#but they still rely on self-reporting. so.

[girderednerve]

MSHA silica standard enacted!!! mining workers now have a federal silica dust standard in line with other industries, cutting the acceptable limit by half. the new rule also requires mine operators outside the coal sector to provide similar free health exams to miners

#industrial dust disease #just really good news. alongside all of the problems with mine dust enforcement and workplace safety more broadly #MSHA budget is much more reasonable than OSHA's relative to the scope of their remit #but they still rely on self-reporting. so. #the rule actually publishes on the 16th. but let me have this

[cleo-fox]

Close Quarters

Part 1 of 2

Summary: “You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

Your job, as it turns out, is to go undercover at a luxury resort.

The only problem? Your fake husband is Loki Laufeyson—the infuriatingly handsome Norse god turned Avenger who delights in making you flustered. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki.

A/N: there will be a part 2. Also have a handful of related one shot ideas, so if people like this, I may post those. This is also posted on AO3.

Your self-sufficiency has always been a point of pride for you, both personally and professionally. The highlight of your career was overhearing Nick Fury say that he didn’t need to send in a team of people for a mission so long as he had you on the payroll. You are calm, competent, and ruthlessly efficient; you are used to relying only on yourself.

So it comes as something of a surprise when Fury informs you that Loki Laufeyson will not only be accompanying you on this undercover mission, but will also be taking the lead.

It takes a lot to render you speechless these days, but this does it. You gape at Fury for a moment before you’re able to speak.

“You never send me in with anyone,” you say.

“This mission requires a unique skillset.”

You scoff. “He can’t do anything that I can’t.”

Fury raises an eyebrow and folds his arms across his chest. “Really? How’s your conversational Sokovian?”

There’s, of course, no argument to be made with this. Your lips press into a thin, hard line. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

*

Your job, as it turns out, is to play the part of Nina Pine.

Nina Pine is bubbly and vivacious, the sort of person you’d see in the society pages. She wears designer clothes and owns jewelry that is so ostentatious and expensive that it looks like it must be fake. She is not particularly bright or talented; she is the product of good luck and generational wealth.

Three weeks ago, Nina married Jonathan Pine, who she met six months ago at the home of a mutual friend. Jonathan does something in finance that sounds like it’s just a tarted up version of gambling, but with more complicated rules and less oversight. It is Jonathan’s higher tolerance for risk (and healthy trust fund assets) that has him considering an investment in KorolCo, a company owned by Ivan Litvinchuk. Litvinchuk uses KorolCo as a front to launder money from illegal arms deals.

Loki would be going undercover as Jonathan. Your new husband.

You are not particularly happy about this little detail (a detail that Fury mysteriously failed to mention when you met with him), in no small part because Loki has already started leveraging it to annoy the shit out of you.

“How are you already this annoying when we’re still in prep?” you say after a particularly exasperating meeting.

“I’m simply overcome by my love for you,” says Loki with a cloying faux sincerity that makes you yearn for the sweet release of death.

Fury, you note, is suspiciously unavailable during all of this. After ignoring three of your (admittedly lengthy) emails on the subject, he sends you a frustratingly short reply:

Do your job, Agent.

Maybe you’ll take up meditation.

If there’s a bright side to what appears to be a massive clusterfuck in the making, it’s that you’ll at least get a free vacation of sorts

The mission will be taking place at The Indigo, an absurdly expensive and exclusive hotel on a private beach not far from La Jolla Cove. The Indigo is the sort of place that you’d only read about—the kind of hyper exclusive resort that is only ever mentioned in damning Pro Publica reports about the questionable actions of high ranking public officials. Rooms start at fifty thousand a night and you are staying in one of the suites, which likely costs more. Your room information was included in your briefing materials and it all sounds too good to be true: a soaking tub and waterfall shower. Private terrace with an infinity pool. Private bar. In-suite chef and spa services by appointment. Ocean view.

One Norse god who delights in irritating you (non-negotiable).

You suppose you’ll try and make the best of it.

*

The first problem is your sleeping arrangements: there’s only one bed. Granted, it’s a big bed, but still—it suggests a level of intimacy that you had not thought about and are not at all prepared for.

“Well, Agent, this isn’t how I envisioned taking you to my bed, but I suppose it’ll have to do,” says Loki on your first evening there.

You chuck a pillow at him, which he easily dodges.

“Keep it up and you can magic yourself a pillow and sleeping bag and sleep in the hall,” you say.

“Even if that were an appropriate accommodation for someone of my rank and title, I rather think it would do some damage to our cover.”

He has a point and you don’t like it. You decide to ignore him and start getting ready for bed.

The pajamas that had been packed for you are a little fancier than what you’re used to—satin and lace instead of cotton tees and shorts. Normally, you’d relish the opportunity to feel a little fancy—it’s an unexpected indulgence, a splurge on the company dime.

But with Loki now thrown into the equation, you are suddenly hyper aware of the fact that the fabric will likely cling to your curves, that the hem of the skirt is just a little too high. You choose the most demure one of the lot—a pale rose colored thing hemmed with lace—and head to the bathroom to change.

Even with the matching robe, you still feel a little awkward and oddly nervous. You avoid looking at Loki—if his gaze is lingering on your legs or your hips, you don’t want to know about it right before you hop into bed with him—and go about your normal routine. You manage to have a relatively normal conversation about your plan for tomorrow and you read a couple chapters of your book before you start to drift off.

It’s a king sized bed with plenty of room, but somehow you wake up perched near the edge of the bed with Loki pressed up against your back.

He’s got one arm wrapped around your waist so that you’re pinned against him and the deep, even breaths brushing against the back of your neck tell you he’s still asleep. You’re pretty sure this must have been unintentional on his part: Loki doesn’t seem like the sort to willingly allow himself to be seen seeking out human contact. It’s too vulnerable, too soft for the sharp and sarcastic veneer he presents to the world.

He shifts slightly in his sleep, his grip on you tightening. Something hard pokes against the curve of your ass.

You can’t help the responding ache between your legs. You should feel embarrassed—and you do, just a little—but there’s a competing feeling of warm curiosity that makes you press your thighs together. It’s been a while and you miss being held like this. The silk of your nightgown is cool and slippery against your skin, and you feel oddly restless and alert despite the early hour.

You should put a stop to this—that is the professional and sensible thing to do. So you carefully lift his arm from your waist and gently extricate yourself from his embrace. You pad to the bathroom, leaving the light off to spare your eyes.

In the bathroom, you run the tap as cold as it will go. You cup your hands and drink before splashing some water on your face in an effort to quell the restless heat building between your thighs.

It doesn’t really work. You’re not entirely surprised—if you were by yourself, you would simply take care of it, but that’s obviously not an option now. Out of curiosity, you slip your fingers between your thighs to assess the state of things and you immediately regret it: you’re soaked and just the feeling of your index finger glancing against your clit is enough to undo the admittedly minimal effect of the cold water.

You splash your face again and shut off the tap, taking a few deep breaths and smoothing your hands against your hair.

You exit the bathroom and slide back into bed. Loki reaches for you in his sleep and you are only half surprised when you let him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. The throbbing ache between your thighs intensifies and before you can think about it, your back is arching and your breath is hitching.

He pulls you closer and suddenly his breath is warm on your ear. “You know, if you wanted me, all you had to do was ask,” he says, his voice deep and smooth, only a little husky with sleep.

“This is a bad idea,” you say, even as your back arches again and you press yourself against him.

Lips press against where your neck and shoulder meet. “But you want it.” His fingers toy with the hem of your nightgown. “Yes?” he asks, his voice husky against your ear.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Agent.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Agent.”

Your eyes flutter open. Loki is standing at the foot of the bed, hair wet, and wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“It’s eight o’clock,” he says. “You need to shower and dress if we’re to make it to breakfast on time.”

It takes you a moment to process this information. Partly because he just woke you up from a sex dream about him and partly because wearing only a towel should be fucking illegal when you look like that. You try to keep your eyes trained on his and not let them drift to his flat stomach where you can see a faint smattering of chest hair that gathers in a line that trails directly to his cock. And definitely not to any of the muscles that are on tantalizing display and dotted by drops of water that are begging to be licked away. Nope. Not looking at any of that. Just at his devastatingly handsome face. 

Fuck.

“Agent?”

You shake your head. “Sorry. Bit groggy this morning. Finish up what you were doing and I’ll go jump in the shower.”

He gives you a bit of an odd look, but mercifully walks away without further comment. 

This gives you an opportunity to stare at his broad back as he walks away. Goddammit, even his ass looks good in that towel.

Fuck.

You have a feeling this is going to be a long week.

*

It’s only day one and it’s becoming clear to you that you are not really prepared for some of the practicalities of being Loki’s wife.

Specifically: being the primary focus of his flirtations and little gestures of affection. His hand on the small of your back, his fingers lacing with yours, the brush of his lips against the back of your hand or the shell of your ear—it’s all a little overwhelming in a way you don’t expect. It was one thing when he was razzing you in your prep meetings—he was quite clearly doing it to be irritating. But at The Indigo, he has to appear sincere for your cover and that particular detail makes it a different beast entirely. 

The fact that both his regular appearance and the blond-haired, blue-eyed glamor he’s adopted for the mission are both devastatingly handsome certainly doesn’t help. Nor does the additional baggage of your sex dream this morning.

Unfortunately for you, Loki quickly ascertains that he now has a great and novel way to fluster you. Equally unfortunate is the fact that he seems to find this as hilarious as he did back in prep meetings, which prompts him to be only more outlandish.

“Are you trying to sabotage this?” It’s later that afternoon and you’ve gone down to the pool with the plan of schmoozing with Litvinchuk and his associates. Loki has clearly decided that this needs to be more difficult than it is and has fully committed to the bit, as they say.

(You’ve also gotten very good at whispering threats under your breath and making it look like you’re flirting; the timing of this is not a coincidence).

“I don’t know why you’re so distraught about sunscreen,” says Loki, rubbing a generous amount between his palms.

“It’s not the sunscreen, it’s that you’re going to find some way to be inappropriate about it.”

“I’d never.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“You wound me.” He places his hands on your shoulders and begins rubbing in the sunscreen, going much slower than you think is strictly necessary. “Perhaps this trip is merely bringing out our natural chemistry.”

“You wish.”

“Is it the hair that does it for you, Mrs. Pine? Do you have a particular fondness for blonds?”

“Do you have a fondness for being murdered in broad daylight? Because that’s the fate you’re headed towards, buster.”

He tuts at you as his hands slide to the small of your back. “Temper, temper. You really need to work on that.”

“Have you considered working on not annoying the ever-loving shit out of me?”

His breath is suddenly warm against your ear. “Now where’s the fun in that? And before you answer, be advised that Tarasevich is looking right at us.”

Fuck. Tarasevich is the most suspicious and paranoid of the lot—years in the Sokovian mafia paired with recreational drug use will do that to a guy. You turn so that you’re facing Loki. He looks at you fondly, looking for all the world like a loved up newlywed just smitten with his new wife.

“One of these days, I’m going to drop kick you into the motherfucking sun,” you say in the sweetest voice that you can muster.

“Now, now, Mrs. Pine, let’s keep the foreplay in the bedroom.” He rests his forehead against yours, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “There’s such a thing as public indecency laws, you know.”

You sigh heavily. “Why are you like this?”

“Oh, because it’s so much fun.”

“Is he still looking?”

“Yes and I’m going to kiss you to put him off, so do try to contain yourself.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage.”

You catch a flicker of a smile before he leans in and brushes his lips against yours. You intend for this to be brief, but his mouth is so warm and inviting and before you know it, he’s gently coaxing your lips open and leading your tongue in a slow and seductive caress that has your mind drifting straight to the gutter.

His hand slides to your thigh and you can’t bring yourself to be mad about it.

“Ah, Pine. Mixing business and pleasure, I see.”

You pull back from Loki to find Ivan Litvinchuk standing in front of you, wearing the smug, congratulatory smirk that you often see men like him trading with one another when they think they’re getting somewhere with a woman.

“Normally I try not to, but I’ve found it rather impossible these last three weeks, haven’t I, darling?” Loki takes the opportunity to loop his arms around your waist and pull you into his lap, nuzzling your neck.

You give a good natured laugh. “You’re insatiable.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone would fault me when I have such a tempting little wife.”

This, paired with the squeeze of his hand on your thigh, sends an unexpected rush of heat to your cunt. Fortunately, the effects of this are quickly tempered when you notice that Litvinchuk is eyeing you rather appreciatively. The wardrobe team has really outdone themselves with your clothes, but the swimsuits they’ve sent are definitely more revealing than you are used to—today’s choice is a bikini with a split sweetheart neckline that dips a lot lower than you’d like and a fucking underwire in the top. Underwire! The bottom is no better—it’s both low rise and high cut, the perfect way to ensure that half of your ass is exposed at any given time. Even in the matching translucent cover up—which of course you’ve left on the chair that Litvinchuk is standing in front of—you feel a little more bare than you’d like, a fact that Litvinchuk seems to be appreciating, if the path of his gaze is any indication.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Pine,” he says, his eyes flicking briefly to your cleavage.

You expertly tamp down your disgust and smile at Litvinchuk before turning around to bat your eyes at Loki.

“You are, aren’t you?” you say, twining your arms around his neck and planting a brief, chaste kiss on his lips.

He gives you a dazzling smile that’s so sincere it makes your stomach flip. “Very much so.”

Another squeeze of your thigh, more heat to your cunt. Fuck.

“Well, Pine, when you are ready to discuss more business—” Here he switches to Sokovian.

This is the part you dislike the most about this particular mission: whenever anything of substance comes up, Litvinchuk and his cronies immediately switch to Sokovian, leaving you in the dark.

To add insult to injury, Litvinchuk still seems infatuated by your cleavage.

Litvinchuk says goodbye a few minutes later and you manage to bite your tongue until he’s out of earshot.

“I really don’t love the fact that he spent half of that conversation sneaking looks at my boobs,” you say quietly.

“Well, to be fair, they do look spectacular,” says Loki. “I’ll have to send a thank you note to the wardrobe team for that.”

Heat stirs hopefully and unhelpfully in your hips at that comment.

“This is what I meant by being inappropriate, you know. Did he have anything interesting to say?”

“He’s invited me to a game of cards this afternoon.”

“Do you need me for that? I could go try and talk to the wives, see what I can find out.”

“Originally, I’d thought no, but since dear Ivan seems so enamored of your assets, it might not be a bad idea to have you come along.”

You sigh. “How am I now at the point in my life where letting an illegal arms dealer stare at my tits is a fucking mission objective?”

Loki laughs quietly. “We’ll keep that out of the final report.”

*

The card game ends up being a lot worse than you thought it would be. And not because of Litvinchuk’s wandering eyes.

They’ve set up the game on the pool deck tables and chairs. As best as you can tell, it’s a Sokovian twist on a combination of rummy and poker. You’re not the only woman at the table: a few of the other men have their girlfriends or mistresses draped over them like strange human scarves, though their roles seem to be largely decorative.

Loki makes a big show of pulling you into his lap, saying how he just can’t bear to be apart from his new wife for terribly long.

“Ah, young love,” says Mikhnevich. “I remember when my Irina and I were like this.”

“Now she begs for him to leave the house!” says Litvinchuk. There’s a hearty round of laughter—it’s not a particularly funny joke, but you suppose that’s one of the benefits of moving up in the world of crime: people will laugh at your jokes because they’re afraid you’ll kidnap their families or something. It’s all very dysfunctional.

Loki makes an effort to teach you the game, but Nina is not the sort who pays very close attention to that kind of thing, so you find yourself giggling and letting him steal kisses or whisper in your ear as he explains some strategy or another.

There are several problems with this arrangement. The first is that you are positioned on his lap in such a way that you can feel his cock nudging your ass or your thigh, depending on how he’s sitting. And it’s close enough proximity for you to ascertain that he is long, thick, and semi-erect.

The second problem is his thigh; specifically, how it presses against your cunt, how every time Loki leans forward to draw a card, he inadvertently rocks you against the firm muscle. Each time, it feels better than the last; each time, you clench and ache and talk yourself out of riding his thigh until you have a screaming orgasm right on the pool deck. Each time, the idea becomes more and more tempting.

The third problem is his hands. Specifically, where and how they are wandering. He plays it off like it’s unintentional, like he’s just absently fidgeting with the part of your suit that lays against your hip or idly drawing lazy circles on your thigh. You can’t help but think that it must be calculated. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours intentionally trying to drive you crazy–there’s no way that he would pass up an opportunity to play his little games without you scolding him or rolling your eyes.

The fourth problem is that the first three problems are turning you on a lot.

Your clit seems to swell with every pass of his fingertips on your bare skin, no matter how casual. It drags against the slick material of your swimsuit every time you shift on Loki’s muscular thigh. You can feel yourself growing slicker and slicker with every moment. Eventually, it becomes too much and you try to shift in his lap, crossing your legs to give yourself a little relief.

This does exactly nothing useful. Instead, your movement causes his cock to twitch against you, which only escalates your growing arousal. He hooks the elastic of your suit at your hip onto his thumb and pulls, letting it snap back against your skin. His expression is playful when you look up at him, but there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

You are throbbing, your cunt practically weeping with slickness. And you’re pretty sure he knows.

And you’re pretty sure you don’t mind.

You lick your lips.

He hooks his thumb back into your suit at the hip, and this time he leaves it there, his fingers splayed along the curve of your hip. It’s casually possessive and ridiculously hot and the polar opposite of helpful.

He definitely knows.

Your heart is pounding. Can you go into cardiac arrest from being too turned on? You wish you could use Google. At a minimum, some sort of visual equivalent of a cold shower would be helpful. Pictures of Henry Kissinger or something. Budget reports. Taxes. Anything to get your mind off your aching cunt and the mess that you’re making in your swimsuit.

“I think you could do with a bit of a lie down, Mrs. Pine.” Loki's voice is low in your ear. “You seem…warm.”

You would have thought that Loki knowing about your current state of arousal would be cause for humiliation, if not irritation. Instead, it only seems to add fuel to the fire, especially with the way he’s talking to you. You’re not sure how he’s doing this, but it feels like his fucking voice is vibrating in the cradle of your hips, sending a fresh wave of slick arousal to your dripping cunt.

“Yeah,” you say. “Very warm.”

It’s perhaps a testament to your current state of mind that you can only manage this sentence and not some smart remark.

“Would you like my help with that, darling?” he asks. The phrasing is innocent, but the question is loaded. And sincere. You take in a shaky breath. You know all the reasons why this is a bad idea, but you also can’t bring yourself to say no. He may be wildly irritating, but you suspect he’s likely a good fuck…and you really need to be fucked.

You nod. “Yeah…I’d like that.”

“We’ll go up to the room after this game ends,” he says. “And then I’ll take very good care of you.”

It takes everything in you not to whine. Fuck. You didn’t think it was possible to be this wet, this turned on. 

Loki shifts slightly, pulling you close against him, his cock now fully erect and pressing hard and thick against your ass. 

“Do you feel me?” he asks, his lips grazing your ear. “Do you feel what you’ve done?”

You nod and wiggle your hips slightly, partly to situate yourself and partly because you want a little bit of payback. His grip on your hip tightens.

“I’d advise you not to play games, little wife,” he rasps in your ear.

More heat builds in your hips. You can’t remember the last time you were this turned on. Maybe never. You throw a look at Loki over your shoulder. “It’s not a game,” you say. “I’m just very warm.”

His eyes are dark. “Burning up, I suspect.”

“You have no idea.” You lean back against him, turning so you can nuzzle your face against his neck. God, he smelled good. “Please,” You say it so quietly that only he can hear, “I’m aching.”

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and you feel his cock throb. He clears his throat. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take my leave a little early—Mrs. Pine is feeling quite unwell.”

Fuck yes.

If Litvinchuk and his men suspect there’s anything untoward about your departure, they don’t say so—and you imagine you must look a little unsteady anyway. Loki slides an arm around your waist as you leave.

“Now Mrs. Pine,” he says once you’re out of earshot, “tell me exactly what ails you.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “Are you seriously going to do this?”

“I only want to ensure that we are on the same page,” he says with a smirk.

“Like hell you do. I already told you, you just want to hear—” You cut yourself off, realizing that you’re playing right into his hands.

He smiles like a cat with a bowl full of cream. “What do I want to hear, darling?”

You press your lips together. This is infuriating.

“I’m waiting…”

You blow out a shaky breath. Fuck it. “You just want to hear me say that I’m fucking soaked because you’ve been rubbing me against your thighs and touching me for the last two hours and if I don’t come soon, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

He smirks as you approach the hotel lobby. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear you say all that.”

“You absolutely were.”

The air conditioned air in the hotel lobby feels extra icy against your sunwarmed skin and your sandals seem to clack particularly loudly against the marble floors.

“You have a smart mouth, do you know that?”

“You like it,” you say as you approach the bank of elevators. “That’s the reason why you pull half of this shit with me.”

“Perhaps.” He gives you a smile that feels a little dangerous and sends even more heat to your aching cunt. “But do you know what my favorite part of your smart mouth is, Mrs. Pine?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The elevator door opens. It’s empty and your cunt clenches at the possibilities this presents.

“My favorite part about your smart mouth,” says Loki in a low voice as you step into the elevator, “is that it will sound that much sweeter when I make you beg for me.”

The elevator door slides closed and you barely have a chance to react before he’s backing you up against the wall and pressing his thigh between your legs.

“You’re a disobedient, wicked tease, Mrs. Pine,” he growls, sending a thrill through you. “I think you could benefit from a firm hand.”

“You like it,” you breathe, rocking your hips against his thigh, trying to capture some of the same friction that was driving you wild earlier.

“Rutting yourself against my thigh in public like a common slut,” he purrs. “You must be desperate.” He slides a hand between your legs, slipping his fingers under your bathing suit. His expression changes the moment his fingers dip past the fabric—almost like he expected you to be wet, but not this wet.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs as you keen. “You’ve made a mess of yourself, haven’t you?”

“I need to come so bad,” you gasp.

“I know you do.” He reaches over and slams the emergency stop button and the elevator shudders to a halt. “And you’re going to. Right now.”

“I can wait until we get to the ro—”

He spins you around and pulls you to him so your back is pressed against his chest.

“No, you can’t.” He curls his big frame over yours, sliding his hand back into your bathing suit and stroking the full length of your sex and making you cry out again. “You need it too badly.” He starts rubbing your clit with his middle and index fingers. “And I don’t think it’s going to take all that long, darling,” he growls, sucking your earlobe into his mouth, “because you’re already so fucking wet.”

There’s a small, distant part of you that resents the fact that he’s right about anything, let alone anything pertaining to your orgasms.

The larger part of you is focused on the fact that he’s right: you’re going to come and you’re going to come hard.

Your legs are shaking and you brace your arms against the elevator wall to hold yourself up. You moan loudly and arch your back as the feeling starts building in your hips.

“You need this so badly, don’t you?” He nips hard at your earlobe. “You’re desperate for it. I felt you tense up every time your sopping cunt rubbed against my thigh, every time I touched you just right.”

You whimper, pressure rising in your hips as you rock with his hands.

“You’re so close,” Loki purrs in your ear. His hips are thrusting mindlessly against your ass, like he can’t wait to be inside you.

“Fuck, I need to come,” you whimper.

“Oh, I’m going to make you come, darling, but I think what you really need is to be fucked.”

You moan as your orgasm starts to crest.

“You need to be fucked properly and hard,” he murmurs. “You need me to take care of your sopping wet, needy little cunt. You need to be filled to the brim with my cock and my come like the good girl that you are. You need to come over and over on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.”

This is what pushes you over the edge. The muscles of your cunt clench and then pleasure is blooming in your belly as the tension of the last two hours comes to a peak and you come hard. You cry out, your hips rocking against Loki’s hand, chasing the shimmery aftershocks.

“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he purrs. He holds you as you shudder and shake, his fingers still moving, still coaxing out those final waves of pleasure. But just when you think he’s about to pull his hand away, he starts massaging your clit again, one long finger slipping inside you.

“You don’t think you’re going to be satisfied with just one, do you?” he growls in your ear. “Not a needy girl like you, not when you’ve been dripping for hours. You need more, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck—” You can feel that pressure growing again and you know it���s going to be different this time.

“You’re going to come for me again, pretty girl,” he purrs. “And this time, I want to hear you scream.”

Everything is coiling up so tight and tense and suddenly two of his fingers are inside of you and they’re curling just right and the edges of your vision go white as everything inside you fizzes and releases and a sharp cry falls from your lips as you come.

“Good girl,” his voice rumbles low over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

His hand finally stills once the final aftershocks roll through you. Your legs are shaking, but his grip on you is still firm. Boneless, you turn to him and he presses his slick fingers past your lips. You suck and lick his fingers clean and then he’s kissing you, sucking your own essence from your lips and tongue.

“Fuck,” you breathe as the elevator shudders to life. “Fuck, that was so good.”

Loki laughs quietly and scoops you up into his arms as the elevator arrives at your floor.

“Oh, we’re nowhere near done, darling.”

Continued in Part 2

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x yn smut #loki x y/n #loki x yn #loki x you smut #close quarters fic

[grandlinedreams]

hiii i hope you’re having a great day/night!!

may i request a not really physically affectionate reader with zoro law or ace coming to them drunk being really excited and kissing&leaving lipstick marks all over their faces. it could be a hc type thing or whatever you like if you’re not comfortable w that!

also I absolutely love your writing ♥︎♥︎♥︎

hi there!! I hope that you're having a wonderful day/night too bb!! absolutely you can! This is my first attempt at a reaction type of post so I hope that this is to your liking!! and thank-you so much!!

[heads up!: mention of alcohol consumption, being drunk, tw for vomiting in Ace's]

Zoro ㅡ Alcohol is his forte, not yours. It isn't that you're opposed entirely to the idea of drinking, just that you're not as accustomed to it as he is ㅡ and as such, your tolerance for it (especially the stronger stuff) is not the strongest.

"Having fun?" He asks, amused by the flush of pink that's spread across your cheeks and bridge of your nose, the glossy, unfocused quality of your gaze. It'd been a playful challenge from Usopp that even he has higher tolerance than you and now the sharp-shooter is sprawled out a few feet away, fast asleep.

You nod enthusiastically, giggling when Zoro reaches to stop the unsteady bob with his hand. "Man, you're absolutely trashed," he comments. "We need to get you some water before you end up regretting this. Come on."

He reaches for your hand to help you up, steadying the way you sway before leading you towards the kitchen. You're still giggling when he guides you into a seat and retrieves a glass of water for you, pushing it towards you.

"Just how much did you have to drink, anyways?" He asks, reaching to thumb at your cheek affectionately ㅡ and watches you lean into it rather than pulling away. Affection is also far from something you normally indulge in very often, and he can't deny that it's nice to see this side of you.

"Not much," you answer at last, foggy mind finally registering Zoro's question, studying him for a moment. "C'mere." You add the forward curl of your hand to emphasize your words, pouting when he laughs. "I said c'mere!"

"Will you drink that water if I do?" Your head bobbles in a clumsy nod again and he leans forward to comply with your wish, only to blink as you lurch forward to press your lips to his cheek. They're cool and a little sticky, smelling of whatever alcohol you've drank ㅡ but you're on a determined self-imposed mission of peppering his face with kisses. It's a little silly with the way you add a verbal "mwah!" at the end of each one, but it still makes Zoro's own cheeks flush all the same.

"All done," you report when you finally sit back, satisfied with the little marks you've left across his skin, and you reach for the glass of water to drink it, as you'd promised. Zoro is silent for several moments. You won't remember this, he's almost certain ㅡ but now all he can think about is how cute you are when you drink.

ㅡ

Law ㅡ "I think that's enough for tonight." Nimble fingers pluck the half-finished glass of alcohol from your grip, ignoring your pout as he hands it off to Clione, who gladly downs it.

"Spoil-sport," you huff, and Law raises an eyebrow. It's not every day that he gets to witness you acting more like a child than adult, and he'll admit that the way you sulk is amusing.

"You'll thank me in the morning." He reaches for your wrist and gently tugs you up, relying on the fact that the others are in varying stages of inebriation to cover for him being so forward with you in front of the others.

He's already had a drink or two, though he stopped when Ikkaku pointed out that you'd been roped into a drinking game with some of the others. Guiding you to the bathroom, he leans in the doorway to watch you sway as you reluctantly ready yourself for bed, studying your own reddened cheeks in the mirror.

"I could've finished my drink," you tell him petulantly, and he watches you struggle to climb into bed. Another reason he's grateful that no one else will remember much about this evening ㅡ he doesn't need them knowing that it's been months since you last slept in the crew bunkhouse.

"I'm sure you could've, but I'm doing myself a favor when I'm the one who's going to have to look after you when you end up with a hangover." Hat tossed gently to the side, he moves to slip into bed beside you and frowns warily when he finds you eyeing him. "What is it? You're not going to throw up right now, are you?"

You shake your head and lean up, your lips on his cheek before he can ask what you're up to. Slow and a little clumsy, each kiss you press is intentional ㅡ his jaw, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead ㅡ and you giggle when you pull away to admire your handiwork. "Now you can't be grumpy," you tell him.

Your own perchance for physical affection is usually on par with his, but it's clear that however many drinks you've had have pushed aside your own personal boundaries.

"Aww, you're blushing!" You crow, and he scowls at the fit of giggles that follows. You're lucky that he loves you, and you're lucky that you're cute.

"Whatever," he grouses, reaching to cover your eyes with a hand. "Go to sleep. And don't puke in my bed, got it?"

ㅡ

Ace ㅡ "See? I told you this was a bad idea."

"Shut up," you groan, venom absent from your tone for the way you're forced to stop walking in order to halt the vicious spin of your head. "I don't drink much, you know that."

"I do," Ace agrees, "which is why I'm telling you it was a bad idea." He pauses, head tilting in thought. "Not gonna lie, it was hot to watch you drink them under the table, though. Who knew you had it in you, huh?"

He waits for you to answer and when you don't, he turns to find you half-way into an alley, emptying the contents of your stomach as quietly as you can. That kind of thing doesn't disgust Ace, however, and he hurries to rub your back until the shuddering heave of your body has stopped. "Feel better?"

"Much," you rasp, fumbling for the strap of your canteen and chugging from it greedily. Ace waits until you're satisfied that you've rinsed your mouth clean before he loops his arm around your waist and continues guiding you back towards the Moby Dick. "Still think I'm hot?"

"Absolutely, babe." Ace's answer is swift and as honest as it always is, which makes your heart do something funny as you turn to look at his side-profile. It doesn't take long for him to notice, his expression somewhere between confusion and concern as you come to a stop. "What is it? Gonna get sick again?"

You shake your head. "No, I just really want to kiss you right now." There's the answering spark of fire from Ace's fingers in response, though you take advantage of his momentary fluster to cup his face between your hands and promptly pepper his face with kisses.

Clustered over his freckles, the tip of his nose, eyebrows and even his eyelids, it's several long moments before you pull away. "There," you say, and Ace wonders if you're sober enough to realize his face has gone roughly the temperature of the sun from your burst of affection. "Come on, I wanna go to bed."

Ace lets you pull him along, still dazed by the lingering warmth of your lips on his skin. He goes to bed without washing his face, eager to soak in this side of you that's far less reserved with your affection ㅡ and when the men of his division point out in the morning that he has your lipstick dotted across his face, all he does is grin.

#ㅡmine. #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #trafalgar law x reader #portgas d ace x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #ㅡanswered. #anonymous #–ml: multi-char.

[rootbeersturniolo]

part 1 here

the second part of this series.

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: two weeks had passed after the death of their bestfriend, and it still remained a mystery yet to be solved. it wouldn't take long before more secrets began to unravel, and there was only one question left to ask; would you love somebody enough to die for them?

warnings: mentions of murder and death, murder in detail, grief, blood, weapons (knives and guns), anxiety, smut, suggestive, homophobia, being laced, attempted assault

-

It's been two weeks.

Not that it feels real yet.

Two weeks of starring off into space, watching detectives scope out our dorm room. Natalie’s entire side of the room has been demolished. Pictures and memories deemed as evidence in her case.

They’ve been going at it for a while now, but there were still no updates. The corner kept quiet, they said legally they couldn’t say anything else. My parents told me they were actually just stumped on who could’ve pulled off such a crime.

She was found the morning after the party. Which meant we were the last to have ever seen her. Her blonde hair flowing through the air as she closed the door in Jackson’s face, subconsciously saying goodbye to us all even if she had no idea what would come next.

Her body was covered in her crimson blood. Her clothes, hair, and skin were stained permanent in her own defeat. They counted fourteen wounds throughout her body.

Absolutely none were self defense.

It wasn’t a surprise. She was drunk. She was drunk and weak, incapable of protecting herself as she walked back to campus.

I should’ve been there with her. I should’ve walked back with her. If I did there was still a chance she would be alive. Or there was a chance I would be dead too. Which wouldn’t necessarily be the worst thing. Not anymore.

Her smile is engrained in my head and I’ve been so scared that one day it's going to go away, I don't want to ever forget it.

When she was alive I was so focused on myself. So focused on Matt, school, and the annoying rumors that she spread.

But now she's gone and I want her back more than anything.

I want more sleepovers on her trampoline where we told each other our deepest secrets. I want to be sitting on the hot pavement, doodling onto the sidewalk with cheap chalk while we mindlessly talk about middle school drama. I want her back for everything that made her good.

How can somebody become a memory? She was laying in bed next to me, talking about her and Jackson two weeks ago, and now all I have left is the impact she left behind. How is that fair to her?

How is it fair to be known by what you put into the earth in a mere nineteen years?

The funeral was terrible. Her family became my family, and seeing them so broken only filled me with more guilt.

"You're just getting ridiculous."

I was so mad at her, so fuelled with anger that I couldn't think about anything else, and now I’d witnessed her parents, sobbing onto the coffin while her older brother stays strong for them.

“Do you have anything better to do?”

My last words to her.

On repeat every time I visit her.

She did so much good, and I was too focused on the bad to see that.

Although grief shows up differently for everyone, we’ve all been taking it hard. Nick took the most time to process, he was unable to fathom a world without her in it, and I held him as he cried in my arms after the funeral.

That’s the only thing that made her death feel real. Not the news reports, or the empty dorm I came home to. Instead seeing her lifeless body, covered in makeup she wouldn't have applied herself. Somehow still looking beautiful as ever.

Jackson became overly distant. It seemed unlike him to say so little about someone he loved so much. None of us wanted to push him though. His relationship with Natalie wasn’t one I wanted for myself, but they relied on each other to get by, and now he feels utterly alone.

The whole city feels different. Remnants of her everywhere I look. I just can’t escape as much as I try. As much as I try and pretend everything’s still ok. The truth is nothing will ever be truly ok again.

At least not for me.

-

“I'll just get an order of fries and a vanilla milkshake please.” | smiled at the waitress, the maroon apron resting on her waist while she takes my order. She nods as she turns her head away from me.

“And for you?” She asked, referring to Matt who sat across from me, a knit sweater resting on his body. The body that I knew like the back of my hand.

Matt and I haven’t been out since Natalie died. Date nights had always been a common thing for us, but it’s taken me awhile to bring myself to leave the house.

Natalie was murdered. Stabbed and killed by another human being. Another soul, yet no remorse filled their bones.

I couldn’t bear the overwhelming amount of evidence that she was in fact dead. I moved into Matt’s dorm for the time being. His roommate left for break, which meant I could easily sneak in for days on end. His arms wrapped around mine while fresh tears coated the dry.

Instead of rotting in the once shared dorm, I laid inside of Matt’s room. My mind never letting me forget what happened to Natalie. My dreams, my thoughts, everytime I closed my eyes.

For once though, I’m more focused on the cute smile on Matt’s face while he orders than I am about the tragic events that took place. The way his fingers toy with one another as he speaks, picking at his skin to get him through having to order himself.

We decided on a vintage diner that's been open in our town since forever. The same place he took me on our first date. I smile slightly as I reminisce the innocence of it all, how awkward he had been asking me out, how he went above and beyond with fresh flowers and a kiss goodnight.

“What’s got you all smiley?” He asked as the waitress left to give our order to the chef. His hands overtook my own on the surface of the table, his silver rings brushing against my gold.

“I just love you at lot.” I replied, feeling my cheeks tensing up slightly at the grin that exhausts the muscles in my face. The skin heating up as a light pink scattered across it.

“That's really the only reason?” He asks as he furrows his eyebrows. His gaze glued onto mine, like he could almost look through me. I sighed, relaxing my shoulders completely.

“Remember our first date? I was just thinking about the car ride to this diner, and how scared you were to hold my hand as you drove.” I giggled lightly. He cringed in embarrassment, placing his hands over his face to cover his now red cheeks. I took his hands back, bringing them to my own and forcing his gaze towards me. "It was cute."

“I can’t even think of myself two years ago. I was so—” He began to speak again before the sound of my voice cut him off. “So what? So thoughtful, so caring, so attractive…” I listed off, causing him to roll his eyes.

“I fell in love with you two years ago. The same way I’m in love with you now.”

“Wow, you are so corny.” He jokes, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

“Ok, ok. I’ll stop. I’m just really happy to have you here for me. I couldn’t go through this alone.” I smiled at him. He cleared his throat with a soft nod, his eyes focusing on the waitress bringing us our food.

We leaned out, our hands now lifting from one another's as she places my milkshake and fries in front of me, Matt getting the exact same thing. "Thank you.” I smile at the girl, her footsteps now echoing as she left behind a small smile.

Matt brings a fry to his mouth.

"Is there a reason you get the same thing as me everytime?" I laughed softly, taking a sip of my vanilla milkshake. The cold liquid refreshing my body from the so called tragedy of the hot sun beaming outside.

"Will you make fun of me?" He asked, causing me to shake my head, my mouth still surrounding the colored straw. “I got the same thing as you on our first date, because I didn’t know what to do and I figured you’d have good taste.” He spoke again.

I laughed with a slow nod as I replied. “Did you at least like it?”

“Course’ I do. I was right when I said you have good taste.” He smiled.

The date continued on how they normally do. I finished my food way quicker than Matt, leaving me with more time to talk while he caught up on eating his food.

He had always been my favorite listener. Never judging and always playing sole attention to whatever nonsense left my mouth. He never made me feel alone. He never made me feel small.

When I was with Matt I felt just right.

-

After our date ended we arrived back at his dorm, my body heading straight for his bed, the place I’ve been rotting in for two weeks. My parents are too busy trying to find the person who killed Natalie to be home, comforting their own daughter.

It wasn’t anything new, and I wasn’t surprised in the slightest. That’s how it had always been in the Parker household.

Work came first, family came last.

When I was younger it bothered me more. All I wanted was for my parents to be there for me more. All I wanted was the slightest amount of attention from them.

In the third grade I got caught up on trying to break my arm, seeing as how Natalie did too. Her parents showered her with gifts, love, and attention. Something I had wanted more than anything, and had only received it from Matt.

“Can we please just watch Perks of Being a Wallflower? I haven't watched it in so long." I asked, cuddled up against Matt with my arm hanging over his stomach.

“Isn’t that the really sad one?” He raised his eyebrow, his chin resting on the top of my head as his hand rubbed small lines on my back. One of his shirts placed over my body. It smelt like his cologne and whiskey. My favorite scent in the entire universe.

The room is dark, the TV illuminating the space just enough for me to focus on his hand on the remote, the way his rings fit perfectly around the curves of his fingers.

“It’s not that sad—just the ending, but sad endings are ok if the rest of the story is good.” I finally replied, my eyes meeting his.

“Fine.” He sighed in defeat, his fingers on the remote control spelling out the letters of my favorite movie. The movie I haven’t watched in so long, because I’ve been caught up with everything else.

I hoped it would bring me back a sense of comfort. The comfort that I badly needed after my life turned into such a mess.

But that was selfish of me to say.

Because after all, I still had a life.

The movie started playing, the volume filling the room as Matt’s soft breaths blew against my hair my wind. For whatever reason, my brain couldn’t focus on the film in front of me.

All I could think about was Natalie.

Her last words, the fear she must have felt, how much she wanted to live and wasn’t given the opportunity.

There was a possibility she was too drunk to even comprehend was happening, but there was also a possibility that she understood everything. Maybe she wanted to fight back.

My breathing started to quicken uncontrollably, thoughts of her death overtaking my human need to receive oxygen.

Matt noticed almost instantly, like he always did. He placed his hand on my heart and paused the movie, his arms tighter against my body as he paused his movements against my back.

“Shh, it’s ok. You’re ok. You’re safe with me here.” He whispered, my eyes trying to stay focused on him as he scanned my face, concern and confusion covering his expression.

It wasn’t fair.

What happened to Natalie wasn’t fair, and if I wasn’t too concerned in saving my own ass and protecting myself against the rumors, I could’ve saved her instead.

But I didn’t.

Instead I watched as she walked through the party door. I didn’t say anything as she looked at me for help with what to say to Jackson. I didn’t offer to walk her back to our room.

I just let her leave.

I didn’t know she wouldn’t come back. I didn’t know any of this would happen. If I did I sure as hell wouldn’t have even let her leave that night. Maybe then I could’ve protected her. Just like friends are supposed to.

But Natalie and I were never just friends. We were sisters, and we fought like we were.

“No, I wanted the pink skirt.” Natalie spoke, frustration plastered on her face as she ripped the mauve laced fabric from my small hands. I sighed in annoyance, reaching out for the skirt once more.

“You didn’t say that.” I replied, holding it against my chest as she glared at me. If her eyes were really lasers, I’d be long gone by the way her gaze was glued against me. Her hands empty as I held what she wanted in mine.

We only had two skirts. One pink and one blue, obviously neither of us wanting to wear the dark blue one compared to the glitter filled pink.

It was too late for her parents to go back to the store, the time approaching nearly nine at night. Instead, we had to use what we had; one pink and one blue skirt.

“Just give it back.” She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. I shook my head, holding the skirt closer to my body. She rolled her eyes at my words.

Natalie’s mom pushed through the double doors, spotting us bickering in the living room. Our stance clearly telling her that something was wrong, if not our words.

“She can have the skirt Nat, she’s our guest.” Her mom sighed, picking up the blue skirt and handing it to Natalie who shook her head in response. Now I was the one rolling my eyes, watching as Natalie walked from the room, leaving both skirts behind and finding her way to her bedroom.

“You two fight like sisters.” Her mom mumbled, smiling gently as she followed Natalie through the double doors.

Soon enough my breathing slowed, the memory easing my mind. His hand cupped my jaw as his thumb left soft strokes on my cheek, almost as if he was wiping away everything bad.

“I know it’s hard baby, but she’s better now. It’s your turn to get better now too, yeah?” He spoke, his eyes finding mine again. “No more rumors, no more lies.” He hummed.

“I just wish it wasn’t this hard.” I sighed, not a single tear running down my cheek. It wasn’t because I hadn’t been sad. It’s because I’ve ran out of tears entirely.

Endless nights spent without a dry face. My eyes burning from how much I rubbed them as the tip of my nose turned red. It didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing, because everywhere reminded me of her.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed out, carefully bringing my head back to his chest. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this. I wish I could take all your pain away. I promise I would.” He hummed, placing his hand over my head as he ran it against my hair, his other laced around my waist.

We sat in silence for a few moments, the distant sound of the air conditioning filling the room along with kisses placed on my head.

My mind slowed down again, only one remaining thought in my head while Matt moved his hands from my back to my side, only to reassure me, but I couldn’t help but to have already decided on what I had wanted.

“Matt.” I spoke up again, lifting my head from his chest one more. His eyes were already on mine as he hummed in response, furrowing his eyebrows gently as he awaited my words.

“Can you just—” I breathed out, pausing as my lip got caught between my teeth. He nodded slowly, gesturing for me to continue. “Can you distract me please?” I whispered.

He gave me a soft smile before picking up the remote once more. I let out a soft breath as I shook my head, placing his hand down. He was so clearly confused now.

I hesitated before pushing my body from his, my legs wrapping around his waist as I straddled him. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders, my pleading eyes finding his again.

“Oh.” He whispered, his cheeks flushing pink as he placed his hands on my waist, his touch was gentle. Too gentle, like he thought I would break.

“Please, just distract me.” I mumbled, leaning down as I placed my lips against his. We both breathed into the kiss, his hands placing a gentle pressure on my sides, a touch so delicate it causes goosebumps to form on my arms at the familiar contact.

This kiss isn’t like most we’ve shared in our two years of being together. Instead of slow and sensual, it’s desperate, hungry.

Maybe it was the fact we hadn’t had sex since the night of the party. Maybe it was all of our emotions unfolding together.

Either way, I couldn’t stop kissing him.

Our lips moved together in a unison that was comfortable while our tongues had a chance to explore each others mouth, like many other times.

Matt always knew what I was in need of. Most of the time he knew before I knew it myself, and right now, I knew I needed him.

My own hands traveled to his hair while he shifted to position himself above me, the familiar horse necklace dangling and grazing my neck.

Right then, it was as if I needed to be as close to Matt as possible, like I was craving his touch desperately, and it’s all I can think about. He pulled away, the small amount of light in the room outlining his jaw while he spoke.

“Are you sure you want this?”

I thought for a second, my body wanted it so badly, and as much as my brain had been occupied recently, I didn’t think a distraction would hurt.

I nodded, maybe a little too eagerly based on the loose laugh that he breaths out. “You’ve been so stressed.” He leaned into my neck, placing soft, plush kisses to my neck. “Just relax, yeah?”

I just nodded again, attempting to stay still as his gentle kisses leave me restless below him. His hands on my side trail up, grazing over my chest. He removed his lips from my neck, bringing them back against mine.

The feeling of his nose brushing up against my own could’ve put me into a trance, along with the way he bit my bottom lip gently as he pulled out of the kiss, his hands now pulling up my shirt— well, his shirt.

I held up my arms, allowing the fabric to move over my head, leaving me exposed underneath him. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes trailing up and down as I shifted uncomfortably, waiting for him to do something.

“Matt, please. I need you.” I whined. I was more desperate than ever for any form of relief. Matt leaned back in, kissing directly below my ear before whispering.

“Shh— I’ve got you. You’re good.”

Something about Matt is how much he cherished me at all times. Whether it was something as simple as walking on the side of the sidewalk that’s closest to the road, or something more intimate like right now.

He treated me like I was the best thing to ever grace the earth, and it felt like a title I was unfit to hold sometimes.

His hands roamed my chest momentarily. His fingers placing gentle pressure on every single sensitive section of my body. The only thing I can focus on is the way the pads of his fingers trace over my nipples, and the way he’s practically unable to remove his lips from one.

His hand slid down the center line of my stomach, placing a pressure on my clothed core before leaning out of the kiss.

“You deserve the world, you know that?”

I rolled my eyes playfully in response, pushing down a smile as I looked to him with urgency in my gaze. If anyone was going to be a complete cornball right before sex, it’s Matt.

He shifted down the bed, aligning his face with my lower half and immediately plants a kiss right above where I need him. I began to slide my blue shorts off, clearly eager to get started, but Matt just grabbed my hands and looked at me.

“So impatient, Char. I just want to take my time with you.” He cooed, placing my hands back onto my own stomach as his nose made contact with my clit through two layers of clothing.

My stomach filled with even more butterflies due to his words mixed with his actions. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes momentary as I tried to maintain the aching sensation.

I tried my best to stay still under his affectionate touch, but it was nearly impossible when he began to finally slide off the layers of fabric that are keeping me from him.

I pushed my hips up to help him, still incredibly desperate for any relief he can provide me. He knew exactly how to get me worked up, and I was definitely there.

He removed my shorts along with my underwear off of my ankles before re aligning his face with my aching core. His hands made contact with my legs, lifting them up over his shoulders before his tongue finally got put to use.

It began gentle, just the tip of his tongue starting to explore everywhere expect where I wanted. My hips pushed down against the mattress.

“Matt if you don’t do it for me, I’m going to do it myself.” I groaned through a sigh, getting less patient by the minute. Usually I could take his teasing, but again, I’m not usually this needy.

He just smiled before placing an open mouthed kiss directly into my clit, causing me to arch into the touch. The feeling sending shivers through my entire body.

His movements were soft, but the pressure of his tongue was enough to have me moaning out spewed sentences as he lapped around my clit. My hands immediately make their way to his slightly curled brunette hair, playing with his strands as his hands traveled back up to play with my chest.

The combination of his fast moving tongue over my sensitive clit, and his large hands toying with my hardened nipples had me throwing my head back into the pillow I laid against.

It’s safe to say I was distracted.

Matt picked up the pace now, eager to get me to crumble underneath his touch the way I always did. His hands left my chest, instead being brought down toward my entrance, and asking for my permission without words.

“Please.” I whined, crossing my ankles over his upper back as he detached his mouth from me momentarily. I quickly nodded.

He placed a kiss to my lower stomach as two of his fingers lid into me, curling up slowly as my hips bucked up into his hands subconsciously. His long fingers were definitely a blessing, because they reached my sweet spot without him even having to try.

“Am I making you feel good, pretty girl?” He asked, his voice low but just loud enough for me to hear. Pain mixed with pleasure as he continued to move his hand inside of me.

I nodded instantly, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as his fingers sped up at a pace that had my mouth watering.

“Tell me what you’re feeling, come on baby.” He said before placing his lips back around my clit, sucking softly as I was expected to speak.

I breathed out, trying my best to muster up my words, because I know Matt well enough to know he’ll stop if I don’t speak. “You—mmph, fuck!” I moaned out, his tongue working at a faster pace that has me squirming around him. His spare hand against my hip to hold me in place.

“You’re so good at making me feel good— you’re the only one who can get me like this.” I replied, bringing my bottom lip in between my teeth to suppress the moans trying to escape.

The initial shock of pure pleasure subsided and my body relaxed into his touch, the only thing I can think about is him and how good he makes me feel. “Just like that.” I moaned, pulling on his hair slightly as his fingers continued curling up into me. “Please Matt.”

He continued without a break, relentlessly flicking his tongue on my clit all while his fingers worked tirelessly to graze my g-spot over and over again.

It didn’t take long before my legs began to close over his head as the pressure building in the pit of my stomach becomes too overwhelming to ignore. “Matt I’m—”

My body acts before I can bear to get the words out, my stomach tensing at the newfound pleasure as his tongue remains ever moving on me until it became too much. “Ok.” I breathed out.

He knew that I was done, and although I could usually go for longer, I’m mentally and physically exhausted, and it’s taken a toll on me in every aspect of my life— apparently including sex.

“I love you so much baby.” Matt reiterated as he shifted up to place a kiss on my neck before helping me slide my shirts back on.

Something about the intimacy in that moment meant more to me than any of the events that took place minutes prior. It’s raw, loving, and it only confirms the love I have for that boy.

“I love you more.” I replied, smiling as he laid beside me on his bed.

I lean into him, his arm reaching over my head, allowing my face to find comfort in the crook of his neck while my leg wrapped around his hips.

His hand made its way to my bare back, stroking small patterns while he scoffed slightly. “I think you forget it’s impossible to love you as much as I do.” He replied quietly.

The words of affirmation never failed to have me flustered, and I truly don’t believe I’ll ever get sick of them. “I am pretty amazing, yeah?” I replied as I pulled myself closer to his body, my bare chest against his clothed.

He just placed a kiss to the top of my head at my words. “Don’t get too cocky now, pretty girl.”

-

We laid in bed for what felt like hours, but was really a mere ten minutes wrapped against his body. His arms around my waist, rubbing gentle circles against my bare sides.

It was so peaceful. I could’ve fallen asleep, and I almost did until the sound of his phone made me shift again him.

“Who’s calling you?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows as the ring of Matt’s phone echoed throughout the room. He shrugged, shaking his head as he denied the call, wrapping his arms around me once more.

We laid in silence, his fingers tracing shapes on my bare back while our legs stayed intertwined with each others.

After a few moments the familiar ring filled the room again. I pushed my head from his chest, sighing gently as he took his phone in his hands, answering a panicked Chris on the other line. He turned the one on speaker, raising it so we could both hear the other line.

“Matt—” Chris breathed out, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “Matt, Jackson got arrested. They think he killed Natalie.” He spoke quickly. My heart dropped at his words, my eyes widening as they met Matt’s.

Jackson?

Killing Natalie?

“What?” I asked, cutting Matt off as he was about to speak. “Jackson killed Natalie?” I spoke again, my tone weary and filled with dread. There wasn’t a chance, he wouldn’t do something like that. Especailly not to Natalie.

Right?

“Charlotte, I didn’t know you were—” Chris paused with a sigh, not knowing I had been listening to the conversation. “Yeah, they think so.” He breathed out.

I swallowed the undeniable nerves, nodding to myself as my mind raced. Just like it had been for two weeks.

“Well do they have proof?” I replied, now I was completely sat up next to Matt, his blanket covering my body as our vision remained on each other. Chris sighed on the other line.

“Yeah, some old text messages apparently.”

My heart dropped again. This time resting in my stomach as I brought my lip in between my teeth. Jackson couldn’t have possibly done something so horrible. He doesn’t even seem capable of doing anything like murder.

Then it hit me.

Jackson left the party after Natalie did. After they got into their fight, after she slammed the door in front of his face, telling him they were over for the fifth time this month.

But would he take something so unserious as a need to commit murder? To kill her? He was most definitely drunk, even then it didn’t make sense. I’ve known Jackson almost my entire life.

And I knew that he loved Natalie.

At least that’s what I thought.

-

The drive to the police station was uncomfortable to say the least. My leg constantly bouncing up and down while my fingers found comfort between my teeth.

Matt had tried to play music to ease the silence but I shut it down insanely fast. I needed to focus on everything going on.

None of this made sense, Jackson’s not a bad person. An asshole maybe, but not a murderer. What he had with Natalie would’ve never ended with such an extreme, a petty argument at most.

There’s many moments in life where for whatever reason it doesn’t feel real. A lot of the time it happens to people on a fascinating vacation or on something loving like their wedding day.

Mine was today.

“Mom.” I breathed out as soon as I stepped into the building, the familiar woman standing beside the registry desk, paperwork in her hands.

If there was even a chance to find out if Jackson was innocent, I wasn’t going to miss it.

She just rushed me into a smaller office without a word. “Mom what’s going on?” I asked. I had a pretty long list of questions rushing through my head but I tried to focus on the present.

My mom is usually good at hiding her emotions, not letting them appear easily on her face. Tonight I could read her like a book, and I knew instantly I wouldn’t like the ending.

“Where were you after the party?” My mom spoke, referring to Matt as he stop beside me. Matt didn’t hesitate before responding. “With your daughter.” He answered, his unfamiliar glare meeting hers.

I furrowed my eyebrows almost instantly at his lie. He wasn’t with me, I was alone that night. I was completely alone considering the fact Natalie hadn’t made it home.

“Charlotte, Is this true? Is Matt telling the truth?” She asked, staring at me with a sense of urgency shooting through her pupils.

I attempt to answer her as quickly as I can in the moment. Although, it’s not easy to ignore the guilt that’s already building up in my stomach.

“Yes mom, he’s telling the truth. He walked me to my dorm and we ended up falling asleep while we were watching a movie together.”

Lying didn’t feel good in the slightest. I constantly remind myself that I’m doing nothing wrong since Matt did nothing wrong. He probably just wanted to avoid looking suspicious because he went to his dorm alone last night.

It’s completely understandable, and besides, I’d do anything for him.

My mom must’ve believed my words because she just nodded slowly, placing her hands against the curves of her hips. “I don’t know Char. It’s not looking good for Jackson.”

I scoffed immediately. She’s working on my bestfriends case, and acting like she knows everything about them.

In reality she was at work so much she barely even met them.

“Jackson’s not a murderer. You guys are wrong about him. He didn’t kill her.” I spoke again as I shook my head with a pleading expression. She barely even registered my words before the door opened again, another officer stepping inside.

My mom’s eyes met mine before I sighed. Just like always, duty calls. It didn’t matter that my bestfriend just died, what mattered was that she was satisfied with her work.

How could I ever forget?

“He’s innocent.” I scoffed again before turning on my heel, brushing past Matt as we left down the familiar hallway. Once we reached a quiet area he stopped me, placing his hands on my shoulders and making me look his way.

“He didn’t do it, Matt. I know he didn’t— He loved Natalie.” I spoke up, searching his eyes for some trace of hope that he believed me. I could’ve been wrong, and I knew that. There was a chance that Jackson really did kill her, but I didn’t see the proof, and I didn’t see him do it.

There’s no chance the killer had been in front of me the entire time.

He only sighed before letting his gaze trace away from mine. He shrugged lightly. “They say there’s a good chance he did.” He spoke quietly. I rolled my eyes at his words. Nobody had his back but me. Absolutely nobody.

“Just try to stay calm, ok? Your parents know what they’re doing. They’re not going to let an innocent teenager go to jail.”

I hesitantly nodded at his words as he placed a soft kiss against my forehead. He was right, he would be in custody until he was truly proven guilty. Not just suspected.

“Besides, there’s no more rumors, no more lies.” He repeated his words from earlier, giving me a reassuring smile as he placed his arm on my arm. The two of us walking back through the doors, the sun hitting our skin instantly.

This time I thought on what he said.

-

matts pov

The sun set and rose again. The entire night spent with Charlotte’s nearly two hundred new possibilities on who could’ve killed Natalie, if it wasn’t Jackson who did it.

I have to say, I had to give her credit for thinking so much about something she had no control over. But I knew she just wanted justice for her best friend, everyone did.

The past two weeks had been spent with her being a complete mess. Mentally. She’s went through the five stages of grief nearly ten times around, and the denial continues to linger once someone now mentions Jackson’s name.

Endless nights spent with her in my arms, words of reassurance and comfort leaving my lips. I hated seeing her so upset.

Not nearly as upset as she was when Natalie started those rumors about her.

“Alright, you needed help on what section of our studies?” Professor Collin’s asked, shooting me a bright smile as he logged into the computer. The forced yet returned smile covered my face.

My eyes traced to the clock behind him. I had to be quick, class would start in an hour, and we had so much to do before then.

“Just section four.” I replied, sliding him my notes. He nodded, looking through what I wrote.

It’s clear he’s not impressed with the work I’ve placed in front of him by the way his mouth forms a tight lipped smile as he reads through. “It’s a good thing you came for help, I’m worried about you getting behind your classmates.” He advises, continuing to judge everything I’ve laid out for him.

Maybe if he wasn’t flirting with my girlfriend the entire two hour lecture, I would be able to get more work done. Instead I was too worried on making sure he didn’t pull her into the broom closet between her studies.

Natalie was lying about the fact that the two of them were having sex. They never hooked up, and I know that for a fact.

She would never do that to me. Especially not with him.

On the other hand, it was painfully obvious how badly he wanted to. Between his eyes locked on hers, dilated pupils, and folders covering his crouch while he stood in front of the class.

It never felt right knowing he imagined her in all of the positions that I have full access to every night. Hell, I’m sure he gets off reminiscing on their innocent conversations in class.

I wasn’t an idiot, and I hated him for how he thought of her. She was mine, and she certainly wasn’t a piece of eye candy. Especailly not for her own professor.

Someone had to teach him a lesson.

“Do you like fucking your students?” I spoke up again, my gaze dropping from my paper to the man sitting in the desk below me.

His eyes quickly widened as he furrowed his eyebrows, looking at me with disbelief. Like he had no idea what I was saying.

“Excuse me?” He breathed out, shaking his head with a nervous laugh. I rolled my eyes so hard they ached. “Did you not hear me?” I asked as I took a step closer to him.

“I said do you like fucking your students.” I had repeated my previous question, this time louder. Thankfully for him the door was shut, leaving us alone in the dingy classroom.

His expression was panicked, but it was also clear how hardly he tried to remain a straight face. He was a pervert. Just a disgusting piece of shit, and everyone was going to know it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He finally replied as he turned away from me.

I scoffed as I took a step closer to him, reaching into my bag. I was going to finally end this. Right here, right now. Nobody else would say another nasty comment about my girl.

“You must think about it at the very least. Are you only imagining Charlotte when you’re sitting in your desk? Or do you think about her laying in bed next to your wife too?” I tease, drawing out my actions as the fear lingers within him.

“Matt?” Professor Collin’s speaks quietly, his eyes widened as I held the metal knife in my hand. He looked at me with guilt, fear, and confusion. The sight I loved more than anything.

The words I loved to hear before disaster. My own name being called out, like they were genuinely confused. Like they didn’t know they deserved this, that it was coming for them.

That I was coming for them.

“Matt?” Natalie slurred, raising her eyebrow as she looked at me. She was complete wasted, I had been watching her stumble on the way back to her dorm, but she hadn’t even been going the right way.

I stepped closer to him as he pushed his chair back, ultimately hitting the wall behind him. He had no where to go, he was completely trapped. And I had the weapon. We were playing a game of mouse. He was the mouse, I was the cat. He was my prey as of this moment, just like he had been preying on my girlfriend for months.

In a swift action I pulled him by his collar, his head hitting his wooden desk as his hands dropped to his side. Small winces escaping his lips as the knife went through his back.

I watched it with eager.

Again.

And again.

The knife going through his back.

Again.

And again.

The light of moon reflected on the silver knife going through her skin, her warm blood seeping out against my hand, against the pavement below us before she fell over.

There was a sudden moment of strength within her. Maybe adrenaline, maybe just pure will to live. Either way she spoke. “I just” She coughed, blood dripping down her chin as tears welled in her eyes. “I wanted someone to pay attention to me.” She sniffles pathetically as she weeps. “Why does no one notice me?”

Her body fell flat against the floor, her head scraped against his ground. I pulled the knife back, her blood pooling on the pavement around us as I wiped it between my gloves.

“No more rumors, no more lies.” I spoke under my breath, taking a final glance at the girl below me. Taking a final glance at the nonsense she’s caused over the past months.

It didn’t take long before his body became still underneath my touch. He was restless, no trace of life left. Just how I liked it. I pulled the knife back, wiping the blood off between my hands.

I took ahold of his hair, pulling his lifeless face up before running two slits on his bottom lip, dots of blood pooling around them.

“She’s mine.” I hissed through my teeth, picking up a lose piece of chalk from the end of his desk before leaving one final message on the board.

Yesterdays problem.

-

My heart raced as I pushed myself through the dimly lit hallways. One foot in front of the other the entire way. I could feel the warm blood seeping into my skin.

The blood I drew.

There was a dead man in that classroom. I was the one that killed him. Guilt mixed with power as I approached the nearest place with a sink, the boys locker room.

As soon as I walked into the room, I rushed to the nearest sink and turned on the water. I watched as all of the evidence went down the drain, but if anyone were to walk into that classroom they would see the truth.

“Matt?” A voice spoke from behind me. Panic flooded my body as I quickly turned around, my eyes meeting Bryce’s. He held his water jug in his hand, his jersey loosely hanging off of his body.

Fuck.

My eyes met his as I moved myself closer to the sink, trying to cover the mess in front of me. The water spraying the mixed blood around the white counter, an undeniable sight.

At my reaction he pushed himself closer, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down at the sink, the water still running as my hands remained soaked.

“Is that blood?” He finally asked.

My first response was to shake my head, tell him he was wrong. Maybe even gaslight him, make him belief he was the one going crazy.

But it was going to be hard to convince someone that something else was going on. Especially someone like Bryce.

On different circumstances, I would’ve been able to take care of this myself. Make sure everything was clean, and hidden before I ran into anyone. He didn’t give me much of a chance.

It’s unfair if you think about it. I’m only doing what other people are too scared to, and now i’m facing unjust consequences.

“I— I fell.” I spoke out, my eyes locked on his while his was glued to the blood running down my hands. That was until he noticed the knife sticking out of my pocket.

“Don’t fucking tell anyone.” I ordered, trying to remain persuasive or powerful to him, but I knew how much panic was laced through my voice.

He was frozen in fear, like he was the one who was supposed to be scared when I could be getting sent to prison for the rest of my life.

Maybe if he didn’t walk in on me it wouldn’t have been his fault. Unfortunately for him, his curiosity simply got the better of him.

“Bryce.” I spoke again, harshly as I placed my stained hands against his shoulders. His eyes widening as he finally looked up at me. “You gonna fucking tell?” I asked.

He didn’t respond. My heart rate only picked up. He was going to tell. Anyone would. I didn’t blame them, but I couldn’t let that happen. Nineteen years old, spending the rest of my life behind bars for simply giving others justice.

I really couldn’t let that happen.

Before another thought ran through my mind, his head was pressed against the mirror. The glass shattering around us, while the rest became stained with his blood.

His water jug dropped from his limp hand, the liquid leaking around the floor before he dropped down as well, landing against his back with a thump.

I took a deep breath, blood now coating the mirror, sink, and floor.

“It was too risky.” I mumbled to him, well, really only myself as I pulled the knife from my pocket again, three slits placed on his bottom lip, only drawing more blood from his face.

Kill count, three.

-

I'm not a bad person.

At least I don't think I am.

My intentions aren't flawed. I have someone who understands me and sometimes the world treats her unfairly, is it wrong to want to help?

I never meant for it to get this far, but since Natalie it's like an urge. Like if someone looks at Charlotte the wrong way I have an animalistic urge to end it, to end them.

It’s not like I wanted to hurt Natalie, at least not at first, but she was the one who hurt Charlotte. She had been hurting her for months, and I wasn’t going to let it happen any longer.

I’d known Natalie since middle school. I knew almost everything about her. It’s not like I had been fantasizing about killing her for years.

It just happened.

Though, the professor had it coming. Nobody can deny that he deserved what I did to him. Making those nasty, perverted remarks at Charlotte.

What kind of man would I be to allow that?

Bryce was a mistake. He didn’t do anything wrong. I was actually quite fond of him. I had been since he started dating Nick a few months ago. He was one of the better people on this sick earth.

Wrong person, wrong place.

I don't think it's psychotic what I'm doing. When you hear about killers you assume one of two things.

Either they have a bad home life, like Richard Ramirez who was abused as a child. Except I wasn't abused, sure I had my own mundane problems, but nothing in comparison and nothing that caused shit to hit the fan.

Or they are just clinically insane. Like Albert Fish.

I'm not insane, I don't hear voices or see things. I just want to protect the one person who gives me the time of day.

Maybe by protecting her I'm also protecting myself, but I don't think it's selfish. Charlotte is amazing in ways I struggle to understand. She's thoughtful and charismatic, she listens but she also always knows how to make me laugh.

Charlotte’s a good person.

And I'd like to think that by protecting her l'm a good person too.

-

“Matt, what is that?” Charlottes voice spoke up from beside me. My body against hers as my papers were sprawled out in front of me. My eyebrows furrowed at her question.

“What do you mean?”

Fear covered her face as her eyes traced down. They stopped just above my arm, focusing directly on my wrist.

I quickly looked down, my eyes widening as well as I noticed my silver bracelet stained with red liquid. I sucked in a sharp breath, pursing my lips before pulling my sleeve down.

She wasn’t supposed to see that.

Her face remained in a panic liked state as her eyes met mine. Her expression sinking into confusion as she took hold of my wrist, pulling against my sleeve.

“Is that blood— are you bleeding?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she scanned the stained the material. I wanted to nod, maybe even put on a bandaid and keep her from asking anymore questions, but she wasn’t stupid.

Charlotte was many things, but she wasn’t stupid. She could point out a lie from a mile away, a small difference in someone’s tone. It was impressive that she hadn’t caught me yet.

I took my arm back, pulling my sleeve down one more. “It’s nothing.” I spoke cautiously. I didn’t want to necessarily lie, but I couldn’t exactly spit out the truth. Not yet at least.

My intentions were good, at least for her, but that doesn’t mean she’d forgive me for what I did.

“Matt that was blood.” She replied, barely audible but I heard her as tears started to brim her eyes. Her perfect fucking eyes. I hated when she cried. Seeing her upset made me upset. If she wasn’t happy than neither was I.

“It wasn’t.” I mumbled in response. She scoffed, shaking her head as she pushed herself off of my bed. I sighed, following her as I reached my arm out for hers. She quickly pulled back, wrapping her arms around her body.

I sighed as I took a step closer to her, letting my hands drop to my sides. Giving her a respectful amount of space.

She looked lost in thought, her eyes remaining on my covered wrist. The blood was dried, it was from hours ago.

There were police swarming our campus. Both bodies found in the span of five minutes. Collins first, Bryce second. Everyone was sent back to their rooms, doors locked as they suspected an active killer.

Although, nothing was released to the public yet. Nobody knew who was killed, except the first kids that walked in for their morning class.

“Can I see?” She spoke again, a soft breath from her lips as she looked up at me. I hesitated before pulling my sleeve again, the silver bracelet in her vision as the lines of dried blood coated the material.

“Please tell me that’s your blood.”

“Matt.”

“Charlotte.” I finally replied through a sigh. I didn’t want to lie to her. I just didn’t want her to know the extended truth. It wasn’t my blood, honestly I wasn’t sure whose it was. “It’s not mine.” I spoke again. She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Then whose is it?” She asked, letting go of my arm as she looked up at me. I hesitated. This could ruin everything. “Matt— if it’s not your blood, then why is someone else’s on you during a fucking campus lockdown, it makes you seem like you—” She cut herself off as her eyes widened.

“No.” She spoke again, her eyes finding mine again, practically begging for an answer. “You didn’t— you wouldn’t.” She laughed in denial, shaking her head. Once she noticed the lack of my reaction, her expression dropped again.

Silence.

“Charlotte.” I spoke after a few seconds, taking another step toward her. “Listen to me, alright? Just for a minute.” She shook her head again, her body language was so unfamiliar.

Distant, confused, and hurt but all directed at me.

“No, you’re supposed to listen to me. Just answer the goddamn question, why the fuck is your bracelet covered in someone’s blood?”

I pursed my lips as my heartbeat picked up in my chest. If I waited long enough maybe she’d forget. Or maybe she’d just figure out what really happen. That I killed her best friend. I killed her professor, and I killed my brothers boyfriend. But

But everything I did was for her.

She needed to understand that.

“Answer me, Matt!”

“Charlotte.” I snapped, placing my hands on her shoulders, a soft gasp leaving her lips. “Listen to me first.” I breathed out. “I did what I had to do. For us, for you—”

Her expression dropped once more, her face practically white at a those as she pushed my hands off of her. “You killed them?” She mumbled, taking a step back.

“Is that what you’re saying?” She asked. “Thats not your blood, because— whatever happened on campus today, it was you, wasn’t it?” She was speaking so fast, I wouldn’t doubt that she would pass out if she kept going.

I didn’t respond.

“Did you hurt someone- did you— did you- you killed someone, Matt?” She breathed out, her arms pressed tightly against her self. “We’ve been dealing with Natalie’s death, and you go and ruin someone else’s life?”

I looked at my feet, silence overtaking us for a few moments. My heart was racing, my breath short, she knew, and she wasn’t happy. Although, my silence wasn’t the answer, because it gave her more than she needed.

“You killed her.” She finally spoke.

My eyes met hers, as I pursed my lips again. I couldn’t respond, I couldn’t. She looked so hurt, so betrayed, when all I wanted to do was help her.

“You don’t care— you never cared about Natalie! All those stupid words you told me, that you missed her— you’re a liar!” She practically screamed at me, her eyes watering.

“I did it for you!” I replied, matching her tone as I took her wrists in my hand. She quickly shook her head, a look of disbelief on her face as she stepped back, bumping into the doorway.

My heart broke at the way she looked at me. Like she was scared of me, and I couldn’t blame her, but I hated it. I wanted her to look at me how she always did.

With love.

“Charlotte, please.” I begged, looking down at her with pleading eyes. She shook her head with a soft scoff, opening the door before slamming it in the matter of seconds. I wanted to run after her, bring her back into my room and tell her all night that everything was fine. That we were fine, but she had already made that decision.

I wasn’t sure how I expected her to react, but I never expected her to even find out. It was supposed to be a secret, but then again trying to keep a secret from someone like her is nearly impossible.

She could be going to run to her parents for all I knew. Going to hide from me, and tell someone what I did. I might be going to jail after all.

And I might lose her after all.

-

charlottes pov

The last place I needed to be right now was yet another college party. But despite my sour mood, I had friends expecting me and I wasn’t going to let them down.

I spent the past hours stuck in my room, my phone in my hand as I contemplated calling the police, telling them what Matt did, but as much as I wanted to I couldn’t.

It felt like my mind was on overdrive. Maybe he didn’t it, but it was obvious. He never exactly confirmed that he touched Natalie, but the aching pit in my stomach told me.

How could I have been so blind?

So blind to see that it was him all along. Every tear he wiped, word he said, all of it was a lie. He cried at the funeral, hugged her parents, and all along he was the one who shoved the knife through—

I took a deep breath.

Matt was back at his dorm, it didn’t matter. I mean it did, but it couldn’t. I love Matt more than anything, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to him. Even if he deserved it.

So for the sake of not completely falling apart again, I was going to pretend today never happened, and that everything was ok.

I hadn’t been to an outing like this since Natalie’s death, and it felt very real, very fast as I walk up to the front lawn. Red solo cups sprawled unevenly throughout the yard, with people already throwing up in the trimmed bushes.

The campus was still closed off, so with the help of a few friends, someone decided to throw a party just off campus and nearly everyone was there.

I walked in reluctantly, imperially being sucked in by loud rap music. The bass practically beating through my body as I looked around the thick crowds of people.

The sudden grasp on my waist caused me to turn around at lighting speed, panic rushing straight to my heart as I make sense of the face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Nick laughed slightly, pulling me by the hand to a more quiet area in the living space. “I’m happy you’re here! I’ve missed you.”

I smiled. If anyones going to make my presence feel special it’s Nick. “It just feels weird being here now since… yeah.”

A frustrated breath left my lips after my words. Of course I immediately made the mood sad, it’s all I’ve been doing for the past two weeks.

“Hey, she’d be happy you’re here right now. If anyone’s going to take over her role as the obsessive party-goer it’s you.” Nick joked, taking a moment to look around at all the familiar faces.

“Have you seen Bryce anywhere?” He asked. I furrowed my eyebrows. “He hasn’t been texting me back, but his parents could’ve taken his phone away again so.”

I thought about every recent interaction I’ve had with Bryce, but I hadn’t spoken to him since he had helped me with a history assignment a few days ago. “I haven’t heard from him, I’m sure he’s fine though his parents are dicks.”

Nick just nodded slowly in response, it’s clear he was a bit worried, and I couldn’t really blame him. After Natalie’s death and Jackson going to jail for it everyone at this college is on edge.

My heart dropped at the thought.

Jackson.

He was still in jail, and he was innocent.

“Let’s get ourselves a drink yeah?” I asked as I placed my hand on his shoulder, guiding i’m to the kitchen. I just needed to forget, more than anything.

Forget about Natalie.

Forget about Jackson.

Forget about Matt.

It didn’t take long until we’re surrounded by wood cupboards, and large bottles of cheap liquor. I poured us both a cup of vodka mixed with cranberry juice before Chris called Nick to assist him with whatever drinking game he’d started.

I couldn’t really be bothered to take part, so I used this as my opportunity to explore the house.

Weirdly enough walking around all these random drunk students felt almost like an out of body experience. Like I was a spectator simply people watching as I sipped on my poorly rationed drink.

After a small amount of walking I find myself in some sort of man cave. Deer heads are mounted on the wall alongside numerous patriotic posters.

Definitely tacky.

For whatever reason the alcohol hit me like a brick, I was just unsure if it’s because of the sheer amount of vodka poured in or the combination of the antidepressants I was just started on.

Either way my head immediately begins to feel heavy and I opt to sit on the carpeted flooring, leaning my back against the wall.

I put the empty red cup down, I didn’t even realize I had finished it until it tipped over on the floor, and not a single drop of liquid poured out.

“What are you doing in here by yourself?” The vaguely familiar voice she spoke, entering the room before closing the door behind himself.

I squinted my eyes to get a better look at the figure that approaches me.

“Chris is that you?” I asked, my head still weighed down in between my bent knees. He just laughed from a distance as I was still unable to figure out who it is.

That was until he sat next to me, his face now illuminated by the ceiling lights. “Josh.” I gawked, rolling my eyes.

“Atta girl.” He smiled, handing me a cup of God knows what. “I got you a drink, figured you’d need to loosen up after the whole… situation.”

I nodded slowly, taking the cup from him and bringing the rim to my lips before wiping my mouth and replying. “Yeah it’s weird being here. Hard to be happy when I know she’d rather be here than me.” I confessed, the alcohol in my system acting like a truth serum.

Clearly making me oblivious as well.

“Not even happy that gay kids dead?” Josh spoke as he looked down at me, raising his eyebrow while mine furrowed.

I’m wasn’t entirely sure what takes over me but my breathing increased rapidly, vision altered and suddenly my hands feel numb. “What the fuck are you talking about J-Josh?”

Speaking was harder too, the words in my head are struggling to leave my mouth.

“It doesn’t matter pretty girl, he got what he deserved.” He replied, pushing himself closer to me and pushing a strand of hair from my ear. I furrowed my eyebrows. “What— no— he didn’t.” I shook my head, squinting my eyes as I looked at Josh. Everything becoming blurred.

He let out a soft sigh. “Just relax, please?” He asked. I shook my head, trying to push myself to my feet, but he pulled me back onto the ground. I landed against my knees. His hands coming in contact with my hips.

“Charlotte.” He groaned at my action, holding my hips tighter. I shook my head again once his hands came in contact with the waistband of my shorts. There was something in the drink, and he put it there.

Fuck.

My breathing picked up as his hands came closer to me again. I was going to pass out soon enough, and he was stronger than me. There won’t be anything I could do. My vision turned into a gun rack just in front of me, the door halfway open.

I pushed myself toward the door, his hands not leaving my sides as he tugged at the fabric again, clearly eager.

“Where are you going—”

He began to speak, but was ultimately cut off by the sound of a gunshot firing through the air. My eyes widened as I watched him fall back, hitting the table before falling flat against the floor.

The gun in my hand.

I covered my mouth with my hands, quickly dropping the gun to the floor before looking down at him again, blood pooling quickly around him.

In a second without thought I ripped my jacket from my body, pressing it against the ground in hopes to clean it to the best of my ability.

“Charlotte?” Matt’s voice rang. I quickly turned my head around, my eyes meeting his as I stood from my bruised knees, momentarily pausing my movements of cleaning up the mess in front of me. The same mess I created.

“Matt, there’s blood—” I breathed out, my hands shaking by my side as his body laid under my feet. His lifeless body. That I caused. His blood spread around the carpet, soaking into the material as it approached my shoes.

I took a step back, stumbling slightly at my own action. My hands came in contact with the table behind me, keeping me steady and upright.

It was hard to think about how upset with him I was. Considering the fact that now I had done the same thing; take another life.

“There is.” He nodded, looking down at the floor before looking back toward me. “It’s ok.” Matt assured, stepping closer to me before placing his hands on my shoulders.

My gaze went to his, panicked breaths leaving my lips as my hands continued to shake. I couldn’t tell if it was the fear, or the poisoned drink running through my veins.

Either way I was screwed.

“I killed him.” I spoke again, my breath shaken as I closed my eyes in my own defeat. The sound of my own heartbeat filling my ears.

Matt rubbed my arms gently before he shook his head. “No you didn’t.” He replied, scanning my face. I furrowed my eyebrows, fighting the urge to give in to the weakness overcoming my body.

“I did.” He spoke again. I shook my head, moving my hands onto his hips, keeping myself upright. I didn’t understand what he was saying, what he was trying to do. “Matt, I shot Josh, because he tried to—”

Because his eyebrows as I cut myself off, closing my eyes as I fell against his chest. His arms instantly coming around my waist.

“Hey, woah.” He breathed out, rubbing my back to try and keep me apart. “What did he try to do?” He asked. I didn’t respond, my mouth not opening.

He let out a heavy sigh, quickly moving me so I was leaning against the wall in front of him. My hands falling to my side. He placed his against my jaw, moving me so I was looking at him.

“Listen. You don’t go anywhere. Stay here, let me get something to clean this. Just stay here, please.” He spoke.

I nodded slowly, closing my eyes again as I pulled my knees to my chest, suddenly oblivious to the blood pooling around me.

“I love you.�� I breathed out as I realized how fast my heart was racing. Whatever was in that drink was strong, and it was hitting me fast.

He furrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head. “I- I love you too, but you’re going to be fine. Just stay here.” He spoke, before pushing himself from the ground and leaving the room.

My eyes opened again to trace his body. I watched him walk out the room, my eyes remaining on his blue sweater, silver jewelry, and the shoes that I loved.

The sight of him eased my mind from the fear coursing through my veins. That was until he left my sight, now an empty hallway filling my vision. My eyes turned from the door to the floor in front of me, the rifle on the floor.

“Fuck.” I mumbled, pushing myself forward and grabbing the gun. I slowly pulled myself to my feet, the gun in my hand as I looked down at Josh. The boy I had killed.

I went to put the gun back into the case, but before I could my body froze. A sudden ringing in my ears as I involuntary stumbled backward. Fast breaths leaving my lips before all of the sound in the world came back.

“Take the gun.” An unfamiliar voice spoke harshly, the gun being taken out of my hands while a pain radiated through my stomach. My hands were placed over the area, before my eyes widened.

Blood.

My blood.

I swear I could feel my heart drop down to my feet, my chest heating up as I looked down again. My eyes were met with my stomach, more blood seeping through my shirt.

When my eyes drifted up again they were met with three officers, one of them holding their gun directly at me. A faint line of smoke leaving the end.

He shot me.

Before I could think again I was back into the floor, my head coming in contact with the ground sharply. My body felt like it was on fire, my vision ten times worse than it had been.

If I wasn’t dying before, I certainly was now.

My stomach was burning, and I knew there was nothing I could do. It was like I was looking through the world with a kaleidoscope. Just like when I was a kid. The colors and shapes collided into an array of one.

For some reason, once the pain in my body subsided, all I could feel was peace.

I was simply numb. Physically and mentally numb. Nothing could hurt me, no one could hurt me. I was safe, I was happy. As much as I could be for nothing my fate.

The last thing I saw was the familiar blue sweater making its appearance at the doorway, the same sweater that I refused to take off for months. The sweater that smelt like Matt’s cologne. The boy I loved more than anything.

The boy that I’d die for.

“Matt—” I breathed out, barely forming the world before finally, my mind had been cut off for one last time.

Finally, the world had went black.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: sincerely, sienna and grace

taglist: @greatooglymooglyyy @fake-sturniolos @raysmayhem-72 @luv4kozume @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosbxtch @wurlibydominicfike @bernardsbendystraws @txssvx @thecynthh @biimpanicking @stazsi @mazzystar111 @gnxosblog @imwetforyourmom @stonermattsgf @paibey @creamoncreamoncream2 @sturnioloslife @bitchydragonparadise @anlqq @y0urm4m @bernardenjoyer @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @cherrypostsposts @thenickgirl @patscorner @freshsturns @annamcdonalds67 @lilyloveschris @sstvrnioloo @chrattstromboli

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff

[wolfjackle-creates]

Please tell me that with 'Johnny and Kitty pocess Superman and Batman' That they are either on a date or go on a date after a fight? Please this needs to happen

@britcision also asked about this one!

So I was looking through what I wrote of this and...it's not that good. It's based on a prompt from back in Nov 2022 and I was still figuring things out back then and needed to rewrite everything I wrote at least once. It's less crack than you'd expect from the title, I'm afraid.

So I'm gonna do part of that rewrite. Because I'm insane and don't have self control. 🤣

Anyway, the prompt is from @zeestarfishalien and can be found here. Oddly it doesn't have half as many notes as I remember it having. Huh. Guess I thought it had more because I latched onto it so strongly.

Anyway, enjoy!

Word Count: 1.6k

-----

"Danny!" yelled Jazz from downstairs.

Danny froze for just a moment. That was Jazz's something-is-wrong voice. He dropped through the floor to get to her that much quicker. "What happened?" he demanded.

She just pointed to the TV where a news reporter was standing in a city. Behind her, Batman stood next to the open driver's side door to the batmobile while Superman floated in the air a few feet away with his arms crossed.

"Don't look at me like that, baby," said Batman.

"I will look at you however the hell I want. You forgot our date, asshole!" yelled Superman back.

The reporter grinned at the camera. "Looks like quite the lover's tiff we've stumbled upon! Who would have ever suspected Batman and Superman of being in a relationship?"

Behind her, Superman used his heat vision to shoot at Batman who cursed loudly before jumping into his car and speeding off. Superman huffed and flew in the opposite direction. Jazz muted the TV while the reporter continued making speculations about Batman and Superman's relationship. Danny stared at Jazz in horror.

"That was—"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it was."

Danny closed his eyes and thought about the half finished essay he had upstairs and the history test he had the next day and how his parents would be home in an hour. He wanted to cry.

"I have to go to Gotham."

"I'll take care of our parents. Have you had the flu yet this year?"

Danny's laugh had a hysterical edge to it. "Tuck's been keeping track of my excuses. Ask him. I'll just…" Danny let the sentence trail as he transformed and flew out of the house without another word.

Even flying as fast as he could, he didn't arrive in Gotham until night had fallen. He tried to sense Johnny or Kitty or listen for the chaos that always followed them, but the city was so big.

After over half an hour of searching with no luck, Danny was sitting on a roof with his head buried in his knees trying not to cry. He only had so many hours before he had to be back in Amity for school. If he missed any more days, he'd get a suspension and his parents would be livid.

Just then, the clock tower chimed ten. Danny lifted his head to look at the tall building, one of the tallest in the city. He might not have any idea how to find Batman, but surely the other heroes would. Maybe he could get their attention?

In a matter of minutes, he was floating above the clock tower. With a deep breath, he shot an ectoblast up into the sky. Two minutes later, he repeated the action.

Not long after his fifth blast, two grapple hooks attached to the tower near his feet and seconds later he was facing Batman and Robin.

Danny immediately fell into a fighting stance. "Johnny, I'm not going to let you get away with this. Get out of him. Now."

But instead of calling him a do-gooder nerd, Batman pulled out a batarang and held it ready to throw. "I'm not this Johnny," he growled.

Danny relaxed and sighed in relief. "Oh thank the ancients, you got him out. I'm so, so sorry, Batman! I know you and the Justice League are relying on me to keep the ghosts from escaping Amity. Johnny and Kitty must’ve gotten past me. How'd you get Johnny out? Were you able to help Superman? Kitty is at least reasonable most of the time so I hope she didn't give you any trouble. Where are they now? I'll just collect them and bring them back to the Realms."

Robin pulled out his sword and pointed it at Danny. "What do you know of Fa— Batman's condition? Who is this 'Johnny' you speak of?"

Danny's core stuttered in his chest. The kid couldn't mean… He looked past the blade pointed at him towards Batman. "You… aren't Batman. Are you? You're covering for him while Johnny is overshadowing the real one."

Batman put a hand on Robin's shoulder. "Lower the sword, Robin." To Danny, he said, "I think you owe us some explanations."

Danny buried his head in his hands and tried to bite back the tears. He was so tired. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. This is my fault. They got past me and I failed. I'm so sorry."

“Desist with your groveling and explain!” ordered Robin.

“Right, yeah. Of course. Sorry.” Danny looked up, but the stars were hidden behind smog and lights. He sighed. “I’m Phantom, of course. Responsible for monitoring the portal in Amity and keeping ghosts from coming through and causing problems on Earth. Also for stopping human hunters from hurting any ghosts. Johnny and Kitty, two ghosts, must have gotten past me. I’m careful, I swear. We set up an alarm on the portal so I know the moment someone comes through, but I missed them somehow. I…maybe they came through at the same time as someone else? I’ve had to deal with Skulker and Boxy so far this week. And Queen Dora came for a visit and one of Pandora’s people stopped by to drop something off. So if Johnny and Kitty came through at the same time… Pariah curse it, I should’ve realized. What a stupid design flaw. I’ll be working on a fix for that as soon as I get out of school tomorrow. I’d do it sooner, but I’ve a test you see. And if I miss any more class, I’ll get a suspension, and then my parents really will kill me again.”

Danny winced when he saw Robin’s fingers twitch towards his sword again. “Sorry! No more excuses. It’ll be fixed ASAP, promise. Um, Johnny is generally into motorcycles, but I think he saw the Batmobile and wanted to take it for a ride so he overshadowed Batman. From what I saw on the news, he blew off a date with Kitty to do it so she’s pissed and followed him and ended up overshadowing Superman. Probably so she could use his powers on top of her own to punish Johnny.” He trailed off and waited for the yelling to start.

But they were silent.

Danny shifted from foot to foot. “Again, I’m really sorry. I know you rely on me to keep this from happening and I swear it won’t again. But if you tell me where you think Batman is, I’ll go retrieve Johnny. Same with Superman and Kitty. I need to get this wrapped up by four, maybe four thirty, so I can get home in time for school to start.” He couldn’t hold back a yawn. He just wanted to sleep.

Batman and Robin exchanged a glance and Batman put away his weapon. “I’ve never heard of you or this Amity before. You’re a kid, who is your Justice League mentor? Why aren’t they here?”

“I… What? Justice League mentor? What are you talking about? All of my mentors are ghosts.”

Robin snorted. “Who informed you that it was your responsibility to monitor this portal that allows these ghosts to invade? Why are you the only one preventing attacks such as this?”

Danny bristled. “I’m not alone! Sam and Tucker and my sister help me!”

“Are they kids like you?” asked Batman.

“If by like me you mean ghosts, of course not. They’re fully alive. I’m the only ghost of the group.”

“No,” said Batman after a pause. “That’s not what I meant. I wanted to know if they were teenagers who still go to school like you or if they were adults you worked with.”

Danny shrugged. “Jazz is starting college next year, but yeah. They’re my friends.”

Batman let out a long breath. “Right. And why do you think the Justice League is expecting you, specifically, to monitor this portal?”

Danny threw up his hands. “Because you told me that!” He saw Batman open his mouth to say something and quickly added, “Not you specifically, but, like, the League. This guy Constantine came by a month or two after the portal opened and saw me and relaxed. Said he was glad to see I was already handling things there. Gave me a number and laughed and said if anyone could handle the situation, it’d be me, but I could call if I needed back up.” He shrugged. “And he was right. So far I have been able to handle it. This is an exception and I’ll get it fixed in a few hours tops.”

Robin ground his teeth. “That lazy magician.”

Batman also muttered something under his breath. “Thank you, Phantom. For doing so much on your own. If you tell us how to free Batman and Superman, we can handle it from here.”

“What?” Danny shook his head in confusion. “What are you talking about? You need specialized weapons that I don’t have on me and containment devices and access to a portal to the Realms to get rid of them. Seriously, I can get this taken care of. Just tell me where Batman is.”

Batman sighed again. “We don’t have much of a choice. Fine. But will you be able to get us these weapons and containment devices if we requested some of you? We’ll pay you, of course. And we’d like more details on what you’ve been dealing with. I’m afraid Constantine… did not share the details of your dealings with the rest of us.”

“Yeah, sure. The weapons are made by Drs. Jack and Maddie Fenton of FentonWorks, based out of Amity Park, Illinois. Their son Danny can help you pick out the most useful ones. Some are more torture device than anything, though, so definitely avoid those. Danny will be able to tell you the difference.”

Batman nodded once, jaw clenched. “Thank you. Now, I’ve just gotten an update on the possessed Batman’s location. Follow us.”

-----

Dick is pretending to be Batman here. If they have a "normal" batman out, then they can show the possessed batman is an imposter.

I saw some debate on the original over whether Johnny would possess Batman or Superman. To me, the answer was obvious. He'd possess Batman because he wanted to take the Batmobile for a spin.

Meanwhile, Kitty is the smart one. She'd go for Superman because then she could use his powers and her own to 1) punish Johnny and 2) prevent anyone from stopping them.

Regarding Constantine: He made an oops, but it's not (fully) his fault. Due to time missions from Clockwork, Phantom is shown to be thousands of years old and is known for fantastic feats. If Constantine had known this was some fourteen year old newly dead kid, he'd have acted differently. Instead, he thinks Danny is older than he is with millenia of experience.

This is free for anyone to continue!

#dpxdc #wolf writes #johnny 13 (dp) #kitty (dp) #danny fenton #ask game #i forgot how fun this prompt is

[sydnikov]

Carry Me Home || S. Aho

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Sebastian Aho/fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Sebastian Aho is frustrated with his team’s loss against the New York Islanders. He takes it out on you in a rather primitive way.

Warnings: 18+ smut smut smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kiddos!), oral (f receiving), bits of dom!Sepe, breeding kink if you squint, cursing, angst, not much fluff in this one

A/N: Surprise! My first smut fic. I hate myself. I blame the Hurricanes playing like shit for making me write this. As usual, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!! I certainly didn’t (kidding) P.S. Title is from “All The Small Things” by Blink 182

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

Sebastian Aho feels fire in his veins. His skin is flushed, hot to the touch, with his hair smoking from sweat-soaked strands boiling into steam. He is a steadily growing inferno, biding his time before unleashing his wrath.

There was no other time in his life he could think of where he had ever felt so frustrated, so angry.

Painful grunts and the sounds of sticks hitting the ice so hard they break echo in his ears, just as the sound of the puck hitting the goal post every time he shot it did, too. In the back of his mind, Sebastian knows that winning takes more than just one player, but yet all he can think is my fault my fault my fault.

He is an alternate captain, after all. It’s his job to help lead his team, to get them the wins they deserve. So ever since the start of this season, why had he been failing to do so?

Sebastian couldn’t dominate the Islanders on his own no matter how much he wanted to… But there is one person he knows he can.

As the Fin aggressively unties his skates, he imagines the strands of your hair tangled in his fingers as the laces get stuck on his glove. As he rips off his undershirt, he imagines doing the same to your bra.

When the reporters ask the same question they do after every game, “What could you have done better?” and pretend not to flinch when he shoots them a glare, he imagines your wide-eyed gaze as he tells you, c’mon, you can take it, yeah?

He kind of wishes he could say the same thing to these fucking reporters as he imagines giving one or two or preferably all of them a black eye—in a different scenario, of course.

Oh, but you are so good to him. He doesn’t deserve you. There is absolutely nothing in this world that can take you away from him, not now and not ever.

The winger speaks to no one except for the coaching staff as he eventually storms out of the locker room, exchanging a few words about practice and something about more line changes before he is finally let go.

Sebastian doesn’t want to think about hockey anymore. He wants to think about you.

Meanwhile, you were planted outside said locker room with a few of the wives and girlfriends, leaning against the wall while you all tried to talk about anything other than the disaster of a game you’d just watched.

It was hard watching the person you love get so upset and disappointed, especially when knowing how much pressure he puts on himself to be a leader of his team. There were many nights laying in bed, his head resting on your chest, that he revealed the bits and pieces of his carefully shielded heart how responsible he feels for his team’s performance.

How every loss chips away at his self-respect, leaving him feeling broken and lost as he struggles to find a way to get his team back on top. He was only one man, yet felt the weight of a thousand suns bearing down on his shoulders, relying on him to score.

And score he tries. Everything he could do he does; he racks up the points, he makes assists, but all his efforts still couldn’t bring them out on top.

You know Sebastian feels worthless, and you aren’t sure how he’s going to express it as you spot him marching up to you.

“Hey,” is your first word to him, spoken softly and carefully before he pulls you into his chest. The first thing you notice is that he feels like a human furnace; the chill you’d become used to after sitting next to an ice rink for over two hours is immediately replaced with warmth, and you can’t help but bury your head into his chest at the feel of it. “I’m sorry, Sepe.”

The pressure he so often feels immediately dissipates at the sound of your voice. Sebastian releases a strained sigh and curls over your body in a protective embrace, his mind racing with millions of words at a million miles per hour but the only ones he can hear are mine mine mine as you look up at him with unbridled affection.

“Kulta,” My honey, he murmurs, wet strands of hair falling over his eyes as he looks down at you. “You’re still here,” he can’t help but say, almost as if he were expecting you to be gone because he didn’t win.

You soften even more if that were possible. “I would never leave you,” you say with conviction, your words meant to be taken innocently yet all Sebastian could think of is the image of you under him as he thrusts into you, making you say the same words over and over again.

