felt... Enough.

Ran's flirty nature around you would get to him, and instead of coming to you and talking about his insecurities like a big strong man, this guy would just have you understand how much you need him.

-" Rin', please, please, please... " You whine, hands on his broad shoulders as you tried to ride his length, whilst he has his arms behind his head and watched you wearily.

-" Uh uh, baby, your man's not gonna help ya. Wanna see how this tight lil pussy can take my cock, show me, please ?"

And though his erection would be painfully hard, watching tears gathering in your lashes line so beautifully as you make a mess of yourself on him, he would smirk slyly, waiting until you collapse on him and beg him to fucking ruin you.

-" See? Who's gonna fuck you like me ?" He has you in a mating press, slamming his cock deep inside you until he has you crying his name. " No one's gonna treat my princess better than I can. Shit, babe, easy o'mme " he hisses, grinning discreetly with how your walls wrapped him in.

I'm deadly serious, these men are the most fucked up, don't even get me started with SANZU FUCKING HARUCHIYO.

Sanzu deserves a whole psychology book of his own, but a whole new pathology would be created the day he meets you. Yes at first he wouldn't even glance your way twice, too busy with Mikey anyway. But just the way you randomly smile whenever his eyes cross yours, and didn't even flinched the first time seeing him without a mask, just how you rushed to ask about him seeing some blood ( that wasn't even his ) on his shirt... That's a game changer.

Indeed because no one ever truly cared about him, not even his own family, so when you, a perfect stranger whom eyes shine with admiration whenever he walks in the room, show up in his life...

-" Haru, that's folly and you know it. " You argue, your wrists starting to hurt from all the rubbing against the ties . And you swore at some time, you've seen some genuine humanity flicker behind his blueish hues, one that was soon replaced by something more animalistic once he presses his forehead against yours.

-" I know, babes, I know... " His voice came in a hoarse whisper, making you swallow as his other hand roam higher up your bare thigh. "But I told you. Talk about that out of town job once again and I'll have ya tied to my bed, haven't I now ?"

Contrary to what you would think, his touches and kisses on your skin are feathery, light, pressing open mouth kisses on the skin between your thighs.

-" Shhh, easy, easy... swear I'm gonna take good care 'f my pretty girl, y'trust me ? Why the hell would i hurt the best fucking thing to ever happen t'me ?"

I could go like this all night, but I have to get up early tomorrow. If I need to end up on a quick note, I'll talk about Draken.

Draken and his insecurity of not being good enough, of losing you like he did to Emma. Understand, you're so nice, so smart and kind, so pretty, and what does he has for himself, if not sharp edges, rough manners and inappropriate actions ?

But Draken loves you, and he truly never felt that way, never had a girl, or anyone else steal his mind from gang fights and motorcycles like you do, but you do. And his ways are... Controversial.

-" Ain't ya gonna take all of me, pretty ?"

He gives slow, deep thrusts though he's only dying to fasten that pace, but he can't have you scared of his own strength, not yet.

His hands gently apply deep pressing on your waist, whilst his kisses lingering on your neck make you fall deep in his games.

-" I... " You hesitate, and he knows that, but as soon as he starts slowing down his pace a little too much, he has you crying for him. " Yes ! Yes, Ken, gotta take it... Gonna take your kids !"

There, he has you exactly where he wants you.

-" What a good girl I found myself, ain't ya ? Look at this pretty lil pussy tryna take all of my fucking cum, you gonna make me a daddy ? Stay with me whatever, yeah baby ?"

Yes, nothing better than breeding to make sure you would never leave him, right ?

Tsk, and people think these guys are healthy lol.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing.