#toxic cleanup

[shadesofmauve]

Fist bump to @chaudskis from someone else working in cleanup.

People ARE cleaning this shit up! Lots of people. It's long and slow and maybe more exciting to say no one's doing anything. And there are all sorts of contaminated sites where no one is doing anything yet, because there are bigger fish to fry.

Using it to make paints is a neat way to bring attention to cleanup work! Gamblin isn't cleaning up, though; it's using a byproduct.

The other thing to remember is that the dose makes the poison. Some things are hella toxic in very small quantities. Iron oxides aren't. They're a problem because you've got a shit-ton dissolved in highly acidic water; the pH causes problems, the oxides settling out can smother stuff because there's just so much, and other more dangerous metals can be in there too — but iron oxides on their own make a very safe art supply. The world's oldest, in fact — the ochres!

If you're into oils, you can buy the paints and not worry. About half my oil paints are Gamblin; they make nice stuff! Given that these are earth colors, I'd expect them to behave like ochres/umbers in oils; they'll dry more quickly than the brighter artificial colors. For safety, thin with Gamsol/high-quality-oderless-mineral-spirits, but rinse between colors with walnut oil instead of solvent. I switched to this last time I oil painted and it worked great. If you use these colors the sludge on the bottom doesn't have to be treated as toxic, but a whole lot of other colors do (the danger colors are beautiful).

So what this paint company does is take iron pollution from abandoned mines that are polluting soils and rivers and makes iron based red pigment paints out of it.

Basically they realized hey no one's cleaning this shit up, it's polluting the streams, killing all the fish, making the water undrinkable and there's a huge market for it so why not make money by cleaning it the fuck up?

They remove this stuff by the industrial bucket load from the rivers. The idea is if it's in a painting, if it's in your home, it's not poisoning wildlife.

anyway its cool as shit, please support tf out of these people https://gamblinstore.com/reclaimed-earth-colors-set/

[ballcrusher74]

"How blind you are, you devilish fucking bastard." Doc (red one) belongs to @wesblr

[prettymediocrewizard]

Once again wishing I could just draw rough sketches for the rest of my life. Every day I become a lazier artist and my own worst enemy

[autophonic]

me and my small circle of tumblr mutuals originally from new jersey not doxxing each other but Knowing

[lukesaprince]

Ruin Me H.S

Summary: When the good girl / bad boy trope is just as hypnotic and addictive as everyone says it is OR y/n decides to get Harry's handwriting tattooed on her thigh (badboy/gang LHH trope?)

Warnings:  SMUT!! oral (f receiving), edging, spanking (with hand and belt), hair pulling, squirting, masochism, dom!harry, mocking/degradation, dacryphilia, bondage (with a belt), Injuries (black eye, split lip, gunshot wound & wound cleanup)... I think that's it 😅

Word count: 13.7k+

Author's note: This is loosely and I mean SO loosely inspired by Guilty As Sin by Taylor Swift and yeah I know what that song is about but this is based off literally one line in it... I definitely got carried away with the story hehe

- Find my General Masterlist here -

You never liked the bad boy, good girl narrative. The power imbalance and toxicity that came with someone so ruined and so problematic trying to heal his soul in someone that deserved better. She would always think she could change him, that he was just misunderstood and needed someone to love him. That his soul could be healed.

It was bullshit. Until you found yourself in that exact situation, believing just that. That he was misunderstood and so kind underneath his rough exterior. You even found yourself loving the hidden hookups and midnight cleanups. A knock on your door at all hours in the night to be let in for some charged, desperate fuck or to be fixed up because he got in a fight. 

You didn’t even know how it started, really. Harry was an enigma. A shadow in the wind that appeared one moment and disappeared the next on a dark bike just as mysterious as he was. That was how you met him, in a fleeting moment which at the time meant nothing. Until it meant everything. 

He drove by the cafe you worked at. You were closing up for the night and locking the door when the loud purr of his bike filled the entire street. You were already on edge being by yourself after the girl closing with you had to leave sick so your head whipped around to follow the loud noise. 

That’s when you saw him for the first time. He drove through the quiet street with a girl on the back of his bike that you had never seen before, both dressed head to toe in dark clothing and leather. They each had a black helmet covering their heads and yet you still knew that they were both looking at you.

It was unnerving and an interaction that had you walking a lot faster to your car in case they circled back and decided to give you trouble. Your town was used to damaged, dangerous shadows. People like Harry who came in for a night or a weekend for something illicit, only to never return. 

You weren’t sure why your small town attracted people like that, but only being a 45-minute drive from the closest big city made it the go-to place for affairs, romantic getaways, illegal meetings and everything in between.

Harry was meant to be like that too. Someone who just passed through. Until he met you.

The very next day he found himself visiting the cafe in hopes you were there. Harry wasn’t sure why he felt the need to go there since he was meant to be driving back to the city the morning after his rendezvous, but there was something about your eyes that he couldn’t get out of his head.

He didn’t even know if you’d be there and yet by some chance or fate, you were. Your back was towards him, busy on barista duty making coffees for the many customers waiting for their orders. He recognised your hair first; pulled back in two long braids down your back. You wore the cafe logo on your t-shirt and this pair of jeans that made your ass look incredible. 

You had no idea what the mystery man from last night looked like but you spent the night filling in the blanks of what was hidden beneath his helmet. Your brain seemed to be fixated on the stranger with some magical pull like you knew him already. Your body definitely seemed to like him already, that’s for sure.

“Harry? Americano two sugars.” You called out, sliding the takeaway cup to the edge of the counter before moving on to the next coffee. When the figure approached the counter, you went into your automatic greeting, “have a nice da-”, but the words got caught in your throat when you looked up and locked eyes with the same stranger last night. 

You knew it was him instantly. There was no rhyme or reason to explain it, but you knew and he was even more good-looking than you ever could’ve imagined. With piercing green eyes and a strong jaw, plump pink lips and tattoos running up both arms that had your core clenching. The most unexpected feature of all though, was his long luscious curls pulled back from his face and running just past his shoulders. 

Harry smirked, visibly seeing the wide-eyed, freeze response your body had just at the sight of him. It was a reaction he got often. He was tall and handsome and the dark clothing he wore made him appear far more intimidating than the usual curly-haired white boy. 

“Thank you, love.” He smirked, grabbing the takeaway cup before casually slipping a $100 bill into the tip jar. He was walking out of the cafe without another word, looking at you over his shoulder before he was walking down the street and out of your view.

That night it wasn’t just his face you were dreaming about. 

You never expected to see the handsome stranger, who you now knew as Harry, again but as the weeks went by he came to visit the cafe time and time again. It was always the same order and the same ‘thank you, love’ that had your head spinning and then he was gone with no idea of when he’d return again.

Then one day he took things a step further and asked you when your break was. It was the longest you heard him speak and the more words that came out, the more you found yourself hypnotised by the way his mouth wrapped around the syllables. Your coworkers warned you that men like him were dangerous and not worth the excitement and pleasure they always offered.

Time and time again you had helped your friends through some shitty breakup or worse with one of the travellers that rolled through town and you always promised yourself you wouldn’t put yourself in a situation like that. It was clear from the very first night that he was trouble but as much as you wanted to keep your distance, you just couldn’t. 

You had never felt so mesmerised by another person before. That initial burning attraction hot enough to take your breath away. In only one sit down with him, you were ready to risk it all. He was so gorgeous and charming and sweet. The epitome of that misunderstood bad boy.

Just like his frequent cafe visits, your lunch breaks soon became his. You two would sit and he’d always ask you about yourself. You did most of the talking and he did most of the listening, never giving much away of himself. He’d show up with bloody knuckles or a bruised eye but would mask the pain and simply shrug when you asked him if he was okay.

It was starting to feel like he knew everything about you and you knew nothing in return. You wanted to know everything about him. After weeks of these little interactions, he never tried to fuck you or pursue things with you or make you feel like you owed him for all the $100 tips he left. All he wanted to do was talk and if anything, that made you want him more.

Then one night… everything changed.

You were woken in the middle of the night by a crash in your living room. That would be scary for anyone, but it was even scarier when you were on the top floor and the only access points to your apartment were the front door and the fire escape out the window. 

You went into immediate panic mode, snatching the steak knife you had tucked under your pillows between your top sheet and your fitted sheet in case this very thing happened. Living alone had its challenges and one of them was the intense fear someone would break in in the middle of the night. By now you could recognise the sounds of your apartment and building so not every little creak freaked you out, but anyone could recognise the sound of broken glass and your pot plant being knocked over. 

Sticking the knife out in front of you, you tip-toed out of your bedroom and down the hallway to your living room where the noise came from. Your phone was clutched against your chest, the three-digit emergency number ready to be called in case it wasn’t your cat, Mouse, knocking things over. Mouse was a fragile little thing and sometimes got scared by the smallest things. Even setting a mug down on the bench too hard could have her jumping out of her skin. 

You prayed it was only her being skittish. 

When you made it to the end of your hallway, you pressed yourself against the wall and tipped your head out ever so slightly to look into your living room. A whole wave of emotions rushed over you at once at the sight. It wasn’t your cat, but rather a tall dark figure holding your purring pet. 

It was a figure you recognised immediately, even with his strong back facing towards you.

“Harry? What the fuck?” You hissed, turning your phone off while turning the lights on at the same time. 

“Hey, bunny.” Harry flashed a sly smile, turning to look at you. You noticed the dried blood on his lip and eyebrow instantly and the swollen ball forming on his cheek. Fucking hell. 

That smile instantly dropped when his eyes ran over you, taking in the ratty loose t-shirt and tiny underwear you were wearing. The t-shirt had a worn-out collar making it slide down to expose your collarbone and one shoulder. Your nipples were pressing through the thin material, all pebbled and hard from the cold air now blowing in from the window Harry accidentally broke on his way in. 

Getting dressed was the last thing on your mind before venturing out here and you suddenly regretted not putting pants on at least. To be fucking fair though, you never would’ve guessed Harry would break in through your window when A. you had a very suitable front door, B. he didn’t even have your number and C. you never told him where you lived. 

“What the… how do you know where I live?” You asked a little shakily, crossing your arms to cover your chest while still keeping the knife on guard in front of you.

Harry set down Mouse and she immediately ran over to you, purring while sliding her body against your calf. He walked over to you slowly and the closer he got, the worse his injuries appeared. A split lip and split eyebrow and a deep purple hue starting to form around his socket. He looked awful. 

“Are you going to stab me, bunny?” He drawled, almost mockingly. You stood your ground, trying not to show your shaking as your hand tightened around the handle of the knife. His eyes were dark and he allowed himself a final drag over your body, stepping so close to you that the tip of the knife pressed into his stomach while he towered over you. “Gonna cut me open? Give me another scar to add to my collection?”

Even though you knew you should be scared, you weren’t. He found your address and broke into your house and yet physically, you weren’t the slightest bit worried that he’d hurt you. You knew nothing about him, didn’t even know what illegal venture he did for work and yet you trusted him.

Because you trusted him, your shaking was for a very different reason. Having him in your apartment all bloody and bruised and still as handsome as ever had you completely worked up. The thought of… of doing just what he teased, of giving him a scar that reminded him of you forever… god, it was so fucked up how horny that made you.

You were obsessed over a man who hadn’t even kissed you, yet knew every single thing about you. It was ridiculous. That felt even more ridiculous than playing off this entire interaction as a somewhat normal experience. 

“I’ve got a perfectly fine front door, y’know.” You whispered, looking over to the broken window. You kept your knife against his stomach, even testing the waters by pressing it harder ever so gently into the toned muscles beneath his shirt. “And you’re paying for that to be fixed, by the way.” 

Harry laughed, wincing ever so slightly at the tinge of pain in his face. But still, he laughed. And it was golden. “I’ll pay for whatever you want,” He murmured, smirking while looking down at the knife. “I’m sure you’re very skilled with a blade, bunny, but will you put it aside for now and clean me up instead? Need a pretty girl to make me feel better.”

You looked between your knife and his eyes, reluctantly dropping your hand beside your hip. “Come on.”

Saying nothing else, you spun around and walked into your bathroom. Harry followed closely behind, looking around your apartment with curiosity before his eyes fell on you. You pulled your t-shirt down as far as it would go, but it still rode up as you walked and he found himself unable to look anywhere else.

“Sit.” You pointed to the closed toilet and set your knife down on the bench, crouching down to get the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Harry did as told and shrugged his leather jacket off, setting it down on the bench before sitting on the closed toilet lid. He watched you intently, saying nothing as you set up your tools to sanitise and clean his wounds. 

After grabbing some gauze and betadine to clean the open wounds, you soaked the material and started to clean the small gash on his eyebrow. Harry kept completely still, barely feeling the pinch. Your touch was so soft, so gentle. He found it more relaxing than anything else. Once that wound was clean, you moved onto his mouth which Harry found a lot more sensitive. 

“So how did this happen?” you asked softly, dabbing his lip with the small cloth. His eyes closed as he tensed, hands fisting on his knees to stop himself from getting too worked up. Pain didn’t affect Harry, at least not in a normal way. Every sting and bite at your hand was turning him on in an inappropriate way. You were his bunny, his girl. He couldn’t get hard around you when all you were trying to do was help him. 

“Oh, y’know...” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on you but not giving anything away.

“I don’t, actually.” You responded. 

“It doesn’t matter how it happened, just that I’ve got a pretty girl fixing me up.” He attempted to smooth it over with a soft smile and a loving tap on your chin. It was the most he ever touched you, a little tap on your chin or a graze of his fingers on your cheek. He never touched your knee or your hand or anywhere else. It was infuriating. 

“It does! You show up here in the middle of the night and break in. I don’t even know how you found my address but I’m cleaning your cuts and you won’t even tell me how you got them. How is that fair!? I know nothing about you Harry.” Your voice bordered on a sigh and a yell, exhausted with him showing up out of nowhere and charming you before disappearing again. You weren’t sure what to make of it and he wasn’t giving you any ideas on what he actually wanted from you.

“It’s better that way, y/n.” He looked away from you, leaning back so your fingers weren’t holding his chin anymore to keep him in position. “You don’t want to get involved with me.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. You show up constantly and-and what? Have lunch with me? Get to know me? You can’t do that and not expect me to want to know something back.” You expressed frustratingly, shoving the first aid items into the small bin beside your cabinet. 

“I want to keep you safe, y/n.” He stood from the toilet, sighing when you refused to look at him. “The less you know about me, the safer you’ll be.”

“So why do you even keep coming back if you don’t want me involved with you? It’s killing me!” You snapped, looking up at him accusatorily. 

“Because I can’t stay away from you.” He whispered, sliding his hand over the side of your neck. Your breath hitched at the touch, your body automatically leaning into it as he rubbed his thumb over your jaw and towards your mouth. Oh. “I’m so fucking obsessed with you it’s unhealthy. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time, y/n.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Tears pricked at your eyes, “you’re so confusing Harry because you look at me like that and say things but you don’t even touch me. You haven’t kissed me or-or anything. Just tell me what you want from me so I know where to set my expectations.”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you?” He cocked his head, turning your bodies so your back was to the basin. His hand looped to the front of your neck and it was like every cell in your body suddenly put their focus onto him. You couldn’t breathe or think or move or anything. Not when his large ringed fingers were wrapped around your neck like he was carrying a trophy. A prize to claim. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”

Harry pressed his hips into you, eliciting a gasp when you felt his long, hard cock pressed against you. He used his hips to nudge you against the cabinet, pinning you there so you couldn’t go anywhere. “All I think about is kissing you. Kissing your lips and your neck and… everywhere. The things I want to do to you y/n are so unsavoury your pretty little head would explode.”

He always thought you were this pure… innocent angel. One of the rare people in the world with no ill intentions. You were polite and sweet, even after Harry significantly brought you out of your shell since he met you. You were studying to be a nurse for Christ’s sake, some of the purest of the pure.

He wanted to ruin you. He wanted to take that innocence away more than anything on this planet. It was his built-in fucked up default program. To want what he couldn’t have. To want to destroy everything around him. 

But he couldn’t do that to you. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, even if it hurt him in the process. Harry had no light in his life, no hope until he met you and he knew that the moment this became real he would destroy you. His life would destroy you or Harry would do something to fuck it all up and he’d hurt you.

He’d break your heart. 

“It won’t.” You rushed out, “It won’t explode. I… I want it.” You could barely articulate yourself. Not when his whole body was pressed to yours. All you had been thinking of for months was having him completely dominate your body. Just to touch you and please you. Even if it was only one time before he disappeared from your life forever.

You needed it.

“I’ll ruin you.” He promised, leaning in closer so his nose bumped against yours. He breathed out a ragged breath, feeling so close to completely giving in to his desires. All of them. “I’ll destroy every good thing about you, y/n. You don’t want that.”

The scariest part of all… was that you did want it. You were becoming the exact person you didn’t want to be. A good girl sacrificing herself to save the soul of someone who might never be saved. But you believed Harry would be saved. You could fix him. Help him to get away from whatever life he lived that made him hurt so badly inside. 

You wanted to save him. 

“I do. I do want it.” You nodded desperately, grabbing his other hand to guide it towards your clothed mound. You pressed your hand over his, using your own fingers to press his against the silky wet patch on the crotch of your underwear. He swore under his breath, taking the initiative to stroke his fingers along the wet material. “Ruin me. Please.”

So he did.

He ruined you over and over again that night and for many nights after. It completely changed everything for you two. Like it was the last barrier stopping you two from being completely open with each other. You had always told him the things you told everyone else. Your likes and dislikes, the show you were watching, your workplace drama.

But your desires… your needs and wants. They were reserved for no one but yourself. Until he came along. 

Harry told you he’d ruin you and he stuck to his word. The things you did together were dirty and depraved and left you with such a feral need for the man, you would’ve let him do quite literally anything to you. As would he, you. And you practically had. Every desire or curiosity was sated and he was willing to do anything to satisfy you. 

Harry became as violently obsessed with you as you did him and even though it was a hell of a trip to see you, he did so as often as possible. He couldn’t help himself. Not when he had such a pretty girl waiting to please him and take care of his heart, body and soul. You filled the hole in his life in all aspects, which is what he feared would happen when he saw you that very first night. 

Someone so magnetic would ruin him and he was enjoying every moment of it. 

You had no idea he traveled from the main city just to see you until you two started sleeping together. He continued stopping by for a coffee or to disturb your lunch break but very quickly, your time spent together turned into an after hours activity. He’d come to get fixed up and then he’d ruin you. Or… his sole intention was to ruin you all along. 

There were many sleepless nights because of him. Not that you minded. He opened up to you more and told you more about himself and what he did. When you started to learn small things, you realised that he was probably right in you being better off left in the dark. It was a lot more elaborate than you could’ve imagined and it made sense why he did so much to keep you protected. 

Running an elaborate drug smuggling operation wasn’t exactly the safest job out there, nor did it give you much opportunity to switch careers. Somehow, though, you weren’t deterred by it. Maybe it was because you were already in love with him the second he ruined you for the first time. 

His high job security didn’t stop you from fantasising about a different life with him. Harry leaving that life for you. The only part of the job Harry liked was the financial stability and the power. The control he had. But you felt like Harry was destined for so much more, that he could live a much happier, safer life. With you. 

“Have you ever thought about running away?” You asked, playing with his long hair. It was unruly and sweaty and you were threading your fingers through the knots formed from the midnight hookup. You were still hot and sweaty too, but Harry quite liked the sticky feeling of your skin and the lingering scent of sex in the air. 

“Running away? I couldn’t.” Harry breathed through a laugh like it was unfathomable. “You couldn’t either.” He looked up from his work, reaching for your hand to bring it to your mouth to kiss your knuckles. “You’ll be a nurse soon and you’ve always had your heart set on Mercy. You’ll get a job there and it’ll be everything you want.” He smiled softly, guiding your hand back to his hair so you’d play for it while he finished the artwork on your upper thigh. 

The thin marker was steady in his hand and he only had one letter left before the piece was complete, not that four letters took a particularly long time to write. But he wanted it to be perfect, for the permanent marker to last as long as possible on your pretty skin. You’d never do it permanently, after all you were still his good girl and no good girl would be as rogue as to get her lover's handwriting tattooed on her thigh after only a few months. Or ever. Permanent marker and baby powder always did the trick to make a design last a while, though, and Harry hoped it would still be there the next time he snuck through your window. 

“I want you, Harry.” You whispered, finding his concentration both adorable and so damn sexy you were getting all worked up again. If he looked a little to the left to where your bare cunt was so so close to his fingers, he’d probably be able to tell too. “And the good thing about being a nurse is I can do it anywhere. I can…” you swallowed your nerves, unsure what his reaction would be to your suggestion. “I can work anywhere and-”

“It wouldn’t work, y/n.” He interrupted curtly, leaning back to observe his work while putting the cap back onto his pen. Harry rarely used your name, he was too fond of his pet name for you. “You will always be mine. Always. But I think we both know that what we have is temporary.” Your heart broke at his words and you felt the pain fizzle through your body like a burning liquid. He looked up at you as he blew on the temporary tattoo. “When I inevitably break your heart, bunny, you’ll move on and find someone who can love you the way you deserve. I’ll never move on from you, but you will and you’ll be happier for it.”

“That’s not true.” You all but whimpered. Harry ignored your plea, tapping against your skin to test whether the marker was dry. “You always say that you’ll break my heart, Harry but that’s not true.” He looked up at you for a moment, trying to hide the heartbreak he felt at seeing how sad you were. Grabbing the little bottle of baby powder, he sprinkled it over the little word, massaging the surrounding area of your leg. “I… I love you and I know you love me. If you loved me you wouldn’t hurt me.” 

