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projectionistwrites · 1 year

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FOR SCIENCE | SUBJECT 2

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

Marc Spector x afab!psychologist!reader (11.0k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: fetishization of mental disorders (DID), psychoanalysis, potentially unethical scientific practices, SMUT (dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f! and m!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, squirting, creampie, bondage, intense edging, reader is very mean, facesitting/riding, 69ing, praise kink, dirty talk, use of the stoplight system) NOTES: time for everyone’s favorite babygirl. again, i really hope i did marc’s character justice. also, you can’t tell me marc wouldn’t look so pretty crying for you. i kinda went feral on this one. <3 DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!

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CASE STUDY: MARC SPECTOR

ROLE IN COGNITIVE SYSTEM: Host / Apparently Normal Part

ATTACHMENT STYLE: Fearful

CHARACTERISTICS: cocksure, standoffish, pensive, calculating; resilient to a fault; views himself as irredeemable in the face of his past, unworthy of forgiveness or compassion; must be in control of every situation in order to feel secure.

SPLIT FROM HOST: N/A

TRAUMA RESPONSE: tendency to run when facing emotionally distressing situations

SEXUAL PRESENTATION: dominant, assertive, deliberate, practiced, indulgent; derives majority of satisfaction from his ability to draw pleasure from his partner; cognitive blockages that are reminiscent of self-sabotage (undeserving of release or pleasure).

“You’re early, Doc.”

Marc teased—he was leaning against the doorframe with a smug smirk on his face, successfully blocking your entrance into his flat. You felt your face heat up beneath his devious gaze.

“I know.”

Your words were softer than you’d intended them to be, more hesitant—Marc’s eyes narrowed at your wavery response.

He wordlessly stepped to the side, allowing you to finally slip past him and into the threshold of the apartment. You paused in the entrance as the door clicked shut behind Marc. He narrowly avoided colliding into your form as he turned, his arms jutting out to brace himself against you to prevent either of you from stumbling. His hands gripped your biceps, his chest pressed against your back. Your body tensed under his touch, and he let out a low chuckle, slipping past you and further into the space.

“Jesus, you’re touchy today. Everything okay?”

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied you. The movement was so easy, so casual and relaxed, as if this was just like any other time you’d hung out at his place—as if you weren’t there just to get into his pants. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you glanced down at your worn sneakers. It felt...different, this time. With Steven, you knew there would be a learning curve for both of you. You knew that, to some extent, you would be the one calling the shots, making Steven feel safe and comfortable. But now...you were intimidated. And ashamed to admit it.

You must’ve been quiet a beat too long, because the next second, Marc was in front of you, standing toe-to-toe. When you didn’t meet his eyes, his left hand came to nudge your chin upward, forcing your gaze upon him. You gulped, but his dark eyes were softened with concern.

“Hey. You gotta talk to me, Y/N. What’s on your mind?”

You blew out a breath.

“No, it’s nothing, I’m just—”

“—nervous?”

Marc finished for you, and you squeezed your eyes shut in an effort to prevent yourself from seeing the satisfied look on his perfect face.

“Yes, Marc, laugh it up. I’m nervous.”

“Hey, I didn’t even—”

“Yeah, but you were gonna.”

You snapped with a glare, but you felt guilt punch through your gut when a look of hurt crested Marc's features. You sighed.

“Shit, Marc, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“I am, too, you know.”

You blinked once, then twice.

“You’re...what?”

He rolled his eyes, huffing out a bitter, humorless laugh, as if he thought you were toying with him. When he saw the genuine confusion on your face, he threw his head back with a groan.

“You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed, but when you finally realized what he meant, you felt a small smile creep onto your face.

“Wait—you’re nervous?”

Marc shrugged sheepishly, and you could see a bit of color rise to his cheeks—was he blushing?

“You’re telling me—Marc Spector is nervous?”

“Yeah, and who’s laughing it up, now?”

He quirked a brow, giving you an accusatory look, and you giggled at him, the tension melting away from your body easily.

“I’m not laughing at you, Marc, I’m just—why would you be nervous? Especially around me?”

He shook his head at you incredulously, taking a few steps closer. You felt your back press up against the door behind you, successfully trapping you in Marc's vicinity.

“S’that so hard to believe? A pretty girl like you, coming over to study how I am in bed—even if it’s just for science?”

Marc wiggled his brows theatrically, and you laughed again, shaking your head. Still, there was blood pumping loud in your ears as he spoke, and you could feel electricity crackle in the air between you, charged with energy.

“Yeah, for science. But—you have pretty girls over all the time to see how you are in bed.”

“Yeah, but s’never been you, has it?”

The words were barely audible, muttered lowly beneath his breath, but you felt your jaw slacken at his quiet confession. Your eyes flitted up to his, and there was that cheeky, self-satisfied grin on his face again—fuck, he was too handsome, you just wanted to—

“Can I just fuckin’ kiss you, already?”

He was close, now, his warm exhales mingling with your own. His brown eyes glittered onyx as he drank you in, lips parted just slightly, the tip of his nose barely brushing your own. You felt faint, the proximity dizzying as temptation sank its teeth into your flesh. With the faintest nod of your head, Marc took the plunge.

You’d never had a kiss quite like this one before. Of course, Steven’s was great, but it was exactly what you’d expected—a desperate clash of teeth and tongue, the two of you battling your insecurities to fall into a steady rhythm. But this—this was fucking special. Marc’s hand slipped behind your head to thread through your hair, his other arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You were frankly surprised at the tenderness with which his lips found yours, starting with a barely-there brush of his mouth. It was sweet, and raw, intimate, and you felt his lashes flutter against your cheek when he pulled away too soon.

You were breathless, your face following his as he drew back, desperate to maintain the contact. He chuckled at this, but remained close, eyes finding yours again.

“Still nervous?”

He asked, his voice low and gravelly. His eyes seemed darker as he smirked down at you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Your eyes flitted down to his mouth, your breath catching in your lungs at the sight. Something resembling a squeak involuntarily escaped your throat.

“Marc. Please.”

You whined, big doe-eyes glimmering, and Marc scrunched his face up as though he was in pain, eyes squeezed shut tight as he groaned. He rested his forehead against yours.

“Shit. You really gonna make it that easy for me, baby?”

He practically hissed, and a breathy laugh blew past your lips. Marc captured your mouth with his again, harder this time, the hand that was in your hair reached up to brace himself against the door above your head, successfully caging you in. You hummed against him as his tongue passed through the seam of your lips, sinking into you further. Your desperate hands reached up and clawed at his chest, gripping the navy blue fabric of his cotton t-shirt in your fingers as you held him close. He pressed himself into you, and you could feel the hardness of his bulge flush against your lower abdomen. A moan escaped you at the feeling of his arousal, your body instinctually thrusting into his hold. You could feel him smile into the kiss.

“Yeah? You feel what you do to me, huh, baby?”

He teased against your lips, and you tossed your head back, thudding against the door behind you. You looked down your nose at him, through your lashes, panting slightly, your hands still twisted in the material of his shirt.

“Fuck, Marc, want you so bad, just—”

Your words died on your breath when his arms abruptly slid beneath your butt and hoisted you upwards, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck. One of his large hands stayed firmly squeezing the flesh of your ass, the other roamed the length of your back as he pressed his lips against yours again, turning to walk you further into the apartment.

“Jesus, this is gonna be fun.”

He mumbled at your eagerness and responsiveness, your hands threading through his brown curls as he brought you towards the bed, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You gasped when he threw you back onto the mattress abruptly, your body bouncing once at the contact, causing you to giggle. But then Marc was stalking over your body, hovering above your body with a predatory look in his eyes. He licked his lips as you blinked up at him.

“Gonna take my time with you, pretty girl. Gonna absolutely ruin you.”

You impatiently pulled his face back to yours, and he didn’t resist, kissing you back with equal fervor and desire as your own, but the moment you lifted your hips to seek friction from his body, he pulled away, tutting at you condescendingly.

“Ah, ah, ah. Relax, baby. Don’t torture yourself.”

He smirked, fingers dancing across the skin of your stomach beneath the hem of your shirt. You reacted immediately, lifting your arms above your head to allow him to pull it from your body.

“Look at you—so obedient.”

His patronizing tone normally would’ve pissed you off, but there was something about the look in Marc's eyes—completely enraptured with you, ready to give you the world—that made you want to do whatever he said. He reached behind your body to undo your bra, fingers nimbly unhooking the clasps as he yanked it off of you, his face immediately sinking into your cleavage. He groaned, lips frantically attaching themselves to the flesh between your breasts, wandering across the expanse of the newly-exposed skin and wherever they could reach.

“Oh, baby. Got such pretty tits.”

He growled, teeth playfully sinking into the skin at the top of your right breast, earning a yelp from your mouth as he quickly soothed the sting with a swipe of his tongue, smirking up at you. The heat of his mouth was enough to briefly distract you from his wandering hands, but then he was yanking your pants down your legs in one fell swoop, leaving you bare save for the plain pink cotton panties you’d worn today—they weren’t particularly sexy, as you had been trying to prevent your apparel from serving as a confounding variable, but Marc still looked like he wanted to devour you.

His rough hands ran up the plush skin of your thighs, over your hips before squeezing at your tits, making your back arch up and off the bed. A dark chuckle sounded from above you.

“So eager.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to your mouth, and you felt his hands travel down your body again, teasingly fondling at the waistband of your underwear as you sighed. You let your own hands travel beneath his shirt, running your hands along the warmth of his toned abdomen, coaxing him out of the material. You were happily surprised when he honored your silent request, allowing you to pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the side. His expression flickered for a moment as you admired him, his eyes briefly shining with a certain warmth that you couldn’t decipher. He pressed his lips to yours, a soft, sweet kiss, but when he pulled away, the wicked gleam in his eye had returned.

“Gonna make you feel good, baby. You want me to touch you?”

Your nod was frantic, your head pressed back into the pillows as you forced your body to stay still beneath him, even as you desperately wanted to rut up against his jean-clad thighs.

“Yeah, you do, huh? Bein’ such a good girl for me, baby—you gonna keep behavin’ yourself? Gonna let me take care a’ you?”

You whined, desperation starting to pulse through your limbs, making you want to squirm.

“Yes, Marc, yes, just—please—”

He shushed you, his lips pressing hotly beneath your jaw before continuing down the column of your neck, down your sternum, across your breasts, and finally stopping above your navel. He hummed into your skin, the vibrations causing a chill to pass over your spine, goosebumps rising in their wake. He lifted his hands to spread your legs further apart, granting him the space to lay between them so he was face-to-face with your clothed core.

“Fuck, baby—soakin’ for me already.”

You could feel his hot breath against the cool, damp material of your panties, and you jolted when his fingers lightly pressed against the wet spot, the pads of his digits just barely swiping over your folds. Your toes curled and legs tensed, trying hard to withstand Marc's slow, relentless teasing. He seemed to be enjoying it, a dark chuckle escaping his mouth at your reaction.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

He requested lowly, hands pressed against your inner thighs to hold them apart in front of him. You tried to make your voice steady.

“Marc, please, just—”

His fingers harshly curled into the flesh of your thighs, creating divots in the soft skin as you flinched. He gave you a warning glare.

“You never struck me as the bratty type. C’mon, baby—tell me what you want.”

“You, Marc, fuck—want you so bad. Always wanted you.”

You flinched at your own confession, but Marc responded with a throaty growl.

“Oh, yeah? Thought this was just for research, hm?”

You felt his nose brush against the crotch of your panties, and you whimpered, your hips lifting of their own accord. Marc’s hands gripped your waist tightly and slammed your ass back into the mattress, pressing you down firmly.

“That’s enough.”

He warned, suddenly strict, and you swallowed, trying hard to resist the urge to sink your hands in his hair and force him towards where you needed him most.

“Fuckin’ greedy little thing. I’ll give you whatever you want, pretty girl—just wanna hear you say it.”

You bit your lip defiantly, feigning confusion at his request, and he growled again, teeth sinking into the flesh of your hip right above the waistband of your panties. You jumped at the sensation, letting out a sharp cry, and you felt the vibration of his chuckle through your skin.

“Go on, Y/N. Tell me the truth. Tell me how bad you want me.”

Your resolve shattered.

“Want you so bad, Marc. Wanted you since the day I met you. Wanted you to bend me over the desk in my office, wanted—wanted to get on my knees for you right there on the bus. Got off to the thought of you fucking me so many times, Marc, shit, please, would you just—”

He practically ripped the panties from your body as his mouth finally surged forward to steal a taste of your sopping cunt. You yelped in surprise when his tongue swiped through your folds, and Marc wasted no time in sinking two fingers into your throbbing entrance, already beginning a relentless pace within you.

“Oooh, FUCK, Marc—”

You exclaimed, hips thrusting upward at the sudden stimulation, and Marc’s strong arm reached up to press down on your stomach, forcing your movements to halt.

“Sit fuckin’ still—want you to cum all over my fingers, baby.”

He muttered against your clit, lips wrapping around the bud to suck harshly. Your orgasm was rapidly approaching already, the pleasure mounting and mounting with each sudden thrust of Marc’s thick fingers, each move deliberate and practiced. You were mewling beneath him, back arched harshly as he continued his pace, dark eyes watching as your face contorted into a look of pleasure.

“That’s it, baby, can feel you squeezin’ my fingers, fuck—you gonna cum for me?”

Your climax peaked easily and you let out a long sigh as you let the waves of pleasure overcome your senses, only acutely aware of Marc’s gentle praises being muttered against your throbbing cunt as your became pliant beneath him.

Your muscles began to loosen after your sudden and intense orgasm, but the sensation didn’t last for long—Marc wasn't stopping. His tongue had replaced his fingers, thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy, his nose nudging at your clit in a move he must’ve learned from Steven, the cheeky bastard...

“Fuck, Marc, shit, I can’t—”

You couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, but he held you down securely, not allowing you to pull away from the intense stimulation he was still offering.

“Color.”

The sound was muffled, mixed in with the sinful slurping noises he was making, and your cloudy mind took a few moments to process his request, but as his fingers pressed harder into the divot of your hipbone, you threw your head back to respond. Stoplight.

“Green, Marc, but—God, fuck, s’too much, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will.”

Your eyes met his from his position buried in your mound, and the sight of his hungry eyes and the tone of his demand were enough to send you rapidly toppling over the edge yet again. The high-pitched wail that you let out was shameful, but Marc didn’t pause, watching you closely as you came apart on his tongue yet again.

As you came back down to Earth, he finally offered you a moment of reprieve, coming up for air to press a bruising kiss to your lips. The tangy taste of your arousal on his lips made your face flush hot.

“Taste so sweet for me, baby. Gonna give me another?"

You hummed, mind still foggy with bliss, but then his fingers were ghosting over your swollen clit, swiping carefully in circular motions on your tender flesh. Your head lifted to press into his shoulder, and he chuckled wickedly, increasing his pressure as you writhed beneath him.

“That’s it, baby, doin’ so well.”

He praised, hot lips pressed to your ear, and you could feel heat pool in your lower belly, red and hot and seething. Your lip was pulled between your teeth, hard enough that you could taste the metallic tinge of blood on your tongue as Marc sped up his pace. Your fingers wrapped around his arm, trying to pull him away, but his muscles flexed beneath your hold, and the overstimulation quickly made way for yet another stuttering orgasm, your cunt clenching around nothing as your teeth sank into the flesh of Marc’s shoulder, body twitching uncontrollably. You heard him hiss from the bite to his skin, but it quickly evolved into a groan as he turned his head to the side, littering your jaw with open-mouthed kisses as sweat dappled your face.

“There we go. Good girl, baby. Good girl.”

He cooed, finally pulling his hand away from your core. He lifted his slick-coated fingers and pressed them to your lips, and you absent-mindedly obeyed, sucking his digits into your mouth and lapping up the residual arousal from his knuckles. He hummed in approval, your face utterly fucked-out and eyes hazy. He pressed a soft kiss to your nose before sitting upright above you, his hands making quick work of his belt buckle as he pushed his jeans and boxers down simultaneously.

“Think you’re ready for my cock, pretty girl?”

Your legs were still quaking with aftershocks, your thighs sticky with wetness from your prior orgasms and Marc’s saliva. Still, even with exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, the sight of Marc’s cock standing at full height, ruddy and weeping, was enough to inspire a nod of your head.

“Want you—fuck, Marc, want you inside me, please.”

“Sound so pretty when you beg for me, baby.”

Marc crept forward on his knees, stroking his cock with practiced precision as he slid between your split legs. You felt the head of his member slide experimentally through your folds, nudging at your clit. You bristled, the heat of his hardened length jostling your shot nerves. You nearly cried at the contact, hips pressing into the mattress and away from the pressure, but then the tip notched at your entrance and you wanted nothing more for him to sink into you. Before he pressed further, though, he slipped fingers beneath your chin, turning your head to look at him. Your lip was quivering with want.

“Color?”

He rumbled, brown eyes gentle, and your ass lifted upwards, trying to force his cock further into your awaiting channel, but Marc pulled away completely, drawing a long whine of protest from your chest.

“Easy, baby. Say the word, and I’ll fuck you just how you want. But I need to hear it.”

You swallowed, fingers sinking into his curls, and your voice was hoarse when you spoke.

“Green, Marc. Fuck me, please.”

Your swollen folds made way for his thick length as it sank into you quickly, bottoming out in one swift thrust as Marc groaned throatily.

“Oh, fuck.”

He growled, eyes squeezed shut tight at the sensation of your tight walls fluttering around him. His balls pressed firmly up against your ass, and Marc reached down to grip one of your ankles, hoisting your leg high above your head so the front of your thigh was to your chest. He offered a slow roll of his hips, his cock nestling tightly into you as he snapped them forward.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby—so fuckin’ tight.”

His pace started to build, and soon he reached for your other leg to hold it above your head, effectively folding you in half. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper within you, the head of his cock prodding at something devastating. You were moaning shamelessly, now, incapable of forming coherent words at this point as Marc continued to pound into you, his teeth bared as his hips pistonned forward.

“Always wanted to fuck you like this, baby. Knew you’d make the prettiest noises for me, knew you’d let me do whatever I wanted to you. You gonna gimme another one, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?”

A sob ripped through you at his words, your hips thrusting upwards to meet his strokes. He had one hand wrapped around each ankle, braced over your head as he railed you into the mattress, the bedframe creaking under the strain. You felt your stomach coiling yet again, but your body was resisting, so overstrung and sensitive that your muscles felt like they were on fire. Still, Marc’s pace was relentless, and you couldn’t stave off the overwhelming need for release as you started to fall apart.

The groan that Marc offered was animalistic as your pussy clenched down on him, hard, throbbing rhythmically as you surrendered yourself to the onslaught of shockwaves that pulsed through your core. You felt faint, weightless, the crux of heat in your center exploding.

“Oh, fuck me, baby, oh my God, did you just—”

His words dissolved into a growl as he pounded into you harder, and it was only as you slowly regained your bearings that you could feel the slickness coating your thighs and Marc’s abdomen—you’d squirted all over his cock.

“Jesus, not gonna last much longer, baby, so fuckin’ good.”

His head was bowed, curls falling into his eyes as he rammed into you, balls slapping against your asscheeks with each thrust. Punched-out moans passed through your lips surreptitiously as you tried to maintain your focus, although your consciousness was slipping away.

Marc’s left hand released your leg and you felt his fingers swirl over your clit again.

“Gonna cum for you, baby, but you gotta gimme one more, first.”

You sobbed, body lurching off the bed as if you were possessed, your knee curling over his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck, Marc, I can’t, s’too much, please, just want you to—”

“Not gonna cum until you do.”

He spoke through gritted teeth, a hardened determination glinting within his crazed eyes. You drank him in—sweat dripping from his curls, nostrils flared, lips pulled up in a snarl, veins in his neck straining beneath the skin with his effort. His pace abruptly switched, his rapid thrusting replaced with a few slow, deep, and fucking bone-rattling plunges within you, the sound of his skin roughly slapping yours filling your ears. The change in tempo was too much, you were spiraling, and with a guttural cry of his name, you felt a blissful numbness erupt from within. Marc threw his head back as you clenched around him once more.

“Oh, fuck, baby, yes, yes, so fuckin’ good, God—”

You watched through half-lidded eyes as he pulled out of you hurriedly, hand reaching down to jerk his cock rapidly as he finally allowed himself to reach his release.

“Fuck, gonna cum all over you, baby, yeah, you ready? You want my cum?”

You nodded, whining greedily, your legs settling down on either side of him as you raised your hips towards him so you could feel his knuckles brush over your pubic bone with each rapid stroke of his cock. The desperation in your eyes is what hurled him over the edge.

“Fuckin’ take it, baby, I’m cummin’ for you, oh, fuck—”

His spend spilled all across your mound, spraying upwards over your stomach and some droplets even landing themselves atop your tits as he continued to jack himself off above you, deep grunts passing through his parted lips with each spurt of cum that he coaxed out. He was panting heavily, watching his white seed ooze across your skin and down his knuckles as he finally slowed the pace of his hand, squeezing one final drop of pearly liquid from the tip as he groaned, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours to catch his breath. You hummed, unable to open your tired eyes, but the intimacy of the action was welcomed as his lips just barely brushed over your own, a silent ‘thank you’ in the aftermath of an intense moment of passion.

You didn’t think it was possible to feel simultaneously weightless but so heavy at the same time, your limbs sinking into the damp sheets beneath you as you attempted to catch your breath. Marc nestled his face into the crook of your neck—an action vaguely reminiscent of Steven’s habit of nuzzling into you—and you felt him take a slow, deep inhale against your clammy skin, his warm breath fanning out along your collarbone.

You tried to stay awake when you felt his body peel itself from atop yours, but he returned moments later with a cool damp cloth to wipe away the evidence of both of your orgasms. You whined when the cold came in contact with the swollen, sensitive folds of your cunt before he moved up to wipe away his own release—Marc easily shushed you, pressing soft kisses against the skin after he wiped each spot clean. When he was finished, he haphazardly tossed the towel aside, crawling up towards you yet again.

Marc liked to be smothered. If you could take any one thing away from this moment, that’s what you saw—he laid down beside you, flat on his back, before rolling you over on top of him, your face pressed up against his pecs as your body settled between his legs. You hummed at the new position, his arms curling protectively around you, fingers of his right hand playing with your knotted hair. Your ear was pressed up against his chest and you listened to the steady rhythmic thumping of his heart, and you easily could’ve fallen asleep in an instant. Still, you wanted to enjoy the tenderness of the moment for a bit longer.

“You okay?”

Marc finally asked, and the vibrations from his throat reverberated down through his ribcage for you to feel. You breathed in long and deep, the feeling of his soft, warm skin comforting and familiar.

“’M great.”

You whispered, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. There was a small adoring smile on his abused lips, his brown eyes sweeping over your face in a way that only Marc could do—calculating, observant, as if he was looking straight through you. Sometimes, his unusual skill for reading people made you uneasy, but now, you felt completely relaxed beneath his scrutinizing gaze. It would be hard not to, when his eyes glowed as if you’d hung the stars in the sky just for him.

“…was that okay?”

Marc rephrased, and it was only then that you caught on to the insecurity he so desperately tried to mask. The crease between his brows betrayed him, making his concern for you evident. You smiled up at him reassuringly.

“Marc, it was great. You were great. You are great.”

Maybe it was the post-orgasmic bliss that had you feeling sappy, the endorphins boosting you higher into your serenity. The look on Marc’s face was heart-wrenching—the gratitude that shone in his beaming smile, the glow of his face as it lit up with pride, the—dare I say—love, in his eyes, as he gazed upon you.

A comfortable silence settled between you, and the hand that was resting against your back reached down to pull the duvet up and over the both of you, cocooning you in its warmth. You let yourself settle further into Marc’s welcoming embrace, eyes fluttering shut as you let your exhaustion take you. You quickly spoke before you found yourself dozing off.

“So…what’s your typical post-sex ritual look like after this, hm?”

You questioned, lifting your chin slightly to see his face. His eyes blinked open to look at you, and he frowned, pursing his lips.

“Believe it or not…with most of my, uh, hookups, I—uh, I have the tendency to leave in the middle of the night so I’m not there when the girl wakes up—gotta leave ’em wanting more, y’know?”

You laughed breathily at that, but hoped to hide how crestfallen his admission made you feel.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try to sneak out after you fall asleep—”

His arms tightened their grip around you, and there was a sort of pleading look in his big brown eyes as he shook his head.

“No, you don’t have to do that, really, I just thought you should—”

“It’s really okay, Marc, I don’t mind.”

You assured with a shy smile, but he shook his head more firmly this time.

“No. You aren’t just a hookup, and you aren’t just some girl.”

Your lips parted in a silent gasp, eyes searching within his to try to gauge his thoughts. He seemed genuine, insistent. Your heart practically melted in your chest.

“But, I don’t—”

“Please, just stay?”

He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, and certainly hadn’t meant to plead—this was more vulnerability than he’d ever displayed to you before, something you’d ached to see for as long as you’d known him. For him to open up to you, to trust you, to finally let you in.

You mustered up whatever strength you had left to lift yourself up and press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. You gazed up at him through tired eyes, face aglow from his apparent affections.

You didn’t give him a verbal response—you didn’t need to. Instead, you settled back in against him, curling your head into his shoulder, pressing your face against the warm skin at the side of his neck. Sleep came easy for both of you—Marc felt lighter having finally let his impermeable facade yield to you, even if just for a second.

Tomorrow, you intended to convince him to drop his guard completely.

POINTS OF CONTENTION: - relinquishing control - embracing uncertainty - asking for help

TREATMENT: - practice submission - express vulnerability - communicate needs

You briefly got déjà vu when Marc opened the door to his apartment for you, a familiar cheeky smirk adorning his handsome features. This time, however, your expression matched his own as you stood on your tiptoes to plant a peck on his lips, pushing past him and into the flat as if you owned the place. He was startled at your forwardness, and he would be lying if he said your surge of confidence didn’t make him slightly uneasy—what had gotten into you?

“Back for more?”

He managed to quip, quirking a brow at you as he shut the door behind him. You approached Gus’ fish tank and tapped the glass a few times to get his attention, leaning over to watch him swim around aimlessly for a few seconds—it gave Marc a perfect view of your ass through your yoga pants as you bent down, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared unabashedly.

“I can see your reflection in the glass, you asshole.”

You jabbed, a teasing smile lighting up your face as you met his gaze in the mirrored tank, but he didn’t stop his shameless ogling—instead, he watched you with darkened eyes, a wicked grin on his lips.

“At least I don’t have to hide the fact that I stare at your ass every time I see you, anymore.”

Your brows lifted at his confession, and you carefully straightened up, turning to face him at an agonizingly slow pace. Your hands found your hips as you studied him with an amused expression. You stood across from him in challenge.

“So you admit that you’ve checked me out? Even before this little experiment?”

Marc fought hard to keep the smirk off of his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, sizing you up carefully to gauge your seriousness. You were clearly teasing him, but he offered a subject change nonetheless in an effort to avoid the fact that he just admitted he’d been eye-fucking you since the day you’d met.

Instead, his eyes flickered down to the small black paper bag that you had set by your feet, his brow raising in question.

“I see you brought props with you, this time?”

He closed the gap between you with two large strides, bending down to snatch the shopping bag from your feet before you could protest. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he peered inside, but his eyes widened when he realized what you’d brought.

“Jesus, Y/N. You dirty, dirty girl.”

His fingers reached in to pull out a pair of black silky restraints—it didn’t go unnoticed by Marc that the receipt was in the bag and the fabric still had a tag fastened to it. You must’ve bought them just for this occasion.

The expression on his face was practically carnal as he smirked at you, but something about the look in your eyes made him hesitate. You looked up at him shyly, reaching forward to thumb at the fabric before settling your hand into his open palm atop the silk.

“They’re not for me.”

Four words, and Marc was stunned into silence. His face fell, eyes wide as they studied you, expression bemused and slightly fearful. You swore you could actually see his face drain of color.

“We don’t have to, Marc, I promise—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just spring this on you out of the blue, I’m sure it’s not something you’d normally—well, I mean, not that I know what you’re into and everything, but I just thought it might be—”

“Slow down, baby, it’s okay. I just—took me by surprise, s’all. Wasn’t—wasn’t expecting it.”

You looked up at him thoughtfully, now hyperaware of the trepidation in his features. He avoided your eyes.

“Come on.”

You grabbed his wrist softly and guided him over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and gesturing him to follow suit. He sat down beside you and carefully turned to lay out the two black restraints on the mattress behind him. Then, he turned back to you, eyes gentle. You reached over to pull his hands into your lap.

“Marc.”

You started softly, and his eyes flitted to you nervously, an uneasy lopsided smile on his face.

“Listen to me. We really, really don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable. I know it’s—it requires a lot of trust, and—well, I don’t know.”

You fell silent, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. Marc was giving you that familiar calculating stare, taking you in and analyzing every breath you took. You grew impatient with his lack of response.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

There was an apprehensive edge to your tone, your eyes round and full of worry, afraid to offend him or make him uncomfortable. You could see the gears turning in his head as he pondered.

“And this... of anything in the world you could possibly want to do with me, to me... this is the one thing you’d choose?”

You carefully nodded your head, squeezing his hands in your own.

“I think—I think this could be good for you. If—if you’re up for it, of course. No pressure.”

He hummed at your reply, before he turned to you with a small smile.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

You blinked once, then twice, surprised at his easy response.

“Wha—really? Are you sure?”

“I trust you.”

Maybe those words were just that—words. But you couldn’t help feel your eyes grow glassy as the gravity of his admission weighed on you, your heart soaring in your chest as you smiled widely at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. The glow radiating from your face made Marc’s shoulders roll back with pride—he would do anything just to see you smile at him like that.

Apparently, that really did mean anything.

You leaned over and kissed him deeply, hand sliding to cup his face as he pulled you against him, sliding you atop his lap easily as he sucked at your bottom lip.

You settled down onto his thighs, your core easing over his hardening bulge as you pressed your front into him, your pebbling nipples brushing against his chest as you kissed him feverishly. His hands held a bruising grip on your hips as you grinded against him, feeling his hold tighten with every brush of your clothed core over his growing erection.

He hummed when you pushed on his shoulders, coaxing him to lay back against the mattress as you pulled his shirt over his head easily. You guided him towards the headboard as you continued to kiss him, settling him carefully onto the pillows in the center of the bed. You drew your head back quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you drank him in—his dark umber curls a stark contrast to the white downy pillows beneath his head, his brown eyes darkening as he watched you with half-lidded eyes, spit-soaked lips parted. You’d never seen a prettier sight—and you knew how to make it even more enticing.

Your fingers traced up his chest and danced across his shoulders. You kissed him to distract from you sneaky movements as you reached behind yourself to retrieve the pair of restraints that had been discarded earlier. You let your nails skate across his nipples, causing him to hiss, before you gently pried his hands off of your hips. You grabbed each wrist carefully, intently watching his reaction as you guided them over the top of his head and towards the headboard.

You grinded down against his cock once more in an effort to relax his body—he groaned quietly, and you reached for one of the restraints, pulling his left arm straight out to the side and carefully winding the fabric around the bedpost before reaching to fasten it around his wrist. You watched his jaw ripple as you carefully looped the silk over his skin, tightening it just slightly to prevent his hand from slipping out. You tugged at the fabric lightly, testing its resistance, before you leaned back down to peck his lips.

“That okay?”

You asked carefully, nose brushing against his, and he squeezed his eyes shut, tugging against the binding before offering you a soft nod. You smiled at him graciously before repeating the action on his right arm, successfully rendering him incapacitated beneath you, his arms spread wide on either side of his body. You allowed yourself to draw back once more, the sight of him splayed out atop the mattress, completely at your mercy, caused a wave of arousal to rush straight between your legs. He must’ve felt the clenching of your thighs from where they caged his hips in, because he let out a breathy laugh.

“You like this, don’t you?”

His voice was low and hoarse, and you kissed him again, nodding against his lips.

“Yeah, Marc, I do. So pretty for me.”

You felt the warm huff of air that he let out at your praise, and you knew he secretly loved your verbal affirmations, even if he’d never admit it to you. You offered him one last kiss before slowly dragging your face back—his head followed your backwards movement, chasing the feel of your mouth against his, but he jostled at the feeling of his movement being restricted. His eyes opened suddenly at the sensation, as if he was surprised to find the restraints actually lived up to their name. You couldn’t help the tiny grin on your lips as he accustomed himself to his limited range of movement—you could feel the tightness in his muscles, his biceps flexing and tensing as he mindlessly fought to gain control back.

“Easy—you’re okay, I’m right here.”

You soothed, running your hands up his torso as his abdominal muscles contracted beneath your fingers. There was sweat beading at his hairline, his jaw grinding rhythmically as he finally opened his eyes to look up at you, forcing himself to inhale a steady breath in an effort to calm himself down. Your fingers rubbed at the tension in his shoulders and you felt him soften under your touch, becoming pliant beneath you as he allowed himself to settle back into the mattress, finally coming to terms with his current situation. You rewarded him with a kiss, leaning yourself forward so your front was pressed to his.

“Before we start, I need you to promise me something.”

His eyes followed you when you sat back upright, and he nodded for you to continue. You breathed.

“Marc. You have to swear to me that you will use the safe word if you need to.”

He rolled his eyes in response, but you squeezed your thighs together in response, putting an uncomfortable pressure against his hips. He glared at you, but you gave him a stern look.

“I’m serious, Marc. I don’t want you to think—to not use it just because you want to make me happy, or because you wanna seem like a big tough guy. You do make me happy, and I know you’re tough, regardless of whether or not you choose to tell me to stop. Okay?”

He could hear the sincerity in your tone, the genuine concern lacing your words. He swallowed. He wasn't going to lie and say it wouldn’t be hard for him to safeword—he didn’t like admitting defeat, showing weakness or cracking under the pressure. But this wasn’t some mission or fistfight with an adversary, he reminded himself—this was you. He was safe, and he trusted you, and he was supposed to enjoy this. Finally, he nodded at you, and you mumbled out a ‘thank you’ before pulling yourself off of him completely.

He watched you like a hawk, eyes trained on you intently, analyzing your every move in anticipation. You carefully reached for his waistband, and he obliged, lifting his hips from the bed to allow you to undress him. You pulled his briefs down in the same motion, discarding Marc’s final two articles of clothing and leaving him bare before you.

His cock was at full mast, resting atop his navel as he drew in slow, deliberate breaths, trying not to feel bashful beneath your scrutinizing gaze. You were still trying to fathom the fact that you had this Adonis of a man splayed out in front of you, completely surrendering himself to you.

He really had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

“Color?”

You asked, kneeling back on your heels from your position beside him, one hand resting on his abs, just above where the head of his cock was patiently waiting. He breathed out a chuckle.

“You haven’t even done anything yet.”

You raised a brow, and at your persistence, he offered a roll of his eyes.

“Green.”

“Good.”

You smiled, fingers sliding down from his stomach to ghost over the tender skin of his shaft, causing a shiver to crawl up his spine. You were careful to take note of just how his body reacted to each ministration—the way his breath hitched when you finally wrapped your hand around the base, the barely-audible grunt when your thumb swiped the bead of precum from his slit.

You removed your hand briefly just to spit into your palm before you were back on him, beginning a slow and gentle pace of stroking him. He hummed at the motion, his heels digging into the mattress as he threw his head back into the pillows, fingers wrapped around each restraint tightly to give himself something to grip. Your other hand reached over to fondle his balls, and his hips jerked just slightly at the added stimulation.

“S’that feel good, baby?”

You purred, your hand gradually picking up speed as your jerked him. He groaned lowly, nodding at your question.

“Shit, yeah.”

You smirked, carefully shifting so you were kneeling in between his legs, lowering yourself down to lay on your stomach. He watched you closely, bracing himself as you leant forward and suckled one of his heavy balls into your mouth, your other hand continuing its steady pace.

You hummed around his sack and he grunted, abdominal muscles flexing as you popped it out of your mouth and traded it for his other bulb, tongue swirling around the flesh and listening to his small moans of pleasure.

He was trying to stay quiet, you noticed. You didn’t press him on the issue—you knew he wouldn’t be quiet for much longer.

You pushed yourself up and licked a long stripe from base to tip, tongue flicking over his frenulum which caused his hips to quake. You offered a few kitten licks to his slit, tasting the salty precum as you continued to stroke him steadily.

“Fuck, baby—just like that.”

He whispered, eyes squeezed shut at the sensations. He was holding himself back—you wanted him to fall apart.

You carefully drew the head of his cock past your lips, bobbing your head up and down over just the tip, matching your pace to that of your hand. He growled, and your eyes flitted up to watch his biceps strain as he tugged on his bindings, desperately wanting to bury his fingers in your hair. You sank your head lower, taking him deeper, lewd choking noises escaping your lips as you swallowed him down. His hips were weakly thrusting upward, now, his feet planted into the mattress to seek leverage in a sorry effort to fuck into the heat of your mouth. You didn’t stop him—you let him cling to the sliver of control he was desperately seeking, removing your hand to sink your head down completely, allowing him to thrust his cock into the back of your throat with his shallow movements.

“Oh, fuck, baby, fuck.”

He moaned, and you could see the muscles of his stomach clenching as you reached to fondle his balls again. You were breathing in carefully through your nose as he continued to abuse your throat, his length sliding in and out of your mouth sloppily. One sharp thrust caused you to gag and he let out a deep groan from somewhere in his ribcage—you could feel his balls tightening up, thighs flexing.

“Yes, baby, gonna cum in that pretty little mouth, yes—”

You sat up abruptly with a gasp, pulling your body from his completely as his limbs involuntarily jerked beneath you, his back arching at the sudden loss of contact. He yelped, and you could see veins bulging in his arms as he harshly pulled against the restraints.

“Jesus fuck!”

He cried out, hips falling back down into the mattress, defeated. You sat silently, watching as he tried to catch his breath. He blinked the bleariness from his eyes to fix his stare on you—there was a somewhat sadistic shine in your gaze as you met his eyes challengingly. When you didn’t back down, you were surprised when he let out a bark of a laugh.

“So this is your game, sweetheart? You gonna edge me? Really?”

He was trying to intimidate you—you could see right through him. He was mocking you, hoping to berate you into submission, into backing down. It wouldn’t work.

When you didn’t respond, he shook his head lightly, feigning composure as he lazily closed his eyes.

“Go on—have your fun.”

He offered, a small smile on his lips. You felt anger briefly flare up inside you, but you quelled it down with logic—you were in control, right now. You had all the power.

It didn’t matter how disciplined Marc’s psyche was—his body betrayed him. It told the truth. Your hand reached back up towards his shaft, and his cock jumped beneath your touch, thighs tensing just slightly. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from giggling with satisfaction—Marc’s face was set into a look of quiet concentration, lips pulled into a straight line.

You started again, the same way you had before, with your spit-soaked hand slowly escalating until your lips joined in. His noises were subdued—they came from deep within his chest, escaping through barely parted lips only when he was powerless to stop them. He writhed beneath you, responsive to your touch, and when the telltale signs of his approaching orgasm began revealing themselves again, you ceased your movement.

“FUCK!”

He yelled, back arching off the bed as he attempted to curl into a sitting position, but he was snapped back into complacency by the fabric bound to his wrists. There were veins bulging in his neck as he seethed, sweat beginning to bead along his hairline. You blinked up at him innocently as he glared at you, eyes dark and filled with disdain.

“So fuckin’ pleased with yourself, huh, baby? This what you wanted? To rile me up? God, if I wasn’t tied up right now, I’d—”

“You’d what?”

He blinked at your interruption, your voice showcasing your defiance.

“What’re you gonna do, Marc? Nothing. You’re not gonna do anything. You’re gonna sit back, and fucking take it, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

His jaw clenched down tightly, his face practically trembling with rage. His nostrils flared as he stared at you, trying to win the silent battle between you, in complete denial of the fact that you were completely in control. He wasn’t backing down, unwilling to admit that he was powerless—so you reached forward and scratched your nails down the length of his shaft. He shouted in protest, hips jolting backwards to retreat from the uncomfortable sensation, and he growled lowly in his throat before sagging back into the mattress—his eyes were still on you, but his lips were sealed shut.

“That’s what I thought.”

You antagonized, leaning down to take his cock back into your mouth. It was taking increasingly smaller increments of time to get him to the edge, and you continued—once, then twice more. On the third round, he’d nearly lost it, but you squeezed around the base of his cock tightly to force the orgasm to dissipate as it peaked.

“You fuckin’ bitch.”

He snapped, and the words seemed to surprise him just as much as they surprised you. A heat of the moment utterance, offered in a second of desperation—but he didn’t take it back. Maybe you should feel hurt—instead, you felt pride swell inside you as you stared down at him wickedly.

“Such mean words from a guy who can’t even see me through his tears.”

It was true—there were tears streaming down either side of his face, eyes red and puffy as he fought viciously against your torture. He shook his head at you, overwhelmed with anger, but he couldn’t hold back the sob that practically pulled itself from his lungs when you gave a single lick up his shaft.

“Oh, fuck you, fuck—”

“You can cum whenever you want, Marc. I’m not stopping you.”

You tone was even and steady, expression blank as you studied him. His brows furrowed, his eyes suspicious as his breathing slowed again. You smiled coyly at him, innocently, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips—he didn’t kiss you back. He just watched you as you carefully resumed your position between his legs, waiting to hear your stipulation.

“You just have to beg for it.”

Marc’s venomous laugh was replaced with a long whine as you took his cock in your hands once more, stroking him a few times before simply holding him there. He sneered at you.

“I don’t beg.”

“Then you don’t cum.”

You shrugged easily, releasing his throbbing member from your grasp and allowing it to drop back down against his stomach. You could see every muscle in his body fighting for release—his heels digging into the mattress, his arms continuously straining against their restraints. You tutted at him condescendingly, your eyes mocking sympathy as you stood from the bed. He studied you carefully as you began to remove your clothes until your were completely naked. You rejoined him on the bed, loving the way his eyes turned ravenous as he admired your body.

“If you wanna torture yourself, Marc, that’s your choice.”

You purred, crawling up until you were straddling him. You watched the way his breath hitched when you were hovering over his cock, and you felt it jump beneath your cunt—but instead of dropping down, you crept further upwards until you were straddling his ribcage. He looked at you, confused.

“So what are you gonna do?”

His voice was gravelly and hoarse, raw from the moans you had been pulling from him. You leaned down and shoved your tongue into his mouth—he whimpered at the intimacy, but you pulled away soon after.

“I’m gonna ride your face, and you’re gonna be a good boy and make me cum on your tongue.”

The whine that he let out was carnal—you’d never heard anything like it in your life, and Marc might’ve been embarrassed if it weren’t for the painful arousal that was burning a hole through the bottom of his stomach. He tilted his head back as you began to position yourself over him, lips already parting in anticipation of tasting you, but you paused, your eyes turning gentle. Your hand reached down to stroke through his damp hair, and he pressed his head into your touch.

“Color?”

You whispered, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat at he swallowed. He breathed in once, then twice, before meeting your eyes again.

“Green.”

You settled your knees on either side of his head, your folds already soaking from your time toying with Marc—you shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath on your awaiting cunt, and with trembling thighs, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself onto his mouth.

You lurched forward at his eagerness, his tongue immediately breaching your entrance and slurping up the arousal that was flooding your pussy. You yelped in surprise, arms reaching forward to grip the headboard as you tried to keep most of your weight off of him, allowing your face to just barely skate over his features.

He mumbled something into your core, and you lifted yourself from him in concern, worried that you'd hurt him.

“What?”

You asked for clarification, brows furrowed, but when you met his eyes from between your legs, they were dark and gleaming savagely.

“I said, sit the fuck down.”

He growled again, and you could feel the headboard bend as he strained against the fabric on his wrists, obviously wanting to grab your waist and pull you down onto his mouth with full force. You let out a breathy laugh before you eased your way back onto him, allowing yourself to relax more against his face. The thick muscle of his tongue immediately began fucking into you and it wasn’t long before you were grinding against his face, his nose rubbing up against your bundle of nerves and his mouth savoring your juices. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, and Marc watched you from his position between your legs as you came apart on his tongue, quiet cries of his name leaving your lips as your rode out your high on his mouth.

Marc greedily lapped up all you had to offer, and he almost whined in disapproval when you began picking yourself up off of him—but then you were turning around, and he got a perfect view of your perfect ass as you slowly settled your cunt back down to his mouth and—

Fuck. He nearly cried into your pussy when he felt your lips attach themselves to his cock, and he jostled against you, hips jolting upwards of their own volition. He squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, trying to fight the orgasm that he was already teetering on the edge of. You hand came up and squeezed tightly around the base of his cock, helping stave off his climax.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

You hissed, and Marc gulped before diving straight back into you cunt, his lips wrapping around your puffy clit as he suckled it into his mouth and flicked over it with his tongue. You moaned, you fingers beginning to stroke his cock again. When you turned your attention back to his length, however, his mouth immediately stopped its movement. You sank against him, rolling your eyes in theatrical annoyance.

“Jesus, you really can’t multitask, can you?”

“Y/N.”

He spoke your name lowly and with a warning edge, and you craned your neck to look at him—his head was peaking out from behind your asscheek, eyes desperately searching yours. You could see he was struggling to maintain his composure, but he kept his voice level and steady.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”

He voice cracked at the very end of his statement, but you appreciated his honesty with you. You swiftly removed your hand from where it was wrapped around him and he let out a long sigh, steeling himself before attaching himself to your clit once more.

Your second orgasm came easily, creeping up and washing over you without warning as Marc continued to lavish your clit with his tongue, the obscene noises he was making only adding to your arousal. He slowed his movements as you came down from your high, lapping at your release as you slowly pulled you cunt away from his mouth. You pulled yourself off of him completely, kneeling at his side and pressing a sweet, gentle kiss against his lips. His face was coated in your slick and his eyes were alight with a sort of lovesickness, as if he’d completely forgotten the torture you’d been putting him through simply because he got to watch you fall apart on his tongue. You pressed your forehead against his for a moment before you swung your leg over his hip, finally settling yourself where he needed you most.

Anticipation flickered in his dark brown eyes, his body tensing beneath you as you reached between your legs to stroke his cock, using your dripping arousal as lube to give him a few tentative strokes. He hissed, his hips jumping at the touch, but he immediately froze when you pressed the head into your entrance. He held his breath.

“I’m gonna ride you now, okay?”

You asked, although it was less of a question and more of a statement. He nodded vigorously, eyes squeezed shut and head turned to the side as he braced himself for the feeling of your hot channel swallowing him whole.

“Marc.”

You probed softly, and he winked one eye open, looking up at you where you were paused, right in the moment before sheer bliss. You eyed him warily.

“Color?”

He smiled softly up at you, more relaxed than he’d been this whole interaction—finally, finally relinquishing his control and allowing you to take the reins.

“Green.”

The duet of moans that filled the room was intoxicating as you slowly eased yourself down onto his rock-hard length, the stretch offering a sting that was just painful enough to be pleasurable. Marc’s head was thrown back into the pillows as he began to ramble incomprehensibly.

“Oh, God, oh, fuck yes, so fuckin’ good, fuck—”

You braced yourself by planting your arms against his sturdy chest, raising up your hips until just the tip remained before slamming yourself back down, burying him to the hilt within you. A wrecked sob sounded from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, God, I can’t—”

You settled into a steady pace, angling your hips backwards just slightly so his cock rutted up against that place deep inside you that sent you reeling. You keened, grinding back and forth against him as he moaned wantonly, knuckles turning white as he pulled on the restraints with every ounce of his strength. You orgasm was rapidly approaching, and with each careful plunge of his cock into you, you felt the coil tightening.

“Fuck, Marc, gonna cum on your cock, baby.”

You whimpered, throwing your head back as your walls clenched down around him. You must’ve blacked out for a moment, your vision going bright white as pleasure speared through you—when you regained your bearings and sensation over your limbs, your ears were blessed with a sound you weren’t sure you’d get to hear.

Marc was falling apart.

“Please, oh, God, Y/N, baby, please let me cum for you, I can’t—can’t hold it anymore, please, please, please, baby, please let me cum, pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

There were sobs ripping themselves from his lips as tears flooded his eyes and streamed down his cheeks, the muscles of his abdomen clenched so tightly you thought he might sprain something. The fluttering of your tight walls against him was unbearable, truly torturous—he couldn’t do it anymore.

His eyes blinked open to watch you as your hands crept up the length of his strained arms, fingers deftly untying the knots that held him hostage to the bed. His arms fell limp at his sides when released from their hold, and he looked up at you with wide eyes, glassy with tears.

You pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Been so good for me, baby. Go ahead and take what you want, Marc, it’s yours. Cum for me.”

Something snapped inside of him. A vein throbbed in his forehead as his hands flew to your hips, planting you firmly against him as he began to thrust up into you at a rapid pace, his hips slamming against your thighs loudly and roughly. You yelped in surprise at his sudden burst of energy, and he was staring intently at the place where his cock was splitting you open, hips relentlessly pistonning upwards into you as he slammed your body down against him to meet each thrust.

You didn’t expect to cum again, but the harsh drag of his cock inside of you as his hands grounded you firmly sent you hurling across the edge, your cunt clamping down on his aching length as you pulled him across the threshold with you.

“Oh fuck, yes, yes, gonna fill you up, baby, cummin’ so hard, fuuuck—”

Each harsh pump upwards was punctuated with a grunt as he spilled inside of you, his cock pumping you full of his white hot seed as he continued pounding into you relentlessly. Even as you came down from the climax that had blindsided you, and even after he’d completely emptied himself inside of your slick walls, he continued rutting up into you, his face contorted in a look of pain and determination as he gritted his teeth.

“Woah, Marc, hey, hey, slow down—”

You urged, reached to wrap your fingers around his wrists from where they were still firmly attached to your waist, the wet sounds of his cock still pumping in and out of you filling the room. His eyes finally looked up to you, the haziness clearing as your worried face settled on him.

“It’s okay, Marc, you’re okay.”

You assured, and he finally let your full weight rest down onto him, his body slowly rolling to a halt as the aftershocks of his intense pleasure pulsed through his limbs, blood pumping loudly in his ears. He was breathing heavily, his heart beating against his ribcage harshly, but his eyes watched you as you smiled down at him, reaching forward to cup his jaw in one hand as the other ran through his sweaty hair.

“There we go. There you are. There’s my handsome boy.”

All at once, he collapsed into a fit of sobs again, sitting up to pull you against his chest impossibly tight as he wrapped his arms around you. You felt your heart break as you coddled him, one hand stroking the back of his head and the other rubbing soothing patterns into the bare skin of his back. Years and years of internalized vulnerability spilled out of him in your embrace, and you held him there until his stuttering cries turned into shaky exhales, his face buried in the crook of his neck. He fell back into the pillows, pulling you down on top of him and keeping you snugly pulled against his body.

His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, and you could feel Marc’s cum leaking out and creating a stickiness between your thighs and atop his hips. When you shifted to move, he tightened his hold, his breath wavering just slightly.

“Please, don’t. Just—stay with me. Like this. For just awhile longer. Please.”

He whispered against your temple, begging for this brief moment of reprieve, of absolution, of solace. You sank into his chest, breathing in his heady scent and allowing yourself to indulge in the intimacy of this moment, too—a moment of comfort, of safety, of resolve.

Marc had one final thought before sleep overtook him.

Is this what being okay feels like?

TAGLIST: @kezibear143 @gingermous @josephquinncore @steven-grants-world @am-3-thyst @fanofverymanythings @vaneyvfs @theboggyman @belladri @roserfz27 @nowayhomerry @justanotherkpopstanlol @bagsy-not-it @elles-mind-palace @pimosworld @winterbiip @moonmoonboys @icuminurbutt @spxctorsslxt @fandomqueen74 @freerangesweets @wumpsquill @wordacadabra @lunaleah @hornkneeforbucky @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

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deakyjoe · 1 year

Text

Somebody’s Watching Me Part 2

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (she/her pronouns used, reader is implied British and given backstory)

Category: I still don’t know but it’s coming together

Summary: On a night out with your friends, you’re pleasantly surprised to run into your secret observer.

Warnings: flirting (Ghost and reader getting some action, they deserve it), mentions of war/death, talks of scars, alcohol consumption, Ghost being normal AND weird, the mask is off again, Ghost doing domestic things almost (socialisation in a pub), sexual references, family issues, reader’s friends are intense, British terminology/slang, swearing/cursing, dialogue heavy, minute Soap slander (I love him but couldn’t resist)

Word Count: 5.5k (longer than part 1)

A/N: After the love I got for part 1, I decided to continue so Simon is still my babygirl. Please remember that if Simon feels out of character, that’s the point of this story. It’s him when he’s not being Ghost but being forced to mix aspects of his life at home and his life at work - the work aspects being reader. Also he’s going out of his comfort zone to please the sergeant (you) because he likes you but just hasn’t really realised it yet. Not entirely sure I’m as pleased with this part as I was with the first but we’re posting anyway!

Part 1 available here.

Part 3 available here.

It took weeks before your friends finally managed to convince you to join them on a night out. You'd been putting it off for a number of reasons. One being that the thought of socialising in a crowded environment had you wanting to gouge your eyes out as you'd grown used to little to no company. Another being that you genuinely thought it'd be overwhelming and you might have a panic attack.

But after they'd assured you that they'd look after you and you could all leave if it got to be too much, you relented and organised a time and place with them. Just your local pub on a Wednesday night. You'd decided on a Wednesday as you hoped it wouldn't be too crowded and that your friends might need a pick-me-up in the middle of their work weeks. They agreed quickly with the idea.

And honestly it'd been nice for the most part. You'd arrived early, you swear active duty had made you so time efficient that you spent almost no time at all getting ready, and sat down at a table in the corner, out of sights of the most of the rest of the pub. The only thing in direct eye line was the bar itself which would come in handy when you needed to go up and order drinks.

Your friends all slowly arrived, none of them being too late, and gave you big greetings as they hadn't seen you in "forever" they claimed. You returned hugs and kisses and prepared yourself for a night of bombarding questions and retelling of war stories.

A couple of your girlfriends were bought drinks by guys at the bar and you watched on in amusement as they giggled about it together. They assured you that someone would probably buy you a drink if you asked but you waved them off saying you didn't care, which you didn't.

You listened intently as they all told you what was happening with their lives - work, significant others, kids, families, pets, parties, weddings, funerals, birthdays, anything and everything you could possibly imagine. A note of envy settled in your stomach at one point but it went away quickly when you told yourself you were being silly.

Telling them about your life was slightly more complicated. You had to skirt around some of the details of your job as it was classified and would probably horrify them if they knew what you truly did. You gushed about some of the amazing people you'd met and mentioned casually that you'd actually bumped into your lieutenant in the supermarket. They all absorbed it with wide eyes of wonder and amazement, each of them having at least one question to ask.

"So, wait, you can actually shoot a gun?"

"Does it bother you having to bunk with a bunch of blokes?"

“What’s said country like?”

"Are any of them fit?"

"Isn't it tiring?"

"How long until you go back?"

"Met anyone you fancy?"

"Hang on, you have to share a communal bathroom?"

Yes, it's alright, not really, they're okay, very, not sure, oh my god, yeah.

They never really seemed satisfied with your answers and always wanted you to elaborate. Which you did if possible.

Overall, it was nice. There was no sense of impending doom or a weird feeling in your stomach about the whole thing. You let your guard down just enough for once to attempt to have a good time. Which you did. You laughed, you chatted, you drank, it was good.

Until the bar tender came over with a drink that looked exactly like what you usually ordered.

And when he placed it in front of you, you wanted to throw up.

"Fella at the bar bought this for you."

This was it. The moment in the night that you looked forward to the least and the moment your friends had been encouraging the most. They insisted that you needed to "put yourself out there more" and “try to get laid at some point”. You were "too uptight" as they put it. Little did they know that you weren't really interested in a quick shag or even a relationship with anyone at the moment. And rejecting someone was always awful. Every time they asked why and having to explain that your job made romantic entanglements extremely hard made things awkward.

"Ooh, this is so exciting!" One of your friends squealed beside you, frantically searching the bar for the culprit. "Which one?"

“Blond one.”

Oh.

"Tall."

My.

"Scars on his face."

God.

Your eyes shot towards the bar and immediately landed on him. Of course he was already looking your way with his drink raised to you.

"Shit." You cursed, silently letting out a sigh of relief that it wasn't someone you'd have to reject but all the more anxious because it was him. A part of you was very excited to see him though.

"What is it? Do you know him?" Another friend asked you.

"He's my lieutenant. Fuck." You stood from your seat, grabbing the drink.

"The one from the shops?"

"Yeah. I'll be back in a minute, guys. I'm just gonna go say hi." You explained, slowly making your way towards Ghost.

"Take your time!"

You hadn't seen your lieutenant since he'd gone over to your place for tea. It was a weird experience. Weirder than the shops. You'd had a couple cups of tea each, shared his packet of chocolate digestive biscuits, which he'd kindly offered to you, chatted a little more and then he'd left. You didn't exchange phone numbers or even offer to see each other again. He didn't because he probably didn't want to and you didn't because you thought he probably wouldn't want to. So you'd gone your separate ways and that was that.

As you got closer to him, you wished you hadn't had so much to drink. You weren't drunk but you weren’t sober either. Kind of just bordering the edges between being buzzed and tipsy.

"Simon."

He turned so his body was facing yours, his large frame consumed the stool he was sitting on. Intimidating and alluring all at once. "Sergeant."

"You really should start calling me by my name." You sighed, stopping to stand in front of him.

"I like calling you sergeant."

"And I liked calling you lieutenant." You shot back, taking a sip of your drink despite your head screaming at you not to.

"Bet you like calling me Simon more."

Your eyes widened at his statement. He wasn't wrong but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "Thanks for the drink, by the way."

"It's no problem. Thought I owed you for the bourbon."

You hummed in agreement but said nothing.

"Friends of yours?" He nodded towards your table where all of them were watching the two of you interact intently.

"Uh, yeah. First night out since being home so..." You shrugged.

"Having fun?"

"I was." You regretted your words immediately, knowing that you’d been insensitive.

"Ruined it, did I?" He asked but it wasn't malicious.

"No. Just... unexpected."

He nodded. "So, which one's your boyfriend?"

You were surprised at the question. Last time he'd enquired about your personal life it hadn't gone so well.

"You live alone?"

"Yeah. Used to have a hamster but he died a few months back."

He blinked at you and said nothing so you rushed off to make tea, desperately trying to come up with a new topic to talk about when you got back to him.

"That's presumptuous of you, lieutenant."

"Just making conversation with you, sergeant." The return of dropping rank had you tingling inside. Might have just been the alcohol though.

You huffed. "None of them."

"Girlfriend then?"

You shook your head. "Nope."

"Sorry soul you're torturing with your affection couldn't make it then? What a shame." His eyes narrowed, you presumed he was joking.

"I'll ignore that insult. I'm single." Setting your drink on the surface of the bar, you leant your hip against the side but not before taking a step closer to him.

"Lucky for the world then that you're not burdening anyone with yourself."

"Jesus, Simon." You laughed out of shock, struck with his bluntness.

"Had to be said."

"Huh, you really are a charmer." You flashed him a glimpse of your teeth in a small smile, brows raising on the last word of your sentence.

"I try my best.” Pause. “Why are you single?"

"Because my affection is a burden apparently." Repeating his own words back to him seemed better than explaining your depressing void of no romance in your life because of your job. But maybe he’d understand.

"I'm serious."

"Why do you care?"

Simon didn’t strike you as the kind of person who gave a shit about the love lives of people he worked with. So why did he seem so interested in yours?

He didn't answer straight away and when he did, it seemed rehearsed. "You're my sergeant, part of my team. It's my role to care."

"To make sure I stay alive. Not to inquire about my love life." You were properly frowning at him now.

Ghost raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry I asked."

With a sigh, you relented. "The job."

"Go on…"

"Makes it difficult. The job makes it difficult to date. Especially civilians." You added the last bit on with clenched teeth. It didn’t really matter. Civilians were not on your romantic radar.

"Would you want to date a civilian?"

He saw straight through you.

"No, not really."

"Hmm."

You wanted to avoid discussing the topic any further so asked a question to change the subject. "What're you drinking?"

"Scotch that Soap recommended."

"And?"

He swished the glass around, the ice clinking against the side. "Utter shite."

"Figures." You took a long look at his drink. “You drink it on the rocks.”

“Tastes better cold. Less shit.”

“That your second glass?”

"Monitoring my alcohol intake, sergeant?” He asked and you shook your head as he looked you up and down. “You gonna take a seat or just stand there all day?"

"I'm supposed to be going back to my friends." You gestured weakly over your shoulder with your thumb, kind of forgetting they’d still been there until that moment.

His eyes flickered between the table and you. "Think we both know that isn't happening any time soon."

You hated how he saw straight through you. "Do we?"

"We do. Take a seat, sergeant." He nodded towards the stool next to him.

You stood up straighter, making a point to look directly into his eyes. "I like being eye level with you."

His foot hooked around the back of your legs and tugged you closer to him. "Think you'll find that I've still got a couple inches on you."

Your skin flushed hot, he was so close to you. You reached out and tapped his chest a couple times before realising what you were doing and removed your hand. "Think you'll find that you've had a bit too much to drink, sir."

"Simon. Thought we'd established that you can call me Simon." He leant back a little bit, relaxing in his seat. “And thought we agreed that you weren’t monitoring my alcohol intake.”

"Sorry." You squeaked.

"Sorry who?"

With a smile, you looked up at him through your lashes. You already knew what you were going to say. "Sorry... Lieutenant Riley."

He smiled. Actually smiled. It was small but it was unmistakable. "Brat."

He was beautiful when he smiled. He was always beautiful but when Simon Riley smiled… he was radiant.

You lit up at the smile but glowered at the insult. "Simon!"

"It's true." He shrugged, taking another mouthful of his drink and wincing at the taste.

"I'm stubborn. Not a brat."

"Believe me, I know you're stubborn. You've almost died like twelve times because you're stubborn. Had to save you every time." He shook his head as if it were a grievance to him.

"Could've left me behind."

"Couldn't do that. I'm your lieutenant, remember? My role is to keep you alive."

"I'm sure Price would let it slide if you had good enough reason." You thought about your Captain and wondered if he'd let you die for a good enough cause. Probably. But you held no resentment towards that fact.

Simon's head tilted to the side as he watched you think. "Don't think he'd accept brat as a reason, hm?"

You raised a finger to correct him. "Stubborn. Not a brat."

"Definitely a brat."

"Stop calling me that." You whined.

"That was the brattiest thing you've ever said. In the brattiest voice." He glared down at you. "You whined."

"You're such a dickhead, Simon." You scoffed but it was clear you were holding back a smile.

"And you're a brat. Guess we're even."

"Okay, I'm going back to my friends. To get away from this targeted attack." You paused. "Unless you want to join."