“What was that?”

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. C’mon, pretty girl, say it for me again,”

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He needs to get you home, immediately.

Lacing his fingers through yours, the Finn presses a heated kiss to your lips, groaning so deep in his chest it has your face flushing a beautiful shade of red which has him thinking truly awful things before the two of you leave the arena.

Sebastian wants nothing more than to take care of you, and thinks briefly that maybe this is a developing unhealthy coping mechanism in the works, but as he opens the car door for you and locks eyes on the way your lips flash him a sweet smile, he can’t find it in himself to care.

You’re just so innocent; it’s in your nature to see the good in everything, to see the good in him despite his less-than holy thoughts. While he doesn’t consider his sex life with you vanilla by any means, he almost feels guilty for all the degrading ways he was thinking of you.

Sebastian was not on top of his game tonight, but he was determined, now, to be on top of you.

Your mind, however, is running rampant in all of the ways you think this night could go, and with Sebastian’s large hand splayed across your thigh as he drives the two of you home, you’re fairly positive in your understanding of what your role is going to be.

It’s funny because you’ve been with him for several years now and he still never fails to get your heart racing. Everything about him has you feeling a certain type of way, especially now as you catch shy peeks of his side profile; clenched jaw, ruffled hair, and blazing eyes…

You can’t help but rub your thighs together, a pleasurable tingle starting low in your belly and spreading warmth throughout the rest of your body as Sebastian gives you a look that spells trouble.

He adjusts the hold he has on your thigh, gripping the flesh just a little bit tighter. “Gonna get you home soon, don’t worry,” he says, almost to himself. It has your eyes widening and your heart beating faster because the tone of his voice is almost feral.

Sebastian is not what you would consider rough in bed. He has his moments, where he uses his strength to flip you over or manhandle you into whatever position he wants, but he’s never been the type to fuck you against a wall or anything of the sorts.

And as dominating as he could sometimes be, his softer side more than made up for it. Sweet but deep kisses to your lips, teeth lovingly nipping marks onto the sides of your breasts, hands roaming all over your body with gentle squeezes and caresses, and a body that seldom ran out of stamina making sure your pleasure always comes before his.

His mouth, however… Sebastian’s mouth is the word ‘dirty’ personified. Sinful lips creating words you’d never want your mother to hear, and a tongue that knew every weak spot on your body to leave you shivering in its wake.

In fact, you couldn’t help but remember the last time his mouth was put to use. Twas the night before, actually, where his body was restless and his solution to getting his energy out was sliding down the length of your body with whispered praises, slipping your panties to the side with his pointer finger, and attaching his lips first thing to your clit—

The sound of your name from the very voice of the man you were just fantasizing about interrupts your thoughts. You quickly turn to find that Sebastian already powered off and exited the vehicle and is holding your door open for you, looking at you with slight concern.

He says your name again when you fail to respond, suddenly starstruck.

Sebastian is just and his arms are so and his lips so full and kissable and him—

The next thing you know, the Finn has wrapped his large hands around your waist and is yanking you out of the car, mouth swooping down to meet your eager lips.

He kisses the life out of you, simultaneously slamming the car door shut so he can press you hard against it. The thought that you have any semblance of control right now slips through your rattled brain not unlike the slickness you can feel dripping down your legs.

He was the epitome of domineering, in no mood to let you think you had any say in what he is going to do to you. Tonight is about him needing a release, and the only way he is going to get it is through you.

Or, rather, by him burying himself so deep inside you you wouldn’t be able to walk for days. The thought has his cock throbbing, unable to resist pressing his hips into the heat between your thighs.

The feeling of his dick against your most sensitive spot has you releasing a breathless whine, and then your kisses become harder against his lips, more desperate.

Sebastian bites at your bottom lip, his own rising into a smirk once he feels rather than hears the resulting gasp catch in your throat. He lets one of his hands rise from the grip he has on your ass to slide carefully around your neck, firmly grasping the front of your throat to bring you closer.

The action has you flat-out whimpering, your hands sinking into the winger’s hair, tugging at the strands so hard he hisses. Now, the Finn is no submissive by any means, but never have you seen him so, so… Dominant.

You decide right then and there that you rather like this side of him.

“Sepe,” you try to speak, but the words catch in your throat again as his kisses move from your lips, past his hand still gripping your throat, and down to the sensitive skin of your collarbone. “—I can’t,”

He hums, your pleas merely background noise as he sucks red marks into your skin. “Can’t what? Gonna have to be more specific, nappula,”

Button. Oh, you are so fucked. Literally. His button. He called you his button. His his his.

Unable to take his slow teasing, you tear him away from your neck to bring him back to your eager lips, a desperate sound crawling up your throat as his hands move to bury themselves in your hair.

“Take me to bed, please,”

Sebastian practically melts at your words. Knowing your desperation, he moves his hands back from your hair down to your thighs, tapping once and then twice where you finally got the memo to jump. He curls your legs over his hips, sliding one hand under your ass with the other pressing supportively against the small of your back.

The five-second walk to the front door has the hand previously holding your back trembling as he fumbles with his keys. Finally opening the door after forcing himself to focus, despite the feeling of your mouth leaving teasing nips and kisses, Sebastian mutters a long string of curses as he hurriedly steps into the house, swiftly kicking the door shut behind him.

“Such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear, his free hand grasping onto the back of your neck to bring you back to his lips. He kisses you sensually, reveling in the softness of your body molding perfectly against his. “Bet you’ve been waiting for me all night.”

You nod rapidly in agreement, hands trying to find purchase on the smooth lines of his suit so you could begin tearing it off of him. “I’m always wanting you, Sepe,”

Sebastian hisses another curse, and the next thing you know your back is landing softly on the large mattress that is his bed. He gives you no time to gather your thoughts before he’s climbing on top of you. His calloused hands slip under your shirt to remove it, granting him full access to knead at your tits.

The forward kisses you again, tongue tracing lines across your bottom lip before forcefully pushing his way in. You can feel him everywhere and nowhere all at once, a strangled sound escaping your throat as his hips start grinding into the throbbing heat between your legs.

“Seb,” you try, back arching as his hands skillfully move to unclasp your bra. “Oh fuck, Seb, please,”

The sound of your cries has Sebastian grinning wolfishly, your desperation filling him with a sick sense of pride. “Please what?”

Suddenly, you understand his teammates just a little bit more when they would call him a little shit and other various, foul nicknames in front of you.

Clumsily grabbing one of his hands from where it was still massaging your tit, your legs fall open as you press his palm directly over the material of your pants, almost positive they were wet. “Please just touch me, please—”

Your babbling is interrupted when he begins peppering your face with soothing kisses, apologetically rubbing his thumb over your nipple while the other makes its way under your pants and down to your slit, thoroughly soaked with your arousal.

“This all for me?” he coos as two fingers run through your lips, taking the natural lubricant to rub tight circles over your clit. “You’re soaked, kisu.”

The resulting mewl that escapes you afterwards lives up to the name he just called you. Kitty.

Sebastian watches your reactions with hooded eyes, taking note of the way your breath hitches when he rubs your clit a certain way; he knows the ins and outs of your body by now, but every time you have sex there is still something new to learn, and there is nothing Sebastian is if not eager to learn. He’s particularly fond of the way you arch into him as he sinks two fingers inside you, grinning as you cry out while the calloused pads of his fingertips curl against the spongy wall of nerves nestled near the front of your walls.

With panting breaths and strangled moans, your thighs shake as his thumb finds its way back to your clit and rubs it in circles the same way his fingers are doing inside you. Your stomach feels as if it’s in knots, hands gripping the sheets beneath you so hard they’ve gone numb, and your mind is blissfully blank except for the repetitive thought of more more more.

You echo this sentiment to him, to which he merely picks up the pace in response. It’s almost too much but a good too much, like the peak of your pleasure is just climbing higher and higher, almost impossible to reach but you can feel it right there—

Suddenly, all pleasurable movements stop. You snap your head up, aghast, cheeks flushed with arousal and now irritation because were were so fucking close and now all you’re left with is a disappointed burn between your legs. “Sebastian, what the actual fuck,”

The very man himself licks his lips, looking all too pleased with the way you’re relying on him to help you finish. “Patience,” is all he says, flashing you a shiny smile before skilled hands are sliding the rest of your pants and underwear down your legs. Instinctively your legs try to close at the feel of cold air hitting your pussy, but Sebastian is having none of it as he swiftly pries your thighs back apart.

“Shy?” He teases, stroking your inner thigh before pulling his shirt off his head. You have a reply prepared, but quickly lose your train of thought as his torso is revealed; Sebastian is all hard planes of muscle, golden skin with a light dusting of body hair, and so distinctly male he has you practically drooling as you reach out to trail your hands down his chest.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his waist to bring his body down on top of yours. You want, no, need him close to you. While your veins were still full of liquid fire, your nerves so hot that every brush of his skin against yours left you quaking, there is still a certain amount of intimacy that could always be found within your actions towards each other.

A certain intimacy that leads to whispered praises like these; Sebastian flushes, momentarily forgetting the role he vowed to take after the agony that had been wreaking havoc in his mind since his team’s loss. “Kulta,” he says, breath hitching as he presses his lips to your neck to taste the light sheen of sweat covering your skin. He kisses your body like you are his shrine, sworn to you in utter devotion. “Kaunis tyttöni.”

My beautiful girl. Every word from that point onward tumbles past his lips in Finnish, because in what other way can he describe the beauty you encapsulate? You are an angel, after all, his angel, in fact, and his only. With his hands settling on the curves of your waist to further cement his point, he continues his assault on your neck with teeth and tongue all while he grinds his covered dick against your bare pussy.

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me, please,”

And just like that, the indescribable need to claim claim claim takes over his body once more. His eyes darken, the lust swallowing his senses moving him to quickly strip the slacks he wore off his legs, and then he reaches into his boxers to pull out his dick.

You could never get over the sight of his cock, you think momentarily as you stare, mesmerized by the flushed head and leaking tip. He took on more girth than length, and to you it’s nothing less than perfect because Sebastian is the only man who has ever gotten you to the point where you’re unable to walk the next day.

Maybe that speaks more of his knowledge of the female anatomy compared to your exes, but nonetheless you’re grateful.

You bite your lip, one of your hands falling from his back to reach down and take his erection in your hand. Sebastian hisses through his teeth at the feeling of you gripping him, and watches for a moment as you stroke him almost gently.

“I’m going to need you to stop that,” he speaks, a groan following right after before he quickly swats your hand away.

You frown, a slight pout on your lips. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to come in two minutes like a teenager if you keep it up, kisu.”

“Well when you say it like that—”

You’re interrupted by Sebastian slamming your lips back together, your words gone just as quickly as they’d come. Oh, how you could kiss him for ages and never be sick of it. You say this to him, or at least attempt to, before his hand not buried in your hair finds its way back down to your clit and rubs rather roughly.

“Want to taste you,” he mumbles, drunk on the sight of you under him as he lines up his dick with your entrance. “Want to taste you so bad. But I need to be inside you first,”

You try to respond, but then Sebastian is kissing you again right as the head of his cock pushes its way into your cunt. It burns, but a good burn because you would never be used to his size and the feel of him sliding deeper sets all your nerve endings on fire. You’re forced to adjust quickly, and something about him not caring if you’re ready or not has you dripping.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, restless hands weaving through his hair and all over his back, refusing to settle. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, too consumed with how good it felt being stretched to lie still beneath him. “Feels so good, Seb,”

“Yeah?” he huffs into your ear, hot breaths against your skin sending shivers down your spine. “God, you’re perfect,” Sebastian groans, his hips suddenly snapping forward. The angle has him hitting the sweet spot inside you perfectly, your walls clamping down tight around him which sends you both spiraling.

You cry out as he begins moving, the strength behind the force of his thrusts staggering because very rarely did he lose control with you. Sebastian tends to treat you like priceless jewelry, but you’re anything but tonight as his teeth sink into your neck to muffle his moans.

His pubic bone rubs against your clit deliciously every time his hips come down, and you couldn’t help but try and tilt your own upwards to match him. Sebastian clearly appreciates your efforts, hissing something that sounds distinctively like a curse.

Past the ringing in your ears, you can hear him muttering to himself. His eyes are squeezed shut against the rolling tides of pleasure coursing through his body, but his mouth is anything but closed. Then his head is lifting suddenly, hair now slick with sweat hanging over his eyes as he looks down at you.

“I need you to come around me,” he says, voice nothing more than a rasp. “Want to feel you squeezing me.”

“Please,” you interrupt, but he either doesn’t hear your plea or chooses to ignore you.

“Then I’m going to taste you, and when you come I’m going to fuck you again.”

Your head is nodding rapidly at his words because there is zero part of you that ever wants him to stop. It was almost primitive the way he was taking you, and you maybe liked it a little more than you should.

Sebastian picks up the pace, and you find yourself thankful - not for the first time - for his insane amount of stamina. The strength conditioning he goes through on a daily basis makes you wonder how he doesn’t just die, but nonetheless you can’t help but appreciate it.

His hands find their way under your back in the midst of your appreciative thoughts, settled on your lower back just above your ass, when he tilts your hips up and his cock strikes the sensitive, spongy spot inside you head-on. It has you keening loudly, uncontrollably—one of your hands previously gripping the sheets jerkily moves to cover your mouth, your own noises embarrassing you.

He doesn’t notice at first, too busy moving his hips in the same pattern as before because he enjoys the way you grip him like a vice, your body’s way of telling him he’s doing a good job, but when he sees you trying to muffle your noises he instantly grows possessive.

Possessive of you, your noises, because in his feral mind everything about you belongs to him and Sebastian doesn’t want you ever holding yourself back. Your name falls from his lips darkly, “You don’t hide yourself from me,” one of his hands drags yours from your mouth, the other splaying across your lower back to keep your body in the same position.

You try to apologize, but your breath escapes you when his hand slides itself down your body, brushing past one of your nipples, then dipping into your navel where his fingers once again find your swollen clit. He rubs quickly, dick ramming into you even faster than before.

Now more than ever Sebastian wants you to come undone beneath him, and soon he gets his wish as the calloused pads of his fingertips roll your clit in time with one, two, and then on the third thrust your entire body seizes.

Tensing, clenching, shuddering—your eyes flutter as your vision goes white, and you feel nothing except for wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure rushing through you. Vaguely, you feel what you think is Sebastian gently continuing his ministrations on your clit in time with slow thrusts, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm.

Then your eyes are opening after what feels like hours but had really only been minutes of you going still. You tense again, this time with sensitivity rather than pleasure, and he reads your body perfectly as he slides out of you, removing his fingers from your clit at the same time.

You come to a realization then, “Wait, you didn’t come,” you murmur, and Sebastian has a mischievous sparkle in his eye that makes you think he held himself back on purpose. You’re proven right when he suddenly slides down your body, hands prying your thighs apart before settling on your hips, holding you open like his very own buffet.

He lets out a long sound, like he still can’t believe you’re right here in front of him, and then his mouth is meeting the slick folds of your pussy. The timespan between your first orgasm and him now feasting on you has your mind reeling, blissfully going numb as his warm, wet tongue licks into you.

“Sepe,” you whine, having not yet decided if you could handle another orgasm so close to your last. He parrots your name back, the vibrations from his voice rumbling pleasantly. “You can take it,” he coos, hooded eyes watching your face as his lips now fully latch onto your clit. He sucks, steadily picking up the intensity until your thighs are shaking uncontrollably.

He doesn’t stop, not as your cries grow louder and you subconsciously try squirming away from him. He just holds your hips down, anyways. As his tongue joins the mix, dipping down to flick at your nub suctioned in between his lips, one of his hands moves down to dip two fingers into your folds.

Sebastian groans at your wet heat enveloping his digits, already greedy for the feeling of you squeezing his dick again. Then he starts thrusting his finger, timing it with the flicks of his tongue, and then you’re coming all over again. “There you go, such a good girl for me,” he praises as your pussy spasms, eagerly lapping up your juices like you’re his favorite meal.

Oh god. You are officially fucked-out. You definitely have a bad case of sex-for-brains. You can’t think beyond the sensitivity of your overwhelmed nether regions, and yet as Sebastian crawls up your body for the third time you can’t help but have your legs fall open to welcome him.

This is new for him, too. Sebastian’s endurance is extraordinary, yes, but he never really let himself use it to his full extent with you. Now, though? He wants to explore the thrill of dominance, of controlling you when everything else in his life slips through his fingers.

Against his will, he thinks of his team for a moment. It’s still too raw of a feeling, he finds, hating the way disappointment and frustration bubbles up inside him. Sebastian swallows roughly, squeezes his eyes shut as if that would help block out the sound of the final buzzer ringing in his ears, and then kisses you to distract himself.

As he lines himself back up with your entrance, you both find that the energized tension between you has cooled significantly. Sebastian is less restless and jerky with his movements, and your desperation has cooled as your legs wrap around his waist. He whimpers into your neck, then, his arms curling under your back to press your bodies even closer together.

Your roles switch, and you whisper sweet and dirty nothings into Sebastian’s ear as his hips roll into you. The head of his cock scratches that delicious part inside of you, and soon your words turn into gasps which are music to his ears. One thrust has you squeezing him particularly hard, and his rhythm stutters. “Fuck, you feel amazing,”

His lips form into an o-shape, and suddenly he finds that his high is coming (hah) much quicker than expected. He expresses such, or thinks he does, because all you do is moan in response when his thrusts pick up speed.

He wants to send you into your third orgasm before letting go himself, and even though Sebastian has been rather selfish tonight, one thing that would never change is that your pleasure would always come before his—no matter what.

“Gonna come for me?” Sebastian teases, lips managing to curl into a brief smirk before you’re squeezing him again, wiping it right off his face. “Yeah? Look so pretty taking my cock, baby,”

“I’m close,”

“I know. Let go for me.”

And let go you do. You seize up, not for the first time tonight, before shuddering with full force in the wake of your third release. Your vision goes white in time with the ringing of your ears as you’re consumed in it, feeling too much but also not enough at the same time because your boyfriend is a force you could never get sick of.

Your walls are squeezing Sebastian like a vice, and it only takes him a few more thrusts as you ride out your orgasm before he’s falling into his own. He groans from deep in his chest, arms shakily moving to rest on either side of your head as he buries his own in your neck.

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as his dick pulses inside you, pumping you full of his cum while you shudder beneath him. It fills Sebastian with a primal sense of satisfaction, knowing he’s claimed you from the inside out.

You’re his, still repeats itself in his mind on repeat, until both of your bodies are spent and he’s rolling off of you exhaustedly. You’re still panting when he turns to look at you, and without hesitation he pulls you into his chest so you can rest your tired body against his.

It takes you a few minutes until you can muster the energy to move, and when you do it’s to tilt your head up to look up at him. You murmur his name, quietly, lest you disturb the fragile peace the two of you find yourselves in. “Sepe?”

“Mhmm?”

“Do you feel better?” It’s a loaded question, you both know, and he takes a few minutes to think about it.

Sebastian’s body feels better, yes. It’s limp, relaxed, the achy tension long-gone from his muscles. The moment he first sank into you he felt immensely better, actually, now that he thinks about it.

His mind, however, is a completely different story.

Colors of red, orange, and blue flash behind his eyes; the colors of his jersey and the opposing team’s, with the haunting sound of the final buzzer still playing in his memory. He thinks of the anger, of his teammates’ faces as they marched defeatedly into the locker room.

No, he thinks with sudden clarity. No, he doesn’t feel better. Sebastian doesn’t say this though; it probably isn’t the answer you want to hear, considering how you explored a new aspect of your relationship tonight.

You know, though. You always know—Sebastian is your better half, and you can understand him more than your own self sometimes, now being one of those moments.

“I love you,” you say after several minutes of silence. Your declaration - the first of the night, he suddenly realizes - says everything he needs to know, about how you feel for him and that he has your support no matter what.

Sebastian swallows, finding that his throat is parched. Lying naked under the sheets, vulnerable and oh-so-exposed, he lowers his head to kiss you sweetly. You mold together softly, and a low rumble can be felt from his chest as you gently nip at his bottom lip.

He is a man of few words, preferring to show his feelings with actions rather than words and this just happened to be one of those moments. He loves you so much, more than words can describe, his lips say, before they gently part from yours.

You admire him in his full glory before he opens his mouth to speak. His hair is incredibly ruffled, from both your hands and the game he played, his full lips swollen red from your kisses, and his eyes have a light sheen to him that suggest he’s more emotional than letting on.

Sebastian raises a hand to your cheek, large yet gentle palm caressing the soft skin as he gazes at you like you’re precious porcelain. “I love you,”

Your lips break into a small smile, and then you’re curling farther into his chest. You’re far too comfortable to move, figuring aftercare in the bathtub can come later. For now, you’re content; your body is sated, and with his cum dripping down your legs you’ve never felt so full with love.

Sebastian knows he has hell to face tomorrow morning. He knows it, but doesn’t really care. For now, in the peaceful silence of his room with only the gentle sounds of your breaths to keep him company, he chooses to forget.

He’s only one man, after all. He can’t carry his team, but he can carry you.

A/N: This is the first time I've written in present tense, which was actually a lot harder than I thought because I kept using past tense action verbs 💀 it was a fun challenge though!! Hopefully my parents never ask me what exactly it is that I write about because. Uh. Yeah. Once again, please reblog and comment :))

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#sebastian aho #sebastian aho imagine #sebastian aho fic #sebastian aho imagines #sebastian aho fanfiction #sebastian aho x reader #carolina hurricanes #carolina hurricanes imagine #carolina hurricanes imagines #canes #canes imagine #canes lb #nhl hockey #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl writing #writing #fanfiction #nhl smut #sebastian aho smut #'carry me home'

[rapeculturerealities]

Woman Who Was Charged With Murder After Abortion Sues Texas Prosecutor - The New York Times

A woman in Texas who was falsely charged with murder over a self-induced abortion in 2022 has filed a lawsuit against the local prosecutor’s office and its leaders, seeking more than $1 million in damages.

Lizelle Gonzalez was arrested in April 2022 in Starr County, near the southeastern border with Mexico, and charged with murder after using the drug misoprostol to self-induce an abortion, 19 weeks into her pregnancy. She spent two nights in jail before the charge was dropped.

Self-induced abortions can refer to those performed outside of professional medical care, including the use of abortion pills. Under Texas law at the time, abortions after six weeks were illegal, but pregnant women are exempt from criminal prosecution. (Health care professionals who provide abortion procedures and medication, and others who help someone get an abortion, can still be liable.)

Ms. Gonzalez, who was known as Lizelle Herrera and 26 at the time of her arrest, filed a complaint on Thursday against Starr County, along with its district attorney, Gocha Ramirez, and assistant district attorney, Alexandria Lynn Barrera. She argues that the arrest and charge resulted in her suffering reputational harm and distress, and seeks to “vindicate her rights but also to hold accountable the government officials who violated them,” according to her lawsuit.

Ms. Gonzalez and her lawyers were not immediately available for comment on Saturday.

Mr. Ramirez and Ms. Barrera also did not immediately respond to requests for comment on the lawsuit. A month ago, the state bar of Texas found that Mr. Ramirez had unlawfully prosecuted Ms. Gonzalez without probable cause and fined him $1,250. His law license will also be held in probated suspension for a year, which means he must comply with specific requirements but can practice law during that time. That period starts April 1.

According to the complaint, Ms. Gonzalez took the abortion medication in January 2022 and went to the hospital for an examination. Doctors found a positive heartbeat for the baby and no contractions, so she was discharged the next day. But later that day, she returned to the hospital with complaints of vaginal bleeding, and doctors performed a C-section to deliver a stillborn child.

The Food and Drug Administration has approved the use of misoprostol and mifepristone, another commonly used abortion pill, through 10 weeks of pregnancy, under the supervision of a health care provider. But the World Health Organization endorses self-induced abortions in pregnancies of up to 12 weeks without medical supervision.

Ms. Gonzalez says in the lawsuit that the hospital employees reported her self-induced abortion to the district attorney’s office, in violation of federal privacy laws, though her lawsuit does not name them or the hospital as defendants.