“Bunny, I love you more than anything else on this planet.” He assured, shifting up onto his knees in all his naked glory. He spread his hands over your belly, rubbing his thumbs a little harder into your skin. “I would never do anything to hurt you but this life… it follows me wherever I go. There’ll be a time where I need to sacrifice my love and happiness to protect you. But you’ll always be mine. Until the day I die.” He smiled softly, looking back down to the pile of powder on your upper thigh. He ran his thumb over it, rubbing away from the white substance and leaving the matte four-letter word. 

Mine. 

“See?” He smirked, looking down at the ‘tattoo’, “I can’t promise you forever, bunny. But I can promise you that I’ll be yours at least until this fades. Who knows what could happen by then.”

You sat up, pressing your hands behind you on the bed for balance as you looked at his artwork. There was something so sexy about being branded like that, even if it was temporary. Your otherwise empty skin now looked complete with his mark there. In his handwriting. 

What other sign could be more clear that you belonged to him than his handwriting on your thigh stating just that? 

“I love it.” You whispered, tracing over the cursive letters. “Will you be back?” You settled on asking, pausing for a moment, “before the tattoo fades?” 

That was one thing that troubled you about your relationship with Harry. The fact that you never knew when you’d see him again. You both openly professed your love and obsession for each other and yet you didn’t go on dates or text or call. Harry just showed up. 

He told you it was to keep you safe. It was the very same reason he snuck through your window instead of knocking on your front door. There was less chance of anyone finding out about you. Whoever ‘anyone’ was. 

Harry nodded. “I should be. I’ve got a job this weekend though so it might not be for a little longer than usual.” He plastered a soft smile on his face to calm you and reached out to cup your face. “Better make sure it’s still here when I get back. Okay, bunny? Unless you want me to mark it on your skin another way.” That smile tilted to a smirk, promising you foreplay that both of you knew would have you begging him for release. 

This time you nodded, “I’ll be good f’you.” 

Shit. 

“Good girl, Princess.” Harry cooed, looking down briefly at his own cock, already hardening even after filling your mouth and pussy with his cum. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your naked body was so gorgeous and now marked with his handwriting. “now c’mere.” 

You smiled, shifting up on your knees to join him halfway in a searing kiss. It was nearly 2 am already but you knew that you wouldn’t get any sleep at all. 

The days that followed were restless. You kept looking at those four letters on your thigh and thinking of all the things you had and hadn’t done together. The many trysts you shared with hushed conversations and messy top lip kisses. How his hands felt on your body and his lips on your skin. 

You had no idea how long it would be before he came to the cafe or broke into your apartment again. There was no word from him or rumour that he was passing through town. The shadows that liked to drift in and out became known the moment they visited more than once and Harry… well he had become a regular now. 

The next time Harry snuck into your apartment, bordering on an entire week after he wrote ‘mine’ on your upper thigh, you were ready. You weren’t sure why you knew because sometimes you had no idea until you felt his presence in your bed. Mouse didn’t even meow or run in fear when he entered through the window anymore, making his entrance sometimes as silent as wind whistling through an empty street. 

But tonight… you knew. 

There was a shift in the room temperature and a lingering scent of tobacco in the air that had your core clenching just at the thought of him visiting you. Of him seeing the surprise you had for him. It was all in your head of course, a delusion brought on by obsession. Still… you knew. 

And just like clockwork, you heard the sound of your window sliding upwards just past midnight. He thankfully hadn’t broken the glass since the first night, but for him to just slink in you had to keep the window unlocked. Before meeting him you obsessively checked every lock on every window and your front door every night, fearing that one of the shadows coming through town would try and hurt you.

You’d think that getting involved with someone like Harry would make that fear worse and yet… it didn’t. Somehow you felt safer. Harry once made a passing comment about keeping an eye on you, that he always knew if you were alright. He didn’t have to elaborate for you know that meant he had hacked into security cameras or had someone he trusted watching your apartment at all times. 

6-months-ago-you would’ve been creeped the fuck out. Scared for your life that you’d allow one of the shadows to get you so hooked on him, you’d let him have a security guard of sorts around you 24/7, or even just the fact you let him so casually break into your apartment. It made total sense to you somehow because with all the theatrics and abnormal parts of your relationship came the love and happiness you got when you saw him.

Even though it was most likely your lover opening your window, you still fished for the knife under your pillow, now replaced with something pink and shiny and far more deadly. Harry decided that if you were going to protect yourself, you needed something more dangerous than a serrated kitchen knife. You treasured that pocket knife and you and Harry have had a lot of fun playing with it. 

“Harry?” You whispered, creeping down your hallway. 

“It’s just me, bunny.” His voice echoed, low and husky. 

You smiled, rushing out to find him pushing your window back down and locking the latch. His hair was pulled back into a bun, sitting messily at the back of his head and he was wearing his classic leather jacket and dark jeans. God, you had missed him. 

“You really need to start locking your window, y/n.” Harry drawled, turning around to face you. “A madman might try to break in and hurt you.” 

You giggled, throwing your pocket knife on your rug carelessly to pounce on him. Literally. He smiled and caught you easily, letting you wrap your legs around his hips while your arms wrapped around his neck. 

Your mouths joined almost instantly, lips brushing against lips in a heated exchange. You threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged until his bun came loose and his hair fell to his shoulders. He groaned at the feeling and ran his tongue against the seam of your lips, nibbling down on your bottom lip. 

“I missed you, madman.” You whispered once your lips broke, shifting in his arms. His hands supported your bum, squeezing while he devoured your mouth once more. His body was sore from his weekend job, but he’d never let that get in the way of having his girl in his arms. 

“I missed you too, bunny. So much… I couldn’t breathe without you.” He murmured, setting you down with a little wince. You noticed it immediately and ran your hands over his face, angling his head around to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bruised on his face for once, but you knew he was hurting somewhere. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?” The questions came out spitfire, making Harry smile down at you and set his hands on your hips. Your eyes found a dried substance at his collar and you recognised what it was immediately. “Is that blood?”

“Not mine.” He assured, “I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry.” 

You ignored his assurance and started running your hands over his chest, looking for any sign of pain or visible jerk out of tenderness. When your fingers grazed his lower abdomen, he couldn’t hide the clench of his jaw. You glared up at him, pressing harder against the spot so he’d feel a little payback for lying to you. 

Harry groaned and dug his fingers into your hips, ensuring it was hard and painful enough to leave a bruise. You didn’t mind though, in fact, you quite liked it. 

“Jesus Harry, you got shot!?” Your eyes widened when you tugged up his t-shirt to find a bloody gauze. You knew what it was immediately. You had seen your fair share of bullet wounds in your work placements at the hospital as well as the dodgy ways they tried to mend them themselves. “When did this happen?” You decided to peel off the gauze to see the wound for yourself, not trusting the temporary mend he had done. The wound had been stitched up quite well actually, but it was inflamed and a few stitches had broken. It needed to be mended.

“Did it go all the way through? Is the bullet still in here? Why didn’t you tell m-”

Harry interrupted your second spitfire of the evening by pressing his lips to yours. It was quick to shut you up, especially when he slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth and dominated his way in. His tongue slid against yours, tobacco and whiskey heavy in the kiss. 

You whimpered against his mouth, almost forgetting about the bullet wound until you felt its blood soak your fingertips. Pulling back, Harry tried to chase your mouth, needing you violently. Insatiably. He had missed your soft skin and your delicious mouth and especially missed your sweet sweet pussy. One he had a severe craving for. He could almost taste it on his tongue. 

“Bathroom. Now. Your stitches are busted.” You pushed your finger to his chest and he easily backed away. He was completely whipped by you, willing to do anything you told him. 

“Alright, bunny. You’re the boss.” He murmured, shrugging his jacket off to dump it on the couch before following you to the bathroom. You both followed the same routine as always. He sat on the closed toilet seat and you readied your supplies to treat his wounds. 

“Top off.” You instructed, using a lighter to sanitise the end of the needle you threaded already. 

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, stifling a groan as he grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt off his head. “You’re feisty when you’re mad.” 

“You shouldn’t have lied to me.” You shot back, sanitising the scissors next with your betadine. 

“It’s just a bullet wound, bunny.” He tried to soothe, watching you approach him and rub the wound with betadine in preparation to cut his original stitches and do new ones. “Didn’t even go straight through me.”

“So the bullet’s still in there? Jesus, Harry. Why didn’t you go to the hospital? I’m not equipped to remove a fucking bullet in my bathroom.” You snapped. 

“It’s not in there, y/n. One of my boys removed it, okay?” He chuckled softly, both loving and hating how worried you were. He reached up to cup your face, “I’m fine. The only thing wrong with me is a busted stitch.” 

You ignored him, keeping your glare strong on your face. His hands dropped to his knees and he remained completely still while you worked on the wound. He hated that permanent crease on your brow and all he wanted to do was make it go away. 

“What’s wrong?” He nudged, poking at your leg when you stayed completely silent. You were in your usual oversized t-shirt, underwear combination, but this particular t-shirt was long enough to cover your bum and the tops of your thighs. “C’mon bunny, talk to me.” 

“You’re distracting me.”

“And you’re ignoring me. I don’t like when you’re cross with me.”

“Well I don’t like being left in the dark for an entire week and when you show up you’ve been shot.” You snapped, pulling the needle tighter than you’d usually do to make a knot, just so it hurt a little more. He clenched his jaw, but he was more concerned about you than the temporary pain of his stitches. “What if you died Harry? Then what? I would’ve…” you looked away to grab the scissors, trying to blink away the tears. When you returned, his gaze was soft. “I would’ve never known. You would’ve left me and I… I’d never know.”

You couldn’t even focus on his wound with how hard your hands were shaking. You managed to cut the excess thread, but the moment it was done Harry pulled the scissors and needle out of your hand and brought your shaking ones to his. 

“Y/n, I’d never do that to you. Never.” Harry scanned your face, reaching up to cup you to get you to look at him. “I didn’t mean to scare you, bunny.” He wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck, gently pulling you down to rest your forehead against his. “I should’ve told you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You agreed, unable to stop a few tears streaming down your cheeks. “You’re an asshole.”

“I am.” He nodded, trying to kiss you until you turned your head away from him. “I fucked up. I’ll never, ever do that again. Never.” He promised, tipping his forehead to your cheek while threading your fingers to press your hand against his racing heart. “My heart belongs to you forever.”

“I’m yours, Harry.” You promised, pulling back to wipe your tears away and get the bandage to cover his wound. He sighed and grabbed your waist instead, pulling you closer between his legs so you wouldn’t go too far. “But I need… I need something. I can’t keep waiting for you to show up with nothing in between. I can barely sleep when you’re not here.”

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll get a burner. Untraceable. Just for you and me.” He suggested, “You’ll never go a day without hearing from me again.” It was a promise. An oath. He never wanted to be the cause of your tears again, even if he knew he would be. It was why he didn’t want to keep your hopes up about a future, even if he wanted it more than anything in the entire world. 

“You promise?” You asked, running hands over the placed bandage to seal it in place. He nodded, looking up at you with a soft smile. You hated how easy it was to forgive him. But you loved when he looked at you like that. Like you were his entire world. 

“I promise. Cross my heart.” He murmured, running his hands over your waist and hips, “now will you stop being mad at me and give me a kiss?” 

Harry stood up, overpowering you with his height. Using one hand on your waist, he nudged you against the basin and used the other hand to cup the side of your neck. His gaze was dark, eyes blazing with a need to please and be pleased. He was hungry for you, just like he was since the moment he got on his bike to drive down to see you. 

“Please, bunny. Let me make it up to you.” 

All you could do was nod. 

Harry was easy to succumb to your influence, easy to follow instructions and do whatever you wanted. But he was just as easy to overpower you, to dominate you. To get you reduced to nothing but a whimper and a nod of your head. 

He was quick to duck in and clasp your lips together. It started slow and steady, a languid dance of your mouths that turned into something far more passionate. It always did. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, threading his fingers into your hair to move your face in the direction he wanted while he nibbled on your bottom lip and slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth. 

You let him in easily, loving the slow, deliberate slide of his tongue against yours. That familiar tobacco mint flavour was heavy in the kiss, a mix of the cigarette he no doubt had before climbing up the fire escape and the mint gum he liked to chew on to try and curb the habit. It never did work, but you liked the taste of him trying to stop the nasty addiction.

You pulled him closer by his hips, digging your fingers into the slight pudge just above his belt. It was one of your favourite parts of him to kiss, to bite. You had dug your teeth in it so many times Harry was tempted to get a tattoo of your bite so he could remember the feeling of your teeth sinking into him forever. 

“Wanna taste you, bunny.” Harry groaned, tucking his hand under your shirt to fiddle with the band of your lace underwear. Your hips bucked up to meet the touch, desperate to get him doing more than just play with your underwear. “Missed the sweet taste of you on my tongue.” He kissed you softly, dragging your bottom lip back between his teeth until he released it with a pop. “Always dream of it when I’m away.”

“I guess what’s one way to apologise.” You breathed, sighing when he pinched your thigh. He tucked his hands under your ass, hoisting you up so you’d wrap your legs around his hips. 

“Mhmm. I’d happily die apologising to you. Over and over.” He had this smirk playing on his lips, but you didn’t particularly find it funny. 

“Don’t talk about dying.” You reprimanded softly, playing with his hair while he carried you to your bedroom. 

“Not even if it’s death by your sweet pussy?” He grinned, lowering you onto the bed. You shuffled upwards, rolling your eyes as he knelt on the bed to hover over you. 

“For someone who gets shot for a living, you have the humour of a 13-year-old boy.” 

“And you don’t like that?” Harry raised his brow, grinning while leaning in to kiss you. You hummed into the kiss, tugging on his hair until his groan rumbled into your mouth. He pressed his weight against you, ensuring you felt every inch of his arousal for you.

He could feel yours right back. How wet you were, how warm your pussy was pressed right against his jeans. You had properly soaked through your lacy underwear and Harry could feel his jeans slowly dampen from the way he was grinding his hips against you. It was heaven. He could hardly wait to get his mouth on your sweet little cunt, especially when you were already so worked up for him. 

“Your humour is only funny…” you paused to gasp, head tilting back so Harry could nip down along your neck. “…sometimes.”

“And you’re sexy all the time.” He murmured, simultaneously pushing your oversized t-shirt up while kissing downwards. He ran his hands over every inch of exposed skin, pushing the shirt above your breasts so he could clasp his lips around one of your nipples. 

You took the shirt off immediately, whimpering and bucking your hips to meet his while you scratched at his back. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud, tugging and sucking hard enough to make your head spin. While he assaulted your nipples, his hands ran over your belly and hips down to your thighs spread wide underneath him. It was only when his fingers crawled to your very inner thigh ready to tease you through your underwear that he felt the thin film of plastic.

“What’s this?” His movements stopped immediately as he felt over the thin plastic film. You whimpered at the sensitivity, feeling particularly sore after your adventure yesterday. 

“I did something and you can’t be mad…” You breathed, watching him sit back on his haunches. 

His eyes widened when he got a better look, resting his hand on your thigh while he ran his thumb over the four little letters now permanently marked on your skin. Harry was no stranger to tattoos, he was practically covered in them. But the last thing he ever expected was for you to make your temporary tattoo last longer by making it permanent.

His handwriting. His claim. Harry permanently etched on your body forever. 

“Bunny…” Harry murmured, looking between you and the tattoo. “What did you do?”

“You said you couldn’t promise me forever but you could give me until the tattoo fades…” His eyes focused on you and you felt yourself already becoming pliant just with the dark look on his face. “...now it’ll never fade.”

He said nothing for a moment and just stayed staring at your tattoo. His eyes drifted upwards ever so slightly to where your pretty lace underwear was pressed snugly to your pussy. Then he looked further upwards to your soft belly and your perky tits and finally… to your face. Your pretty eyes and your lips, the lips he loved to kiss more than anything. 

Harry was back over you in an instant, cupping your jaw while kissing you like he was ravenous for it. You whimpered into it, tugging on his hair until your lips parted in a gasp. 

“Can’t believe you did that, bunny. Got a fucking tattoo so I’d be stuck to you forever.” He murmured, smushing his mouth to yours again. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Force my hand so I’d be yours forever.” He started to kiss back down your body again, making sure his tongue pressed against your skin with every touch. 

“I love you. I want… I want to be yours forever.” You whimpered, watching him settle between your spread legs with an evil smirk on his face. 

“And you thought a tattoo was the right choice? Hm? You thought letting some other man permanently alter your body was the way to go?” He dipped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tearing the lacy material in two. He was completely rough with it, making sure it ached as he pulled torn pieces off your body. 

“It wasn’t a man. She… shit.” You couldn’t even find the words, not when he spread you wide and stared at you like you were some fine dessert. 

“You think that makes it better, bunny? You think who did the tattoo makes a difference?” He raised his brow, running both his thumbs up your outer labia to tease you. 

“I told you not to be mad.” You whined, pressing your hands to your face. 

“I’m not mad. I think this is quite possibly the hottest… most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” You peeked through your parted fingers, looking down at where he was looking up at you, spreading his hands to kiss at the thin layer of plastic. “So fucking sexy.” Harry murmured, looking down at it in awe. 

“So why do you sound mad?” You whispered, looking down at him.

“I’m not mad you got a tattoo, I’m mad I wasn’t there. Didn’t I always say I wanted to be there for your first one?”

“Well yes but-“

“And didn’t you promise me that I would be?”

“Yes…” you swallowed thickly. He was speaking at you in such a condescending way. Like you were a child being taught a basic lesson for the first time. It was belittling. 

It turned you on in such a feral way. He could even mansplain anything and you’d be happy to play into it. As long as he sounded like that and wound up between your thighs afterwards he could speak to you however he liked. 

“So you went against your word, hm?” He smirked as your thighs trembled on either side of his shoulders, your body growing more and more sensitive and needy as he started tracing over your pussy. 

“I guess so.”

“Do I go against my word? Have I ever broken a promise before?” 

“Yes.” You tried to defend, knowing very well he always stuck to his word. Harry had never broken a promise to you. Not when he told you he’d be back in three days or when he didn’t know but promised he’d return to you safely. He always kept his word. 

To be fair though, it was hard to stay clear-minded when he was caressing your pussy like it was something cute to pet. It wasn’t. And with every stroke of his fingers, every slide through your crease to spread your arousal up to your clit before coming straight back down like he didn’t even know what a clit was, your mind was spiralling. He was killing you. 

“Oh really?” He nudged a finger to your entrance, pressing just hard enough to slip the very top inside of you. You always were the most sensitive at your g-spot then right here, at the very beginning where all your nerves were alive and your pussy was clenching around nothing because you needed something inside. Specifically Harry’s cock. “Tell me. When?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit and finally slid his finger inside of you, eliciting the prettiest whine. 

“Um… Uhh…” You couldn’t speak or think with his tongue slowly sliding over your clit now. He traced languid circles and waves, taking complete control and doing it all at his own pace. Harry was tasting you for his own pleasure more than he was yours, even if he did love the way you came for him. 

“Exactly.” He smirked, “So let me take my time with you. I’m owed that, aren’t I?” 

“I thought you were meant to be apologising to me? This feels like an unfair system. A bullet wound is more serious than a tattoo.” You complained, sliding your hands into his hair to try and drag him closer to you. 

After being away from him for so long, one of the longest times apart since you started dating-or whatever you two were, all you wanted was to feel him. You wanted his pleasure and the weight of his body on top of you. Teasing wasn’t fun when you were apart more than you were together.

You prayed that would change after the gesture you made. The permanent commitment to him. 

“Which one is permanent?” He grinned lazily up at you.

“You could’ve died.” You argued.

“But I didn’t. Now will you stop complaining otherwise I’m more than happy to stop. It’s been a big day I could easily go to sl-”

“No!” You jumped a little too quickly, making him laugh and press spongey kisses against your inner thighs. “No… no, please. I’ll take whatever you want. I’ll be good.” 

“Yeah?” He smirked, pressing his fingers into your fresh tattoo. You gasped, clutching his hair tighter in your hands. “That’s what I like to hear, pretty girl. Besides, I think letting me take my sweet time tasting you is the best punishment out there. Don’t you think?” 

Harry pressed a few chaste kisses along your thighs, feeling just how tense you were. You were clenching around his finger and holding onto his hair tight so he wouldn’t move away. But he couldn’t have you so tense… he needed you to relax.

“Calling it a punishment scares me…” you whimpered, feeling his tongue slide over your clit in a sloppy figure-eight pattern. 

“mh… just relax, bunny. Stop thinking and let me take care of you… you’re my girl, aren’t you? My sweet, delicious girl. My girl?” He ran his thumb over your tattoo, speaking right against your clit like he was talking to your pussy instead of you. 

“Mhmm.” 

“Then relax… you deserve to be spoiled after all you do for me…” Harry looked up at you, smiling as you forced your body to melt into the bed. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back when his mouth returned to your clit. He gently added another finger inside of you, curling them both into your g-spot in a steady stroke. They felt so deep inside of you, nowhere near as full of his cock but still so so good. 

The combination of his tongue and his fingers were driving you crazy, but he did them in such a relaxed, languid way that you knew it would take you ages to cum, if he even let you. 

“See? ‘S nice isn’t it?… you always take care of me, bunny. Always clean my wounds and take good care of m’cock… m’heart too…. Always make me feel so happy.”