"I'll pass."

"I guessed. Do you have any friends? Maybe you could use the socialisation." You offered, wondering whether the man ever spoke to anyone when he was home or if he completely isolated himself from the rest of the world.

"Don't have friends for a reason."

That answered that for you.

"And what's that?"

"Ask too many personal questions."

He had a valid point. People did ask too many personal questions and you could understand why someone like Simon wouldn't like that.

"They wouldn't. My friends. They know we tend to be... private."

"You're a sergeant and I'm a lieutenant. Neither of us are privates." He paused to let the joke settle in. "A little army humour."

"I got it. That was good." You beamed at him, eyes crinkling in the corners at his quip.

"How much do they know of what we do?" He nodded in the direction of your friends.

You thought it over for a moment. "Very little. They know more about my teammates than anything else. Even that is limited."

He stiffened at that. "What do they know of me?"

"My quiet lieutenant with no face. Until recently." You let your eyes roam his features, taking all of him in. He was remarkable to look at really. But you'd never voice that to him.

"Hmm."

"There's more but I won't divulge with you." It was a partial joke to mess with him a little. There was some truth behind it however. You may or may not have gushed about your lieutenant to your friends. But that was nothing really. Just friendly appreciation for the man who outranked you.

"That makes me nervous."

Playing with him was too easy and too fun. "You should be."

"I'm reconsidering sitting with you and your friends now." He frowned but wasn't completely serious.

That surprised you. "You were going to?"

"Maybe." He drank more of the Scotch and trembled. "Christ, this stuff is fucking disgusting."

"Order a bourbon, something you know you actually like." You sighed. "Please do. If they're too much we can leave."

"We?" He was always questioning we.

You rolled your eyes at him. "It's always we. Teammates, y'know?"

A level of unsureness settled over his face. "I know."

"Get used to a lot of we then."

"Don't plan on seeing you again after this." The admittance stung but you weren't going to let that stop you.

"I'm sure you thought that last time as well. But here we are. Are you stalking me?" There was a hint of genuineness in the question. There was no way this second chance encounter was pure coincidence.

He shook his head, waving the bar tender over and ordering a bourbon like you'd suggested. "You're too boring for that."

"You have such a way with words. Really know how to make a lady feel special." You said dryly.

"It's a gift." He scratched at the side of his nose, absentmindedly trailing a finger over one of his scars in the process.

"They wouldn't say anything, y'know? Or stare. If you're worried about that. I've come home with my fair share of scars over the years. They understand." You pulled the neckline of your shirt to the side to show off an old bullet wound that had scarred over on your collar bone.

Simon's eyes lingered on the mark on your skin but you couldn't quite read his expression. "People always stare."

"I don't."

"No, you don't." He hesitated. "Okay then."

"Wait, really?" You perked up.

"Yes, really. Quickly. Before I change my mind, sergeant." He rose from his seat, grabbing his drink and gesturing for you to go first.

You gazed up at him. It really was easy to forget just how big he was. "Quick question first?"

He didn't seem keen. "Go ahead."

"How long were you here watching me before you sent the drink over?" You really needed to know, to see how out of it you were.

"Not long." Lie.

Your brow furrowed. "How long, Simon?"

"About forty minutes."

Your eyes widened. You didn't expect it to have been that long. "Fort- Jesus. And I didn't notice you?"

He brushed you off with a small shrug. "You were having fun. Guard was down."

"Still."

"Don't dwell on it. I was just going to leave and not let you know I was here." His eyes moved away from you, the opposite side of his eye contact problem showing.

You ducked to the side to meet his gaze again. "Why didn't you?"

He shrugged again.

You offered him a small slip of affection, just the tiniest thing. "I'm glad you didn't."

He grunted in reply, which was more than you were expecting. So, you just gestured for him to follow you towards the table of your friends where you stopped short a couple feet away. You sent a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure that Simon was still, in fact, there and hadn't pulled a Ghost and disappeared. But he was still standing there watching you when you checked. Which meant it was time for introductions... which you sucked at.

"Everybody, this is Simon. My lieutenant. Simon this is... everybody." You frowned at the crowded table in front of you. "You'll pick up names. It's alright that he joins us, yeah?"

“Of course.”

"Yeah."

"Oh, my god, yes."

"Take a seat, mate."

"Where you from, Simon?"

"Manchester."

"Ugh, he's a Manc! Moving on!"

You laughed as you squeezed into the booth with Simon next to you, trying not to touch him too much. "What did I miss? What are we talking about?"

"My husband is cheating on me." One of your friends announced dramatically.

Your eyes widened at the confession. "What? Really?"

"I suspect he is." She pouted, slumping forward onto the table.

"As if. He worships the ground you walk on. As he should. What makes you think he's cheating?" You debated whether this was a good topic to be talking about with your lieutenant sat right there. But then you figured that Simon needed some friends. And what was a better way to make friends than through some old-fashioned gossip?

"Late nights as work. Going to the gym a lot. He's not getting any fitter either."

You winced. "Ah, well that is quite damning."

"Yeah. I'm trying to build up the courage to just ask him about it."

"Yeah, confront him. If he's cheating then come to me. I know how to use a gun and hide a body." You winked at her.

"Sergeant." Simon's warning tone came from beside you.

"I'm kidding, lieutenant." You looked to your friend again and mouthed. "I'm not."

Another one of your friends spoke up, leaning on the table on his elbows. "God, you guys are so formal. Even during leave."

"We don't have to be. He refuses to call me anything other than sergeant. I think it's because he secretly doesn't know my name." You nudged Simon with your elbow and then, realising what you'd done, pulled back quickly. Maybe taking a break from the drink would be a good idea for a while.

"Not true." Ghost shook his head slowly.

"So you claim. Yet you've yet to refer to me as anything other than sergeant."

"It's fun watching you squirm thinking you have to be on your best behaviour all the time." He sent you a sly smirk, his eyes squinting just the tiniest bit.

Your jaw dropped. "I'm asking Price to reassign me. This is bullying."

"Wouldn't let Price do it." He countered, leaning in dangerously close.

"Who's Price?"

The both of you pulled back at the question and answered simultaneously. "Captain."

"Ah, okay. The one with the mutton chops, right?" One friend offered.

You nodded. "Right."

Simon huffed. "That's what you told them about Price?"

"It's his best feature."

"Christ, woman." He groaned, rubbing a hand across his face.

"Ooh, woman's a new one."

A friend volunteered in your defence. "To be fair, she's not allowed to tell us much. She usually gives us one identifying feature of every person she tells us about. So we can keep up."

"I'm assuming Soap is the fact that he's Scottish."

"Scottish with Mohawk. He gets two."

"What's Gaz?"

"Baby of the team."

"Fitting. Me?"

You stayed silent.

"What is it?"

You shook your head. "Can't say. Classified."

"Sergeant." His voice was harsh, demanding.

But you weren’t going to give in. "Lieutenant."

"I won't be insulted." His voice dropped to its familiar bored tone, as if trying to force the idea that it wouldn’t bother him.

That’s not what concerned you however. "Don't think you would be."

"Then why can't you tell me?”

"Just can't." Stellar reasoning, well done.

"I could ask them." He tilted his head in the direction of your friends, who were all watching you completely enraptured.

You didn’t back down, stare hardening at him. "Go ahead."

"Fine." He turned to the table. "What's my identifying feature?"

There was a moment of silence before someone gave in and admitted it. Traitors. "You don't have one."

There was a split second of delay before he replied. "She doesn't talk about me then?"

"Quite the opposite actually." One of your friends giggled.

Another stepped in. "Talks about you sooo much that you don't need an identifying feature. Just know who her lieutenant is."

"Besides, apparently you usually wear a mask. You have no features."

A raised finger of a counterpoint. "Arguably, the mask is the feature."

Ghost turned to you, almost smug. "You talk about me, sergeant?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Simon. You're good at what you do. I can appreciate that." You sniffed, rolling your shoulders back to force yourself to relax.

"Out loud? With your friends?"

You shot him an irritated look. "Get over yourself."

"Didn't say anything."

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "I know what you're thinking."

"I'm sure you do." He exhaled deeply, glancing away from you towards his drink.

Your own gaze moved back towards everyone else around the table. "Moving on! What else is happening with you guys?"

"Saw your parents a couple days ago. They said they didn't know you were home."

Well, that wasn’t the jollier topic you hoped to move on to.

A fake smile automatically set itself on your face at the mention of your family. "Fuck. What did you say?"

"Lied for you and said you only just got back. Might want to call them."

"I will do that. At some point.” Lie, lie, lie.

"Mhm, your sister had another baby as well. That's what? The fourth niece or nephew you haven't met?" There was a note of condescension in your friend’s voice.

You shrugged, knowing you had a decent enough reason. If your job counted as decent. "I've been busy. And it's only the second."

"We're not judging. Your parents might be though."

"Well, that's lovely to know." You slouched down in your seat. The relationship with your parents was… touchy, to say the least. Desperately seeking their approval for years had left the bond with them strained. And you being away from home so often definitely hadn’t helped the rockiness of it all.

"Also they seem convinced that you've met a military man and are going to come home engaged or married..."

Your face scrunched in disgust. "Oh, ew. What the fuck?"

Simon elbowed you harshly in the ribs. "We're not that bad."

"Share a bunk with Soap and come back to me on that." You snapped back. Your fellow sergeant was a snorer who regularly farted in his sleep. He was like your brother but man did you hate having to sleep in close proximity to him.

"Fair point.” He grumbled back to you. “But why are they under that impression?"

"They know I don't date civilians."

"Or anyone." One of your friends mumbled in her drink.

"Thank you.” You sent her a sarcastic smile. “So they think I'm after a man in uniform."

"Aren't you?" The same friend asked.

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw. "In... theory."

"Not in practice though." She carried on, loving the way you were squirming.

"We know not in practice, okay? Doesn't need to be said aloud.” You spared a glance at the man beside you before adding a harsh whisper. “Especially in front of my lieutenant."

"I'm sure Simon is loving this."

"It comes with the job. Family troubles and no love life." He offered some of your words back to you from earlier, shrugging. You were glad of the support from him, even if it was only your own thoughts.

"You got any friends for her Simon? Anyone on the team you think she'd be good with?"

He shook his head. "Nah, not good enough for her."

Wait, what? Not good enough? For you? Since when did he have such a high opinion of you?

A friend of yours cooed. "That's sweet. If it helps, she's great in the sack."

You choked on the mouthful of drink you were taking, slamming your glass back down. "And how exactly would you know that?!"

"I shared a house with you in uni, babes. I remember all those guys coming out of your room with dazed smiles looking as if they'd just had the time of their life." She grinned at you slyly.

Eyes wide. Jaw dropped. Heart racing. "Oh, my god. Please shut up."

"You asked."

"I didn't need such a detailed answer!” You were ignored.

"Although you may be quite rusty at the moment. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

You covered your face with your hands. "For the love of everything that is good in this world, please be quiet."

"I'm just saying. We're all friends here, aren't we?" She laughed, mainly gesturing towards your higher up.

"He's my lieutenant!"

"Wait, Simon, are you single?"

You cut in before it could go any further. "Nope! Okay! So... sister? Baby. Parents? Delusional. What else?"

Everyone around the table chuckled at your reaction but moved on anyway, much to your relief.

"They're hoping you’re home for Christmas this year."

Your hand tightened around your drink. "I hope I'm not."

"Thought you'd say that."

Paying little attention to what your friend actually said, you mumbled to yourself. "That's fucking ridiculous of them. What the actual fuck?"

"We said the same." Mumbled loud enough for them to overhear apparently.

Simon looked confused. "What's the issue there?"

You failed to answer so someone else did for you. "They uninvited her to Christmas three years ago. Hasn't been back since."

"Why would they do that?"

"Didn't approve of her lifestyle."

He turned to you. "Your... lifestyle?"

"Murderer daughter." You bit back, bitterly.

His body tightened with tension. "You're not a murderer."

"Tell them that." You snorted. "Why do they want me home now?"

"Beats us.” Your friends said in weird unison.

"Wish they'd make their mind up over whether they want to disown me or not. It's exhausting trying to keep up."

The table laughed at that. Simon did not. But did he laugh at anything?

“I’m gonna get another drink. Want one?” He looked down at you, pointing vaguely at your almost empty glass.

“Uhh… sure. Thanks.” You smiled at him, which he obviously didn’t return. After briefly asking everyone else if they wanted anything, which they declined, he stalked off in the direction of the bar.

Once he was a few paces away, one of your friends practically launched herself halfway across the table and lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. "He's gorgeous, babes."

You decided to play coy. "You think?"

"You don't?" Her brow was raised in disbelieving accusation.

The coy act was dropped pretty quickly. "Oh, I know he is. Just didn't think you would."