The lawsuit says that neither the Starr County Sheriff’s Office nor the Rio Grande City Police Department performed an investigation with sufficient facts or circumstances surrounding the murder charge against her, and only relied on reports from the hospital. Ms. Gonzalez also accuses them of misleading the grand jury with false information to secure an indictment against her.

“The fallout from defendants’ illegal and unconstitutional actions has forever changed” Ms. Gonzalez’s life, the complaint says. She “was subjected to the humiliation of a highly publicized indictment and arrest, which has permanently affected her standing in the community.”

When the charge against Ms. Gonzalez was dropped, Mr. Ramirez said that it was “clear” that she “cannot and should not be prosecuted for the allegation against her,” and acknowledged that “the events leading up to this indictment have taken a toll” on Ms. Gonzalez and her family. At the time, the anti-abortion group Texas Right to Life supported Mr. Ramirez’s decision to drop the charges, saying Texas’ law “clearly prohibit criminal charges for pregnant women.”

Ms. Gonzalez’s indictment occurred several months before the overturning of Roe v. Wade, and before Texas’ near-total ban on abortions went into effect. Even with the stricter ban, those who get an abortion cannot be criminally prosecuted.

Melissa Murray, a law professor at New York University, said Ms. Gonzalez’s lawsuit could serve to raise consciousness in Texas and beyond, to “understand that we are moving very quickly into a kind of dystopian, post-Dobbs landscape.”

“I think she could be very successful here,” Ms. Murray said of Ms. Gonzalez. “And if she isn’t, even if it doesn’t make it to trial, she could make him pay to settle this,” referring to Mr. Ramirez.

The lawsuit could act as a deterrent to other officials around the state, Ms. Murray said. But it could also “have the effect of spurring the anti-abortion movement to lobby the Legislature to actually make pregnant people subject to criminal or civil liability.”

Roni Caryn Rabin, Giulia Heyward and Sophie Kasakove contributed reporting.

#abortion #texas #reproductive rights #Health care

[onmyyan]

Okay so there's this specific genre of fics about the Yandere batfamily x neglected!Reader that I'm obsessing over and basically, reader joins the family unexpectedly, usually a long lost kid from an old fling of Bruce's, and it's wonderfully angsty as the batfamily is so caught up in their own shit they inadvertently ignore/neglect the reader, the isolation is bad because they don't show her their vigilante life, so she's just sees it as some secret family club she isn't good enough to be in, they're always together and talking in hushed whispers about their patrol's, it's hard not to feel like an outsider, the tension is high throughout the years as she sees them act so lovingly towards each other but so indifferent towards her, and then something happens, (reader gets hurt, tries to run away, is kidnapped ECT) and then the batfam's yandere tendencies kick into high gear and they try to fix their severely damaged relationship, lawd I love this concept so much if I write it I'll be tagging the works that inspired me bec everyone should read them omg, anyway I love how jarring it must be once that switch happens, how all of a sudden reader is getting the attention and love she wanted for years, only now she doesn't need it, she's a grown independent woman who's only ever had herself to rely on, after all when you grow up in the shade of such a tight knit family, always on the outside looking in, it tends to make you self sufficient.

I have a few ideas for this concept, one where reader is incredibly smart and after years of fighting for an ounce of affection, gives up on the Batfamily, gets an internship at Lexcorp because Lex recognized her brilliance, he becomes a Yandere for her shortly after reading over her file, because the thought of Yandere!batfam begging for readers attention and affection after years of indifference towards her only to have her seek comfort in a villainous man like Lex Luthor is tew tasty.

My other idea for this concept is the same set up only Reader notices what the family is up to, quickly putting together that her father is Batman and that everyone in the house is a vigilante, she's 17/18 at this point and still desperate to belong to this family so she starts training, going to local gyms and picking fights so she can get used to getting the shit kicked out of her, no one notices her absences, no one but Alfred, he catches her limping in at some ungodly hour, blood seeping through her shirt, a needle and thread in one hand as she clumsily tries to stitch herself up, he asks her what happened, not expecting the most demure and quiet member of the family in this state, she tells him in an empty voice, "Doesn't matter." And Alfred is taken aback by the coldness in her eyes. He of course reports this to Bruce after patching her up, and he shrugs it off, "If she was in some kind of trouble she'd say something." Bruce is certain, sure he hadn't yet truly bonded with his daughter but he was sure he had time to, after all he was a man with the world on his shoulders and a plethora of other people who he felt needed his attention more, (y/n) never gave him problems, she kept to herself and was so self sufficient he felt comfortable putting her on the back burner, years go by and now 23, reader has shaped herself into a proper vigilante, her fighting style is raw, pure anger in her punches, she takes care of Gotham, sure she's not fighting world ending threats, but she's saving people, helping, it's helped to fill the void in her chest where her family's love was supposed to go, the batfamily knows about this new vigilante but know nothing about them, the suit reader wears is tactical that hides everything about her identity, not sure how but she gets unmasked/ hurt and unmasked and they find out, cue Yandere Batfamily.

#yandere batfamily #yan concepts #tell me ur thoughts babes

[eviesaurusrex]

ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇꜱ, ᴘᴛ. 1 | ꜱ. ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ

GIF not mine!

Stephen Strange x Avenger!Reader

ask: Could you write a Stephen Strange x reader one shot (or longer if you feel it haha) where the reader is an avenger and she’s secretly dating Stephen? Like they’re sneaking around and staying at each other’s places (sanctum and tower/compound) and use portals in the mornings to get back where they’re supposed to be. Maybe a close call where Stephen literally kicks her off the bed and into a portal back to her own bed to avoid getting caught. Then later they’re found out somehow by tony/the team?

word count: 5.2k (and that's only part one, ooooooops)

warnings: fluff and more fluff, cursing, sneaking around the team, lying, one suggestive and kinda steamy (but short) scene

author’s note: I’m so excited about this ask! This will get a part 2 because I couldn’t contain myself, and I had to write this out with all the background stuff. I really hope you like how it went so far @clockblobber!

»pt. 2 is here«

Tiredness was settled deep within her bones, and every single muscle inside her body ached at the sheer thought of moving again. But YN felt the soft rumbling of the Quinjet’s engines increasing while the autopilot initiated the landing sequence to softly touch the ground again. The almost fifteen-hour flight in uncomfortable seats would be stuck to her for another few hours, if not days; she was sure of it. The mission may have been a success – taking down a cartel of experimental drug smugglers, with a side income through even more experimental weapons which were supposed to be destroyed alongside Hydra, had been easier than thought – but her body still was sore and covered in bruises, scratches, and beautifully blooming hematomas.

Guess a rib or two got a hit as well, the Widow thought while softly rubbing her right side.

Gladly, she wasn’t the only one beaten up, but unlike Steve and Bucky, she didn’t own the ability to self-heal within hours. Sometimes, she really envied them down to her very core. But now, she was too tired to even start feeling the jealousy about the super soldier serum running through their veins. Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely without an asset she had gained through otherworldly substances – not drugs – but those were hard to control sometimes, which was why the Widow often fully relied on her brutal training and skills in hand-to-hand combat.

One look in the direction of Nat, and she knew that her sister wasn’t very fond of her approach to the last situation. But hey, a woman gotta do what a woman gotta do. Easy as that.

As soon as the jet finally touched the ground, YN unbuckled the seatbelt and pushed herself up with a groan. The pain shot right through her body again and reminded her of the inevitable reality of upcoming days full of soreness. Assessing the level of pain and discomfort, she estimated two weeks tops. With a hot bath here and there, maybe less.

The thought of one of these alone made her almost moan in pure bliss. But, of course, the compound didn’t own such luxury known as a bathtub. God damn you, Tony.

With clenched teeth and jaw, the woman hobbled out of the Quinjet as soon as the ramp was lowered and granted a breeze of fresh air to invade the warm insides and cool her cheeks. Maybe a cold shower would suffice for now. But the woman didn’t come far before Steve’s voice dragged over the small tarmac in front of the newly built compound in Upstate New York.

“We need to debrief, and I need your report plus a medical evaluation of your status, YN,” the blonde soldier spoke up, always the authoritative fun brake (he wasn’t, but she was grumpy and needed a shower and some comfort in the form of her soft blankets and pillows). Without answering for now because she had her phone in hand to type a quick text, she raised the other hand and showed Steve the finger. Her body became used to the throbbing pain in every single limp again, and the Widow could walk a bit faster to get away from the now overbearing man she called one of her best friends.

“YN, I mean it. You’re not dismissed until you went to the medical wing and got checked out.” She could hear his heavy steps, and even though she still showed him the finger, she spoke. “Whatever, Steve. I need a shower and my soft bed, and I’m good to go, thank you very fucking much. See you tomorrow morning with that damn report in hand, bye.” Usually, she wasn’t this rude to him, and that pushed him to stop in his tracks.

Before scurrying inside the compound, she could hear the other’s talk.

“Did I do something wrong?” Steve.

“Nah, she is just grumpy because I stole her that one guy she loved to punch in the face.” Bucky.

“The one that laughed because she is a woman? Well, you fucked up good, Barnes. She really loves to take those down herself.” Nat.

An apology was necessary, she knew that, but… later. Her mind was too tired to do it now, so she just walked to her room, always close to one of the walls – just in case. With a heavy sigh leaving her lips, she pushed open the door to her cozy room and let the duffel bag fall straight to the floor before pushing herself to walk the last few steps, so she could fall face down first onto the soft mattress.

Which wasn’t the best idea she had had all day, and a strained groan escaped her lips at the same moment as the soft sounds of an opening portal filled her room. She barely realized it. She didn’t even move as steps started to come closer. She didn’t move a single muscle until the mattress dipped at the weight of another body settling upon it. Slowly, YN moved her head from the face-down position to the side to eye the man with the pepper and salt hair. He already looked down at her, forehead wrinkled and the all too familiar deep creases between his dark brows visible.

“Hey,” the woman spoke, barely above a whisper, and she closed her eyes soon again as one of his warm, big hands came close to her face to brush over her cheek and push a lock behind her ear. “Rough day?” She nodded but stopped suddenly at the ugly feeling of raw skin rubbing against the fabric of her comforter. Eyebrows furrowed, and a hiss escaped her. But Stephen was prepared – just as he always was. “Come on, love,” he mumbled in the softest of tones. “We’ll get you a nice hot bath ready, a cup of tea, and some snacks, while I stitch you up.”

With that, the previous portal opened again, illuminated the room in its soft golden light, and Stephen helped the tired woman up from her bed. He held both her hands and pulled her up onto her feet, steadying her with his arm around her slender waist. He could imagine what happened during that mission in Seoul, her state not an uncommon sight for his eyes but hard on him nevertheless. It was easy for him to get scratches and be beaten up – he didn’t mind that – but seeing her in that constitution was something entirely different. And this side was a side no one knew about – and no one would ever get an insight about.

Looking up to Stephen, she allowed him to scoop her into his arms and circled both her arms around his neck while pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek. “You are a godsend,” YN whispered against his skin, the tip of her nose caressing his skin in a feathery touch. The doctor smiled the one smile that was entirely reserved for her eyes and only hers. “Not an idiotic and presumptuous asshole anymore?” He had to tease her with the statement that the Widow had smacked him with the second time they had met. A forceless hit with the flat hand against his shoulder was the first reaction he got. “Thought we already had put that in our past. It was a miscalculation. An assumption made upon false input and intel.”

Stephen chuckled while stepping over the threshold of his portal, right into his bedroom in the Sanctum Sanctorum, the busy New Yorker streets underneath the big windows. He didn’t spare a glance at the golden streets out there, glowing in the light of the setting sun. Instead, he carried the woman in his arms straight into the adjacent bathroom with the bathtub she craved the most. “I just love teasing you, darling,” the sorcerer grinned while gently putting YN down on the bathtub’s edge, and with a flick of his hand, the two faucets opened and unleashed the water.

Soon the bathroom was not only filled with the soothing sound of splashing water but with the wafting steam and the smell of her most favorite bath bomb as well. In the meantime, Stephen had organized the promised tea and snacks – consisting of cheese, crackers, and strawberries – while preparing the first aid kit for the small surgery he would perform on the most severe cuts that needed some stitching. As she attempted to step into the waiting hot water to let her bones and muscles soak in the well-deserved break, the phone in the back pocket of her combat gear pants, that pooled in the center of the bathroom, started to ring. The sorcerer was quick to peel it out and hand it to his girlfriend, not daring to accept the call or send it straight to the voicemail like he would’ve preferred.

With a sigh, YN accepted the call; a fluffy towel wrapped around her naked body, and she could see the hits that had attacked her visibly on her skin through the full-length mirror opposite her. “What?” That was all she asked the unwanted caller – who needs a greeting, right?

Shuffling was heard on the other side of the call, and YN cocked an eyebrow as whispered voices pushed to her ear. She took a look at the caller ID and didn’t get it. “Whoever thought it would be the greatest freaking idea to call me can go and fuck themself. I just want some peace and quiet, for fucks sake. Is that too much to ask?” YN was pissed to an extent she hadn’t felt in a long time. Another round of shuffling until Thor’s voice spoke up. “Lady YN, this is Thor, God of Thunder.” Facepalming herself, the woman sent Stephen a helpless look. “You don’t need to introduce yourself, Thor. I know who you are. This is a call, not a formal application for a new job.” What, in the name of the universe, had she done in her past life to be graced with this group of insufferable people? She loved them dearly, but sometimes they were just too exhausting for her poor soul. “Yes, of course, Lady YN. Mr. Stark had specifically asked me to start this conversation in order to learn about the nature of your whereabouts.”

Groaning, she hit the edge of the full tub with her fist. “Stop being such a child and talk for yourself, Tony,” she demanded. “Can’t. Have to find your location.” Eye rolling, YN knew that he knew that she had never touched one of his phones and had made sure that her location wouldn’t be found by any of them. Not even the genius that was Tony Stark. “Yeah, whatever. Good luck with that. You lot could’ve just, I don’t know, asked if I’m alright wherever I am and put it aside because I’m a fucking grown woman. Gosh.” Stephen chuckled softly at her outburst while preparing the needle for the stitches. “Plus, it was never my idea to call. Ask our ancient ice sculpture who had the idea to check up on you and found your room empty and throwing a tantrum about it,” Tony added, and YN softly smiled as the sorcerer knelt in front of her on the plush bathroom matt to take a closer look on the gush near her left wrist. “For fucks sake, Steve. Remember when I told you that your overbearing nature isn’t cool? It wasn’t a joke; I meant it!” Her face twisted at the sudden burn under her skin, and saw the drenched cotton pad, Stephen softly dapped over the wound to clean the dried blood off. “I’m sorry, YNN. Really, I am. But you took some pretty hard hits, and I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. You are okay, are you?”

Sighing again, YN leaned her head against Stephen’s shoulder. “I am. And now I have to go.” – “Wait, YN, where are yo-…” – “Byyyyye!”

And with that, she hung up and threw the phone back on the dirty pile of combat gear. “They’re getting suspicious?” She shrugged at his question and let him take the fluffy towel away from her, so she could finally sink into the hot water. “I don’t know what’s going on in their brains. And I don’t want to think about it.” With closed eyes, YN leaned back in the tub, softly moaning as she felt how every single muscle relaxed. “I’m almost tempted to believe that you only agreed to date me because of my bathtub,” the man chuckled while sitting on the edge and starting to stitch her arm.

In moments like these, he used that bit of magic he needed to steady his hands, but it was the only exception he made. “You don’t have to do it, y’know? I can easily head to the med bay,” YN mumbled after Stephen had finished his task of taking care of her, and he bent down to press a lingering kiss on her forehead. “Don’t make a fool out of yourself, darling. It’s my pleasure.”

He wanted to leave to pack the first aid kit back at its usual spot, but her fingers intertwining with his made him pause. One look at her pleading eyes, and the man was lost, his mental to-do list burned to ashes at her feet. “Can you get in? I’d love some cuddles.” It was a shyly asked question, as usual, but just as usual, he started to undress even before he nodded. “Whatever you need, darling,” he whispered after settling behind the woman in the still hot water – her body between his long legs, her back pressed against his chest, arms entangled underwater, and her face nestled in the crook of his neck.

Her deep breaths and soft skin against his were all he ever needed after days of her presence gone due to missions or his own duties, and Stephen craved those few stolen moments in a world where nobody knew about them.

;

Morning came too soon, and YN dragged herself out of the comfort of the warm bed to gather her belongings in order to make a move as soon as Stephen was awake enough to conjure the portal into her bedroom. She just left the bathroom, the pile of combat gear now over her arms, as Stephen yawned and felt around on the other side of the bed where she had laid only minutes ago. The sorcerer wasn’t a deep sleeper, but she was a Widow, trained in the arts of stealth, so it was an easy task to sneak out without waking him up. But even after more than a year of dating, he seemed not to be used to it because at the feeling of nothingness next to him, Stephen sat up abruptly and frantically started looking through the room. His mouth opened to call her name, heart racing in his chest, until his gaze settled upon the woman, only clad in one of his shirts that reached her mid-thighs.

She smiled, combat gear already dropped to the floor, to walk over to him. YN stood next to his bedside, both hands cupping his jawline while her thumb soothingly caressed his cheek, while she pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, the feeling of his goatee present on her lips. She could practically feel how he relaxed at her touch and leaned into it, reminding her again that Stephen was as touch starved as she was. It wasn’t a real turn-on for folks if she talked about the abusive past she had to endure in order to become her strongest self. But hey, those foolish boys were nothing in comparison to the man in front of her.

“Bad dream?” She softly asked before pecking the tip of his nose with a soft, feathery kiss. The sorcerer shrugged nonchalantly, but he couldn’t fool her – and he knew that. Sighing, Stephen pulled her back into the bed, holding her close, and nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck. “I just don’t want to let you go again. Didn’t see you in four days.” It was a mumble, but YN could hear every single word and felt his lips moving against her collarbone. Slowly, she started to play with his hair – just the way he liked it – and scratched his scalp. “Caution, my love, or I could be tempted to think you’re touch starved and crave my presence.”

Stephen scoffed and pushed himself up with one arm to look into her eyes. “You know how it is, darling.” It was only a mumble because even though they opened up to one another like they never did before, Stephen was still wary if it wouldn’t bite his ass. But so far, the amazing woman underneath him never let him feel any doubts. She smiled softly up at him and pulled him in for a soft kiss. “I’m not sure if they’re ready. You know how they are. You know what Tony will say, something about not fraternizing with colleagues and all that bullshit, and you know that Steve will give you a hard time – shit, he would even give me a hard time about it.” The prospect of trouble in paradise alone made her nauseous. They constantly bickered, true, but it was all fun and smiles. With something like that, on the other hand… Stephen knew how it went.

“At least stay for a few more minutes?” He almost begged, something he would never admit, not even under torture, but YN kissed him gently and shook her head. “Need to write that damn report and get a going to the med bay if I don’t wanna get benched.” With that, the sorcerer released the Widow out of his grasp and opened the portal into her own bedroom. He stood on his side while YN scurried over onto her side but turned around to kiss him goodbye properly. “See you for dinner?” Stephen smiled down at her, nodded, and kissed her forehead. “Chow House?” Moaning, YN pulled him in for another kiss. “I know why I love you,” she grinned, and then she waved with a smile as the portal closed again, and she was back in her cozy room, the duffel bag now lying on top of the cushioned bench in front of her bed – its usual spot. Shaking her head, she made a mental note to thank Steve for it later that day.

;

Sitting at the huge glass table in one of the conference rooms inside the compound, YN listened intently to what Fury said over the video call, scribbling away notes inside that little notebook she always carried around for such occasions. She could feel a lingering stare settled upon her, and barely noticeable, she raised her gaze to catch Stephen staring at her over the cup of coffee he held between his softly shaking hands. A smile tried to tuck at her lips, but instead, she rolled her eyes as if he was as irritating as the uncomfortable seat she had sat on ever since the briefing started.

“Do I bore you, Miss LN?” Fury’s tone sounded bored himself, and YN showed him a pair of raised eyebrows. “No, sir. I’m just writing down what you’re saying. For later purposes.” Sam coughed and mumbled “Boaster” between his acts, and YN threw her eraser against his head. “Hey!” She smiled the sweetest of smiles and flipped him off. “I’m not deaf, Wilson.” Bucky chuckled behind his mug while Steve and Nat rolled their eyes, and Fury sighed exaggeratedly. “Behave, children,” he grumbled before continuing with the briefing about a new mission in Switzerland.

A half an hour later, the briefed team scattered over the compound after they had left the conference room, and YN found her way into the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled ever since she woke up to an empty bed because Stephen had to leave to get ready for said briefing.

On some days, it was exhausting to sneak around everyone, but it had its purpose. So far, they never had a close call, for which YN was more than grateful.

Softly humming, she rummaged in the fridge before moving to the cupboards after she decided that tea was more to her taste than one of the smoothies Pepper hoarded in one of the many fridges.

Suddenly, big familiar hands grabbed her jeans-clad hips and turned her around in one swift motion. Looking up, her eyes met the bluest ones of them all, and a smile etched itself on her face before she took a measured look to the entrance. After she gave herself an all-clear, YN pulled Stephen down to her level while pushing herself on her tiptoes and kissed him – hard and hungrily because the couple couldn’t stop showing their deep lingering affection for one another as often as possible, which was not often enough.

Labored breaths and lips crashing against one another were the only sounds in the kitchen – or the entire compound wing – and Stephen wrapped the woman tighter in his arms, pulling her closer and closer until their bodies were pressed against each other. His hands moved more south to grab the Widow under her thighs, long fingers stretching up to her butt cheeks, and he lifted her with astonishing ease up on the countertop. Settling there, YN wrapped her legs around his waist, crossed her ankles at his deliciously shaped behind, and burrowed her fingers inside his dark hair. The kiss grew more heated with every passing second, and a soft gasp escaped her mouth as Stephen pressed her lower region harder against him.

“I really hope you’re not thinking about canceling our dinner plans for tonight,” YN whisper-moaned at the friction between her legs and bit his lower lip gently. Stephen groaned at the sensation pulsing through his body – he still wondered how this woman was able to pull every trigger there was with nothing more than just a whisper of a touch – and kissed her again. “Why should I? I can’t wait for dessert. Maybe we should do dessert first, like responsible citizens,” he rasped, the raspiness in his voice always a trigger for her own pleasure. Gladly, Stephen didn’t know just yet how hot it made her hear him like that. If this man would ever gain the knowledge about that – it would be her downfall. Grinning, YN pulled away from his searching lips, teasing him. “Sounds like a plan, Doctor Strange.”

But before they could dive right back into the next heated kiss and continue this make-out session, approaching steps alarmed the Widow. With ease, she slid off the counter within seconds and positioned herself at the counter closer to the door before raising her voice.

“Oh, please. Stop prancing around and try to prove that you’re the smartest one. I can’t keep up with the bullshit coming out of that entitled mouth of yours. I have better things to do.”

Tony and Steve entered the kitchen, followed by a tired Clint, who clung to a mug of steaming coffee. The Stark was fast to assess the situation, and an icy expression settled on his face. “Is he annoying you again, YNN? I can do something about that, you just need to use the words.” Steve had his blonde brows furrowed and stared Stephen into the ground, but the sorcerer only shrugged and stole the tea she had finished preparing. “A simple conversation, that’s all. Keep your panties on, Stark, and thanks for the tea, LN.”

With that, the tall man walked past the group, mug in hand, and YN stared after him, mouth agape. “Hey, that was my tea, you tea stealing, obnoxious imbecile!”

Which meant in their secret language, I love you, idiot.

Steve turned towards her and shrugged. “Tell us, and we end him,” he offered, but all she did was roll her eyes and start to prepare another cup of tea while suppressing her heart from beating out of line.

That was a close call.

;

The soft tunes of the Best of Beethoven vinyl she had found in Stephen’s office echoed through the foyer of the Sanctum Sanctorum on a summer evening. The windows on the upper floor were open widely to let in the soft breeze from outside without getting the chills, and YN worked mindlessly in the perfectly stocked kitchen.