“You make me happy too… scare me a lot too…” You sighed, fisting his hair as he grazed his teeth over your clit.

“I don’t mean to,” Harry murmured against you, kissing against your clit in an infuriatingly light touch. “Only want to make you feel good… feel safe…”

“You do… you do… just-fuck, please… More… Harder.”

He smirked at your begging, the whiny tone in your voice going straight to his cock. Barely a couple minutes into it and you were already getting desperate. Already tugging at his hair and starting to wiggle. 

He loved you like this because he had the ultimate control over whether or not he gave you what you wanted. At this point, it could go either way. 

“Not yet sweetheart, ‘m having too much fun just like this…”

Your back arched when he pressed his fingertips into your tattoo, purposefully digging into the soft skin. It was a small tattoo, tiny in comparison to half of Harry’s work but you had a relatively low pain tolerance and your very inner thigh was quite sensitive. It was torturous paired with the way his tongue softly stroked against your clit. 

“Please, Harry…” You begged once more, using your hands in his hair to try and drag him closer to you. You were writhing beneath him, desperate for something more than just light teasing shapes. You could barely handle it anymore. 

“Ah.” Harry tutted, slipping from your clit with a little pop of his lips. He grinned up at you, mouth and chin all soaked and dripping before pulling your hands from his hair to push them down on the bed beside you. It was possibly one of the most erotic things you had ever seen. “Y’know I like my hair pulled, bunny but if you keep pushing it, I’ll make sure you don’t cum at all. Let me enjoy you.”

“Okay…” You nodded quickly, hoping he wouldn’t stop altogether. “m’sorry. I’ll be good.” 

“Good.” 

Harry released your hands before grabbing a hair tie from his wrist and putting his hair up in a bun. God when he did that… it did unspeakable things to you. You watched him obsessively, frothing over the way his arms and chest stretched and flexed with every small movement. Up behind his head then back down to the bed when he settled between your thighs while staring at you with this triumphant fuckboy smile. 

“You’re so pretty, y’know that. So so pretty and all mine.” He murmured, tracing his finger through your crease while looking straight at your pussy with complete awe. Harry was fucking obsessed with you.

“Harry…”

“I know,” he sympathised, voice almost mocking at your flushed cheeks. He loved when you got nervous. “You’re so pretty when you blush, y/n.” He blew gently over your clit, sliding his two fingers back into you. 

Closing his mouth around your clit, he started pleasuring you again. He moved his tongue against you harder and curled his fingers into you with far more purpose than before. And finally, finally you were starting to feel that relief. It was exactly what you needed to start to feel that twist in your stomach and shake in your thighs… the rush before that euphoric release. Your toes were starting to curl and your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging so hard he had to dig his fingertips into your tattoo to ground himself from how desperate he was getting from his hair being played with.

“Oh god… I’m… ‘mgonna…”

And then the rush stopped, that spiraling wave freezing right before it tumbled over the cliff. Harry removed his mouth and halted his fingers, kissing over your thighs instead with an evil grin you could feel against your skin. 

“Harry” you protested, gasping while looking down at him. Your legs attempted to clam around his head and you tried to tug his mouth back to you but he easily overpowered you and used his arms to pin your thighs wide against the bed. 

“You’re cute when you’re desperate. Might be my second favourite look on you.” He bit down on your thigh, chuckling against your skin. 

“What’s the… what’s your favourite?” Your breathing felt laboured, skin already feeling a little sticky from being teased for so long.  

“When you orgasm… sometimes it’s when I’ve got you so far gone you’re fucking sobbing for me. Only like your tears when they’re because of m’cock.”

He was evil. 

Was it fucked up that knowing he liked to make you cry turned you on? 

“You’re so mean… you know I-oh” your words got caught in his throat, eyes fluttering closed again when he started tracing his tongue over your clit again. 

Harry started to tease you again, going back to that languid, gentle touching. He was enjoying every second of it too, moaning into you, using his spare hand to grab on your belly and your breasts. He pinched at your nipples before pressing against your tattoo, all to rile you up and build your orgasm again so damn slowly. 

Harry was nearly about to burst. You were so wet and so fucking sweet and though he loved having his face between your thighs for hours on end, it turned him on beyond anything else on the fucking planet. He had to keep focusing his mind elsewhere, on anything but the way your cream was coating his fingers and dripping down his palm, or how you were so fucking wet just one slide of his tongue through your crease echoed around the entire room. 

But then you got a little too sensitive, a little too desperate and tugged his hair so hard it slipped from the bun he did earlier. He was just as happy to punish you than he was to rest his face between your thighs. 

The pleasure stopped once more and you were flipped so fast onto your belly, you didn’t have an opportunity to try and wiggle away. He gathered your hands quickly in one of his so you couldn’t move and ignored your whine of his name. 

“I warned you once, y/n, and you didn’t want to listen…”

“Harry ‘m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise.” You protested, at Harry’s complete mercy. He pinned you to the bed with one hand, keeping your hands pressed to your lower back while he pulled his belt out of his belt loops. You wiggled beneath him, trying to get out of his tight grip only to be suddenly swatted with his belt over your ass.

You gasped at the sting, feeling the spot on your skin grow a heartbeat of its own. It was a warm spiced feeling, oozing down to your aching clit that Harry had teased all night. 

“You did this to yourself, bunny. I wanted to be nice and I wanted to enjoy your sweet little pussy but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Could you?” Harry looped the belt around your hands then tightened it with the buckle so it was snug around your wrists. He tugged at it just to be sure you couldn’t slip out before hovering over you to kiss you gently on your shoulder. 

“Okay?” He asked, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” You nodded.

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.” He whispered the praise against your shoulder, kissing the middle of your back on his way back to kneel behind you. 

Harry was quick to pull your ass up off the bed until your face was pressed to the duvet, giving him the perfect access to all your pretty holes. You were practically dripping. Already edged once with no relief and now he could just taste you and bury his face without having your hands in the way. His perfect girl.

“See…” He murmured, tracing his hands over your ass. “Isn’t this better? Now I can enjoy you in peace.”

You responded with a noise of indignation, squeezing your fists when he chuckled and spanked your ass in that same spot he whacked his belt. Your skin was pulled taught with the way your chest was pressed to the bed, making the sting heavier than usual. 

Even though you whimpered and your whole body jerked at the feeling of his palm on your ass, Harry knew you enjoyed it. Just like you enjoyed being tied up.

The only reason you protested having his belt around your hands was because you hated it like this. Behind your back or pinned to your sides or thighs. You didn’t like not being able to feel him, especially when you couldn’t see him either. With Harry always gone you just wanted to touch him as much as humanly possible when he was around him.

You always had a hand on him. In his hair or scratching his back or in his pocket or intertwined with his fingers. You just needed that touch. Craved it. And now it had been taken away.

“God, you taste so fucking good, bunny.” Harry groaned, spanking your ass roughly. He spread your cheeks wide, pulling back to spit right on your tight rim of muscles before he was sucking over your clit again. “Like a fucking dream.”

He groaned against you, nuzzling his nose right against your entrance to press just hard enough to dip into you. The way he used his entire face to pleasure you was completely feral. He’d be able to smell you for days and taste your sweet sweet arousal for hours to come. That’s exactly how he liked it. 

He was completely wrapped around your clit, sucking in that perfect rhythmic pressure he knew you liked. The same pressure that had you tumbling towards an orgasm within two minutes flat. Now he seemed to be doing the opposite of his torturous teasing. He was trying to make you cum and he was doing it in the messiest, most feral way possible. 

That was somehow more evil because you had nowhere to go. You couldn’t move your hands or grab his hair, not even hold his hand until he reached for you. With the tight grip on your hips, you were pinned in his grip. You didn’t mind though, because he was finally… finally giving you that delicious pleasure. 

You were hopeful, your entire body tense and trembling. Your mouth was gaped against the bedding, soft moans muffled into the material. Until your entire world crashed and burned when it all stopped. Again. 

“No. Harry...”

“Shh, it’s okay, bunny.” Harry pressed his mouth over your ass, sliding his fingers out of you to run through your crease to your clit. “Still green?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Then let’s keep going, shall we?”

You lost count at how many times he edged you. After five it all turned into a blur; a teary, stinging blurr where your mind was completely in the clouds and your body felt like it was melting into a puddle. You were completely heavy in the bed, legs sore and trembling and your arms aching after being behind your back for so long. 

Every touch was torture, every flick of his tongue or suck over your clit sent your mind into orbit. You needed to come so fucking badly but there was nothing you could do to get him to let you finish. He was happy to just taste you and lick you until you were reduced to a pile of tears and sore muscles on the bed.

“Please Harry… please I need it so bad… need y’cock so so badly…” 

It wasn’t the first time you begged for it, but it was certainly the first time you cried for it. You were crying softly against the bedding, wiggling and clenching around his fingers. Your nails were digging into your palms, trying to counteract the pressure your entire lower body was facing. 

“Yeah? Wanna give it to you, bunny. So fucking bad…” Harry’s cock had been painfully sore since your fourth edge, so fucking hard he got rid of all his clothes just for some relief. His jeans were pressing so tight against his cock, he could barely handle it. 

Harry was a sadistic fuck, though and he liked the pain. He liked being sore and he liked to edge himself so when he finally got inside you and got that ultimate pleasure, the entire experience was better. He liked it when he made you come multiple times, but there was something romantic about edging you until you cried then letting you finally come when he was deep inside you and about to orgasm himself. 

Simultaneous orgasms were a rarity, but Harry liked the challenge. Often it was him timing his with yours anyway. You were terrible at holding your orgasm, practically incapable of it. That’s why edging you was so fun… Harry had complete control over it. He knew the signs of your body reaching that point without you even verbalising it and knew the exact moment to pull away before you tipped over the edge. 

And even when you cried and it was sore, your colour remained green the entire time. 

“Got me so hard f’you… just need to make sure you really want it, huh?” Harry bared his teeth against your ass cheek, biting down on one of the spots his various spontaneous spanks had made their mark. Your ass was beat red at this point, covered in teeth marks and hand prints from Harry getting too damn excited. He knew it would be sore for a couple of days, but that’s what he wanted.

He wanted his memory on your skin… and now after your tattoo, it would be. Forever. 

The thought of that was exhilarating and one of the most terrifying things in Harry’s world.

“I do… I need it so bad, Harry. Feel so empty without you… so sore…” Your words all joined together, a slur of neediness and sniffled tears. 

“Oh, I bet, bunny…” He cooed, sliding his fingers out of you before sucking them clean. He then moved up on his knees behind you to gently undo the belt from your wrists. “Bet you’re so sensitive n’sore, aren’t you?” He threw the belt to the side, massaging your wrists in his hand to soothe the reddened skin.

You just nodded against the bedding, curling your fingers back to hold his hands. He sighed at the sight, leaning down to quickly kiss your fingers before rolling you on your back. 

“Aw, baby. Look at you all teary-eyed…” Harry cupped your cheek, letting your legs fall wide on the bed as he wiped the tears from under your eye. With his other hand, he grabbed his cock and guided it to your pussy, sliding the head through your folds. His teeth gritted at the sensitivity on his desperate cock and he was trying so hard to not lose all strength in his body just at that one little touch. He was the one desperate now.

“Y’look so pretty like this… fucking gorgeous you are…”

“Harry…” You sighed, holding onto his wrist with one hand while grabbing his hip with the other. Just the feeling of his cock through your folds was heavenly, a sign that you’d finally get to come. 

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl. Like a fucking angel… shit”

His hand slid down your face to your neck, looping around it in a loose hold while he pressed his tip to your entrance and slowly eased his way in. Your pussy was so sensitive from all his teasing and he could tell too. Your cry was loud and your nails dug deep into his hip. He was addicted to the feeling. 

“Shit… oh god…” You whined out, head thrown back against the bedding. Your mouth was wide in a pant, chest heaving just at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you. His cock was always an adjustment… thick and long and fuck, every time you thought of it your mind went a little dizzy.

It ached to have him inside you without being edged so much and now it was like a hot fire in your womb. Your clit was aching, your belly was aching, and everything was so tightly strung all you wanted was just to be fucked. Even if you were more sensitive than ever, you just needed to be fucked hard into the bed. 

No teasing. Nothing. You just wanted him to fuck you until you came undone around him. 

“Fuck me… please, Harry just fuck me…” your words came in a rushed, desperate plea; your hips jutting to try and get him to move.

“Fuck, bunny. Got a filthy fucking mouth, don’t you…” Harry cursed, tightening his grip around your neck. “I’ll fuck you, alright. I’ll give you exactly what you want…”

He started rocking his hips against you, wasting no time to get to a steady, bruising pace. It was hips snapping against hips, your thighs wide on the bed while he used his hand around your neck for balance. His balls slapped against your ass and his noises of pleasure were so goddamn erotic you knew you’d never forget the sound of them.

It was euphoric. 

“God baby, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me. And you’re all mine, aren’t you? All fucking mine…” Harry grunted, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from finishing too fast. He was practically going to burst the moment his cock slid inside you. “And this…” He pressed his palm to your thigh, heavily running his thumb over your tattoo… “is so sexy… so fucking sexy…”

Neither of you seemed to care about the fact he had fresh stitches and a fresh bullet wound because the way he was fucking you was too good to care about something that could be so easily fixed. That pain in his abdomen did very little to stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved, even if that meant he’d have to sit through another angry stitching done by you.

Hopefully, this time you weren’t as angry or as rough with him… though he wouldn’t have minded if it meant he’d have you again like this.

You couldn’t even respond to him because it felt like your mouth had disconnected from your brain. Your body was so overstimulated that your mind could barely function. But you could drag him down with two hands on his jaw and kiss him. It was messy and uncoordinated but that didn’t even matter. All that mattered was that his body was on yours and you felt the closeness you had craved since the moment he tied your wrists behind your back.

“I love you… I love you so much…” You murmured, already feeling your orgasm approach again. It hardly took any time, not when he was fucking you so good and so hard. He felt deeper than ever before, so deep you could feel that deep pit in your stomach start to churn. It was a feeling that didn’t happen very often, but one both you and Harry reaped the benefits of. 

“I love you so much, angel. My love forever and always.” Harry groaned into your mouth, gathering your hands in his and intertwining your fingers together. He pushed on either side of your head, pressing them into the bedding as he started to kiss along your jaw and neck to get a bit of air. 

The dirty talk kept spilling out of his mouth, some coherent and others just desperate strung together sentences that made your head spiral and your pussy clench around his cock. He had a way with words, both in and out of the bedroom and it never failed to knock you to the fucking floor.

That deep churning in your pit only grew and started to press right against your clit. You could feel the pressure building and building until it felt like you were going to burst. Your clit was aching; a pinching white-hot pleasure beating from it like it had its own heartbeat.

“Oh… shit… shit. Harry… ‘m gonna… ‘m gonna squirt” The words barely got out, all thrown together in a loud cry right in his ear before you felt the damn burst from inside of you. 

It rolled over you in a crash. An initial euphoric crash of pleasure hitting your body from all angles. Waves and waves of pure ecstasy made your thighs tremble and your toes curl. Your whole body shook as the first spray of your arousal hit Harry’s lower belly and with every squirt after, another jolt of electricity.

“Shit baby. Good fucking girl. Fucking hell…” Harry cursed, grinding his hips against you to try and draw as much of your orgasm through. He felt it coat his cock and the hairs at his base, dripping down to his balls until it started to dampen the bedding beneath you. “Jesus, bunny. ‘M gonna cum… Can I?...”

“Want it… want it inside, please…” you whimpered, squeezing his hands tight as the pleasure started to die down to a low beat in your clit.

Harry’s mouth smushed against yours as he fucked himself once more inside of you, groaning against you as his body trembled above you. You could feel the hot bliss of his come filling you to the brim and the sudden weight of him on top of you when he let himself relax against your body.

“Shit, bunny…” He sighed, dropping his forehead to the crook of your neck. 

You were both exhausted. Your skin was damp and sticky and the bed below you felt exactly the same. It was a mess. You were a mess and yet you were the happiest you could’ve been. Sore muscles and a fire beating on your ass and fresh tattoo meant nothing compared to the fulfilment you had just being with Harry. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered after a moment of silence, resting his chin on your chest to look at you. He needed to collect himself before he checked on you so he was physically able to take care of you and provide whatever you needed. He definitely needed to have a shower or bath with you and rub some cream on your wrists and bum.

“I’m good,” You whispered back, smiling softly at him. “A little sore but so good… are you okay?”

“I’m perfect,” he smiled and softly kissed your sweaty skin, “can I pull out now?”

With a small nod, he gently pulled himself out of you and then started your normal routine. He went to get some water and a damp towel to clean you both up and then returned to clean you while you guzzled the entire thing. Some nights you two jumped in the shower straight away, but that was only if you weren’t going to have another round or were prepared to change the sheets at the same time.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. After you went to the bathroom quickly you returned and you both curled into each other’s arms to have your usual pillow talk. It was your favourite part of sleeping together because it was often when the truth came out or you found out more things about him. You loved that.

“I still can’t believe you did this…” Harry murmured, looking down at the tattoo. He traced his fingers over it, looking at it obsessively.

“Was it too much? Be honest…”

“What?” Harry was a little taken aback and looked up at you with a furrowed expression, “Never. Fucking unexpected but I love it,” he reached up to grab your cheek and you immediately nuzzled into it, holding your hand over his, “I love you, y/n. I don’t say it often enough but I do. And I want you in my life, I just don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“Let me come with you.” You responded, “next time you go back to the city, let me come. I want to see where you live and… I don’t know, maybe meet your friends? Or…” you felt a little embarrassed at the next words that came out of your mouth, but you weren’t exactly sure how else to say it, “work colleagues…”

Harry cracked the biggest fucking grin at how you phrased it, but he tried to not laugh so he wouldn’t embarrass you. “Alright. Tomorrow. I’ll take you back with me.”

“Tomorrow?” You blinked, not expecting him to just willingly agree like that.

“Yes. I don’t have a job until Thursday so we’ll have a couple of days together. But that’s only if you don’t have college or wo-”

“I don’t.” You interrupted quickly, knowing very well you did have university and work. Harry knew that too, he just wanted to see if you’d really skip a few days of responsibility for him. “I’d love to go.”

Harry smirked, nearly getting all worked up again at the thought of his angel skipping classes just to spend time with him. “Good…” He then cleared his throat and sat up so he could look at you, “I want you to have this.”

He removed his signature cross necklace from around his neck and motioned for you to sit up as well. “Harry… I couldn’t”

“You can.” He pressed, placing the necklace over your head. He eyed the way it fell right between your breasts and pulled your hair out from underneath it so it wouldn’t get tangled. “Always wear this, y/n. I mean it. The moment I take you into the city there will be people who care that you know me and they’ll use it against me.” Harry played with the cross between two fingers, rubbing his thumb over the front of it, “Wearing this… it’s a protection.”

“How?...” You whispered, looking between the necklace and his gorgeous green eyes.

“Because this-” his hand fell to your thigh, squeezing over the plastic film of your tattoo, “-tells me that you’re mine and this-” he grabbed the chain again, tugging it ever so slightly, “tells the entire fucking world.”

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

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[technofeudalism]

Residents of Jersey have been recommended bloodletting to reduce high concentrations of “forever chemicals” in their blood after tests showed some islanders have levels that can lead to health problems. Private drinking water supplies in Jersey were polluted by the use of firefighting foams containing PFAS (per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances) at the island’s airport, which were manufactured by the US multinational 3M. PFAS, a family of more than 10,000 chemicals, can build up in the body and are linked to conditions such as kidney and bladder cancer, thyroid disease and immune deficiency.

you read that correctly. bloodletting. like leeches.

before you freak out, if you are an American, this is the island of Jersey in the United Kingdom. i wanted to get that out of the way first so i can address this fucking travesty.

since the 1950s, 3M and Dupont have concealed information about the harmful effects of PFAS. the movie Dark Waters with Mark Ruffalo is specifically about Dupont and it's rampant pollution. 3M has been dumping PFAS in rivers and waterways not just in the United States, but across the globe for decades despite knowing with full detail the risks involved to the public. they even managed to intimidate a 3M scientist into staying quiet and pulled her off research into the toxicity of their products when she made the discovery.

at the same time, Jersey authorities were aware of this problem as early as the 1990s but didn’t switch the water source for the affected areas until 2006. they continued using contaminated storage tanks for foam until 2022 despite knowing the risks. this is blatant criminal negligence all around.

this part of the article in particular is so disgusting:

Despite the growing evidence of health effects, compensation remains unlikely. Jersey’s government signed a confidential deal with 3M in 2005, agreeing not to pursue legal claims for £2.6m towards cleanup. Jersey must also assist 3M in defending any future claims. A source who asked not to be identified said Jersey needed 3M’s permission to proceed with blood tests to avoid corporate backlash. “The state got an agreement to do individual blood tests, but not screening, as that could be the first step towards a possible class action lawsuit.”

3M’s gross profits in 2023 totaled over $14 billion and they can’t spend $3 million to clean up a mess that is quite literally responsible for killing people because by doing so, it opens them up to litigation involving every other mess around the globe where they’ve directly poisoned people with PFAS (or continue to poison).

but by far the most prescient part of this is the fact that Jersey's government had to obtain permission from 3M, a US corporation and the suspected perpetrator of a crime that has left at least one of their citizens terminally ill, if they could even do blood tests to check if they were responsible. the oligarchy truly knows nothing of borders.

[reasonsforhope]

"Legislative momentum against PFAS has surged this year, as at least 11 states enacted laws to restrict the use of “forever chemicals” in everyday consumer products or professional firefighting foam.