"Well, I do. And he’s definitely your type, absolutely perfect for you. Plus he so likes you."

You scoffed. "No, he doesn't."

"He fancies the pants off of you!" She insisted.

You didn’t buy it. "I can guarantee that he does not."

"He can't take his eyes off you!"

"He has a staring problem." You shrugged, it was true.

"Yeah, the problem is that he can't stop staring at you."

You thought about it. Yeah, he stared at you a lot. But he stared at everything. Didn't mean he stared at you with... feelings or whatever your friends were implying. Just that he had a staring problem.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley does not like me." It was a finalised statement, one that you believed wholeheartedly.

"Open your eyes, babes. He likes you."

"Do you like him?"

Avoid answering. "Not allowed to like him. He's my lieutenant."

"That doesn't answer our question."

Shit.

"Maybe a little." You pinched your fingers together, there was no point lying to them, and shook your head. "Doesn't matter anyway."

"Why?"

"Because, say he did like me, he'd never admit it. And I'm not going to push him into anything. I'm just glad he's talking to me and accepting my attempt at us being friends." That was true. You were loving how he wasn’t completely rejecting your friendship. He maybe wasn’t embracing it but he wasn’t pushing you away either.

"That's so sad, babes."

"Cheers.” You deadpanned. “It can't happen anyway."

"Why not?"

"Relationships aren't allowed. Makes us a liability. My captain would reassign one of us as soon as he caught wind of it. And it would be me." The thought of Price reassigning you was horrid. You loved your team more than anything.

"Simon said he wouldn't let your captain reassign you."

That was true, he did. "He was joking... I think."

"I don't think he was. That man stares at you like he's ready to eat you. It's like listening to Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen in real life!"

Groan. "You watched Dirty Dancing again, didn't you?"

"Yes, but that's not the point. The point is that Simon looks at you with hungry eyes. And don't judge my love for Dirty Dancing." Two of your friends nodded in agreement with her.

"I'm not. I'm judging your favourite song choice when Love Is Strange by Mickey and Sylvia is clearly the superior song on the soundtrack." You said as you downed the last bit of your drink, thankful Simon was bringing you another one. Your mouth was dry and the initial buzz was wearing off. You’d need more alcohol if this interrogation was going to continue despite it probably not being the best idea.

"Blasphemy!” She declared before quietening herself. “Oop, we gotta be quiet now because he's coming back over. Simon!"

He froze in his tracks, a glass clasped in each large hand. "Yes?"

"Can you settle a debate for us?"

You froze too, wide-eyed. They weren't going to ask about him staring at you, were they?

"Sure...?"

You smiled at his unsure tone. Big, scary man who got shot at for a living was terrified of answering a little question.

"You've seen Dirty Dancing, yeah?"

You relaxed.

"I have."

Surprising.

"Which is a better song? Hungry Eyes or Love Is Strange?"

"Oh, I... uh-"

"Leave the poor man alone." You laughed despite being a little curious about his music taste.

"I always liked She's Like the Wind."

That shocked you to your core. "Patrick Swayze fan?"

"Used to have a mullet just like his." He placed your drink in front of you. "Here you go. You look surprised."

"I always am when you don't disappear. And when you admit to being a Patrick Swayze fan." You snorted, taking the drink from him.

"Learn to have a little faith, Sarge." He sighed as he sat down next to you again, an inch closer than before you were sure.

A burning feeling settled in your chest at the nickname. Sure, it was only a shortened version of your rank, and a common one at that, but it was something. Not sergeant. Not woman. Sarge. You decided to let it slide to see if he’d ever do it again of his own accord.

"Your name's Ghost for a reason." You sing-songed, the image of his mask flashing through your mind.

"I'll give you that. But remember, Simon here."

"Still weird."

"Still Simon."

You chewed the inside of your bottom lip before asking your next question. "Patrick Swayze?"

"He was blond."

"Like you, you mean?"

Hesitation. "Yeah."

You hummed and thought about him with a mullet. What an odd thing to admit to you. But you’d never complain. If Simon was willing to offer you little tidbits of silly information about himself, then you were going to absorb every single one and treasure them forever.

A/N: Simon with a mullet as a teen because he wanted to be Patrick Swayze when he grew up is canon to me now.

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transmutationisms · 9 months

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like it's not that i think that no insurance billing codes psychiatric terminology could ever be useful. altho i do Personally eschew it For Myself, again, i understand why some people find it valuable as shorthand for sets of experiences and accessibility needs, and in a material sense this language exists to gatekeep certain accommodations so, yes it is sometimes terminology you must use to get those things regardless of how you feel about it. what i think is useful to keep in mind though is that these terms are simply descriptions of behaviours, and the behaviours to be described / categorised / pathologised are designated such through a series of medical and carceral judgments about how to produce a 'normal' and economically exploitable population. like. that's what these labels do. they're not describing a 'brain type' that is observable or immutable, they're not predicting your future or providing the key to understand your entire past as a function of reductive neurobiology from which you can never escape. they're social tools that make you legible to the state and the medical establishment, and that these authorities use to justify inflicting violence and coercive control on you. understanding this allows you to 1) decide whether, when, and how you personally find these labels useful or not useful for yourself, 2) be precise and cautious when you are trying to use them to your advantage, eg, to obtain accommodations, and 3) avoid the circular, essentialist, and socially violent logic of "well i do x because i have y condition (which was diagnosed based on clinician observations of x) and my brain is simply broken in a way requiring me to submit to expert clinical management and surveillance"

#psychiatry

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awkward-sultana · 1 year

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5 Times Joel Engaged in Minor PDA + 1 Time He Engaged in Major PDA

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Implied smut, use of Y/N, medical terminology and mentions of medical conditions (child death/miscarriage, head injuries) and operations (stitches,) injuries, drinking/alcohol, cursing, mentions of death, guns and shootouts, PDA (mostly kissing), panic attacks, unwanted advances from minor male characters.

Summary: Joel Miller has always had a bit of trouble with PDA, but he's learning.

I. You loved Jackson, loved this new normal you had never even considered possible in your 30 years of life. You had only been 10 when the outbreak happened, all scraped knees and tangled hair, giggling over notebooks and glitter pens. Now, after losing your entire family, being expedited through an intensive medical training program, and trekking across the country with a feral 14 year old and a loaded gun of a middle aged man, you felt about 100.

Here, in Jackson, surrounded by laughing children, smiling parents, and a wall that seemed to keep out the rest of the world, you felt like maybe you could discover some semblance of the normal you had before.

Even you, Joel and Ellie had bloomed into the little family you dreamed of having on those warm nights when you couldn't sleep for the sound of death in the distance. It had been rough, the three of you settling into your small home in Jackson, especially between you and Joel. It had all culminated one night in a screaming match in the barn between the two of you when, like you knew he would, he tried to run away, afraid to lose another family. You had told him to leave and never come back, so goddamn angry he would abandon Ellie like that, make her lose another person when you had both promised her you'd give her a good life with two people who loved her. Joel had left, shattering your heart and sending Ellie into a spiral that resulted in quite a few fist fights with older kids. Thankfully, she had had Dina to ground her. You had no one. You didn't let Ellie see your heartbreak after he rejected you, didn't let her take on the weight of someone else's world again. Joel had ended up returning a week later at 3 AM with soft words you didn't know he was capable of, promises to never leave again, and a ring you didn't pry about, not wanting to know where he got it. You had forgiven him almost instantly like the lovesick idiot you were, but it took a few days and a few rancid curses and half hearted shoves from Ellie before he found forgiveness from her.

Now, your normal was beginning to lay a foundation. Ellie was attending school, Joel had found his footing as a handy man and patroller, while you were at the medical clinic, using your medical education from one of the last remaining hospitals in the US and learning from the more experienced doctors already set up in Jackson.

Things were as perfect as they could be. Except for one or two things that irked you a little bit. Most specifically, Joel's complete aversion to PDA. You were young, pretty (of course you were pretty, you looked like your mom and your grandmother), and had a growing appetite for physical affection now that you found a man who spoke to every part of you. Joel, on the other hand, struggled quite a bit with physical affection in public settings. He was affectionate in private and had no problem keeping up with you behind closed doors, but out in public...let's just say, people were honestly shocked when they found out you were a couple, and not just because of the age difference.

While it was something you had long ago made peace with, you still found your mind wandering down other avenues of possibilities, such as now as you finished putting away the last of the files at the clinic. It was Friday afternoon and the clinic was closing early because there were no patients on the schedule and it was the first day of fall, so everyone wanted to get outside while the sun was still up and enjoy the beautiful weather before the winter chill settled in. The other staff had taken off before you, eager to go and be with their families. You were happy to stay behind and close up, as Ellie was staying after school to help out with one of the teachers and Joel was on patrol until late.

"Need any help?"

Cursing hysterically, you whirled around at the sound of a male voice behind you. Greg, one of the farmers stood in the doorway, having the courtesy to look bashful for scaring the hell out of you.

You took a moment to catch your breath, putting a hand to your pounding heart and letting out a startled laugh. "Jesus. Sorry. No, thanks, Greg. I appreciate it but this is all confidential information. I'm actually almost done anyway."

He grinned and you had to admit that he was handsome. "Is anything really confidential in Jackson?"

You laughed again, seeing his point. Nothing was private in such a small town. Sometimes 300 people felt more like 30. "Even so, I know at least four people in these files who would be pissed if anyone besides their doctors saw their medical information."

Greg held up his hands in a well meaning acknowledgment of defeat. "Totally understand. I actually have a question for you."

More than used to having citizens pull you aside and bashfully ask for medical advice, you set down the stack of files in your hands and turned to fully face Greg, your stethoscope swinging on your neck.

"Sure. What the problem?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

You blanched, but recovered quickly. This wasn't the first time a man in Jackson had asked you out since you had arrived in Jackson, and you were sure it wouldn't be the last. Greg was the second this week. Of all the gossip that seemed to travel around Jackson, the fact that you weren't interested in dating didn't seem to be part of it.

You pasted on what you called your 'patient smile.' "I'm flattered, Greg, but I'm not really looking right now."

He chuckled. "I'd be careful with that. Pickins' are pretty slim here. Wouldn't want to find yourself runnin' out of time." You pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes, not impressed by his not so subtle implication that you were already over the hill at 30 years old.

"I'm actually not too worried. Again, I'm flattered, but I'm not interested." When Greg took a step closer, you instinctively backed up further into the room. You didn't know if he was purposefully being intimidating, but you weren't a fan either way. "Any way I can change your mind?" he asked.

"She said she wasn't interested."

You jumped at the deep voice coming from the doorway and Greg turned, neither of you having heard Joel come into the clinic. He stood in the doorway, his rifle slung over his shoulder and his brow furrowed deep. In his heavy boots and heavier coat, he looked even bigger than normal.

"Hey, Joel," Greg chirped, somehow unaware of the menace in the room. "I'm just chatting with y/n here. Thought you were on patrol."

Joel was walking through the room this time, sticking to the perimeter, his eyes not leaving Greg. "Horse started limpin'. Doc Jetson's takin' a look at her." Joel had made it to your side and had angled his body toward you, the front of his coat brushing your shoulder. He looked ready for a fist fight. You were just shocked he was being this obvious about getting close to you in a semi-public place.

"Well," Greg continued, somehow missing the obvious body language of the two people in front of him. "I was hoping to talk y/n into changing her mind." A bright, boyish smile. "Got any tips?"

"Don't think it's going to work out for you this time, bud," Joel responded, no longer looking at him. He was now reaching very deliberately across your chest and pulling the stethoscope from around your neck and tossing it gently on the counter next to you. "You ready?"

You nodded, still baffled at his behavior. His hand on the small of your back sent a thrill up your spine and you allowed him to usher you past Greg, who was staring at the both of you with raised eyebrows.

Outside, the sky was frosted and there was a glorious bite in the air. You had been in the clinic all day and the sharp temperature change made you shudder and wrap your arms around yourself.

Joel looked down at you and quirked an eyebrow. "You bring a coat?"

"No, Bev Lanson's daughter fell out of her bed and needed stitches in her scalp at 5 this morning so I didn't get to grab one."

"And Ellie said she never saw you at the mess hall for lunch."

You grimaced at the chiding, but a glance at Joel showed his mouth was quirked up in amusement and he was shaking his head. "Hold this." You only just caught his rifled as he hauled it over his shoulder and plopped it in your arms to take off his coat.

It was heavy and warm as he settled it around your shoulders. You grinned like an idiot as you held it around your shoulders and leaned into him. While he didn't put his arm around you, he let you lean deep into his side as you walked through the town.

II. You exploded out of the clinic, making three women who were headed to 5 AM morning patrol jump and look at you like startled deer, their rifles clattering together as they stumbled against each other. You ignored them and Dr. Hansen's voice behind you as you stormed down the steps and down the road toward the barn.