It wasn’t like that shortly after she had sat foot in the room supposed to feed hungry human beings. Instead, barely filled shelves and a half-empty fridge had greeted her, which was why many New Yorkers had seen a true Avenger walking their streets in a pretty summer dress – a sight none of them would have expected on this beautiful day or any days at all. But she didn’t mind the round eyes of kids and teenagers. The ogling stares of the male part of the grownup fraction were what put her on edge. But even them she could handle with closed eyes.

After a shopping spree in the grocery store down the block, YN had started to prepare dinner. It wasn’t often that she found the time and muse to cook, but when she did, she went all out because she wasn’t bad at it. Actually, she was quite good at the stove, even though she preferred baking over everything else.

The tune changed to Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61 – one of her favorites, even though the Red Room had forced her to start playing the violin – at the same time as the golden glow of a portal crept around the corner of the kitchen’s entrance. She just chopped the vegetables into the thinnest of slices as the soft but heavy feeling of fabric settled over her shoulders, and a red collar nudged her left cheek to get her attention.

“Well, hello to you too, Cloaky,” she greeted the magical relic, which resembled more a dog or cat than an ancient thing, with a smile. Soon after the first greeting, a set of arms wrapped around her, and a chin was planted on her shoulder. “Do I want to know how you got in?” Stephen asked, the grin audible in his voice. YN shrugged while chopping the rest. “Wong didn’t see me if that’s what you tried to find out.” Sometimes, her burglar skills were pretty useful, plus the building liked her – or Stephen had altered the spells that protected the Sanctum, but she liked the idea of a feeling and thinking building more.

“So, you thought instead of enjoying your first time off missions in the last couple of weeks, you break into the Sanctum to cook me dinner?” At her exciting nod, Stephen laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her temple. Cloaky settled onto her shoulders definitively – Stephen knew that it would stay there for quite some time now, but he couldn’t object because it was what he would do too – and instead, tried to help her, but YN hit his fingers. “Nope. You’re gonna take a hot, long shower to destress from whatever threat it was today you had to deal with, and after that, you’ll settle on that bar stool over there, drink a glass of whiskey and just look pretty and handsome while I wrap up dinner.” He would never admit it, but he loved it when she tried to boss him around. It was so different from the life she had lived before joining the Avengers and escaping the grasp of the Red Room, so it was his pleasure to let her boss around to her heart's desire. “Yes, ma’am. Anything else, ma’am?” She grinned up at him. “A kiss would be absolutely lovely.”

Stephen complied and bent down to taste her sweet, perfect lips, but Cloaky suddenly had other plans and pulled her onto the wooden floor. “What the…?” Both started, but Wong’s voice let her suck in the last word and hold her breath. The red cloak pulled her further to the kitchen island to hide her body against the wood and wrapped itself around the woman it was so fond of.

“Something smells divine.” Wong stopped at the frame between the kitchen and one of the many living rooms to eye Stephen. “You are cooking? Since when is this a possibility?” Stephen looked from the stove to Wong, back to the chopped vegetables and the casserole where YN had started to place the thin slices in an intricate pattern. “Yeah…” The sorcerer began and shrugged. “I saw something on my way home and thought it looked quite delicious.” Wong squinted his eyes suspiciously at the other sorcerer. “Aha.” YN on the floor really wanted to facepalm herself. “Well, let me know when the food is ready. I want to try it. I’m in the library upstairs.” And Wong disappeared as suddenly as he arrived.

Sitting up, YN patted the proudly moving cloak and shook her head. “Next time, you won’t drag me down to the floor, understood? That hurt.” Stephen helped her up and took Cloaky from her shoulders, and sent him up into his bedroom. “Another close call,” the man objected, and YN sighed. “I know, but I don’t know why we’re running out of luck all of a sudden. We were so good.” It didn’t sit right with her, and the realization that maybe, sooner rather than later, they need to come clean with everyone.

Stephen softly kissed her head and pushed a lock out of her face, tracing her jawline from her ear back down to her chin. He took it between his fingers, pointer finger underneath it to softly nudge it up, so she would look at him. “Whatever will happen, nothing is worse than being stuck in a fake octopus, smelling like plastic and trash, darling.” Eye rolling, the woman shoved against his chest. “Never remind me of that ever again. I had to soak for hours on end in that bathtub to get the smell off my skin.” Stephen smiled but cocked an eyebrow to see her nodding. And she did. “Okay, yeah. It won’t be the end of days if they knew, but… I don’t know how to tell them. Could we take some more time? Just a little while longer?”

Stephen could never deny her a single request, so he approved with another nod and kissed her softly on the lips. “Of course, love. But now you have to move your sexy bottom because Wong demanded food. I’m gonna take a quick shower and be right back.” With that, Stephen kissed her one last time and stepped through the portal – lazy sock – and YN continued with the veggy pattern inside her prepared casserole until an all too familiar voice startled her.

“I knew it!”

With wide eyes, the former assassin turned around to look straight into the very pleased face of non-other than Wong, and a curse fell off her lips.

One for them, minus one for us, she thought while explaining to the sorcerer how she came up with her altered receipt for Ratatouille.

Thank you so much for reading! As usual, comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated! <3

Taglist:

@poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @seasonofthenerd @onecrazydirectioner @meeksmusic83

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x fem!reader #stephen strange imagine #stephen strange x you #stephen strange fluff #doctor strange blurb #doctor strange fluff #stephen strange blurb #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange ask #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x fem!reader #stephen strange x avenger!reader #doctor strange x avenger!reader #doctor strange x widow!reader #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x y/n #doctor strange ask #stephen strange x widow!reader #widow!reader #avenger!reader

[cheemscakecat]

Emesis Blue Medic Headcanon

So I’m 99% sure that Spy’s Disguise takes place before the nightmare sequence known as Emesis Blue, sometime during the height of the respawn failures.

[I’m going to talk about DID. I’m not an expert, and this post about a fictional character should never be used to self diagnose.]

The Bloody RED Engineer sabotaged the respawn machine, which led to his entire team dying for real; then he murdered a group of [supposedly] unrelated BLU engineers, who also died for real.

It’s the reason why Dr Ludwig is even in the area to work on the comatose CyberSpy.

If Emesis Blue is a dream/nightmare people’s jobs may not match with real life, but still tell us something important about them. Soldier being Spy’s assistant tells us that he likes to work in a group rather than alone, even if his teammate is a jerk.

Ludwig being the Chief Medical Advisor could imply that he was the go-to expert at the height of the respawn failures, who had to investigate and report on different accidents when he wasn’t attempting to save a patient from said failures. Whether it was killing him slowly or not, Blu wouldn’t care; not the Administrator or Jules Archibald, at the least.

Jules is shown to be callous about death in both Spy and Soldier’s nightmares, and someone who relies on other people to protect him and do his dirty work to the point he’s incapable of defending himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if he and his crew forced Medic to report on all the gory details of each respawn failure, while being unwilling to attempt to rescue patients or clean up the carnage.

Re-watching the early scenes with Scout it seems that the era of the respawn errors is long gone, and the details are highly classified. Which would explain why Scout is so uninformed about any of the other accidents, but Ludwig had a nightmare that his friend suffered one himself.

Medic’s body language at the Medical office and in the ambulance makes it feel like the doctor wouldn’t be answering all these questions if he wasn’t talking to a friend. Like it hurts to relive that trauma, and the answers he gives are vague. Makes sense if Jules and the team trying to fix the Respawn machine bombarded Medic with questions over and over again, forcing him to picture what happened, no matter how awful it was.

Keeping that in mind:

What if the Funeral Medic is in control of Ludwig’s body when we see him in Spy’s disguise?

Neither of them talk or blink, for one thing. He does wince and cross himself upon rewatching CyberSpy’s robot-seizure, but that’s instinct. Another thing I noticed;

Something is going on with his eyes. This was his reaction to CyberSpy’s neck cracking, and the eyes stay like that.

It’s almost as if somebody trained himself not to blink, so he’d make people uncomfortable.

[nods once, flares nostrils in irritation]

It’s starting to feel like the Funeral Medic is meant to put people off of approaching Ludwig. If that is the case, we have proof that it works despite looking like Fritz, not his scarier version from Emesis Blue. I also noticed he really doesn’t like CyberSpy and Buddy Engineer.

He’s like “The revolver… exists! But you two just had to keep using that broken disguise kit anyway.”

Normally these Respawn Failures are completely accidental, and the patients are innocent [in that context, anyways]. So for two people to cheat by using body modification, and drive an enemy teammate to insanity? Any deeper coldness and anger reserved for Archibald and his cronies would emerge.

And he had to set up a camera before touching the patient… I really think this personality is mute. People with DID have been studied, and their brain structure is different between personalities. Their pets can tell the difference, and some personalities have physical ailments that the rest of the system doesn’t. So it isn’t impossible for one of Medic’s alters to be mute or selectively mute.

Ludwig’s nightmare version of this alter is associated with the respawn deaths in his mind too. He must have been switching during the investigations, with Funeral Medic performing surgeries and dealing with Jules. But for a time there would have been a lot of casualties, and Fritz may believe that this personality was intentionally letting patients die.

Could contribute to the nightmare imagery of being helpless with this personality around.

The fact that the real alternate personality and the nightmare version move so fluidly could be showing us another important detail.

Funeral Medic has exceptional aim and reaction times. Probably in order to react to injuries caused by the respawn machine, and to perform the needed treatments as effectively and precisely as possible. That’s why he moves like that.

My theory is that Electric-Eye Medic is a protector personality that comes out during RED v BLU matches when someone keeps targeting Fritz and needs to be put in their place. And most other situations now that the respawn failures aren’t happening like before. It’s why he’s the first other personality to take control, and keeps showing up.

And Funeral Medic is a gatekeeper personality who used to take control to prevent Ludwig from getting more trauma from Respawn Failures and patient deaths. Normally he stays inside the mind and keeps other people’s trauma from resurfacing, but the events of Emesis Blue were so serious that he needed to front.

It’s why he only shows up at the end.

When someone has DID, communicating with their alternate personalities and understanding what they’re trying to do is key. But Dr Ludwig wasn’t diagnosed with DID [or multiple personality disorder], he was diagnosed with Schizophrenia. And he’s Catholic, so he’s really likely to mistake Funeral Medic for a demon.

It’s one of the reasons why I want Emesis Blue to be a nightmare; so Ludwig and his personalities can talk/write things out and deal with their inner conflict. They need to, and I think he deserves a happy ending.

If RED Medic has his stolen wedding doves, it’d fit BLU to have an emotional support animal.

#emesis blue #blue medic #character analysis #This is NOT written by a psychologist.

[spectrumgarden]

how do you know if you have medium support needs?

Gonna go on a bit of a long winded support needs rant here.

Frankly theres no hard lines between the terms low medium and high support needs. Medium support needs specifically is a community term, meaning it was made by autistic people instead of medical professionals. There are also many people who consider themselves right between two categories, so they'll say they are low-medium or medium-high, which honestly turns it into more of a 5 options system than 3 if you're being pedantic. And then theres also the option of describing the category further, for example like saying you are on the high end of low support needs, or the low end of medium support needs.

( slight tangent: depending on where you live there might be actual legal categories with strict definitions, based on how much support someone needs, seperate from the specific terms of LSN MSN and HSN. In germany where I live there are Pflegegrade, translating to "care degree", which has 5 levels. I am right under the point cut off for level 3, so I'm a high level 2, described as "substantial limitation of indepence and skill". (Which I think also fits well with me considering myself on the low end of MSN.) This care level translates to funding for my care by my insurance and (alongside my disability ID score and markers) is often used in services for disabled people to "prove" that I need them to begin with before the question of funding even comes up. )

When it comes to assessing these support needs, whether legally defined or community coined, you can not really get around ADLs, activities of daily living. There are bADLs and iADLs, and most lists online will be fairly similar in what they include. ADLs are used in assessing disabled peoples need for care no matter their type of disability. It's what was used for my grandmother with alzheimers the same way it's used for me or my neighbor with mobility issues.

Since there are no strict "you need to hit exactly these many of the bADLs and these many of the iADLs that you need help with in this way" rules to qualify for, anything past this point will be my subjective opinion that I formed after looking at tons of peoples self reported and caregiver reported support needs label and what they need help with, and in what capacity. Others might define this (slightly) differently.

Support basically starts at reminders and ends in someone else completely doing it for you (sometimes done as hand over hand to hopefully build motor memory so you might be able to start doing them a bit more independently in the future). Theres also the detail of "how do you define needing care" and in general disability circles, not necessarily autism specific circles, I've often seen the phrase "can you do it reliably and safely" to assess if you need help with something. So if you can only get yourself to shower once a month for example even with reminders, that would still count as requiring care of some level for it to be done reliably. Or if you can use an oven to heat up / make food but you sometimes get burns that go beyond regular "clumsiness" that also means you probably need additional support to use it safely.

From what I've seen in the community over the last few years I honestly consider bADLs to be a large deciding factor for your support needs. If I did not need help with bADLs beyond reminders I could for example probably get away with only having a few hours of support a week for things like assisted grocery shopping or driving me to a doctor's appointment or helping me write an email or make a phone call or helping me deep clean the bathroom or kitchen, while spending my day to day completely by myself. I would still have to accommodate myself the rest of the time, such as mostly relying on instant and generally low effort food, my apartment would probably never be super tidy (but also like. Majority of peoples apartments get messy on the regular, I should know from my friends that are all 100% abled), and relying on a schedule, for example an app or physical list on the wall, for bathing, dressing and grooming.

But because I need prompting for my bADLs to be done reliably in any way or form I suddenly need a lot more care, so this small detail made it go from 1-2 days a week to daily.

with bADLs (and similarly iADLs but that's not the focus right now) it starts with people who need no help with them, then people directly below me who need reminders for (some) of them, people like me who need prompting and on bad days hands on help with some. And over that are people who need prompting for most if not all of them, and ending in people who need hands on help for all of them. And if you crammed that entire experience all into high support needs and left low to medium support needs open for people who only need help with iADLs it would be way too much for the HSN category alone I think. But if you extended it into low support needs it would also make low support needs basically useless as a term. Which to me means it makes the most sense to consider needing some help with bADLs beyond reminders the thing that sort of starts the category of medium support needs applying. Because frankly speaking reminders dont take up a lot of time, often can be done virtually or without the need for another person via reminders and checklists etc. Which is a stark contrast to someone who needs to be walked through a task from beginning to end by someone by their side at all times. So you can need help with most/all of your iADLs, which means you still need a relatively high amount of care if you look at it from an abled perspective ( i.e. someone to control your finances for you, and organize your transportation, and help you keep your environment clean, ...) and maybe rely on a phone app that reminds you to brush your teeth and shower, and still be low support needs, because you're putting it in the perspective of the large variety that is disabled experiences.

Lastly I do think the ADLs are not perfect, for example at least older definitions usually do not include things like if you can engage in fun activities by yourself such as watching media or reading or drawing, whatever you enjoy, or how effectively you can communicate in daily life even though that is in itself important to your quality of life and will affect how much time needs to be spend on your care. However they are the best we have currently and make a lot of sense.

#i have read this like a hundred times now trying to figure out if what i said actually is what i *want* to say #because the two dont always match up lol #at this point this does not even make sense to myself anymore. might as well have written gibberish #i hope it makes sense to you though anon #asks

[worriedvision]

maybe some angst with Alhaitham?

reader has a not so subtle crush on Alhaitham & always does little things for him but finally gives up one day after overhearing him talk about how exasperating reader is (but really this man just doesn’t understand these new feelings he has towards reader),, reader starts to ignore him/brush him off when he finally starts to initiate interaction & realizes he misses reader - possibly ending in fluff?? :))

also sorry if this is too specific but ofc do whatever u want with it!

Hehehehe, no promises this is gonna be a happy ending ;), gender neutral reader. Decided to make the reader Tighnari's sibling lol, I like the idea of Tighnari being protective.

--

Alhaitham had this ick in his life that didn't seem to get any hints he tried to give off. This ick of his kept nagging at him day after day.

This ick was you.

You were supposed to only help him with a case he was working on. He needed information, and you were smart enough to at least get the good stuff without too much prompting. You helped with it, and he thanked you.

You, however, kept giving him evidence he didn't know he needed. At first he found it beneficial, but over time he started to grow nervous whenever you showed up with it. That smile on your face whenever he accepted your efforts, and the way you always asked him if he wanted to 'hang out' later on.

Thing is, Kaveh saw you both interacting one day, and he knew the 'nervousness' his roommate was complaining of when he was asking Kaveh about the best way to get you out of his life permanently.

One night, you were heading over to Alhaithams place with a book you knew he would love. It was a book that was highly confidential, a book Alhaitham kept voicing an interest in when talking to people (and admittedly yourself). Your brother had the book back when he was a student, a book he wasn't supposed to have. You'd rather not think of the argument you had with Tighnari when you asked him for the book, the end of the argument with Tighnari telling you that there was no use getting caught with a book you shouldn't even know about for a man.

Of course, you still took it anyway. Your brother doesn't report it, knowing he would get into trouble for knowing of the book as well. He did hope you would do the correct thing and do this more for yourself than a man.

You were about to knock on the door, only to hear two bickering voices.

"I think it's really quite sweet of them. I believe your heart is slowly growing soft for them, and it's quite romantic of them to go out of their way for you." You hear an unfamiliar voice purr.

"Oh, shut it." Alhaitham brushes off the mans words. "I find it embarrassing. They can't take the obvious hints I have no interest in them, nor have I voiced a need for any of the items they keep bringing me. They ought to find some self respect and get a life." He continues, and you can hear him roll his eyes. "They are wasting my time."

Your ears droop, your heart sinking as you hear those words. The way you feel like you could turn to dust, it was painful for you.

--

Tighnari hears your footsteps, and he didn't need a pair of eyes to know you were hurt. He expects you to need a first aid kit, and he turns to scold you, only to see you hugging the book close to your chest.

"I should have listened to you." You whine, pouting as you rest your chin on the book.

"What did he say?" Tighnari asks, sitting you down as he thinks about his next actions. He doesn't get a reply, and he shakes his head. "I won't kick you while you're down." He finishes, holding back the obvious 'I told you so'. "Yoink!" He calls out, taking the book back from you before you could make your mind up to give the book to the ungrateful man again. You yell out a 'hey' in protest, Tighnari smirking before getting the idea to get you to chase him for a while before he finally puts the book away.

--

Alhaitham hadn't seen you, and he didn't get why he wasn't happy about it. He didn't even feel relieved in the least, and it wasn't purely because you provided the good stuff for him. It's only after he doesn't see you for a few weeks that he finally realises his roommate was - for once - correct.

He was catching feelings for you.

When he asks his roommate for help with finding you and confessing his feelings, Kaveh can't help but laugh.

"Oh, I wish I had a kamera on me! The look of concern on your face, I don't believe I have ever seen it. I wonder how much I could get from it..." Kaveh trails off, placing a hand on his chin.

"It would help with rent. Something you don't always pay." Alhaitham coldly stops him.

"Fine, fine." He brushes off. "I suppose you don't want my romantic advice then..."

"Oh? Is that an eviction letter I'm sensing coming up with your name on it?" Alhaitham responds, Kaveh finally getting back to the topic.

"Who is this person, if you don't mind me asking?" Kaveh asks. Alhaitham states your name, and Kaveh can't stop himself from smirking knowingly.

"What?" Alhaitham asks, crossing his arms.

"You'll need to go through their brother first. If you want to know where he is, head off towards Gandarva Ville." Kaveh states.

At first Alhaitham thought it was a joke, but after he finds nothing with his own search, he follows Kaveh's directions.

--

Alhaitham didn't expect your brother to be this...intimidating. At this point, he didn't even think you heard his conversation with Kaveh about his uncertainty about you. Here he was, trying to figure out how to get out of this discussion with a way of finding you.

"Uncross your arms when I'm talking to you." Tighnari states. Alhaitham does as he requests, apologising to him. "It's 'Master Tighnari' to you."

Where did this man get his confidence? Alhaitham felt like he was the size of an ant with how he was being talked down to.

"Did you take in anything I just said?" Tighnari asks, raising a brow. Alhaitham does not respond, not knowing how to. "You lummox, I'm telling you to stay away from my sibling."

"And if I don't?" Alhaitham asks.

"Who are you talking to?" Tighnari asks, refusing to respond until he was addressed.

"And what if I don't, Master Tighnari?" Alhaitham rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

"Are your arms compensating for a lack of basic respect?" Tighnari asks. "I have already told you once to stop crossing your arms, and here you are defying my orders."

Alhaitham refuses this time, Tighnari huffing before grabbing the book you took to give to Alhaitham. Tighnari tosses the book at Alhaitham, it avoiding his face by millimetres.

"Get yourself a better plan, and talk to me then." Tighnari states. "You are dismissed."

--

On that walk back to his apartment, it slowly dawns on him that Tighnari had effectively put him below him. It was impressive that a man of his ego was knocked down, but then again this was with your brother. Anyone who had common sense could tell your brother was protective of you, and the intelligence Tighnari had did not make things easier in this case.

Problem was, Alhaitham still didn't understand why you were distant.

#alhaitham #tighnari #kaveh #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #alhaitham x reader #gender neutral reader

[kikoesbonbon]

Character : Alhaitham

Mentioning : Kaveh, Cyno, Traveler (not you guys).

Themes : Self awareness, different dimensions, posesif (ig-)

Alhaitham knows who you are. And he won't let you go that easily ferguso.

If asked what he thinks of you, Alhaitham will find you an oddball who likes his stubborn personality. Even though he had never met you before. Even Kaveh, who just lives with him, can't stand his arrogant attitude. Yes. Bulliing Kaveh is one of his many hobbies when he gets bored dealing with his work as a scribe and acting grand sage besides reading tons of books from the House of Daena. Take the uwu lion key from Kaveh. (Didn't expect Kaveh himself to like that cute wooden lion. Who knows. I don't know. I'm just assuming)

There are rumors that people with vision will get closer to you. Look, how lucky are the vision holders. they thought. Alhaitham did not bother. He had had enough of the other ramblings of academiya students. They tried to bring other gods closer after dumping Leser lord Kusanali and trying to create new gods and now they are seeking new divine knowledge from you. How selfish are they.

In addition, they are trying various ways to get vision quickly with research and research on 101 ways to get your vision quickly (life hack. Very helpful so that you live in prosperity so that you are closer to you. No clickbait. Very helpful in getting divine knowledge with joss - fast. Guaranteed you won't lose. Money back isn't effective. If the transaction money is still with us-) what a crazy marketing technique.

Alhaitham doesn't expect anything other than peace with his boring activities which are waking up, going to work, not forgetting to have breakfast, coming back at night, not forgetting to bring the key to the cave every day when he goes to work as the acting grand sage. I swear, Sage Azar is really a burden. It's been a problem, he also has to replace him. Look, how displeased the academia were with her decision to become a provisional grand sage. Let it be, he has no interest in becoming a sage because it takes a long time to find a replacement for a new sage. After all, he would not even offer to become a sage because he was appointed by Lord Kusanali because he could be relied on.

Alhaitham doesn't expect anything but peace while drinking coffee alone at home while reading his boring colored cover book which he often carries and reads anywhere it doesn't matter where he sits as long as he can read that book. Kaveh often complains about how bad Alhaitham is when it comes to choosing interior decorations for his old and boring house. His aesthetic architect's soul was terrified to see him. (I swear, what kind of knowledge book is this kid reading that is so engrossed, Paimon herself gets dizzy just reading a few words)

His calm changed when he saw several meteors falling-eh.. Shooting stars I mean. Many stars fell in the sky that night. Blue, purple.. It is said that there is a time when the god gives mercy to the chosen one. The dendro vision on the wrist of the right arm shines just as a golden star falls down in Sumeru's night sky. Just then Alhaitham heard someone's voice enter his head.

"Welcome home, Alhaitham."

When asked how he felt when Alhaitham faced someone who sounded similar to what you sounded like, his ignorant soul became curious. Is that you? The God who gave divine blessings to the academic scholars?

"Acting Grand Sage, I would like to report on the results of the research I got from The Dune of Carouses together with Cyno this afternoon." You said while opening a small note sheet of your research results.

"So after I researched at The Mausoleum of King Deshret before..."

Alhaitham stared at your figure speaking in a voice similar to the one that came to mind at the time. Your voice was only faintly heard while you were talking, since Alhaitham's mind was only roaming about you.