The legislation includes bans on PFAS in apparel, cleaning products, cookware, and cosmetic and menstrual products. Meanwhile, lawmakers in some states also passed measures that require industries to pay for testing or cleanup; order companies to disclose the use of PFAS in their products; and mandate or encourage the development of PFAS alternatives, according to Safer States, an alliance of environmental health groups focused on toxic chemicals.

In total this year, at least 16 states adopted 22 PFAS-related measures, according to the group. Since 2007, 30 states have approved 155 PFAS policies, the vast majority of them in the past five years.

The thousands of chemicals categorized as perfluoroalkyl and polyfluoroalkyl substances, or PFAS, do not naturally break down and are found in the blood of 97% of Americans. Some PFAS compounds can harm the immune system, increase cancer risks and decrease fertility...

Earlier this year, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency released new standards limiting PFAS in drinking water. Water systems have five years to comply with the rules. Even before the EPA action, 11 states had set their own limits on PFAS in drinking water, starting with New Jersey in 2018.

Water utilities and chemical manufacturers are challenging the new EPA standards. But states also are heading to the courthouse: So far, 30 states have sued PFAS manufacturers or key users for contaminating water supplies and other natural resources, according to Safer States...

Sarah Doll, national director of Safer States, said one reason states have been so successful in enacting PFAS limits is that more companies are willing to stop using the chemicals.

“When California restricted PFAS in textiles, all of a sudden you saw companies like REI saying, ‘We can, we’re going to do that. We’re going to move to alternatives,’” Doll said.

In Vermont, state lawmakers in April unanimously approved a measure banning the manufacture and sale of PFAS in cosmetics, menstrual products, incontinence products, artificial turf, textiles and cookware.

“The same as everyone else, like Democrats, we want to make sure that we remove PFAS and get it out of products as soon as we can,” said Vermont Republican state Rep. Michael Marcotte, who said his district includes cosmetics manufacturer Rozelle Cosmetics, in Westfield.

Democratic state Sen. Virginia Lyons, the chief sponsor of the Vermont bill, said it is particularly important to get PFAS out of products that are essential to consumers.

“There are some consumer products where you can say, ‘I don’t need to buy that, because I don’t want PFAS,’” Lyons said. “But it’s really tough to say that [about] a menstrual product.”

California’s latest PFAS measure, which Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom signed last month, specifically bans the use of PFAS in menstrual products. Democratic Assemblymember Diane Papan, the author of the bill, said it was particularly strong because it covers both intentional and unintentional uses of PFAS, so “manufacturers will have to really be careful about what comes in their supply chain.”

While more states enact laws focused on specific products, Maine is preparing to implement the world’s first PFAS ban covering all consumer goods. The Maine law, which is scheduled to take effect in 2030, will include exceptions for “essential” products for which PFAS-free alternatives do not exist. Washington state has also taken a sweeping approach by giving regulators strict timelines to ban PFAS in many product categories.

[alive-gh0st]

❝Marked❞

⋆｡˚✴︎⋆Veil!Mark Grayson x Trouble!Reader⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

•. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˚₊‧⟡꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ⟡‧₊˚ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.•

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

★ summary: he’s supposed to be your handler. a monitor. a leash. but mark grayson doesn’t follow orders—not when it comes to you. when they tried to reassign you, he rewrote the rules. now you’re stuck with him: veiled, violent, and watching you like he already owns you. you don’t play well with others. he doesn’t care. because underneath the blood, the missions, the slow obsession—he isn’t trying to control you. he’s trying to keep you. marked as his.

‪‪★ contains: nsfw (18+). enemies to feral co-dependents. handler x operative dynamic. forced partnership. obsession disguised as protection. surveillance with feelings. feral!mark. dangerous!reader. veil!mark. veil!invincible. slow burn to full meltdown. soft dom vibes. unhinged loyalty. post-mission patchups. emotional warfare disguised as flirting. “say that again and i’ll ruin you” energy. knifeplay (non-lethal, very hot). panty stealing. couch sex. praise kink. sacred-name usage. quiet confessions. dirty mouths, softer hearts. extremely earned smut.

★ warning: graphic violence. blood/injury. canon-typical trauma. stalking (narratively intentional, obsessive-not-malicious). emotional volatility. intense possessiveness. nsfw content (oral + penetrative sex). manipulation of power dynamics (non-abusive). toxic attachment themes. unhealthy coping. emotional depth. explicit devotion. mark being insane about you in every way.

‪‪★ wc: 8437

ᯓ★ requested by: @hyunniestharr (your idea haunted me. now it can haunt you, too)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: this isn’t a love story—it’s a security breach with a heartbeat. a warning label on loyalty (also yes. he absolutely came untouched. twice.)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The knife slid in easy.

Too easy, honestly—especially after chasing this bastard across rooftops, sewer grates, and at least two levels of transit. Your lungs still burned, your shoulder throbbed, and your mood? Absolutely shot to hell.

The blade found its mark between his ribs, sliding in with that soft, sickening give that muscle memory never forgot. The target gurgled—wet, startled, pathetic.

“God, you’re dramatic,” you muttered, yanking the blade out with a practiced twist.

It splattered red across your boots.

“I mean, if you were gonna be this squishy, you could’ve just surrendered ten blocks ago and saved me a goddamn headache.”

He dropped like a ragdoll, face-down into the filth-streaked alley and joined the others in the room that already smelled like copper and regret. The puddle beneath him spread slowly, sluggish in the midwinter air. You stood over the corpse with a scowl, sweat slicking down the back of your neck. The quiet buzz of adrenaline had barely started to fade.

“Stubborn little shit. Had to bleed like a faucet.”

Blood—most of it not yours—stuck to your gloves, smeared across your thigh where the asshole’s last desperate swing had caught you.

“Perfect,” you sighed, inspecting the ruined leg of your suit. “Because what I really needed today was another reason to explain why my laundry bill rivals a war crime.”

The sting of shallow wounds tugged at your nerves. But you didn’t flinch. You never did.

“You better have intel worth all this laundry,” you muttered before crouching and rifling through the dead man’s pockets—only pulling out a charred disk drive and a mangled transponder. Useless. Still, protocol said bring everything, so you stuffed it into your pouch and rose.

“Dumbass bled out for nothing,” you muttered. ”Bet his last thought was about that ugly-ass tattoo he was so proud of. Shame.”

You rolled your shoulder, muscles groaning in protest, and started trudging toward the exit.

The concrete was slick from the mess. You didn’t bother avoiding the blood trail. Let Forensics earn their paycheck.

“This is what I get for volunteering for ‘cleanup duty,’ huh?” you grumbled. “Next time I see Dispatch, I’m stabbing them with this knife. Gently. Lovingly. But repeatedly.”

Your comm crackled.

You froze. Then sighed. Of course.

Swiping the screen open mid-step, you expected a location ping or evac window. Maybe even a rare “good job” if someone up top was feeling generous. Instead, you got flagged.

PRIORITY. LEVEL SIX.

UNSCHEDULED MEETING. MANDATORY.

FILE ATTACHED.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “That’s not ominous at all.”

The folder had your name stamped on it—but nothing else. No briefing, no subject tags, just a sealed file and an address string embedded in the encryption. You squinted at the coordinates.

Underground.

Of course.

You barked a humorless laugh. “Meeting in the bunker. Creepy as hell. Classic you, Command.”

Without even trying to clean up, you took a turn off the main street, ducking into a nondescript elevator shaft hidden behind a disused courier hub.

One retinal scan and two sarcastic clearance swipes later, you were riding down into the belly of the beast.

── .✦

The bunker hadn’t changed since the last time you broke into it. Still dusty, still freezing, still lit with that flickering LED buzz that made you want to file a complaint and commit arson at the same time. You moved through it like muscle memory: two lefts, a keypad, retinal scan. A hiss of doors unlocking.

No guards. No eyes on you.

Just one metal table, and a single paper folder sitting at its center like a damn horror prop.

“Oh, great,” you deadpanned. “We’re going analog. That’s never shady.”

You peeled your gloves off with your teeth, slapping them on the table before flipping the folder open.

“Really setting the mood,” you muttered. “All that budget, and they still print shit on recycled office supply.”

The folder wasn’t marked with anything obvious—just your designation and a date. No mission summary. No ops plan. Just bureaucratic psych jargon. Something about “disciplinary structure,” “high-risk autonomy,” “unstable behavioral metrics.” You rolled your eyes so hard your neck nearly cracked.

“Jesus,” you muttered. “Next thing they’ll say I’ve got commitment issues.”

Then—tucked at the very bottom—you saw it.

Reassignment. Oversight. Immediate effect.

You blinked.

And blinked again.

Your lips parted, half-laugh, half-scoff forming in your throat when—

The door hissed open behind you.

Footsteps. Heavy. Even. Slow.

You turned, instinctively reaching for your knife.

Then paused.

Because the man in the doorway?

Blue and yellow. No cape. No insignia. A form-fitting suit that clung to muscle and violence, with a strange veil that obscured his face like a curtain of secrecy—thin, sheer, barely hiding the line of his jaw.

His eyes glowed behind narrow goggles—calm, calculating.

You never heard him speak. Not really.

You’d seen him before—that’s for sure. Not clearly. Just flashes on rooftops. A distant signal you weren’t cleared to track. Everyone called him something different, if they talked about him at all. You never paid attention to other people anyway.

Until now.

He stepped inside like he owned the room—and maybe he did—and said nothing. Just looked at you. Sized you up.

He looked at you like he already knew how you fought. How you bled. Like he knew where to land a punch—or where it would really hurt.

You looked back.

What was his alias again… ?

You hated that it made you curious.

A beat lagged. Then two. No one said anything.

And then you looked back at the file, still open on the table. Read the fine print. The line that had made you scoff but hadn’t sunk in until now.

“Assigned to field partner. Behavioral reassessment ongoing. Expect prolonged oversight.”

You opened your mouth. Then shut it again.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ͙͘͡★⋆⭒˚.⋆

Invincible—or just Mark, depending on who was stupid or familiar enough to call him that—watched from the far end of the room.

Arms crossed loosely, leaning back against the wall like he didn’t have half a dozen other places to be. Like he wasn’t technically two hours behind on a recon run he’d already lied about completing.

But whatever.

You were here.

Pacing the concrete floor, muttering darkly under your breath, covered in blood that wasn’t yours. Eyes sharp. Shoulders tight. Currently ignoring him like he didn’t just walk in like gravity answered to his name.

Mark watched. Quiet. Still.

He liked watching you.

More than he should’ve. More than he’d ever admit out loud, even if someone held a railgun to his skull and promised painless disintegration.

Call it stalking, surveillance, an unhealthy attachment—he didn’t care. Not really.

It wasn’t just the way you moved—though that was part of it. You walked like you were daring the ground to talk back. You held tension like it was a weapon and he hadn’t been able to look away since the first time he saw you gut a guy without blinking.

Even now, you stalked around the empty room like you were half a second from breaking the table in two just because it dared to exist.

It made something in his chest tighten.

You didn’t know he’d been watching for a while. Not just today. Not even just this mission.

He checked in on you often. “Checked” was a generous word. It was bordering on surveillance. Okay, it was surveillance. He had a whole folder stashed away with flagged reports from your last five deployments. A few audio files. Maybe a grainy clip or two.

It wasn’t creepy. He wasn’t a creep.

He just needed to make sure you were okay.

(You kill people for a living.)

Still. He liked knowing where you were. So yeah. He watched. Checked in. Every day.

You were reckless. You didn’t follow orders. You acted on gut instinct, and half the time, it worked, which only made it worse. Because one day it wouldn’t work, and they’d send him in too late.

He’d seen the file before you did. Your reassignment.

They were going to put you under some no-name enforcer from another sector. Someone who thought “discipline” meant obedience and “partnership” meant paperwork.

So he said no.

Correction—he said: “If you send her to anyone else, I’ll break your fucking spine and write my resignation on the wall in your blood.”

Direct quote.

So now here he was. Assigned. Official. Watching you sulk around a room you clearly hated.

It should’ve been annoying. You hadn’t even acknowledged him properly yet. Just marched in, read your little file, stared at him for solid 6 seconds before muttering like the universe personally offended you.

He could name a dozen ways to silence you. He just didn’t want to.

He should’ve said something sooner.

But damn, you were beautiful when you were pissed.

Especially when it came with that cute little crease between your brows—like the universe had personally offended you.

Before you could actually spiral into something truly destructive—like ripping out the lights or kicking a chair through a wall (you’d done both before)—he finally decided to speak.

“Y’know,” Mark drawled finally, voice smooth, low, and way too amused, “for someone who just got a promotion, you complain like you got dumped via sticky note.”

You stopped mid-step.

Didn’t turn. Not yet.

He could see the tension coil in your spine like a loaded spring.

“You,” you said flatly. Like it was a diagnosis.

Even your voice sounded like a threat—like it could cut.

Mark’s grin sharpened under the veil.

“Me,” he confirmed.

A beat of silence.

Then, you turned to face him, arms crossed, blood still drying on your collar. “You’re my new ‘handler’?”

“I prefer ‘charming work husband’ but sure,” he said, lifting a shoulder. “Let’s go with that.”

No reaction.

(Okay. An eye twitch. That counted.)

He was delighted.

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know,” Mark said, smile curling under his breath. “That’s the best part.”

He stepped forward, slow and unhurried, until he was just a few feet away. Close enough to see the faint smear of ash on your jaw. Close enough to catch the faint chemical tang of blood and steel clinging to you like armor.

Blood, smoke, and a faint scent of whatever damn soap you use to scrub crime off your skin—it drove him fucking insane.

“You’re pissed,” he observed lightly. “That’s cute.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you trying to get stabbed?”

“Debatable,” he said. “Depends where.”

Another twitch. His grin widened.

He didn’t mean to flirt—okay, he did. But not too much. Not yet. You were still dangerous, still vibrating with aftershock fury, and the last thing he needed was for you to go fully feral.

Not until you liked him more, at least.

“I’m not here to babysit you,” he said after a moment. “Not in the way you think.”

You arched a brow. “No?”

“I’m here because I’m the only one who knows what it’s like to do what you do and still not break.”

A beat.

“I don’t break,” you said evenly.

“No,” Mark agreed, his voice softer now. “But they’re afraid you might. And you know what they do to things they think are broken.”

That hit.

You didn’t reply. Just stared at him. Longer. Slower. More like a threat than a conversation.

He could live with that. For now.

“Look,” he said, stepping even closer now, “I didn’t come here to coddle you. I came because if someone’s gonna keep you from getting killed, it’s gonna be me. No leashes. No lectures. Just… you and me. Doing what we do best.”

You said nothing.

Mark waited.

Then, quietly, with something almost close to sincerity—he muttered his final words.

“You can hate it. But you won’t hate me.”

Your eyes darkened. But your silence wasn’t as sharp as it should’ve been.

And Mark smiled.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ͙͘͡★⋆⭒˚.⋆

The rain was coming down in sheets, hammering the rooftops like it had a personal grudge.

You gritted your teeth, one arm tucked tightly around Invincible’s waist as you half-dragged, half-guided him down the dim corridor. His weight leaned into you shamelessly—dead weight, if dead weight had a smug attitude and a pulse like a drum in your ribs.

You didn’t say a word.

Not when he groaned dramatically into your ear, not when he stumbled a little more on purpose, not when you almost slipped trying to keep his dumbass from kissing the floor.

“You can walk,” you muttered through clenched teeth.

“I could,” he agreed, tone so casual it made your blood pressure spike. “But then I’d miss this beautiful team-building moment.”

You didn’t bother answering. You just pulled him harder, jostling his bruised ribs enough to earn a soft grunt from behind the veil.

Good.

His suit was streaked in blood—most of it his, some probably yours, and none of it helped your growing migraine. You were soaked to the bone, adrenaline long gone, fury in its place. The blast that tore through the wall back there should’ve hit you.

He’d made sure it didn’t.

And now you were stuck playing support for the goddamn golden boy of masked arrogance.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you hissed, not looking at him.

“Do what?” His voice was pure innocence. “Save your life?”

You scoffed. “I had it handled.”

“You were standing in front of a literal antimatter core.”

“I was moving out of the way.”

“Sure you were.” He leaned in, shifting more of his weight onto you, his breath warm behind the thin fabric of your collar. “Besides, you look better in one piece.”

Your fingers tightened where they gripped his side, and you seriously considered dropping him face-first into the nearest wall.

You didn’t.

But it was a close thing.

By the time you reached the medbay—a low-lit, sterile chamber lined with supply cabinets and outdated tech—you were seething quietly. You kicked the door open with your boot and hauled him inside like a sack of problematic groceries.

“Bed. Now.”

Invincible opened his mouth—about to reply with some flirty comeback—but one sharp look from you made him retreat.

He moved—slowly, with all the theatrical flair of a dying star—and flopped onto the metal exam table with a groan that would’ve convinced any sane person he was about to flatline.

You weren’t convinced.

“You’re not dying,” you muttered, already rifling through cabinets.

“Didn’t say I was,” he mumbled, watching you over the edge of the table. “But if I do… can I haunt your apartment?”

You threw a roll of gauze at his face.

It hit him square in the goggles.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

You turned away before he could catch the twitch in your expression.

Because pain or not, the image of him stepping in front of that blast—of the way he threw you to the side like it was instinct—was burned into your memory. You were furious.

You were also, maybe, a little bit shaken.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

Not even to yourself.

You found the antiseptic, grabbed a few packs of gauze and tape, then returned to his side. You didn’t bother asking if he wanted your help. You didn’t wait for a nurse.

You’d stitched your own thigh shut in the back of a stolen van once. Wrapped a shattered wrist in duct tape and finished a mission. You weren’t squeamish.

His suit was torn apart—and underneath—muscle, blood, bruises. He was a mess, but he’d live. Unfortunately.

You dabbed antiseptic into the worst of it without mercy. He hissed.

“Don’t be a baby.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“I’m tolerating this.”

His eyes caught yours—bright and unreadable under the goggles.

“You could’ve let me bleed out,” he said, voice lower now.

“I considered it.”

“Mm. That’s fair.”

You said nothing, focusing on a gash along his ribs. He didn’t flinch. But his gaze didn’t leave you.

“You’re pissed.”

You pressed harder.

“I told you I had it,” you said, quieter now. “You shouldn’t have stepped in.”

“I wasn’t going to let you get hurt.”

Your hands paused.

“I don’t need protecting.”

“I know.”

More silence.

Then, softer—closer, “But I like putting my hands on you. Even if it means getting thrown across a warehouse.”

You looked at him then. Really looked.

His veil was torn at the corner. Blood trickled from his temple, and his ribs looked like someone had caved them in with a wrecking ball. And for the first time, he wasn’t grinning. Not cocky. Not smug. Just—there. Honest.

You ignored the way your stomach twisted.

You ignored that it landed somewhere deep.

And worse—you hated that part of you was glad he did it.

Even if you’d never say it out loud.

So instead, you went back to cleaning him up. And he let you.

Touch lingering just a little longer than it needed to. His eyes stayed on you, quiet for once.

But of course, it couldn’t last.

“You know,” he said, voice low, teasing—dangerous, “if you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna pop a boner.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ͙͘͡★⋆⭒˚.⋆

The city sprawled beneath, a mosaic of lights flickering in the night. A hundred thousand lives in motion, none of them looking up.

The hum of distant traffic and the occasional siren were the only sounds accompanying the two figures perched on the ledge, threading through the darkness like familiar ghosts. While the rooftop offered a vantage point—both strategic and serene, if you let it be.

You rarely did.

This wasn’t your kind of quiet.

You didn’t like silence—not when it meant being left alone with your thoughts. Not when it reminded you that most of your work ended with blood on your hands and no one waiting for you when it was done.

You were good at what you did, but it came with solitude. That was the tradeoff. Had been, for a long time.

You sat with your knees drawn up, arms resting atop them, eyes scanning the horizon like something out there might change.

Invincible sat beside you—close enough that you could feel the heat of him even with the night air biting through your suit. He didn’t speak. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t even try to make himself useful. He was just there.

And strangely, that made it easier to breathe.

It wouldn’t last. It never did. But maybe tonight, it didn’t have to.

The surveillance gear nearby blinked and pulsed, quietly recording—but neither of you looked at it.

For once, it could wait.

“You ever think about what it’d be like to just… disappear?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out like breath. Like you hadn’t meant to say it, but couldn’t help yourself.

Invincible turned his head, veil fluttering slightly in the breeze. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I think I’d miss the chaos.”

A quiet chuckle escaped you. Dry. Amused. “Figures.”

Silence settled again—but not heavy. Not cold. Just… still. You rarely got stillness that didn’t come with tension coiled in your gut. This was different.

And that scared you more than it should have.

“You know,” he said after a beat, voice quieter now, almost careful, “we’ve been through a lot together… and I don’t even know your real name.”

You glanced at him, surprised—but not defensive. Not tonight.

You hesitated for half a second, then gave it to him. Just your name. Nothing fancy, no ceremony. Like offering up something small and fragile just to see what he’d do with it.

He nodded. A small, rare smile played at the edge of his mouth. “Mark.”

Simple as that. And somehow, it meant something.

The name felt strange coming from him. Not because it didn’t suit him—it did. More than you expected. But because no one ever shared real names with you unless they were bleeding out or trying to make peace before dying. It had weight. It had risk.

You tilted your head slightly. “Nice to meet you, Mark.”

His gaze lingered on you a second longer than necessary. You felt the heat of it, sharp and warm, brushing your cheek like a touch he hadn’t made. Then, low and easy, ”Likewise, sweetheart.”

Your heart hiccuped in your chest—and you hated that it did.

He’d called you worse. He’d called you better. But something about hearing him say it now—gentle, sincere—made your stomach twist in a way no battlefield ever had.

You looked away, pretending to study the skyline again—even though you hadn’t really been looking at it for a while.

You were thinking about the last time you sat this close to someone without bracing for betrayal.

You were thinking about how you always worked alone because it was safer that way.

You were thinking about how, for the first time in what felt like forever, being alone didn’t feel so absolute.

He wasn’t touching you. Wasn’t even looking at you anymore. But he was there. And that mattered more than you wanted it to.

The city lights shimmered below, reflecting off wet rooftops and glass towers like starlight that had forgotten its way home. And for one small, stolen moment, you didn’t feel like a weapon in waiting. You didn’t feel like the monster they kept on a leash.

You just felt… seen.

You didn’t say thank you.

But maybe you didn’t have to.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ͙͘͡★⋆⭒˚.⋆

Mark hadn’t meant to watch you.

Not like that.

Not in the beginning.

It started with a glitch in his comms. A rerouted signal. Someone else’s mission logs bleeding into his HUD. A red flag tagged with your designation, blinking across rooftops he wasn’t supposed to care about.

He should’ve ignored it.

He didn’t.

Instead, he paused mid-flight—just above Sector 4, the skyline burning behind him—and turned his attention to a grainy security feed from a busted drone two miles off-grid.

And there you were.

A blur of movement. Blood on your knuckles. Fire in your mouth.

He watched you take down five armed enforcers in less than a minute. Watched you move like violence was a second skin, like your bones had been carved to fit inside chaos.

He felt something shift in his chest.

It wasn’t lust—not at first. It wasn’t even admiration.

It was obsession—quiet, still, and cold.

It was yours.

── .✦

He told himself it was curiosity. A one-time thing. Professionals did that. Kept tabs. Cross-referenced reports.

But the next night, he checked again.

And the next.

And the next.

── .✦

You never noticed. Or if you did, you never said.

And god, that just made it worse.

── .✦

You drank your coffee black. No sugar. No milk. Always scalding.

He knew this because he’d watched you order it, three mornings in a row, from a corner shop you never paid for—just flashed a fake badge and walked off like you owned the world.

You untied your boots with your teeth sometimes—bit the laces, spat them out. It was feral.

You hummed under your breath when you cleaned your knives. Always the same tune. Off-key. He found it… endearing.

He memorized it.

── .✦

Mark knew your name before you even said it.

It was in your file—buried under layers of redacted bullshit, buried deeper than it had any right to be. But Mark had access. Mark was access.

He read it once, then never again.

He didn’t need to.

It was already carved somewhere behind his ribs.

── .✦

He knew your patrol schedule. Your blind spots. He knew which rooftops you liked. Which ones you avoided.

He knew you slept on your side, curled like you expected someone to stab you in your sleep.

He hated that.

He wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to sleep like that anymore. That he’d sleep beside you. That he would take first watch.

Every night. For the rest of your life.

── .✦

The first time he broke into your apartment, it wasn’t for anything weird.

Just to look.

Just to… be where you were when you weren’t there.

It was quiet. Small. Clean in some places, messy in others. Coffee cups on the counter. A half-assembled gun on the table. A pair of boots by the door.

Your scent clung to the air—warm, sharp, metallic, with the faintest sweetness underneath.

He stood in your living room for almost an hour.

Didn’t touch anything. Didn’t breathe too loud. Just existed in your space.

And then he left.

But he came back.

Again.

And again.

── .✦

Once, he barely made it out.

The click of your front door lock. The soft thud of your boots. He didn’t breathe until he was four rooftops away.

Heart racing. Hard. Excited. Terrified. Alive.

This wasn’t like how his father loved.

It wasn’t control.

It was gravity.

And you were the only thing keeping him from flying straight into the sun.

── .✦

Eventually, he started touching things.

Your mugs. Your books. Your hoodie.

Once, he sat on your couch and imagined you curled up beside him. Hair damp from a shower. Feet in his lap. Trusting him.

He got hard just thinking about it—and cursed himself for it.

But he didn’t stop.

── .✦

Then came the laundry.

Folded in a neat little basket by the window.

Fresh. Still warm. He touched a pair of panties—just brushed his fingers over the edge. Then brought them to his face.

He didn’t moan. Didn’t jerk off. Didn’t cross that line.

But he did smile, dark and private.

Murmured to himself, “Honestly? These feel way better than my veil.”

He left them exactly where they were.

Mostly.

Sometimes, he took one. Just one. Wore it like a badge under the suit—close to his skin. A reminder. A promise.

And then brought it back.

Washed. Pressed. Folded better than you ever did.

Because he wasn’t a monster.

He was just yours.

Even if you didn’t know it yet.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ͙͘͡★⋆⭒˚.⋆

The air was thick with smoke and the metallic scent of blood. Neither one of you saw it coming.

Not the punch, not the burst of kinetic force that ripped through the alley like thunder. Not the split-second shift in Invincible’s stance that changed everything from strategic to savage.

The mission had been simple: recon and retrieve.

Minimal force. Bring the target in alive.

No one said anything about bait.

No one said anything about them using you.

But the second the bastard dropped your name—the second that oily voice curled your real name like venom in the air—it all went to hell.

“You really think she’s worth it?” the target had sneered, blood leaking from his mouth, grin jagged where a tooth used to be. “All that power, and you’re playing guard dog to a broken bitch with a kill streak.”

You froze, not from shock—but calculation. How close was Invincible? How fast could you—

Too late.

You barely got a word out before Invincible was on him.

You didn’t even see the punch. Just the aftermath.

The target’s body hit the wall like a meteor. Cracked brick. Concrete dust in your lungs. Something crunched that definitely wasn’t supposed to.

And Invincible—Mark—wasn’t stopping.

Not with protocol screaming in your earpiece. Not with the command feed blinking red in your HUD. Not even when you grabbed his arm and shouted his name like it was the only thing you could do.

His fist was cocked back, trembling. Veins bulging under torn sleeves. Breathing like he’d just run through war.

“Mark,” you snapped again, sharper this time, like a blade.

His eyes—those glowing, untouchable things—locked on you.

You saw it hit him then.

Not guilt.

Something deeper.

Like the thought of someone using you, threatening you, daring to speak your name out loud—was worse than death.

“Alive,” you said, jaw tight. “We need him alive.”

It took everything in you not to flinch when he finally stepped back.

The target coughed blood, slumped in a crater.

── .✦

You didn’t speak the rest of the mission. Neither did he.

The silence between you buzzed louder than the comms.

And when the drop team arrived, you didn’t look at each other. Not once.

But you felt him watching.

Still burning.

Still ready to kill the next person who dared say your name like it wasn’t something sacred.

── .✦

You didn’t storm off.

You didn’t say a word when Command debriefed, when the team cleaned up the mess, when the target got dragged off in a body bag instead of a prisoner transport.

You just stood there, fists clenched at your sides, your shadow overlapping his as you waited for someone to say it.

They didn’t.

They didn’t have to.

You could feel the way they looked at you now—like you were collateral. A variable. The reason their best weapon nearly lost control.

Again.

── .✦

You could still hear it.

Your name.

Twisted in the mouth of someone who wasn’t supposed to know it. Someone who used it like a curse—like a weapon.

And it worked.

Invincible—no, Mark lost it. You watched it happen in real time.

Not calculated. Not clean. Just rage. Unchecked. Unleashed.

And it scared you—not because he was angry, but because it felt like it was for you.

Like he would’ve killed a man for the crime of knowing you existed. And worse…

Some ugly, buried part of you wanted to let him.

── .✦

You didn’t sleep that night.

You sat on your windowsill in silence, one leg propped up, eyes on the skyline you usually found comfort in. It didn’t work tonight.

Because a small part of you knew he was out there.

Watching. Hovering. Probably furious that you stopped him.

Probably furious you had to.

But you weren’t sorry. Not really.

You’d gotten where you were by staying sharp. Staying smart. Staying in control.

And tonight?

He wasn’t.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ͙͘͡★⋆⭒˚.⋆

Mark noticed how you didn’t look at him once.

Not when they ran your vitals. Not when they shoved the corpse into containment with a glare like it was his fault the bastard’s skull split open like overripe fruit.

He stood back—arms crossed, jaw tight behind the veil.

He didn’t say anything either.

Not when you passed by. Not when you shouldered past the medic—like you were afraid to stop moving. Like if you did, you’d shatter.

He hated that.

He hated that silence lived between you now, not comfort. Not tension. Not heat.

Just cold.

── .✦

He heard it on loop.

Your voice—sharp and panicked, calling his name like a lifeline.

Not “Invincible.” Not “hey.”

Just… Mark.

It made something in his chest twist.

Made his hands curl at his sides. He could still feel the way your fingers had dug into his wrist.

Not gently. Not soft. But grounding.

It was the only reason he didn’t finish the job.

He didn’t regret it.

But he hated the look you gave him after.

Like you didn’t know who he was anymore. Or maybe like you finally did.

── .✦

He didn’t go home.

He hovered three blocks from your apartment, high enough to be unseen, low enough to feel you through the walls.

He didn’t expect to see the light in your room flick on.

He didn’t expect to see you—barely out of your gear, face hard, eyes darker than he’d ever seen them—leaning out the window, staring dead into the dark.

He stayed still. Barely breathing.

You didn’t see him.

But maybe—just maybe—you knew he was there.

Because after a long moment, you whispered to the night.

“Next time you lose control like that… I’ll stop you harder.”

It wasn’t a threat.

It was a promise.

And fuck—he’d never wanted anything more.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ͙͘͡★⋆⭒˚.⋆

They were doing it quietly. Behind walls. Sealed files. Passive phrasing and polite lies.

“Operative instability,” they’d said. “Emotional volatility.” “Unpredictable attachment to assigned partner.”

They meant him.

They meant you.

They meant that moment in the alley when his fist should’ve stopped—and didn’t. When he saw red and acted like a man who didn’t care about consequence.

Because he didn’t.

Because someone said your name and laughed.

Because someone tried to make you a weakness.

Because someone forgot you were his.

── .✦

Mark stood in the center of the server room like a loaded weapon someone forgot to disarm—veil pushed halfway up, breathing like he was trying not to detonate.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t blink.

The lights overhead buzzed, flickering under the strain of faulty wiring. Or maybe that was him. Hard to tell.

His voice, when it came, was quiet.

Deadly.

“Who signed off on this?”

No one answered.

Just the soft flick of fingers on tablet screens. The nervous shift of boots. Everyone pretending not to feel the pressure in the air—like something was about to crack.

Mark didn’t repeat himself.

He didn’t have to.

Because the next second, the console nearest him exploded. Shattered metal and sparks.

A handprint embedded in the wall behind it.

“You don’t get to move her,” he said, voice sharp as razors now. “You don’t get to touch her file. You don’t get to breathe near it.”

A senior director tried to speak. “Invincible—this decision came from—”

“Say that name again. Go ahead. Say it like it doesn’t mean something,” Mark interrupted. “Say that designation. I dare you.”

He took a step forward. The floor groaned under his boots. Not because of weight. But pressure. Because he wasn’t holding back anymore.

Because he was done playing soldier. Handler. Puppet on a leash.

He wasn’t Invincible here.

He was yours.

And they were trying to steal him from you.

They just didn’t know it yet.

The man tried again, slower this time. “You need to understand the optics. She’s compromised. She compromised you.”

Mark’s laugh was low. Joyless. A hollow thing cracked open in the dark.

“She didn’t compromise me,” he said.

“She saved me.”

He stepped in close.

Close enough that the lights flickered again.

“I was ready to kill a man for saying her name. And you think I’m going to let you erase her?”

The air pulsed. No one moved.

“Try it,” Mark whispered. “Try touching her file again. I will wipe your existence so clean no one will remember you were ever born.”

Silence.

Then, slowly, he leaned in. Veil brushing the shoulder of the man in charge. And in a voice made of smoke and control, he whispered his final words.

“She’s not the dangerous one… I am.”

── .✦

He left the room in ruin.

Half the lights were blown. Several systems fried. Three agents too shaken to speak. And when he disappeared from camera range, no one followed.

Because everyone knew where he was going.

Straight to you.

Because if they wanted to take you away—

They were going to have to kill him first.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ͙͘͡★⋆⭒˚.⋆

The window rattled before the door slammed open.

You were on your feet before your brain caught up—knife in hand, blade drawn, feet planted. No hesitation.

No fear.

And then you saw him.

Mark.

Standing in your apartment doorway like a storm that forgot where it was supposed to break.

Hair damp from the wind. Veil twisted, torn halfway up. Blood running in a thin, angry line down his throat—from the blade you were still holding to his neck.

You hadn’t even realized you’d moved that fast.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t stop. Didn’t speak.

He just stepped closer.

Closer, until your knife dug deeper, a warning meant to halt.

But he didn’t stop.

Instead, he leaned in—slow, steady, unshakable—and rested his forehead against yours.

He was trembling.

Not from pain.

From relief. From rage still clinging to the edges of his breath. From the panic you hadn’t seen on him before—not like this.

You lowered the knife, slowly.

Confused.

“Mark—” you started, voice too soft.

But his hand was already reaching for yours. Gripping it—not hard, not desperate, but anchoring. Like you were the last solid thing in a world gone sideways.

You didn’t pull away. Didn’t speak.

You just led him to the couch, never letting go.

He dropped onto it like his knees gave out—but still kept hold of your wrist.

You started to pull back—maybe to grab water, a towel, anything—

But his hand caught yours again. Tighter this time. And when he whispered, it was raw and cracked.

“Don’t go. Please.”

You didn’t.

You sat beside him.

Quiet. Still. Warm.

And for the first time in days, he exhaled.

Like the war ended. Like he finally made it home.

Like you were it.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ͙͘͡★⋆⭒˚.⋆

After that, things shifted between you two.

Not drastic. Not loud. Just enough to feel it.

A new gravity.

You joked more. He smiled more.

The air felt less like a battleground. More like a fuse, waiting. The silences weren’t sharp anymore—they held something warmer, heavier.

And when he touched you—guiding you around a corner, brushing against your arm during recon—you didn’t pull away.

Not once.

He still called you ’sweetheart.’

But now? You didn’t roll your eyes.

You answered him back—with something that sat halfway between sarcasm and a dare.

And Mark…

He took it.

Every word. Every smirk. Every sharp little comment that should’ve meant nothing—but didn’t.

You didn’t know how much it was driving him insane.

Or maybe you did. Maybe you saw the way his jaw clenched when you called him lover boy under your breath. The way his breath hitched when your hand lingered on his thigh for just a second too long in the drop ship.

You played with fire.

And he let you.

For a while.

── .✦

Until one night—

You were both heading back from an op. Low stakes. No injuries. Just exhaustion in your bones and grit in your teeth.

You made a comment—half-flirt, half-threat, maybe something about handcuffs.

You weren’t even trying to tease him. Not really.

But then—

He stopped.

Suddenly, you were pinned.

Like gravity finally decided to snap its fingers.

Your spine hit the wall with a soft thud.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. You just looked up at him.

Chin tilted. Breath steady. Like this wasn’t new. Like you weren’t caught off-guard—like your heart wasn’t hammering under your ribs like it was trying to tell on you.

Mark’s hand was beside your head, fingers curled against the concrete like he was keeping himself from touching you. His body was so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him—his chest rising and falling like every breath cost him.

His eyes dragged over your face—slow and dark and deliberate. From your mouth to your eyes, then back again.

“Say something smart now,” he murmured.

His voice was velvet laced with warning. And that was all the invitation you needed.

You didn’t smile—but the look in your eyes said enough.

“You always this worked up when someone flirts with you?” You tilted your head slightly, like it was an honest question.

“Or is it just me?”

Something flickered across his bare face—heat, restraint, hunger—and then disappeared again, smoothed out like it had never been there.

“It’s just you,” he said, voice lower now.

“Always you.”

You felt it then.

The slow shift. The quiet unraveling.

His knee brushed your leg—just barely—but it was enough to remind you he could close the space between you in half a second.

He didn’t.

You leaned in, just slightly. Testing him. Letting your lips part, gaze heavy as your voice dipped.

“You gonna kiss me, Mark?”

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

He tilted his head. Slowly. Deliberately.

The space between you collapsed inch by inch, your breath catching as his eyes dropped to your mouth, lingering like he was counting your heartbeats.

You leaned in, too.

Half a breath away.

The heat between your mouths? Maddening.

His lips barely parted—his hand flexed beside your face—and your eyes fluttered shut—

But he stepped back.

Just enough to break contact. Just enough to make it feel like a fucking cliff-drop.

You blinked—slow, disoriented, like a dream just dropped you.

And when your eyes met his again—steady, unreadable, calm as sin—he smiled.

“Not yet.”

His voice was silk. Smug. Dangerous.

“You like pushing? Good.” He stepped back fully, leaving your body cold where his heat had been. “Because now I’m going to push back.”

You stayed against the wall, breath shaky, throat tight, skin burning.

Mark turned and walked away like he hadn’t just wrecked the room with a look.

Like he didn’t know you were seconds away from grabbing him by the collar and pulling him back in.

And god, that’s exactly what he wanted.

Because now? He wasn’t going to touch you.

Not until you begged him to.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ͙͘͡★⋆⭒˚.⋆

It didn’t happen after a mission. It wasn’t triggered by adrenaline, or blood, or fury.

It happened on a quiet night.

No danger. No drama. Just you. Him. Silence.

The kind that didn’t feel sharp or heavy, but warm. Dense with everything neither of you had been saying.

You were sitting too close on the couch. Again.

Shoulders brushing. Fingers almost touching. Breaths syncing like they were conspiring against you.

The TV was on, volume low—some movie you’d both ignored since minute five. You weren’t looking at the screen.

You were looking at him.

And he was already looking at you.

── .✦

It didn’t start like a mistake.

It started slow. Desperate, but slow. Like two people who’d spent too long circling each other finally crashing in the middle.

You didn’t know who kissed who first—maybe it didn’t matter.

One moment you were breathing each other in, and the next, your mouths crashed together like you’d been starved.

Mark kissed like he fought—focused, consuming, always a little cocky. But there was something different this time.

Something fragile under all that control.

His hands didn’t grope—they cradled. His body didn’t press to dominate—it folded into yours like it belonged there.

And you let him.

Because right now, you didn’t want to be dangerous.

You wanted to be wanted.

You barely registered how you ended up on your back—couch creaking beneath you, clothes stripped away like memories he didn’t need anymore. His hands roamed like he was trying to memorize, to prove something. Not just to you—to himself. His mouth trailed heat down your throat, his hand sliding under your shirt like it belonged there.

Like he belonged there.

“You know how long I’ve waited to do this?” he murmured against your skin. “How many nights I had to stop myself?”

You didn’t answer. You just pulled him closer.

He growled—actually growled—and you could feel how hard he was already, grinding against you like he couldn’t stand the space between your bodies. Your clothes were in the way. Everything was in the way.

He kissed you harder.

Then slower. Then deeper. Like he had time to worship and ruin you all at once.

His mouth kissed down your stomach, slower than you expected. Watching you. Waiting. Not asking for permission. Just offering the space for you to stop him.

You didn’t.

You curled your fingers in his hair and impatiently pushed him lower.

When he finally got between your legs, he didn’t rush. No—Mark watched you. Settled between your thighs like he’d been dreaming of it. His hands curled around your knees, pressing them apart, and he groaned like the sight of you could end him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging his thumb over the wet spot in your panties. “Look at you.”

You burned under his gaze.

“Say it,” you rasped. “Say what you’re thinking.”

Mark didn’t hesitate. “I’m thinking I’m never gonna stop doing this.”

Then—his mouth was on you.

He took his time. He devoured. But gently—like worship, not conquest.

Every movement of his tongue against your panties was deliberate, controlled, cruel in its patience. He hummed against your core like it gave him oxygen. You arched off the couch, hand flying to his hair, and he moaned into you like he liked it. Like you were feeding some part of him he kept locked away.

And below, as his mouth worked you over—he was grinding into the cushion beneath him. Slow. Needy. Unapologetic. Desperate.

You felt it. The tension. The line he was walking between control and chaos.

It snapped when you said his name. “Mark—”

He tore your panties in half. His eyes didn’t even blink.

His tongue worked you open with slow strokes, teasing flicks, and just when your breath caught—then he gave you more. His fingers joined in, sliding deep and curling with impossible precision, like he already knew what would ruin you.

And ruin you, he did.

You didn’t mean to gasp. Didn’t mean to arch your back or claw at his shoulders or chant his name like it meant something more. But you did.

You shattered under him—legs shaking, hands trembling, the world breaking open as pleasure crashed through you like a flood. You didn’t expect the way your body reacted—too much, too fast.

And when it happened—really happened—when everything clenched and poured out of you, when you heard yourself cry out his name like it was sacred—

Mark groaned against you, loud, eyes fluttering shut. His hips bucked one final time against the couch.

And just like that… he came. Hard. Without you even touching him.

You blinked, dazed.

Tried to say something snarky, maybe smug. But all you could do was stare at him, lips parted, chest rising and falling like you were still mid-fall.

He hovered over you now, flushed, panting, eyes blown wide. His expression was something you’d never seen before—half in awe, half in love, and still burning with want.

And then he kissed you.