"..I found some hidden mechanisms related to some of the theories I came up with. Regarding that because it requires entry with the Scarlet Sand Slate, fortunately there was help from the Traveler in this research with the Scarlet Stone he obtained back then..."

Alhaitham cleared his throat making you look up at him. "Yes?" You tilted your head to look at his tall figure. "Anything to interrupt?" maybe he cleared his throat because the delivery of your report was not appropriate?

"No, actually I was just curious. I was wondering, is it true that you ■■■■?" What an awkward question from him to interrupt what you are talking about. You only reacted by furrowing your brows at him.

"That's right. Are you tired? Need to rest? Should I not disturb you for now?"

"No, just curious. I just adjusted the name of your previous report notes".

"Oh really?" you raise your eyebrows. What's with this guy today?

"And the names also happen to be similar." he said rubbing his chin as if he was thinking.

"Alhaitham? Someone like you has acquaintances? What a joke. Besides, the name ■■■■ is the name many people use. Not just one." You sweat a little, flicking your palms forward.

Alhaitham is not stupid he knows you are hiding something. And you're not very good at lying, it seems. So he has to find out for himself. Alhaitham saw some of your reports scattered on the table. It seems almost finished. He looked at you with his head asleep on the table. You're pretty diligent for a scolar like you. Just a little more and you graduate from the academy. You don't want to admit and you don't want to say that Alhaitham helped you a lot. What a tsundere—

A few months later, you told Alhaitham that once you graduated from Akademia, you would not continue your course. You will move to Fontaine to study mechanical engineering. I don't know what got into Alhaitham, he insisted that you stay in Sumeru. But you also insist on saying you can't stay in one place. After having a fight, you finally got tired of compromising with Alhaitham and ignored him for a few days.

Your graduation day is only a few weeks away, you have prepared all your thesis that only needs to be sent on the table. Alhaitham again saw you sleeping peacefully on the table. He sat next to you and pulled your left shoulder to lean on him.

His eyes stared at your face, and smiled faintly while playing with the ends of your hair. Alhaitham took some papers from your research on the table and read the writing. Your writing is really neat.

The next day you panicked into Alhaitham's study by breaking down the door. "Alhaitham—!" You hastily take a breath. "E-everyone, all of my theses are gone!"

"Oh?" Alhaitham looked at you with a flat gaze.

"Oh? Oh, you said it?! How many months do you think it took me to do that Alhaitham!?" you broke the table. "All my work is gone! I-I don't know what to do! Without that thesis I can't graduate—"

"Calm yourself,"

"Alhaitham—you must help me!" you pulled his collar.

"I said calm down, you can still work on it again. There's still next year for graduation." Alhaitham patted your shaking shoulder.

"What do you mean-" your eyes widen, shaking and looking down. "D-don't tell me.. Alhaitham, you did this?"

"I don't-"

"Why did you do that to a scholar under you Alhaitham?! You know that's a offense right? Alhaitham you bastard. Give me back all my thesis papers!" you shouted angrily at him. "I didn't take all your thesis papers." he said sarcastically.

"Liar! I believe you were the last to stay at the House of Daena, right? There weren't many people there lingering until midnight there."

"What if you misunderstood? What would you say hm?" his gaze on you was condescending. You hate that look.

"I—" you gritted your teeth in annoyance. You swear, this guy is a complete asshole. "If that happens, I still don't apologize to you." You let go of Alhaitham's collar roughly. "I don't want anything to do with you anymore!"

You stepped angrily to get out of the Grand Sage's room, but were blocked by Alhaitham by slamming the door pushing you closer to the door. You stare at him resentfully. "What the hell are you—!"

"You.. you know how annoying you are lately?" Alhaitham muttered softly in a heavy tone in your ear while leaning back. "You sicken me." he muttered in a thunderous tone as he placed his finger on your hip. "I know who you really are. And I'll make sure to teach you who you stand for. And you won't be able to go anywhere.♡"

»»-----------fin-----------««

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Boy, it's been a long time since I've made this fanfic that I've been struggling since February.😰 It's been 4 months since I abandoned it because I had writer's block.😭🤙

And the ending doesn't match the initial concept that I wanted. But because I'm still innocent for results that are a little more intimate. Forgive me. 🙇

#yandere al haitham x reader #al haitham x reader #self aware genshin #yandere genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #Alhaitham x reader #genshin impact

[steveyockey]

In 2009, I was sentenced to life in prison. Early one morning, I boarded a bus in shackles and a disposable jumpsuit, and rode to Calipatria State Prison, a cement fortress on the southern fringes of California. Triple-digit temperatures, cracked orange soil, and pungent whiffs of the nearby Salton Sea made me feel as though I’d been exiled to Mars. After six years in the chaos of the county jail, however, I could finally own small luxuries, like a television. The thick walls of Calipat, as we called the place, stifled our radio reception, but an institutional antenna delivered shows like “Access Hollywood,” “Entertainment Tonight,” and “TMZ.” I was irritated by the celebrity gossip, but it was a connection to the outside world, and it introduced me to snippets of Swift’s performances for the first time. Here and there, I’d catch her on “The Ellen DeGeneres Show” or “Fallon,” and was surprised by how intently she discussed her songwriting. I didn’t tell anyone that I thought she was talented.

In 2013, when my security level was lowered owing to good behavior, I requested a transfer to Solano state prison, the facility with a Level 3 yard which was closest to my family in the Bay Area. I got the transfer, but my property—a TV, CD player, soap, toothpaste, lotion, food—was lost in transit. I shared a cell with someone in the same situation, so, for months, we relied on the kindness of our neighbors to get by. Our only source of music was a borrowed pocket radio, hooked up to earbuds that cost three dollars at the commissary. At night, we’d crank up the volume and lay the earbuds on the desk in our cell. Those tiny speakers radiated crickety renditions of Top Forty hits.

During that time, I heard tracks from “Red,” Swift’s fourth studio album, virtually every hour. I was starting to enjoy them. Laying on the top bunk, I would listen to my cellmate’s snores and wait for “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” to come around again. When it did, I would think about the woman I had lived with for seven years, before prison. I remembered bittersweet times when my sweetheart had visited me in county jail. We’d look at each other through security glass that was reinforced by wire. It didn’t seem fair to expect her to wait for me, and I told her that she deserved a partner who could be with her. But we didn’t use the word “never,” and deep down I always hoped that we’d get back together. When I heard “Everything Has Changed,” I had to fight back tears of exaltation and grief. Swift sings, “All I knew this morning when I woke / Is I know something now / Know something now I didn’t before.” I thought back to our first date, and how we had talked and laughed late into the night. We had to force ourselves to get a few hours of sleep before sunrise.

For the past two decades, sleep has not come easily to me. Often, when I get into bed, I think about the day I was arrested at the scene of my crime. Some neighbors called 911 and reported gunshots. I can still see the grieving family members of the man I killed, staring at me in the courtroom at my trial. I’m guilty of more than murder. I abandoned my parents and my sweetheart, too. There’s no way to fix this stuff.

Taylor Swift is currently the same age, thirty-three, that I was when I was arrested. I wonder whether her music would have resonated with me when I was her age. I wonder whether I would have reacted to the words “I’m the problem, it’s me.” Hers must be champagne problems compared with mine, but I still see myself in them. “I’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror,” Swift sings, and I think of the three-by-five-inch plastic mirrors that are available inside. For years out there, I viewed myself as the antihero in my own warped self-narrative. Do I want to see myself clearly?

In “Karma,” Swift sings, “Ask me what I learned from all those years / Ask me what I earned from all those tears.” A few months from now, California’s Board of Parole Hearings will ask me questions like that. What have I learned? What do I have to show for my twenty years of incarceration? In the months ahead, when these questions keep me up at night, I will listen to “Midnights.” The woman I love says she’s ready to meet me on the other side of the prison wall, on the day that I walk into the daylight. Recently, she asked me, “If you could go anywhere, do anything, that first day out, what would you want us to go do?” That question keeps me up at night, too.

#I don’t give a fuck what you think about Taylor swift this is a beautiful piece #reading

[running-with-kn1ves]

Modern AU! Alcina Dimitrescu X GN! Reader

A/N: thank you my 3 women loving followers for your support, here is a self indulgent dominant lady fic.

Content Warnings: dubcon/noncon, NSFW, GN reader in lingerie/tied up, violence, manipulation, gaslighting, yandere themes, scratching, power imbalance.

Synopsis: Your fiance who is powerful in more ways than one, comes back home to punish you for your recent getaway attempts. 

Word count: 2300

Alcina Dimitrescu didn’t have much time in life for simple pleasures. 

When it came to her evenings and weekends, she was often still slaving away in her office, making sure each report and data chart was made with precision-- the precision that shaped her company and financial success. Her routine consisted of 7 shots of espresso and yelling at languid underlings who dared to be useless in her presence, which took up a great chunk of her day when she wasn’t staring at monthly stock reports and hundreds of emails. 

Alcina had just finished up the last of her work long past office hours, leaving the tall woman with a more than ill-tempered mood. She was never one to be ignorantly carefree or without a dash of skepticism, but today had shown a more than sour side of the CEO.

So when the exhausted woman busted through the door with stray hairs sticking out of her business-casual hairdo, dark circles shadowing underneath her eyes-- she couldn’t help but look to the nearest thing to relieve her tension. Unfortunately, the first thing she set eyes on was the closed bedroom door. 

The front door to her penthouse shut with a loud echo, the bedroom door ripping open next in the same pattern. Alcina set down a set of folders and her purse on the bedroom vanity desk, not shedding a glance at your helpless form on the bed.

Her sudden presence was a vast change from the silence you had grown accustomed to, only ever sensing the tick of a clock and the hum of the fridge which nearly drew you to insanity. These past 7 hours bound-- with your hands and feet tied to the edges of the bed-- had made your mind drone. The dark of the blindfold wrapped around your eyes made you rely on your ears, which found it very easy to sense Alcina’s loud entrance. 

You immediately tensed, recognizing the specific click, click, click of the black high heels she wore every friday. 

“Please--” You begged, rubbing your tied ankles together in an attempt to break free of your restraints. Nothing good could come from her presence back home, and you weren't prepared to take in the consequences she would soon give out. 

 You had attempted that morning to get to the airport and travel as far as possible from her, having won your autonomy back from the woman after behaving civilly and remaining by her side since the proposal she pushed upon you. But this attempt had destroyed any future advantages, showing you were yet to be trusted by her after she caught you triggering the front door security alarm at dawn, suitcase handle in hand. After binding you to the bed, Alcina made sure you were very aware that further punishments would ensue as soon as she got back from work.

Beforehand, you had remained mostly compliant in your relationship with Alcina. She didn't deprive you of your belongings or most of your freedoms upon her relocation of you to her apartment; she only remained vigilant on denying you the ability to leave home without her, nor to become unfaithful. But this new attempt to flee had shown your true colors of fear, thus stripping you of every perk she let you keep upon your engagement. 

You began to feel your sobs crack again in your mouth, but you kept it shut to shove them down. Even as you weakly tussled with the rope around your limbs, Alcina didn’t pay much attention. She was too busy flipping off her high heels and removing her coat blazer to pay much mind to your upset state. 

But once your desperate pleas left your mouth once more, your hands shaking as you felt the rope rubbing your raw wrists, Alcina began to grow annoyed. 

She gave a light slap to your thigh.

 

"Stop this instant." 

You did as she said with a recoiling leg, flinching at the sudden touch you couldn’t see. The woman grabbed the rope keeping you tied to the footboard, sitting on her knees upon the bed to remove the rope from your bare ankles. Your feet had turned a bruised color from hours of rubbing against the rope; Alcina ran her fingers tenderly across the chafed flesh. You flinched again, this time from the shooting pain. 

With the last knot undone, your feet were finally free. Just from a simple maneuver of her hands, the businesswoman put your poor attempts from the past several hours to shame. 

“There, better now are we?”  You gave a small nod, feeling like a cornered dog waiting for her to strike and you to bite out of fear. Alcina grabbed your shins, pushing them away from your weak, limp legs. “Now, open up for me.”

Her gentle sternness made you almost think you were out of the clear-- that maybe she decided your miserable day in dark isolation was enough of a reprimand. But as she widened your legs and came closer, you doubted yourself. 

Hot breath fanned over your inner thighs, soft hands coming to massage your hips.

“No--!” You gasped, trying to shut your legs. You had dealt with this specific punishment before, and were not keen on facing it again. 

“You don’t have a choice, dearest--” Her voice was laced with annoyance, hissing her syllables as her strong hands fought against your instinct.

“I don’t think you want to see what happens if you keep disobeying,” Alcina heightened, squeezing your ass with a tight grip of her palm. 

You reluctantly opened your legs again, though not nearly as wide as she had previously pushed. The woman forced your slow movements to speed up with a harsh grip, yanking your legs open as you quivered. 

“Will you p-please untie my hands now..?” You shakily asked. 

You weren’t nearly as meek as the first time Alcina grabbed you in such a manner-- but you couldn’t help to naturally stutter at how the woman roughly handled you. 

Alcina hummed, breath fanning over your stomach. She took a moment to answer, dragging her hand up underneath the cute red underwear you had been forced to shamefully wear. You had been dressed in this humiliating lingerie get-up since this morning when she decided to fulfill your punishment, and Alcina couldn’t help but deliciously eye you and the lingerie set, completely decked out with thigh garters and ribbon. 

“That’s quite a daring question from someone in your position.” She said bitterly. 

You kept your mouth shut after that, firmly pressing your lips together as you anxiously awaited to negotiate more terms of your punishment. But Alcina didn’t seem quite up for talking. 

The businesswoman leaned in between your legs, her nose pressed against your underwear as she gave a nuzzle into your crotch. She seemed to be tempting you, waiting for your touchy gasps to arrive; she knew how sensitive you were once she could get you going. You kept your legs firm and steady against the sheets, knees leaning inward as you tried to stay calm.

“Please Alcina-- I’m sorry I just--”

You tried to talk to her, but the woman’s hand suddenly came to meet your clothed sex, rubbing gently as you talked. 

“I don’t know what got… got a hold of me,”

You tried to justify your actions of leaving to her, but couldn’t help sense the slow, pulsating sensation of pleasure she was pulling from you. Her chilled hands refused to give you the warmth and enjoyment of an embrace, coldly searching for that rhythm that would turn you to putty. She held your hip with her other hand firmly, gripping so you could feel the nick of her sharp, pedicured nails. Alcina wanted you to feel pain, to feel pleasure you could never replicate alone or with another soul-- and to pull it away to leave you begging. 

“I promise it won’t happen again, so please unt--”

“Quiet!” Alcina roughly pulled your body closer to her, your arms straining against the headboard. Her cupped hand came to meet your awakening sex, rubbing full, slow circles as she stared at your wincing face. "You defy me after all I've done for you… the privileges you've been given, the time I've exhausted," 

You whimpered as she began to circle around the wettening spot on your underwear with the pad of her thumb. 

"I come home after providing for you, to this. To an ungrateful little tantrum."

Alcina's subtle accent grew the more frustrated she got, her hand removing from your twitching pelvic bone as she grabbed the bottom of your thighs. Her sharp fingernails dragged down the supple flesh, thin lines of peeking red forcing your face into a grimace.

 You had been Alcina Dimitrescu's fiancé for some time now, one that she easily managed to keep under her paw with domineering threats and promises of a good, wealthy life. No matter if she enjoyed the taste of your blood a bit more than normal fiancés did, or held more power in the relationship than most, that was all trivial when it came to the meat of your relationship. And yet, you still defied her, still dared to bashfully turn away when she offered you affection, and attempted to “escape” her clutches. She was hurt, more hurt than you would ever know, but she wouldn’t dare show that to you. Not when you had yet to be reprimanded for such unacceptable actions. 

No fiancé of hers would act this way, in public or otherwise. She knew how good you could be, how obedient… and she would do what it took to remind you of your place. 

"I'll show you what happens if you dare to leave my side.”

Alcina’s claw-like nails ripped the pretty lace that was your underwear, cutting the flimsy garment to reveal your bare skin.

You felt the sharp sting of Alcina's hand on your buttocks once more with a jolt, sensing she was getting closer as the bedsheets rustled. You had still been stripped of your sight, adding to your fear and impatience to be released. Tension was building in your lower half with every stroke of the CEO's palm in an attempt to begin your torture. She planned to bring you from orgasm to orgasm, denying breaks or moments to recover in a meticulous attempt to change your most pleasurable moments into ones of suffering and sensitivity. It wasn't the first time she used overstimulation against you, and probably wouldn't be the last. It was by far her favorite method of punishment, despite its necessary patience.

The businesswoman let out a sadistic, low chuckle. It was almost mocking, a small ‘poor dear’ escaping from her lips as she ran her fingers up your navel, tip-toeing like a lover would. 

“I want you to apologize.” Alcina demanded, her fingers now caressing your lips, as her knee moved to spread your legs further. 

“I’m sorry--” 

You were abruptly cut off by the sudden feeling of a large thumb forced past your words, swirling against the stickiness of your tongue. 

“Shh.” Alcina tsked. “I don’t want to hear it from your lips.”

 You let out a low groan at the sensation of her finger exploring your mouth, touching your teeth with the lightest graze, daring to gently rake her nail over your tongue. 

“Show me with your body.”

The businesswoman’s other hand went to your now exposed sex, her closed mouth humming as she looked down at the mess you made. She played with your aroused lower half in a delicate manner, teasing with the heaviest of touches. Even without witnessing your desperately expressive eyes, Alcina enjoyed watching your lips purse around her finger when she made your body writhe. She loved how your chest rose and faltered with eached hitched breath, how your limp hands clenched at the ropes when she sped up her pace. 

You were becoming more worked up as she fully began to pleasure you against your desire, creating an intense impact with only her two hands. She felt so relaxed-- able to watch as her adorable spouse-to-be was absolutely bewitched by her every move. you felt her covered breasts brush against your shoulder as she leaned down to press gentle bites against your collarbone. 

Alcina pulled her thumb from your mouth, allowing you to follow with a series of hiccups and pleas of pleasure. 

“Alcina--” Your cracked voice cried.

 Her grip on you suddenly grew tighter as she seemed to remember that this was supposed to be a punishment-- not a reward. No matter how much she wanted to unzip her tight skirt, remove the binds from your bruised wrists, and pull you under her, she knew there was authority to uphold. And though it might not seem so-- but giving out your punishment could be just as fun as indulging herself, if she managed not to exhaust you too much. 

Your dry lips felt the touch of a suffocating cloth, ticklish lace scratching your nose as the fabric was pushed into your mouth. Alcina pressed the ripped garment further down your throat, relishing in how your underwear looked almost as good keeping your mouth shut as it did when you wore it correctly. 

Tears began to bubble up in your eyes as muffled sobs exited your mouth, Alcina's rub of your arousal spreading to coat your sex in an effort of humiliation. The woman huffed, gripping your jaw with one hand, your dripping sex with the other. 

Running her hands down your body she slid to your hips, prying open your legs again once more to bring her mouth to your sweet spot-- one that she’d make sure to overstimulate into oblivion. It was safe to say, your pleasure would be quite short-lived tonight, soon to be replaced by oversensitivity and bittersweet pain. 

"Remember, dragostea mea," Alcina whispered, hot breath and toothy canines hitting your thigh. 

"I’m only giving you what you deserve."

#writing #x reader #tw yandere #yandere #alcina dimitrescu #business au #ceo alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #reader insert #self insert #yandere x reader #fanfiction #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x y/n #wlw #nblw #nsft #lady dimitrescu nsft #smut #resident evil smut #resident evil village x reader

[fatalism-and-villainy]

Mmmkay, I have thoughts on Alana’s arc and contextualizing Margot/Alana.

This is sort of tangential to what I said here regarding the interplay of control and violence on the show. In that post, I said of Alana:

With Alana, [violence is] the only possible culmination of her losing control of the situation with Mason Verger, with her being forced to follow the abdication of her morals all the way to the end point.

Alana isn’t a “natural” killer like some of the characters on the show, but she’s capable of it when pushed (unlike, say, Chilton) - and the set of circumstances that get her there are losing control, and only being able to regain control for the situation by enabling, and participating in, murder. And this arc sheds some fascinating light on some of the central traits that have defined her throughout the show.

Two of Alana’s key qualities as a character, I would say, are both related to control. Firstly, she feels a strong sense of personal responsibility - she can’t just stand aside and allow injustice to take place. She always intervenes in a situation to advocate for what she feels is right, such as with Abigail, and with Will during season 1 and his arc in prison. She’s very invested in rightness, rather than simply self-preservation, at least initially (less so come season 3, where she’s fine with throwing Chilton under the bus) - when Gideon is loose, with a strong possibility he’ll come after her, she’s not solely worried about her own safety, but rather expresses concern over what happened to him and the fact that he can’t truly be held accountable for his actions when operating under reduced capacity. And she can’t be persuaded or intimidated into acting in her own self-interest if it contradicts her values. She refuses to withdraw her report citing her concerns about Jack putting Will in the field when pressed to do so by Kade Prunell and smarmy institutional self-protection; and, of course, she refuses to take the out that Hannibal offers her in the s2 finale. That moment in Hannibal’s kitchen encapsulates so much of the essence of her character - she’s not the kind of person who could ever walk away without trying to bring him down.

Her other central attribute in the early seasons is self-control. She’s self-aware almost to a fault, and always striving to keep her worst interpersonal impulses in check. She knows her shortcomings in her personal relationships, and compartmentalizes accordingly. She avoids being alone with Will in an effort to maintain professional boundaries and resist indulging in something that she knows would be destructive. Her words to Will after turning him down are telling - she wanted to sleep with him, and was internally divided about the rejection, but an affair would have been “reckless.” She’s extremely careful, including with her own desires.

(Her relationship with Hannibal, tellingly, is not reckless from her POV - it’s her attempting to find emotional safety from her conflicted feelings about Will. There’s an interesting parallel in her kissing Hannibal after the party in Futamono to Will kissing her at his house in Fromage - she “reached” for Hannibal the way Will did to her, grasping for stability.)

What changes for her in season 3 is that, in a word, she gets reckless. She becomes much friendlier with ruthless pragmatism, whereas before, she was outraged at - for example - launching a defense for Will in court based on untruths, even if it could exonerate him. Her plan to play Mason relies on her confidence that the FBI will swoop in and bail her out in the end, so she maintains her trust in institutions (at first), but she’s still willing to use extra-legal channels to catch Hannibal, and manipulate an incredibly dangerous man to her ends. And it’s all still of a piece with her character and her need to take control over and assume responsibility for the situation with Hannibal - but it’s a version of herself undergoing transformation, becoming more ruthless and more willing to take matters into her own hands rather than following official channels. And, crucially, it involves her losing control of the situation, despite her conviction that she can manage it - by which she learns that it’s impossible for her to absolve herself of complicity here, and she has to take a more vigilante-justice route, put her life in danger by loosing chaos in the form of Hannibal, and allow him to take the fall and lie for her.

The fling with Margot correlates both to Alana’s becoming as this new, more ruthless and untethered version of herself, and in the slippage of her carefully maintained self-control. Hooking up with Mason’s sister is pretty much the definition of reckless! It makes the situation considerably more precarious, and the alliance with Margot is hardly essential to her original plan, even if there does end up being $$$ attached to it. But it’s an indulgence that she didn’t allow herself to fully give in to with Will. The parallel between Will and Margot is made pretty apparent wrt their relationships with Hannibal, but I think they also represent something similar to Alana (who herself gets, in certain ways, take the role of Hannibal for this arc). She wants to save people, and Margot, while not toothless, is fairly disempowered and traumatized, someone in need of saving. The relationship with her, for Alana, is a form of giving in to something she’s long denied herself. And, thematically, it makes perfect sense that the safeguards she’s put up around herself begin to dissolve in tandem with her personal beliefs being challenged and forced to adapt.

#alana bloom #hannibal meta #my meta #hannibal #margot/alana #marlana #(is not discussed the the length i thought it would be but is of a piece with a lot of what is discussed abt alana's arc) #digestivo is a great and fun episode for many reasons but honestly one of the ways it's most fascinating to me #is as a character study of alana #hannibal talk