You tasted yourself on his tongue—hot, sweet, raw—and it made your stomach twist in a way no one ever had. You moaned into the kiss without meaning to, fisting the front of his shirt as if letting go would send you spiraling again. He whispered into your mouth between kisses.

“Filthy little goddess,” he breathed. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your hips rolled up against him, greedy now. Unspoken things passed between you—need, trust, maybe something scarier.

Then he was inside you. Slowly. Deeply. The stretch made your back arch, your breath catch, your hand reach for something—anything—to ground yourself. But he was already there.

Gripping your waist like you were breakable, kissing your jaw, your mouth, your throat as he filled you, inch by aching inch.

He cursed under his breath, voice ragged and worshipful. “God, you feel better than your panties ever did.”

You would’ve teased him. Called him insane. But you couldn’t. All you could do was whimper as he moved—slow, smooth, deep enough to bruise. He took his time. Let you feel every inch. Let you cling to him like he was the only thing that made sense.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned into your ear. “Made for this. For me.”

His thrusts started patient. Deep. His breath stuttering against your skin every time your body clenched around him. But he couldn’t hold back.

Not for long.

He gripped your hips and snapped into you—again and again—driving into you like he’d finally given up on pretending he could play it cool. You wrapped your legs around him. Let him have you. Let him ruin you.

And god, he did.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he panted. “You hear that? That’s you. That’s how wet you are for me.”

You couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe. He kissed you through it. Sloppy, possessive. Full of need. And when you came—tight and gasping—he whispered more, somewhere near your ear. Praise. Promises.

Worship disguised as filth.

And when it was over—when he shuddered inside you, spilling so much it left you dizzy, when he dropped his forehead to yours and held you like he’d never let go—

Silence. Just your breaths. Your heart. His weight against you. Real. Heavy. Home. Neither of you moved for a long moment. When you finally found your voice—raw and quiet—

“This doesn’t change anything,” you whispered, breathless. The words weren’t cold. Just scared. Just stubborn. Just you.

Mark didn’t argue. He just nodded. Kissed your collarbone.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

But between the way he held you, the way your fingers tangled in his hair, the way neither of you moved to let go—

Hadn’t it changed everything?

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

•. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˚₊‧⟡꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ⟡‧₊˚ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.•

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌Months later…

The apartment was warm with the kind of quiet that didn’t need to be filled. The living room was dim, lit only by the soft flicker of a paused screen and the lazy sprawl of citylight bleeding through half-closed blinds.

The couch sagged under both your weights—you were curled into one side of the couch, socks mismatched, hoodie too big, legs draped across Mark’s lap.

There were pizza crusts on the coffee table. A half-finished soda on the floor.

It was perfect. Stupidly, quietly, mundanely perfect.

And it made you itchy in a way you didn’t hate.

Mark reached for another slice without looking, eyes on the screen. “You’re not even watching this, are you?”

“I am,” you said, then paused. “Well, I was. I just blacked out for a few episodes.”

He snorted. “We’ve been watching this for three weeks.”

You shrugged, chewing. “I was distracted.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “By what?”

You side-eyed him over the crust. “Mostly your thighs.”

That earned a grin. “That’s fair.”

You glanced at him—barefoot, scruffed, hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed and never quite bothered to fix it—and smiled. Leaning back, you let your head drop against the cushion.

“Still can’t believe this is where we ended up.”

Mark didn’t look away from the screen. “What, the couch?”

“No. I mean… this,” you said, gesturing vaguely around the room. “Living together. Sharing pizza. Watching a show we’ve both pretended to like for five episodes.”

Mark didn’t answer. Just turned. Looked at you. Offended.

“You saying this is beneath you?”

You blinked. “What? No, I just—”

“You saying I’m not a good reward?”

You opened your mouth. “Mark—” But it was too late. He pounced.

“Mark—MARK—”

You shrieked—half-laughing, half-cursing—as your plate toppled, pizza slice flopping face-down on the carpet. Your back hit the cushions, his weight pressing down, hands braced beside your head. He was smirking. Infuriating.

You glared up at him, breathless.

“I dropped my pizza,” you hissed.

His grin widened. “You’re about to drop a lot more than that, sweetheart.”

“You’re an asshole,” you wheezed, pinned.

“You’re mine,” he said, nipping your jaw. “Big difference.”

And then he kissed you. Right there—on the couch, under the hum of a half-watched show and the sound of grease soaking into the rug.

You didn’t push him off. Didn’t want to.

Not when he kissed you like that. Not when you could still taste pepperoni on his mouth and feel his heartbeat against your ribs. Because this?

This was exactly where you wanted to end up.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌With Love, @alive-gh0st

[queenendless]

😷🤒Sick Day(Adult!SatoSugu x Sick!Fem!Reader)🤒😷

A/N: Yep this is part of that SatoSugu Teacher AU alongside Moving Day and Nights.

Also, announcement. I have smut writing fatigue after just putting out one and I'm down with a cold right now. So that vampire AU gang bang piece is happening next month. I'm so sorry for this yall. Thanks though to everyone who commented on that and helped me decide.

But I will hopefully be posting a JJK Halloween piece to make up for it. A headcannon/ imagined scenario where the JJK cast celebrate Halloween with my ideal fave pairings in couples costumes and such in this what if AU. And yas it gonna be SatoSugu x Fem or GN reader, idk on that part yet.

All credit for JJK and its characters goes to the madman that is Gege.

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope you enjoy!

Your throat feels raw.

Your nose feels stuffy.

And you kept coughing every few minutes.

You should have figured spotting a curse forming from a virus epidemic happening in the hotel across the street would pose a high ass risk of getting infected yourself.

But as a Window, it was your job, as life risking as it was.

The more people inside and around the building got infected, the Grade 4 grew closer to Grade 3. If it kept up, dozens upon hundreds would die.

"Ijichi-san. Disease curse. Transitioning from Grade 4 to Grade 3. Requesting sorcerer help here immediately." You struggled speaking over the phone as you kept coughing, dispatching the address to him, seeing the revolting curse grow in size as its toxic presence spilled, tripping as you tried keeping your distance.

Your head was pounding and you could barely focus as Ijichi-san panicked on his end.

"L/n-san!? L/N-SAN!"

In a moment of ailment, you dropped your phone, causing it to disconnect from the impact.

You were barely able to keep a grip on your phone or walk without faltering as you felt more drained with each passing moment. You blinked a lot as you tried staying alert, stumbling before collapsing against a parked empty vehicle on the street, sliding down to your bum just to rest your aching head against your knees, hugging your legs to your chest.

That curse's smogs began spreading down the streets, into traffic, and nearby occupied establishments.

Believing help wouldn't get here in time through the systematic process, you opted for your wild card, shakily picking up your now cracked screen device.

"Toru. Curse problem. Get here ASAP. Please." Texting the address in your feverish haste, you pressed send before curling in on yourself, welcoming sleep to rest your aching self.

In just under the next few minutes — more like moments — you felt a boom in the cursed energy atmosphere, that curse no longer being sensed. At last, it was done.

The shift from freezing metal to cozy soft fabric stirred you awake a bit. Along with the feel of solid warm arms draped around your shoulders and under your knees. Those big smooth hands squeezing your shoulder and your kneecap had you tugging weakly on the front of that top, pressing your face against your makeshift pillow, struggling to open your eyes as your hearing painted the picture for you in the meantime.

"A majority will spend weeks recuperating. The ones closest to the cause will spend months in the hospital at best. Still though, no casualties. Thank you for the help." High chances it was one of the many medics on site for post cleanup.

"You can thank the young woman here for that. She was the first responder, after all. I'll tend to her recovery myself. Sayonara." You know that voice right away, even when he was muffled, relaxing further in his hold.

"This cold isn't going away anytime soon. Too bad reversed cursed techniques don't make the common cold go away." Your half lidded eyes still had him swooning at how frail and precious you were in his arms.

You murmured, noticing him in his black long sleeved top, matching sweatpants, and face mask with the blindfold. "Blindfolded giant." That's when you realized a face mask was put on you as well, your muffled coughs hitting cloth.

You could already picture him beaming, grinning, as he laughed a bit.

"Correction. Your blindfolded giant, darling~ Now then, let's get you home."

°•○•°•○•°•○•°

Geto typing away on his computer, working on his latest reports.

Gojo straddling his lap, hugging him as he napped against his dear best friend slash hubbie.

The former smiling fondly at the motion before picking up where he left off was their situation before both men's phones began vibrating and ringing.

"Geto-san! L/n-san has reported a disease curse spotting! But she was cut off before I could get further details!"

"She just texted me the location." The sleepiness was wiped away, replaced with firm seriousness, as Gojo started getting off of him to get some shoes on.

"Ijichi-san, do not fret. Satoru will handle the curse." Geto calmly responded over the phone before speaking concerningly to his snowy-haired hubbie. "Toru, bring a face mask in case the affected area reaches where you land post teleport."

Said man smooched his hubbie in kind before slipping on the black face mask to match his current apparel. "Wait up for us, Sugu~"

Seeing you both back, teleporting into your home office, Suguru smooched Satoru the moment he took that face mask right off. Pressing the back of his palm against your forehead to double check for a fever, Suguru's dismay was warranted.

So being there when you awoke from your fever dream tucked in the middle of your guys' giant bed meant Suguru patting your now sweating forehead with a wet rag, you trembling from chills raking your skin followed by feeling warmer the next minute as you coughed into a tissue he handed to you.

"Well dearest, you've got yourself a nasty cold here." Suguru noted with a gray face mask on as well, seated by you on his side of the bed.

"Ah bah." Your raspy spat earned you a cough into your fist before you were offered a filled up water bottle by Satoru who was sitting behind you on his side; blindfold off but face mask back on.

"Welp, I exorcized the curse and brought your cute self back here. Plus I got that report to work on in your precious stead. So you're welcome." He gently ran his fingers through your hair to ease you in whatever way he could.

"Thank you Toru." You slowly sat up and were then handed some cold pills by Suguru to down some water with. "Thank you Sugu."

"Now that we've made our home Ground Zero, you are hereby confined to this room. Drink plenty of fluids. Take your medicine. Get lots of rest. Do you hear me, young lady?" Suguru's smart ass tone made you pout.

"Yes mom." You murmured raspy.

Satoru snorted behind his face mask to which Suguru whacked him in the shoulder across from him with narrowed eyes. "At least Megumi and the twins are living in the dorms now and Tsumiki was able to convince her classmate to stay at her place for a while. Meaning we three have the place to ourselves~"

"Does that mean … I have to sleep by myself?" You whimpered, cracking their resolve. "Neither the Gojo Geto bears, nor the Gojo Geto cats, not even the Gojo Geto giant round plushies can substitute for the real deal." You moped, pointing at said custom made toys lined up on the window seat on the far side of the room.

"Aww, Suguru, how can we deny our lovely sweetheart the company of her valiant handsome knights in the flesh, huh~!?" Satoru dramatized his own cries, muffled though.

Suguru sighed, consigning. "At least one of us should. Who else will be teaching the first years in the meantime?"

"Round robin, then? Last one left standing tends to that noble martyr and gets our dear sweetheart to be their own personal nurse in the end … huh …" That hum and those inquiring eyes could only bode mischief. "I volunteer Suguru to go first!"

"Not gonna happen, Satoru." He immediately denied.

"But to be fed by, bathed by and be doted on by our angel is heaven sent~!" Satoru gushed.

"Which is why you shouldn't be the only one getting that special treatment!" Suguru being jealous at possibly being left out on that.

"Hey!" Your strained shout ends in a coughing fit, curled up in bed, sniffling to which Suguru hands you a big enough tissue to blow your nose in. "I'm dying here."

"Hmm … Yu could fill in." Satoru suggested.

"He is working as a teaching aid part time. And he did say he could help out whenever we needed it." Suguru added.

"Plus Nanamin is on a business trip for the week~ He'll need something to do while waiting for his beloved's return~!" Satoru teased.

"That settles it then." Suguru was smirking behind that mask, you could just tell.

"How lucky you are, darling, to have the strongest duo be your own personal nurses~" Satoru was so smirking his ass off.

"Even though you'll literally get sick of me?" You shyly asked, squeezing your bottle, apprehensive.

"We have strong ass immune systems, Y/n. Comes with over a decade of immense training." Satoru prided on, kissing your flushed cheek.

"If we can risk ourselves in the face of death as sorcerers, this is nothing." Suguru assured, kissing your other flushed cheek. "I'll call Haibara."

"I'll start up a bath for us all. Thank you big ass bathtubs." Satoru clapped to that.

"What do I do?" Even when sick, tilting your head and batting those eyes made the duo smooch your lips at once.

"Just be a good little patient for us, alright, honey?" God that wink of Suguru's left you more hot than usual as he walked off to make that call.

"Besides, being sick with you means being granted a sick leave and getting paid for it! Ah, thank you, my darling sweetheart~!" Satoru did hug you, nuzzle his face in your hair, and left you a wheezing mess.

"Y - You're w - welcome!"

Well, on the bright side, at least you'll all be sick together.

Snuggled in bed, among discarded tissues, wrappers of cough drops, and smooshed in one big embrace of entangled limbs while binging nothing but sitcoms, movies, and anime.

You would eventually get better in a week's time then later tend to your two enamored, affectionate partners and get them back into tip top shape.

But until then, being in their cozy arms, sleeping smack dabbed in between them, that might as well be the key on your quick road to recovery.

The SatoSugu cure, indeed!

[nayaesworld]

Mafioso

Part 2

__

Warnings: violence, past mentions of domestic situations, fluff

Terry X OC!Marina

__

Terry had been experiencing true bliss the last month he had spent with Marina. She was intelligent beyond words and found ways to teach him something new everyday. Whether it was her place or his, they carved out time from their busy schedules to spend quality time to get to know one another. Friday had rolled around and Marina was currently napping on his plush couch snuggled up with a thick throw blanket.Hands together underneath her chin as she snored lightly. This had been their ritual. She’d end her work week and spend the weekend with Terry.

And they shared similar stories about how they had grown up. Her mother Zen was also a single mother who was in a large city all by herself and they both were an only child. She spoke of the day her mother had finally finished school and became a labor and delivery nurse, she wanted to welcome babies into the world for the rest of her career. Marina spoke of the day they celebrated and how much she looked up to her mother. And Terry loved his mother dearly as well, he had provided her with the luxury of never having to work again, a gift for her sacrifice as a mother. She knew what he did, what he had to do for them to survive and yet his most current life decision she did not agree with.

She’d heard Marina talking in the back of their phone call one day and was currently icing him out for it. Grace had called Terry everything but a child of god, and was hell bent on not letting him make this “mistake” again. He caught on eventually to what or rather who she was referring to… a past toxic relationship that had fizzled out almost three years ago now. Terry was whoring and running through Houston like an angry bull when he met Carmen. They argued, fucked, and fought on a repeat constantly, tearing through his house, her house, vehicles you name it they had an altercation there.But eventually like most relationships like theirs the shit got old fast and he was tired of his face looking like he had gotten into an altercation with a mountain lion.

But Carmen didn’t leave peacefully, no that wasn't her. She disrespected his mother and attempted to slander his name in the media. It was messy and the cleanup to attempt to scrub his name clean of her lies cost him a pretty penny. Last he had heard, she had successfully trapped some poor unfortunate soul…rather them than him.But Marina hadn't exhibited any of the signs that Carmen had early on in their relationship. She was about her money, had dreams and aspirations, and above all else she was genuinely happy about life. The only words that soothe this mother were future promises of actually getting to meet Marina, that would have to do for now.

__

Terry tossed his head back and squeezed a few drops of eye drops into his eyes. Sleep had evaded him again the night before and his eyes felt tired and dry. His body felt stiff and sore from jumping out of a moving car the day before. Some shit that had to be done. Another day of asserting dominance and knocking heads off, the usual. His hands gripped the bathroom vanity as he closed his eyes to allow the solution to soothe his eyes. He was zoned out and didn’t hear Marina walking toward him, her warm hand reaching out and lightly rubbing his forearm made him flinch and pop his eyes open quickly.

“Oh-oh Terry I’m sorry… were you crying?” Her eyebrows rose in worry and stepped into the bathroom with him.

“No sweetheart, it’s just eye drops… I swear. You nap like a house cat you know..I’m starting to think you only come over to use my couch.” Terry capped the eye solution and placed it in his medicine cabinet before resting a hand on her waist.

“If you did the same you wouldn’t need those drops boo, I take my beauty sleep seriously and you should start Mr.Night Owl and maybe you’ll get as pretty as me.” He placed a hand to his chest in feigned hurt and chuckled at her.

“Oh so I’m not pretty enough for you already?” The hand on her waist slid up to gently rub against her back.

“Mhmh you belong on the cover of vogue.. now shoo I have to empty my bladder.” She rushed a juicy kiss to his cheek before he left her to give some privacy padding across the house to his bedroom.

He let his tense body sink into the recliner in the corner of his room. Body relaxing and sinking further into the plush expensive chair, his eyes slowly rolling into his head.

“Terry…oh Smiley you actually are sleepy aren’t you…so I guess that means I can’t beg you to go to Target with me huh?” He listened to her walk closer to him until she stood next to him, eyes still closed.

He loved when she called him Smiley, the nickname she created because she said anytime he smiled or grinned even just a little all 32 of his teeth would show.

“I was gonna drag my mama with me, but she flaked on me to go wine tasting…Smiley I need to go pick up some makeup stuff for our date tomorrow, will you come with me?” She rubbed her hand over his head softly and he leaned further into her touch and rested his head against her belly.

He pulled her down into his lap and she sat sideways squealing at his quick reflexes. She had taken off her bonnet and her sleek silk pressed hair flowed past her shoulders sleek and shiny.

“Mm I love your hair Mari… so soft and long.” He ran his fingers through the course strands pleased by how the new style framed her face and made her even more irresistible. “So pretty…I’ll go with you just let me change ok?”

__

“Terry no..I am not driving this, are you crazy..What if I wreck it?��� Terry was in a fit of tears. He was currently trying to convince Marina to drive his BMW X6 to Target and she was not having it.

“Then I’ll just buy another one…remember what I showed you last time? Just put your foot on the gas and press the drive button right here.” He went over it again with her before she finally felt comfortable enough to back out of his driveway and head towards Target.

They stopped at Wendy’s after Marina got a craving for it a few minutes into the drive and she eagerly ordered them both large combos.

“Man just eat the burger, one burger won’t undo your six pack Smiley I promise.”

“You just got me breaking all my rules. Got me eating red meat and sweets…eating in my car. How you gonna pay me back for all this lack of discipline?”

“Will a kiss cover me for my bamboozling activity?” Terry gripped her chin and pulled her face close to his just close enough for the tips of their noses to touch.

Her dark eyes filled with mischief locked onto his…so tantalizing and expressive, even for him. She had a way with her eyes, and he always felt so bright and important when she looked at him. “A kiss will do just fine, pretty girl.”

He allowed her to lead the kiss, her plump lips pecking gently around his mouth trying to tempt his mouth open. He inevitably gave in, too eager to stroke and roll his tongue over hers. Heads cocked to the side Terry thrusted his tongue into her mouth lost in the feel of her soft cheek and tongue. It was so hot and warm and everytime they kissed he imagined the same feeling on the tip of his dick, pure ecstasy.

A knock to the passenger side window ceased their lip locking session and Terry groaned loudly. The ceramic tint on his windows had him mean mugging the man outside of his car. Motherfucking Scotty, a well known addict in the area that couldn’t be trusted. He would run his mouth to anybody that offered him a fix and for that reason alone Terry didn’t deal with him like everyone else did, and yet here he was In Terry’s face too damn close to the one new thing he was hiding from that part of his life— Marina.

Terry pulled the gold rim glasses from his face before looking over at Marina. “You know him?”

“I’ve seen him around town a few times.. he’s a good man that was dealt some bad cards in life. I help him out whenever I see him.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a crisp 50 dollar bill and rolled his window down with his back to Marina he was prepared to give a silent warning. He didn’t like being ambushed.

“Hey man you just love popping up on me huh..here’s a little something to send you on your way, stay out of trouble.” Terry sent the man a smile that didn’t meet his eyes before Scotty got the memo and thanked him before he headed back to sit in front of the restaurant. Nosey ass nigga.

“That was sweet Terry, you know your giving nature is one of my favorite things about you.” He met her gaze with a smile before bringing her hand up to his lips to press a kiss to it.

__

Target wasn’t as bad as Terry had anticipated, he had frequented the store maybe once or twice but now he was seeing the hype in it. Marina surprisingly only came for one little makeup product, something she apparently couldn’t live without a brow gel or whatever she had called it. He was enjoying her company nonetheless though, they had a date planned Saturday and he was more than looking forward to it.

“Can I get a hint on where we’re going at least.” She was at the island inside his kitchen, engorging herself on the creamy Alfredo and salmon he had made for them nimble fingers gripping the wine glass filled with moscato.

Terry wiped the white cheesy sauce from his mouth with a napkin before giving her his attention “I want you surprised sweetheart… so no hints unfortunately. Just wear that little red number you showed me today and you got it baby.”

“Aww you’re no fun Smiley… but at least your wine is good to make up for it.” She raised her glass towards his and the glasses clinked together.

“Mm you’ll love it, it’s right up your alley, now that’s all the info I can give you…you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow…how’s the new episode of your podcast coming along?”

“Ehh it’s going..I have two different subjects I wanna talk about but I’m having trouble narrowing it down. One is speaking to me more than the other one though.” Terry chewed and swallowed a piece of salmon repositioning himself on the stool.

“I’d go with the one you favor then…it’s likely that one is sticking to you more because you have great insight on it. Which you usually do on all your topics.” He grabbed their plates and dumped the remains into his trash can before loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “What’s the topic you're favoring?”

“It was more so a cocktail of things honestly, and it’ll probably be a really long episode. But it was drug abuse and the selling of drugs within our community.. and the obvious fucked up results of that on our youth and their futures.”

Terry felt his back tense up at her words before he relaxed himself. She had every right to talk about this and yet the topic couldn’t be any closer to home than it was. Here life was yet again trying to wave a red flag in his face, and it would be yet another ignored one.

“That’s a beautiful topic Mari..a really important one, I’ll be looking forward to hearing your points on it.”

Both tuckered out and tired from the day Terry headed towards one bathroom to shower and Marina headed to his other. His hands pressed firmly against the shower wall as the warm water cascaded over his sore muscles, his body called for plentiful hours of deep sleep. He was feeling deprived at this point but Marina brought him relief that sleep would come to him tonight peacefully and without the constant nightmares that haunted him. It was an attack on his mind and body that tossed him back and forth through REM sleep and deep sleep. Those souls he sought out and took came at a price, a mental one. Sometimes he wondered if he could actually ever shake the dead or if they wandered around him restlessly and unseen, waiting on their turn to torment him in the dreamworld.

He heard the tv in his bedroom switch on, an indication that somehow he was taking a longer shower than Marina had and that he was in his head longer than he had thought he was, he switched off the water before stepping out and wrapping his waist with a towel. Sleeping in bed with a woman that he had never had sexual relations with was new and he wouldn’t act as if he never thought about sex with her when she was around, because he did. Marina was fucking sexy. Her mind, her voice, her intelligence,her body..it was all a turn on for him but he was trying to do right by her, and that meant learning how to be intimate in more ways than sex.

Stepping out of his spacious walk-in closet fully clothed for bed he noticed the tv watching Marina as she laid against his pillows, remote still in hand. He accessed his smart home app from his phone and turned off his bedroom lights, weary body eager to sink into the cool mattress. She sought him out not long after he laid down, her bonnet clad head resting on his chest. He pulled her a little closer that night, her slow breathing and steady heartbeat lulling him into a deep slumber. A slumber where he met no angry souls or demons, only a warm light that encased him and drowned out the weariness.

__

“Only thing that’s saving Terry ohhh is the heart of Marinaaa.” Terry kept his left hand steady on the wheel as Marina held his right hand singing loudly into his ear as she currently butchered Summer Walker's newest single.Why he let her down those three shots of tequila he did not know. Either way it went he loved seeing her let loose, and she wasn’t particularly stuck or or anything he just rarely saw this side of her.

The red satin dress was made for her, and she was practically a magnet for his affection as they both got ready. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. Her soft plush thighs were exposed to him and when she dropped his hand he eagerly rubbed and kneaded them.

He couldn’t wait for her to see where they were going. He had called ahead days ago and made preparations at his restaurant; Stone Pier. It was best known for its plentiful surf and turf meal options, fun and fresh atmosphere, and elegant dining. He had planned a three course meal for them tonight over an intimate candlelit dinner.

It took no time to arrive and Marina’s confused expression was comical to him. The empty parking lot had to look absolutely insane from her point of view, but he needed her to trust the process. She sat still as Terry blindfolded her and waited patiently for him to help her out of his car. He opened the passenger side door grasping her head and slowly leading her into the building. He sat her down at the table and removed her blindfold. Pretty eyes adjusting to the low lighting in the establishment.

“Terry woww…this place is soo beautiful. I’ve passed by it so many times and never had the opportunity to check it out.”

“Well I own it so feel free to stop by whenever. I wanted this to be special, so I figured why not bring you someplace that was as special to me as you are.”

“Well you've definitely made a good impression, this place is amazing…is that a Malcom X quote over there on the wall?

“Mhm ‘A man who stands for nothing will fall for anything’ that’s one I keep with me everyday.” He watched her eyes drag all over the place soaking in one corner and the next.

“All the greenery in here..omg all the black history. Terry, this place is a true gem. Thank you for bringing me here Smiley.” They leaned forward and shared a kiss before Terry poured them both a glass of sweet red wine and signaled for his top chef to serve their first course and he and Marina indulged in more conversation.

__

The second course consisted of herb butter steak and lobster By their third course they were both full of food and wine. They shared a slice of decadent rum cake, savoring each bite of the moist cake. He watched Marina with lazy drunk eyes as she whined her waist slightly in her seat to Marvin Gaye’s ‘I Want You’. Pretty manicured fingers pointing in his direction with every lyric.

“You want me sweetheart.. give me a dance then. Show me.” He watched her confidently strut over to him and hold her hand out.

His long arms wrapped around her waist tightly, pulling her into his chest. His face nuzzled into her neck pecking at it lightly as they swayed under the glass roof, stars twinkling down at them in a dazzled fashion.

“I really like you Terry Richmond, I’ll admit that realistically I’m still a little nervous about this…but I’m learning to live in the moment and trust what I can see.”

“I really like you too Marina Evans. I’m trying my hardest to show up for you in ways that cater to you, my only hope is that in the end you choose me.” He twirled her around and held her back to his front holding her close.

They circled through a few more songs before they were ready to call it a night. He handed her his car keys to get inside while he locked up his restaurant. He shut down the dining lights and music before thanking his chef for being a huge help tonight. His phone vibrated on a repeat in his pocket and pulled it from the picket of his slacks, it was his cousin Semaj. Fuck. Semaj knew not to call him today yet he did, and that only meant one thing. Some bullshit had hit the fan, or it was going to.

[ -What’s the word man..I told you I couldn’t take no calls today about business.

[Scotty’s talking man, going around saying he been seeing you out with some girl..this shit could be a problem T. I told you that nigga was watching…he don’t just pop up.

[- If he been seeing me the whole time and I haven’t been seeing him.. it’s a chance he’s working with somebody… I thought that shit was weird earlier when he popped up but I couldn’t be too sure

[- Exactly, since when you know Scotty to be anywhere around this damn city besides the Southside… yeah something ain’t right T we need to get hands on him asap!

[- Never a day to fucking breathe around here shit.. I want you, Blue, and Prime with y’all motherfucking ears to the wind behind his ass. And don’t stop until yall find him.

[- Aight I’ll keep you posted every hour on the hour he can’t be far.

Terry ended the call and sighed heavily. He was pissed, fucking enraged. Somebody was snooping in his damn business and attempting to keep tabs on him like some coked out socialite. He wanted to regulate his temper before he was back in Marina’s grace but when he turned around he found a man talking closely to Marina through his passenger side window. His face scrunched up with confusion quickly as he made a quick walk over to his car.

“Hey my man… can I help you with something?” He had to look as agitated as he felt and the stupid expression on the man’s face was hard to ignore.

“Bro this car is fucking sick… I was just asking your girlfriend or you know whatever she is, what model this was, this has to be a custom paint job or something.” The man ran an open hand over the hood of Terry’s X6 irritating him even further.

“It’s not custom, it’s factory now get your hands off of my car and learn to admire some shit without touching it!”

“Are you kidding me man it’s just a fucking car, it’s probably rented anyways.” He sent a kick to his rear passenger door before attempting to walk away.

Terry couldn’t restrain himself anymore and he went flying at the disrespectful man. He snatched the man and turned him around to face him. How dare this man think he would walk up to him, disrespect his car and leave here unscathed.Balling the front of his shirt up Terry used it as leverage to send punch after punch to his face, he never even stood a chance against Terry.

“Terry..Terry.. wait please stop! Terry you’re gonna kill him..please.” Her helpless screeches reached his ears in a panic and Terry realized he had forgotten all about their date, his words to her. What did they really mean if he was going to beat somebody to a bloody pulp in front of her. With a menacing mug on his face he shoved the absolute waste of space to the ground and stepped over him like a patch of grass.

“Remember this ass whooping because next time I put my hands on you, they gone be singing and sending you off dressed in all black."

“Get in the car Marina…I’m ready to go.” He watched her eyes flash from the beaten man to him over and over, eyes clearly not believing the scene in front of her.

“Bu-but Terry he could die we have to call an ambulance..you can’t leave him like this please.” He shook his head no and watched a hand cover her mouth in an attempt to choke back tears.

“Get. In. The. Car. Marina..now.” She jumped at his tone before she hurried into the car, makeup smudged from the tears that came in a steady stream.

He whipped out of the parking lot quickly, headlights catching the woozy steps of the beaten man as he stumbled away.

“See he’s all good..Marina sweetheart what’s all these tears for hmm, I’m the one that got disrespected. Was I supposed to let him walk away after that shit?!” His raised voice boomed in the confined space of his vehicle and he watched her put space between them. Her body pressed into the passenger side door as she thumbed tears.

“Oh I see, I’m the bad guy now…he was all in your face by MY window touching on MY car, but you only feel bad for him…got it.” Terry gripped the steering wheel tightly and sped down the freeway. This night had turned for the fucking worse and even still he was trying to mince his words.

“Why are you yelling at me… you just assaulted someone in front of me Terry, and then you threatened to kill him. You keep speaking like I’m blaming you but I asked you to stop…to just please let him go..and yo-you just wouldn’t stop.”

“What I saw back there…that wasn’t the Terry or Smiley I’ve been getting to know…you didn’t even look like yourself back there, your face and eyes were just..I don’t know. I think I’m going to spend the rest of my days off at my own home.. I don’t even get you right now.” She continued on, and he was realizing each passing minute how royally he had fucked up.

“I fucked up Mari..I see that now. I realize that what I did back there scared you and if you think less of me after it that’ll be all on me, but I don't regret it.” Pulling into his drive way he shut off his car and rested his head against the headrest.

“You keep buckling down on what you did, but you said you would kill him. Terry, that's not something I can just ignore because he kicked your car, that’s not normal to blurt out after an altercation so small. You really hurt my feelings, and I have to think about me first.”

“Am I going to hear from you again..see you…touch you?” When he reached out to touch her she pulled away, her dark eyes turning to stare at him, analyzing what actually was in front of her. She shook her head and sighed to herself before opening the door, but Terry got up to help her out instead. She hesitated to give him her hand, but eventually she let him help her out.

He pulled her into a tight hug, fingers inching up slightly into her hair to tug lightly at it. The hairspray she used tickled his nose as he inhaled the scent of it. Her hands stayed at her sides and she made no attempt at returning the affection.

“I’m not sure Terry, I need time to think and process tonight. It was all going so well before that and I wanted to trust what you told me, but I need time.”

“A kiss goodbye then?” She looked up at him and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before attempting to walk away. Terry pulled her back and held her face in his hands, full lips sucking her bottom lip into his mouth as his teeth slowly nipped at it. He wanted to savor what was left of this night because she still looked oh so good, and he still wanted her. He got as far as suckling against her jaw before she put a hand to his chest severing the connection.

“Goodnight Terry” she walked away without a backwards glance and he watched her leave from his driveway until he couldn’t see her car anymore.

He had plans on winning her back, and hopefully gaining what little trust back she had in him from the get go. Terry was a resourceful man with every resource possible at his fingertips, this situation was a bump in the road. Some shit she wouldn’t even remember eventually. So he’d let her run away for the night, get her pretty little head together for a few days. Then he was gonna win her back, one day at a time.

__

A/N: I said 10pm yesterday and it’s going on 8am😭I hope yall enjoy this nonetheless!

@blackmoonchilee @zillasvilla @simplyzeeka @megamindsecretlair @uniqueoutlierblog @blackerthings @keehendrixx @ranikyani @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @tvchi @23jammy @henneseyhoe @theereina @ovohanna24 @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @keyaho @brattyfics @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

# Aaron pierre #rebel ridge #terry richmond #black!oc #terry richmond black oc

[redr0sewrites]

Ok i really liked your aftercare headcanon with Lucifer and i was wondered if could do same for Adam? cuz i pretty sure that this guy doesn't know that such thing exist lol

YESSSS!!!! i love putting adam in Situations™️ where he gets over his weird toxic masculinity bs for reader

🥀Cw: implied/mentioned sex, fluff, cleanup, soft adam

the first few times you and adam are intimate he definitely struggles with aftercare

your probably his first relationship in a while, and he's not good at pillow talk or anything soft post-sex

however, adam does want to try for you, and while he will be a little awkward at first, over time he gets the hang of it

once you two are finished adam will collapse besides you, pressing a kiss to your temple and cuddling close. you both stay like this for at least a few minutes before you get up to start cleaning

the first few times you guys had sex, adam would always ask where you were going/what you were doing and basically learned by watching you

adam would totally be the type to run you both a bath, filling it with soaps and watching the bubbles form

he's also not the type to get icked out by stains or fluids or anything like that, so he can also handle cleanup duty

while adam can clean and get everything situated, he doesn't want to. adam definitely prefers to just cuddle you and keep you close after sex, and after especially long nights, he'll be too fucked out to do much and will just hover close to you while you cleanup

honestly you don't mind, you see that he's trying and learning about proper aftercare is a slow but steady process

you see, aftercare builds a lot of trust, and is a way to undo anything harsh done during sex. adam was quite literally created to have sex and populate the earth, and he doesn't usually associate sex with comfort. aftercare becomes very important to him once he sees how important it is to you, and he genuinely wants to treat you with respect

once you both have been thoroughly washed and the bed has been cleaned, adam is practicing attatched to you. he's clinging to you like theres no tomorrow, and most of the time he won't even give a reason (but deep down it's because he's a little afraid you'll just get up and leave)

adam loves when you praise him during aftercare and adores hearing you talk about all the things you enjoyed about the night. everything he did right, what makes you feel good, etc. he also wants input about what you may not have liked, adam wants to pleasure you as best as possible and during aftercare is when he's more willing to discuss your do's and don'ts of sex

you and adam definitely had a pre-sex conversation about kinks and safewords and all those important things, but during aftercare is when he's much more open about stuff that may be more embarrassing to admit outside of the soft, post-orgasmic haze that fills his mind during aftercare

adam adores admiring you and your body during aftercare. he loves seeing the marks he left on you, and will memorize every curve and crease of your body. adam actually enjoys nonsexual nudity during aftercare as it gives him an excuse to hold your bare body close to him

as previously mentioned, adam loves when you praise his performance during sex, but he also definitely enjoys it when you praise his body as well- it definitely raises his ego

adam also doles out his fair share of praise, and makes sure you know how much he enjoys being witb you intimately

ADAM LOVES WHEN YOU WEAR HIS CLOTHES DURING AFTERCARE TOO. you throw on one of his oversized band shirts because you're too tired to get into real pajamas? he's tackling you in a hug and engulfing you in cuddles on the spot

adam, surprisingly enough, gives pretty good massages. his hands are literally huge and very skilled (get ur mind out of the gutter ik what yall r thinking) which comes to use a lot during aftercare and massages.

his voice also gets a lot huskier after sex, kinda like morning voice, he's just much more tired and relaxed. if you ask him to, adam may be willing to sing to you as you drift to sleep, but don't you DARE mention it outside of the bedroom or he'll turn bright red and deny it

adam's chest heaved as he collapsed besides you on the bed, the mattress shifting you towards him as the cushion adjusted to the additional weight. "adam," you murmur, gently running your hand through his hair as he nuzzles into your chest. "you okay? was i too rough t'night?" adam chuckles, his voice low and raspy as he replies, "nah, you were fine. what about me, was i too hard on you? how d'you feel, doll?" adams voice slurs slightly as he presses a few kisses to your collarbone, his short beard tickling you and causing you to giggle. adam looked up at you, hearts practically forming in his eyes as he watched your face crinkle in amusement at his tussled hair and sleep mussed expression.

"im okay, maybe a little sore," you reply, and adam shoots you a cheesy wink. you give him a light slap on the shoulder before turning to wriggle out of his grasp, much to your lovers dismay. "where'r you headed?" adam pouts, looking up at you with furrowed brows. "i am going to go start cleaning," you reply, moving to get out of bed. adam grumbles, but follows suit, rolling out of bed and following you to the bathroom. you can't help but smile as you watch him nonchalantly begin to start setting up the bathtub, turning on the running water and getting out towels for the both of you. you quickly replace the bedding of your shared mattress and put the dirty sheets in the wash for you to deal with in the morning. once you returned to the bathroom, a pleasant steam had filled the room and adam was placing bath bombs into the tub. "i figured we could make it fancy", he mumbled, turning away as you smirked. "it's NOT like i like them or anything, its just stupid bubbles..." adam huffs and you giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek before getting into the tub. adam sighs, grumbling as he joins you. "y'know i love you, right?" you whisper, moving to sit with your back to his chest. " 'course. i love ya too, toots,"

i love him i love him i love him i love him sm- i really love soft adam even if it's slightly ooc i feel like if he was with someone he really trusted enough to let his guard down with he could be a total sweetheart. it would take time ofc, but i genuinely don't think he's a horrible person at heart (im delulu :)

[ooblegoodle]

Everything Sucks Timeline Document, dated April 21 2019

Key

❓ Subject to change

⭐ Pivotal event

Volume 1

Noctober 5th, 6016 - Wednesday

Barry is admitted to the hospital. ⭐

Barry receives his first treatment.

Barry, Uni, Caroline, Hemera, and Jay all escape and intrude on the Noctober music festival. ⭐

The patients are returned to the hospital.

Volume 2

Noctober 19th, 6016 - Wednesday

Cleanup day

The patients escape to the City dump and encounter escaped patients.

Funfetti and Puppy head to the dump.

The patients, including former ones, are all captured.

Pepper is left behind. ⭐

Volume 3

Noctober 21st, 6016 - Friday

Biannual hospital inspection

Barry meets all the patients.

The health inspectors and social workers determine the hospital to be safe.

Bright T. Howtlook promises to help out the patients somehow. ⭐

Volume 4

B plot

Ovember 8th, 6016 - Tuesday

Yearly talent show

Uni brings her puppet to life and it wreaks havoc on the hospital.

The puppets are contained and de-magicfied.

A plot

Ovember 8th, 6016 - Tuesday

Alex is in the hospital after a suicide attempt. The doctor recommends that he be transferred to Sparklecare but Dodge disagrees based upon the events of the festival. Jay's mom overhears and says it was a good decision.

Nurse Fortune takes them to the AB and introduces them to everyone. They have a meeting without Tilly.

Volume 5

Jecember 11th, 6016 - Sunday

Amber, Shirley and Ivy arrive at the CCT police station and ask about their son. They meet Fuzzy on the way out.

Fuzzy takes them to Barry's dorm and they then proceed to Wedoncare.

Charles directs Barry's family and Fuzzy to the AB headquarters.

Fuzzy reaches out to Brigh, and they devise a plan to contact the patients.

Volume 6

Bebruary 18th, 6017 - Saturday

Brigh delivers a pamphlet to the hospital that contains a link to the AB site. From there, Jay and Tilly get into contact.⭐

Jay and Tilly start working on plans.

Bebruary 19th, 6017 - Sunday

Evidence begins being collected.

Bebruary 27th, 6017 - Monday ❓

Lee dies. ❓

Bebruary 28th - Arch 15th

Other minor patients die. ❓

Cuddles is grooming Uni. ❓

Volume 7

Mapril 4th, 6017 - Tuesday

Hemera compiles all their collected evidence onto a phone. It takes several days.

Mapril 8th, 6017 - Saturday

Evidence is finished compiling.

They set up the groundwork for the escape plan to deliver the evidence to the AB. ⭐

Mapril 10th, 6017 - Monday

Delivery day

Uni tells the plan to Cuddles.

Hemera and Miley die delivering the evidence. ⭐

Volume 8

Saugust 6th, 6013

Uni is frequently throwing up after experiments from Cuddles.

Ame confronts Cuddles.

Ame attempts escaping with Uni, but ultimately dies.

Uni attempts suicide. ⭐

Volume 9

Mapril 10th, 6017 - Monday

Uni attempts again, breaking off her horn. Mood saves her life.

Mood goes and tries to kill Cuddles, but he ends up killing her.

The evidence reaches the AB, and they start organizing the police report. ⭐

Volume 10

Mapril 11th - Mapril 15th

Doom is frantically searching for Mood. Cuddles says he has her locked up somewhere.

Uni goes missing.

Mapril 16th, 6017 - Sunday

Tilly hacks into the security system and the patients go into the security office with Rem. They see Cuddles going into an underground room through a cafeteria door. The patients go down there.

Tilly and Aidan drive to the hospital after losing contact with the patients. They find everyone locked up and with Cuddles.

Cuddles unveils TPP to them, and has it kill Aidan and Chip. ⭐

He tries talking Uni into suicide, but fails. The patients break out.

Volume 11

Uni and Barry get out of the building and go to the police station and get arrested.

The AB contacts social media influencer Dane Shaw Skin, who makes the hospital go viral. The police finally listen and are on their way.

Doom sets the hospital on fire from the top floor and orders Cuddles to get everyone out. Cuddles ends up killing him and throwing him in the fire. ⭐

Patients and staff are scrambling to get out.

Toxic fumes start leaking into the air.

Volume 12

The patients all get out.

The hospital fire is contained by the fire department, but it burns to the ground.

Staff, including Cuddles, are all arrested.

Patients are reunited with their families.

[darksturnioloqueen]

Sadistic!Matt x Tampon

(I promise I won't make a habit of A/N but this chapter I'm calling Author's Choice - This is my FAV.)

**This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of Sadism.**

Sadistic (Sadism - The Act Of Being Sadistic)

Deriving (getting) pleasure from inflicting (causing) pain, suffering, or humiliation on others.

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

⚠︎Trigger Warning: okay so we are unpacking this.... period (in the menstruation kind), mention of pregnancy scare, tampon talk, period pain, cramps, tears from period stress, Sadistic!Matt using his key, toxic thoughts?, excitement at pain, asking for period sex, pain kink, Hematolagnia - sexual fetish for blood, slightly pressured into period sex with facts from google, reminiscing Sadistic!Matt x Knife, mention of scars, Mention of shy!Sadistic!Matt and void!Sadistic!Matt, (my new variation/ creation MOST TRIGGERING to me) needy!Sadistic!Matt, pussy kissing, tampon pulling, passionately kissing, manipulation, learning Sadistic!Matt's weakness, embarrassment, blood sucking tasting licking, deep fingering, mention of feelings (INTRODUCING: needy!Sadistic!Matt), bloody orgasm, single emotional tear, literally the last sentence. ⚠︎

It was time. It was a long time coming. In fact, it was late, which only scared the fuck out of you. Matt and you have been fucking all the time, and not once do you recall ever having him put any form of protection on. You knew you were clean, but the scarier thought you had: you were not on any birth control. You stressed after realizing just how late you really were. And that stress only delayed the inevitable longer. But finally, you were sitting on the cold ceramic toilet in tears because you were relieved. It was that time of the month. The time of the month you got your answer about whether you were pregnant or not. The consensus— not pregnant. You couldn't recall a time you were this excited to have gone to pee and found out it was time for you to make frequent bathroom runs to change a tampon or pad. But here you were, in tears, probably from your emotions being imbalanced, relieved.

After taking several minutes to compose yourself mentally, do your cleanup, put a cotton cork up yourself, and get into comfy clothes, you flop onto your bed and cover-up. You knew Matt could see you if he wanted to. You wondered if he could tell something was different about you. You smiled to yourself. You always had this weird tendency to make him sound like something completely the opposite of who he was. He was just a sadist, yet your mind couldn't help but compare him to a bloodhound, among other things. You had given him the key in hopes he would use it to come over more, but he had been coming over less to your surprise. You assumed he liked the thrill of coming over unannounced, which you enjoyed yourself.

You lay in bed feeling the dull pain intensifying. Since your period was late, it was going to be a rough one. You mustered the strength to move your legs off the bed and enter the kitchen. You grabbed a water bottle and filled it with hot water. Inching back into your room, you sulked under the covers and carefully hugged the bottle in a ball. Your uterus felt like it was being ripped completely out. "Ugh." You groaned out loud. You heard your laptop ping from across the room. Your eyes welled up with tears. The pain was just too much to even think about checking it. The water bottle was starting to ease the pain enough for you to close your eyes and drift off.

Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping

"Mhmm." You mumbled, rolling over. Your eyes opened slightly until you caught a glimpse of someone in your computer chair. They opened wider immediately. "Matt?" You said softly.

"You were ignoring me." He said dryly, looking directly at you.

"I was asleep." You winced from the pain returning. The water bottle was now cold and useless.

"I saw." The side of his mouth curled up a little.

"How long have -"

"Three hours." He didn't even blink. He said it as if he didn't care how weird it might sound. He knew there was something about you he could trust with certain things. He knew even if you didn't entirely like how he was, you understood and tried to dismiss the weirdness when it happened to show.

"You could have woken me up," you smiled, but your smile contorted when you moved to sit up.

"Did you cheat on me?" Your eyes widened a little at his question. His voice changed to be void in an instant. It was terrifying how fast it could go from calm to irrationally cold.

"No, why would -"

"You were ignoring me, and you can't move." His gaze searched all over you for an answer, indicating that you would be lying.

"No. I wouldn't cheat on you." You could tell he was upset when he interrupted you. He usually wasn't one to speak a lot, but he was quick to the point when he had something to say or ask. "I'm just in pain." You were a little embarrassed to tell him you were on your period. It's not that you thought he would be childish and find it gross or anything but more just that fact you couldn't fuck like he probably wanted to do. Assuming that was the reason he came over.

"Pain?" His eyes gleamed. His voice sounded intrigued. You rolled your eyes and giggled. For a minute, you almost forgot pain was his little kink. Matt's body heat started to rise.

"Yes, I'm on my... I started my..." You didn't want to say it. Matt nodded understanding. You saw his body language change. He was sitting a little straighter, and his face still looked excited. He was fighting the urge not to just jump on you and take you with or without permission, though he knew you would be okay with either.

"Can we fuck?" He asked. This took you by surprise. Not only was he wanting to fuck you while you were on your period, but he asked. That was the most out-of-character thing for him to do.

"No, I'm on my period." You shot out fully rejecting him. He licked his lips. His eyes were staring at you, completely glossed over. Matt stood up to relieve the pressure in his pants from his ever-growing cock.

"I know." He looked hungry. Your head fell to one side.

"What?" You were confused. Matt never seemed like the type to be afraid of a bit of blood, but his behavior was different from what you would have expected, something you hadn't seen before.

"Pet." He sighed. Matt knew the only way to get you to accept was if he shared something with you. He didn't like the idea of you learning things about him but he knew this particular situation warranted give and take. "Do you know what..." He took in a breath before continuing. "Do you know what hematolagnia is?" His eyes stayed dead-locked on yours. You were thinking about it for a moment. You decided before saying something wrong and sounded stupid that you'd rather have him tell you. Also, you noted he was opening up to you, and you liked the idea of that.

You shook your head side to side slowly. "Hematolagnia is a sexual fetish for blood." He licked his lips as the word left his tongue. "It sexually arouses the fetishists when their partner is bloody." You noticed he started to look amorous to the point of discomfort. "It has anything to do with blood. Licking," he licked his lips again. "Drinking blood through bloodletting or biting." His head rolled back. You looked down at his waist to see how turned on he truly was.

"Oh." You whispered. You weren't afraid. Not in the slightest. You were intrigued. Matt having a sexual fetish for blood only made sense. Blood can come from pain, and the second time he bought you, he asked to cut you. Your finger involuntarily traced over the tiny scar you now had on your chest in remembrance. You didn't mind the scar. It was a constant reminder of Matt that night. The way he owned your body was erotic, and it was the night you realized you needed to know him more. Sitting in your room now, you got your wish.

Your excitement was ruined by a pang of pain in your lower abdomen. You lurched and grabbed it. Matt felt his dick twitch. He didn't feel bad for you; he wanted to be in you. "Whew." He let out a draw of breath, watching you hurt.

"I don't think I can. It hurts too much." You scrunched your nose. You were afraid he would only make it hurt more.

"Sex is a natural pain reliever." Matt sat on the bed next to you. He looked like he was about to drool over this situation.

"That's a myth." You giggled. You were enjoying teasing him. Seeing him this excited about you was fun. It also helped to put your newfound insecurities at ease. Matt whipped out his phone and typed furiously. "Wha—" he handed you his phone without speaking. Pulled up was his Google search.

Is sex a natural pain reliever?

Yes, sexual activity, particularly orgasm, can act as a natural pain reliever due to the release of endorphins, which are the body's natural painkillers.

Google wasn't always the truth, but this actually made sense to you slightly. You felt weird holding his phone, so you handed it back. He looked you in the eyes inches from your face. The next thing he said was the thing that made your heart melt. "Please." He begged. He wanted this more than anything. He did come over expecting you to be gone cheating or ignoring him for some reason or another. What he found out was much better.

You smiled and nodded. Matt wasted no time standing up and taking off his pants. The tip of his dick was already swollen red, as if he had been edged this whole time. You jumped when he ripped the blanket completely off you and your bed. He needed to be able to see everything.

"Easy... I've never -"

"Don't worry. I got you." You were taken aback by this Matt. This wasn't the normal Matt you were used to. This Matt wasn't shy or timid, void or angry; he was needy—needy but sweet. His fingertips glided down your sides until they hooked your cozy pajama bottoms. You watched as he kept sliding down, making sure to take the fabric with him. You watched his eyes narrow in on your tampon string. You weren't weirded out. If this were anyone else, maybe you would have been, but your sadistic Matt loving blood made so much sense to you.

He rested his hands on your knees and opened them more. His touches were not rough. He licked his lips and put his head in between your legs. His lips kissed directly on you and you let out a little whimper. His tongue swirled the tampon string to be in between his teeth. Once he had a grip on it, he started tugging it out of you. You felt the pressure from the fully expanded piece of cotton exiting your hole. Matt grabbed it in his fingers. You watched him unsure of his next actions. There were so many different things he could do with your blood, you watched in anticipation.

"I wanna taste you." He licked his lips again. You noticed he was doing that more and more since he mentioned blood the first time.

"As in..." Your eyes flicked to the red-soaked tampon in his hand then back at him. He nodded. "I don't really want that on my mouth." You knew if he got blood on his lips you weren't going to be comfortable kissing him.

"Here." He came up to you and started kissing you passionately—more passionately than the time he made love to you—or his version of that, anyway. You molded into his kiss and moaned. "Better?" He winked. You grinned. You thought about it, and you finally cracked Matt's secret vulnerability. You could manipulate him with his weakness—blood.

"More." You didn't ask. You demanded. You wanted to test your theory. You knew he was easy to manipulate during sex, but if blood gave you an upper hand, you might be able to get more out of your relationship with him than you thought you were ever going to. He didn't hesitate. He slammed his lips to yours and gave you a sloppy rushed kiss this time. You could feel how wet his mouth was waiting to taste you. You giggled out of this kiss, your suspicions confirmed. "Okay. Okay." You pushed him back down. You covered your face with your hands feeling embarrassed he wanted you bad like this.

Matt had done blood play with a few people in the past. But they were too light. No cutting, no drinking it, one girl wanted to use fake blood from a prop store. But he knew if anyone would let him truly indulge his hematolagnia, there would be no one better than you.

He set the cotton tampon on his tongue and sucked on it like a piece of candy. His tongue tasted the strong iron as it slipped down his throat. After two sucks, it was empty of the blood he desired. He tossed the pink tampon on the floor and looked at you. You were watching him through your fingers. Your cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. You had never been this wanted or desired before. You never thought you would enjoy watching someone drink your menstrual blood, but Matt could do anything, and you'd find something about it attractive.

"More." You opened your legs. His eyes darted to look at your wet folds. He saw a little bit of dark red ready to spill out. Almost like a vampire, he dove down in between your legs and licked a strip through you. "Fuck." You moaned and looked up at the ceiling, completely focused on the feeling. He immediately sucked on you.

You reached up and grabbed your white metal headboard pole. "Oh my god." You let out. His hands held your knees, their grip getting a little tighter than before. Matt kept licking you, trying to get more liquid ichor out of you. You looked down as soon as you felt the pleasure stop abruptly. Matt's head was no longer buried in your thighs. He was up on his knees, cock in his hand, stroking himself. His lips and cheek were smeared pink.

"I need to go deeper." He licked you off of his lips.

"Ho- how?" You just wanted more pleasure from him. You didn't care how you got it. Matt tongued his cheek with a grin hiding behind it. He held up his pointer and middle finger and wiggled them slightly. "Fucking please." You begged. He stopped tugging on his penis to put his hand down on the bed for leverage. His other hand plunged two fingers inside you. You were well lubricated from arousal, but Matt's saliva inside and on top of you only added more. "Ugh." You breathed out. Your walls were tighter from cramping, causing you to feel exactly where his fingertips were gliding. He was deep. Deeper than you thought his fingers could go.

"Pet?" His tone was questioning, so you tilted your head to look at him. His head was lifted to look toward you instead of at his hand pumping blood out of you.

"Matt?" you asked, wincing a little. It wasn't pain—none of this was. He was right, and Google was right; arousal was a natural pain reliever.

"I need you." His eyes were a different kind of blue. They were soft. Nothing about this Matt was rough. This was your Matt.

"I love you." You wanted to affirm him. You weren't afraid of your feelings for him. You were hardly afraid of him in general. He immediately started curling his fingers while pulling them out, only to push them in again. You felt a different kind of build-up in your uterus. "Cuming." You mumbled. Matt continued. Your legs were shaking, pushing you to the precipice of your orgasm. "Matt!" You practically screamed out, arching your back. Matt was quick to dive his head back down. He wanted to taste your blood, your cum, your essence. You were one of a kind to him. You were his.

As his mouth slurped up your intrinsic flavor, your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his fluffy brown hair. Typically, he denied or redirected this type of touch from you, but this time, you not only got away with it, but his non-bloody hand reached up and interlocked his fingers with yours. He pushed both of your hands on his head, moving deeper into you. "Mhhmmm." He hummed, vibrating your dripping lips with his. Once his hand let off, you knew he was finished.

He was on his knees, resting back on his heels. Your legs convulsed in front of him, showing him the control he had over you. You wanted to speak, but you felt like the wind was knocked out of your lungs. He sat there staring at you. His eyes darted from one body part to the next until he settled on locking with your eyes.

"Did - Did you get it all?" You asked as a joke. He grinned, finding your humor charming this time.

"Not yet." He raised his right hand and slowly started sucking the blood off of his fingers. You gaped at him. Your mouth was open slightly, your breathing still heavy. You knew you loved Matt. You were absolutely sure of it. What you weren't ready for was falling in love with him. As you watched him use his thumb to scrape across his bottom lip to capture the last drop of you, you felt a tiny tear slip out of the corner of your eyes. Small enough that Matt wouldn't notice it.

You had fallen in love with Matt—Sadistic Matt.

[femenaces]

The Environmental Protection Agency plans to eliminate its scientific research arm, firing as many as 1,155 chemists, biologists, toxicologists and other scientists, according to documents reviewed by Democrats on the House Committee on Science, Space and Technology.

The strategy is part of large-scale layoffs, known as a “reduction in force,” being planned by the Trump administration, which is intent on shrinking the federal work force. Lee Zeldin, the administrator of the E.P.A., has said he wants to eliminate 65 percent of the agency’s budget. That would be a drastic reduction — one that experts said could hamper clean water and wastewater improvements, air quality monitoring, the cleanup of toxic industrial sites, and other parts of the agency’s mission.

The E.P.A.’s plan, which was presented to White House officials on Friday for review, calls for dissolving the agency’s largest department, the Office of Research and Development, and purging up to 75 percent of the people who work there.

The remaining staff members would be placed elsewhere within the E.P.A. “to provide increased oversight and align with administration priorities,” according to the language shared with The New York Times by staff members who work for Democrats on the House science committee.

Molly Vaseliou, a spokeswoman for the E.P.A., said in a statement that the agency “is taking exciting steps as we enter the next phase of organizational improvements” and stressed that changes had not been finalized.

“We are committed to enhancing our ability to deliver clean air, water and land for all Americans,” she said, adding, “While no decisions have been made yet, we are actively listening to employees at all levels to gather ideas on how to increase efficiency and ensure the E.P.A. is as up to date and effective as ever.”

Representative Zoe Lofgren, Democrat of California, said that the Office of Research and Development was created by congressional statute and that dissolving it would be illegal.

Representative Zoe Lofgren of California, the top Democrat on the science committee, said that without the Office of Research and Development, the E.P.A. would not be able to meet its legal obligation to use the “best available science” when writing regulations and considering policy. She also said that the office was created by congressional statute and that dissolving it would be illegal.

“Every decision E.P.A. makes must be in furtherance of protecting human health and the environment, and that just can’t happen if you gut E.P.A. science,” Ms. Lofgren said in a statement. She said that the first Trump administration had weakened the agency’s scientific research in order to relax regulations against polluting industries. “Now this is their attempt to kill it for good,” she said.

The E.P.A.’s science office provides the independent research that undergirds virtually all of the agency’s environmental policies, from analyzing the risks of “forever chemicals” in drinking water to determining the best way to reduce fine particle pollution in the atmosphere. It has researched synthetic playground material made from discarded tires; found that hydraulic fracturing, or fracking, can contaminate drinking water; and measured the impact of wildfire smoke on public health. The office also helps state environmental agencies figure out how to address algae blooms, treat drinking water and more.

Its findings tend to support stronger regulations to protect against exposure to air pollution, hazardous chemicals and climate change. And that has made it a target of many industries. Eliminating the office would serve the Trump administration’s dual goals of reducing the size of government while potentially easing the regulation of the chemical and fossil fuel industries.

The science office was also criticized by Project 2025, a blueprint for overhauling the federal government that was produced by the Heritage Foundation and written by many who are serving in the Trump administration.

The chapter on the E.P.A. accuses the science office of being “precautionary, bloated, unaccountable, closed, outcome-driven, hostile to public and legislative input, and inclined to pursue political rather than purely scientific goals.”

It calls for eliminating programs within the science office, in particular the Integrated Risk Information System, which evaluates the human health effects of exposure to toxic chemicals and uses that information to form the basis for restrictions on their use. Industries regulated by the E.P.A. often push back against that research. A bill introduced by Senator John Kennedy, Republican of Louisiana, and backed by industry groups seeks to prevent the E.P.A. from using the research.

“It is an assault on science,” said Jennifer Orme-Zavaleta, who ran the E.P.A. office under the first Trump administration.

Lee Zeldin, the administrator of the E.P.A., in Altadena, Calif., last month. He has said he wants to eliminate 65 percent of the E.P.A.’s budget.

Shuttering the office would cost jobs across the country, particularly in places like North Carolina and Ada, Okla., two of the places where the agency operates major research labs, she said. In addition to chemists and biologists, the science office also employs physicians, nurses, hydrologists and experts who focus on plants, soils and wetlands.

Chris Frey, who led the Office of Research and Development under the Biden administration, said eliminating it would create a vacuum that would allow an administration to impose any policies it wanted to.

“It’s certainly convenient for certain stakeholders to have O.R.D. silenced,” Mr. Frey said.

The American Chemistry Council, which represents chemical manufacturers, said in a statement that it supported the E.P.A.’s having the “resources, technical staff and subject matter expertise needed for the agency to meet its statutory requirements.”

More than 40 former E.P.A. officials who served in Republican and Democratic administrations plan to send a letter on Tuesday to Mr. Zeldin warning that steep cuts will render the agency unable to meet its mission.

“Policy changes are to be expected from one administration to the next, but not the dismantling of E.P.A.,” the officials wrote in the letter, a copy of which was obtained by The Times. “If the administration does not agree with the laws Congress has passed and the programs it has funded, it should work with Congress to seek changes, not unilaterally and recklessly freeze, delay or eliminate funding.”

[parallel--parallel]

I was trying to stay out of this discourse because usually fandom chooses to believe what they want to believe no matter what, but it doesn’t feel fair if I sit this out anymore as so much plainly wrong or misleading information is going around

If Joss following Trump means he supports him, does Joss following Biden (and Obama, and a whole lot of Thai progressive politicians) means he supports them too?

He made a cleanup now and unfollowed all politics as well as many non-controversial accounts, but my point stands. His follow list was much more mixed and diverse than people want to admit

About Tate, he unfollowed him YEARS ago. It’s a valid question to ask “why he followed him in the first place”, and here’s why: Before Tate became known as the trafficker piece of sh*t, he was a famous boxer. Back then Joss was into boxing himself and he literally followed every boxer ever

He still follows some boxers including Talbott who is ANTI-Tate and is vocal against toxic masculinity

Another thing, if Joss really was a raging MAGAt, would he be close friends with Luke who is strongly against Trump and right-wingers? Luke even follows AOC (for those not familiar with American politics, AOC is MORE left-wing and progressive than Kamala Harris)

And Gawin, bless his hermit soul, he rarely promotes himself, let alone politics. His sister tho, she posted ANTI-Trump memes on igs comparing Trump to Joffrey from Game of thrones and she follows ANTI-Trump commentators like thedailyshow with Jon Stewart

Then there’s p’Jojo who loves working with Joss and now p’Ark, I’ll just leave this here

I know all this because I follow leftist politicians on Instagram and I also follow GMM actors, directors and some of their friends and family so I see when someone follows politicians

Another thing, I noticed that Joss doesn’t even hang out with problematic GMM-tv actors and those who have shared bigoted views in the past. Closest people around Joss in that company seem to have left-leaning views, and obviously it doesn’t necessarily mean he has them too, I’m just saying, he being fr a MAGA and a bigot seems unlikely to me. He could be a normie centrist, or someone who finds craziness and stupidity of American right amusing (he didn't follow any Thai right-wingers and weirdos) but nothing more than that in my honest opinion. If out of 1285 accounts he follows, only 5-10 were these trash accounts, I think it's really a stretch assuming that's what he supports

In the end, everyone's feelings about this are valid and I'm not trying to shame those who don't feel comfortable supporting him. All I'm doing is sharing my personal take. I'm politically a leftie to the point that if I were more left I would turn into Karl Marx, and still, I'm willing to give Joss the benefit of doubt because he hasn't ever shared any bigoted or toxic opinion and I've been following him for many years. That is all

[ckret2]

Tbh I'm still not convinced you'll pull off Bill redemption. Billford, okay - Ford's got a healthy dollop of mad science and garden variety batshit that could make him Bill compatible IF the threat of abuse was completely neutralized. But redemption? Billford that isn't three zany episodes away from accidentally doing something both absurd and evil? I'd like to see you try (genuine)(gleeful)

"Billford that isn't three zany episodes away from accidentally doing something both absurd and evil?"

now who says they're ever gonna get farther than 3 zany episodes away from something absurd & evil

if you ask me, peak billford is when they're dancing at 1.5 episodes away tops.

sometimes the difference between toxic doomed yaoi and post-toxic-spill-cleanup rescued yaoi is whether they're being absurd & evil toward each other or with each other