Your chest was tightening. Your lungs were constricting. Your heart was a hammer in your chest. You were having a panic attack. The first since you got to Jackson and the first in months. Your last panic attack had been when you though the fireflies were going to tear Ellie's brainstem out. Flora's baby hadn't made it. Only two months left on a seemingly health fetus and she had miscarried. Jackson didn't have the equipment for an operation, so you had done your best to stem the bleeding, then held her as Dr. Hansen finished up. She had been bawling so hysterically you thought she was going to pass out and you were the only person she would let hold her.

It was the first time in Jackson that something had felt so truly hopeless. Was this the future here? Watching people die? You had come to Jackson to escape that and now you wrist deep in the blood.

You sucked in a violent breath as you approached the sheep pen, a new sense of panic settling in when you realized breathing was getting more difficult.

In...Out...In...Out.

You closed your eyes and repeated the mantra in your head as you leaned against the rails of the paddock, gripping the splintered wood in your palm.

"Y/N?"

Starting violently, you whirled around and ran straight into Joel's chest. When he grabbed your arms to steady you, you jerked back, your body defaulting to fight or flight. He held fast, pulling you back into his chest, even as you shoved at him.

"Calm down, honey. Take a breath. Just like you taught me."

You closed your eyes again and took another deep breath, but it only whistled through your lungs in a weak gasp. Gripping the lapels of his thick coat in your hands, you tried again, shutting your eyes tight and bending your head in concentration. Joel took a step forward until the top of your head was pressed to his chest. After a few more deep breaths, he cupped your face in his callused hands and pulled your head up to rest your forehead against his heart. You listened to the strong beat beneath his sternum and the soothing words he murmured into your hair, felt the bite of his zipper against your palms and the scent of hay on his flannel.

After what felt like a lifetime, your breathing returned to normal and your heart resumed it's regular beat.

"There, honey. Good. Good."

Pulling your head from his chest, you opened your eyes and stared up at Joel's bearded face, his eyes creased with worry but strong with resolve. Leaning forward, you buried your nose against the exposed patch of skin beneath his shirt and took a deep inhale. The two of you stood like that in comforting silence until you cleared your throat and pulled lightly at his grip. He let go of your face, but cupped your shoulders and pulled back slightly to look down into your eyes.

"What happened, baby?"

You cleared your throat again. "Nothing. I mean...I'll tell you later. I have to get back before Dr. Hansen finds me and calls me a pussy." A grizzled old army surgeon, he didn't take lightly to what he perceived as weakness.

"I'll walk you back."

That took you a bit by surprise, but you wouldn't say no. One of the first things Joel had ever told you when you met - after nearly blowing your head off - was that he didn't do comforting or coddling. He had gotten better, but he was always visibly uncomfortable.

He didn't press any further as you walked down the road back to the clinic, but he reached his hand out to brush it against yours and eventually tuck it into his own.

You took another deep breath when you got to the porch of the clinic, bracing yourself for Dr. Hansen's inevitable speech.

"You sure you're okay?" Joel asked again.

"Yeah," you answered, not actually lying this time. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks."

Before you took a step forward, he took the back of your neck in a gentle grip and laid a long kiss to your temple.

As you trudged up the stairs, you turned and gave him a sultry look over your shoulder. "You can just talk me through anything, can't you?" You squealed and laughed, jumping through the door as he reached out to pinch your ass.

III. "Hey!

When Joel didn't immediately turn around, you looked around for something to throw at him. Spotting a bucket of freshly picked apples, you picked one up, tested the weight with a little toss, then hurled it at the back of his head.

He turned immediately, looking every bit the grumpy old man as he glared at you and rubbed the back of his head.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You didn't answer me."

"I didn't hear you."

"Hence the apple."

Joel rolled his eyes as he picked his way through the sheep he had been corralling into the paddock. Slipping yourself through the gaps in the fence, you leaned back against it and gave him an innocent smile.

Crossing the paddock, he fixed you with an exasperated but amused look. "What do you want?"

"What do you want for dinner tonight?

He snorted. "That's what you threw an apple at my head for?"

You rolled your eyes in response. "Ellie left for that nature trip with her class this morning so we can make whatever we want." For a feral cat of a child, Ellie could be surprisingly picky.

That seemed to peek Joel's interest. "Hmmm. How about steak and potatoes?" You grinned, having started prepping this morning knowing he would choose that. "Perfect."

You stood in companionable as Joel got the sheep settled and fed. You piped up again, "Ellie won't be getting back until Sunday night."

"That's what I heard."

"And neither of us are on shift this weekend."

"Yeah, 'bout time."

"I wonder what in the world we'll do all weekend."

Joel shrugged, your innuendo flying straight over his head. "No clue. Probably catch up on the sleep I haven't gotten for the past 20 years."

You rolled your eyes. "Joel...Joel." His head shot up from the stubborn sheep he was trying to push around with his knees. "What?"

"We're alone for a whole weekend, with no reason to leave the house, for the first time since we got here and all you can think about is sleeping?"

It took him a long moment, but then his mouth turned up into a sly smile and he maneuvered around the sheep to stand in front of you.

"Did you have something else in mind, darlin'?" His broad hands settled on your hips.

You pretended to think. "I'm not sure. Sounds like sex isn't on my husband's mind half as much as mine. Plenty of other single men to choose from--"

You squealed and laughed when Joel plucked you up off the ground and sat you down on the top rung of the fence. You hooked your feet around the bottom rung and clutched his shoulders for balance. He squeezed your hips and gave you a narrow eyed look, oblivious to the stares you had garnered. "Brat. Try it and I'll suddenly remember how to brawl."

"I've seen you brawl at least ten times since I've met you."

"Should've seen me in my twenties."

You squeezed his shoulders, kneading your nails into the thick material of his coat before murmuring quietly, "All I care about is that you know how to brawl with me." Joel groaned and hauled you down for a long, desperate kiss to your mouth. Turning, he tried to adjust himself as discreetly as possible before walking back out into the pen. You remained on the fence for a little while longer, heart glowing every time Joel walked past to give you a peck on the knee and a sultry look that promised many things.

The two of you turned in about three hours early that evening, your carefully prepared steak barely touched.

IV. "Where'd you get that dress, y/n?"

You turned away from the carrots on the counter to Ellie, who was flopping down the hallway of your home with her usual puppy-like grace.

"Oh, Mrs. Sawyer made it for me for delivering her new grandbaby. Do you like it?" It was short and airy, made you feel feminine and beautiful after spending day after day in scrubs. It was unseasonably warm today, probably the last warm day before fall fully settled in. "Yeah, I like it a lot," she answered as she swiped a carrot off the counter.

You gave her a side eyed smirk. "Want me to ask her to make you one?"

Ellie blushed and sputtered. "What? No! No way! I mean...I'm okay. Seriously. Where are you going?"

"Maria, Leslie and Megan invited me to the bar. And no I'm not sneaking you a beer."

Elli glared and grumbled something as she headed to the front door, trying and failing to dodge the hand you reached out to ruffle her hair. As you turned back to your food prep, you heard Ellie say hello to Joel as he walked into the house, heard his answering grunt of greeting. The door closed behind Ellie and you heard Joel stride across the wood floors until he was standing right behind you. You shuddered when he traced his hands lightly up the sides of your thighs, inching the dress up your legs. "I like this dress," he rumbled, laying a long kiss to your hair.

"Yeah, me too. Brenda Sawyer wanted to pay me somehow." He was pressing in tight to you now, cradling your hips back against his, your dress above your waist now. He nuzzled another kiss to you hair. "I'll have to thank her. Where you headed all dressed up?"

Your grip tightened on the hilt of the knife as he slowly kissed down your neck, his hands kneading your hips. "Tipsy Bison with Maria and, um, some other women. Drinks." Joel gave your hips a squeeze one final kiss to your shoulder before pulling away. "I'll go with you." You looked over your shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He raised an eyebrow right back. "Yes, really. Why is that so shocking?"

You shrugged and went back to chopping carrots. "No, it's just you've never gone with me before. I guess you're usually on patrol." He struggled being idle.

"First time for everything. What time you going?"

"I was thinking about 30 minutes?"

"Plenty of time."

The knife was pushed out of your hand and the carrots swiped to the side. You shrieked and laughed when Joel whirled you around, shoved your dress back up your hips, and plucked you up onto the counter. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders as his mouth found yours.

A quick 20 minutes later and narrowly avoiding a second round, you two were walking into Tipsy Bison, which was already in full swing. Joel had walked a little closer to you than normal, his fingertips brushing the hem of your dress as you walked. After a brief brush of his hand on the small of your back, you went your separate ways in the bar, you heading toward a booth with the women who had invited you, and Joel toward his brother and some other men he often found himself paired with on patrol. As much as you would have liked to stick by his side all night, you were happy he was trusting people enough to make friends. Despite the fact that he fucked you hoarse nearly every night, you felt a bit like a proud mom sometimes.

As the night went on, the drinks flowed and the laughter became louder. The warm weather seemed to settle in everyone's bones and everyone was on the small dance floor, from the 70 year old carpenter shuffling with his three toddler granddaughters to the fifteen year old girl shyly asking her classmate to dance. You and your friends had made your way out to the floor as well, your drinks sloshing onto the floor as you laughed and danced like teenagers. When a slow song came on and the lights dimmed, the string lights on the ceiling coming on, you began to make your way back to your booth, but a warm hand on your wrist stopped you. Turning, you found Joel standing behind you. You frowned in confusion. "You okay?"

He frowned right back as he tugged you toward him, pulling your arm around his shoulder and sliding his other hand across your waist. "Does something have to be wrong for me to dance with you?"

Smiling big, you tightened your arms around his shoulders and pressed tight to his front as his callused hands settled on your hips, massaging your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. "Joel Miller knows how to dance?"

He chuckled as you both began to sway to the beat. "I never said that." Grinning back, you massaged the nape of his neck and nuzzled you cheek against his shirt, closing your eyes and listening to the strong pulse of his heart. When the song ended, he wrapped your hand in his and led you back to the bar, shouldering through curious looking patrons. Maybe it was the whisky, but he was handsy for the rest of the night, pulling you between his legs as he sat at the bar talking with some of the other guys from his normal patrol, his arm around your waist as he laughed and sipped his whisky. Around midnight, it was you who tugged on his hand and informed him it was time to go. You only made it around the back of the bar before your dress was around your waist for the second time that night.

V. It had been a long, busy day at the clinic. All the doctors and nurses were called in to treat all sorts of injuries, allergies, bites, coughs, stomach aches, bloody noses, etc. By 6 PM, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, but a pile of charts was waiting for you and you had already been hounded twice about being behind. Scrubbing your hands over your eyes, you reached for the folder at the top of the file.

"Y/n?"

You turned as Maria came into the clinic, red cheeked and huffing like she had run there.

"Yeah, hi, what's wrong?"

"It's Joel. Sally's gun went off close to him, grazed him on the side of the head. He says--"

You were already shoving past her and sprinting down the road, your heart hammering beneath your ribs. You heard Maria call after you then curse, but you didn't stop, dodging people and moving past the guards through the now open gate.

The patrolmen had stopped a few hundred feet from the entrance. A few had dismounted their horses and were gathered around someone with their head down. "Move," you ordered, putting every ounce of hard earned medical authority into your voice. The crowd parted and you saw Joel standing there, his head bent and his gloved hand prodding at a serious laceration at the side of his head. Your heart flew into your throat as you stopped in front of him and pulled his hand away from his head. "Stop doing that," you snapped.

Joel rolled his eyes but did as he was told, letting his arm fall to his side but keeping his head bent so you could take it in your hands and turn it this way and that. You cleared your throat, not fully trusting yourself to speak, but knowing you had to nonetheless. "Decent laceration, nothing serious. Worse than it looks. Few stitches should be fine."

"Can you make it to the clinic, Joel?" Tommy asked, earning an irritated look from his big brother. "Yes, I can make it back to the damn clinic. She didn't blow my head off." Then he turned back to you. "And what are you doing out here without a gun or an escort?"

You gave him a furious glare. "Don't start. C'mon before you faint." With that, you turned on your heel and strode back toward the gates. There was some shuffling and mutters before you heard the group following behind you.

You got back to the clinic a few minutes before them and grabbed the suture kit, laying it all out for when they arrived. Hearing heavy boots come up the stairs and Joel tell Tommy to "get off me", you turned in time to see Joel poke his head in, then quickly duck back out. You came to the door. "What?"

He cleared his throat, looking a little green. "It...It smells. I'm gonna be sick if I have to go in there."

"You're nauseous?"

"Yeah, I guess."

The anxiety flared back up but you slammed it back down. "Then your head wound is worse than I thought. You might have a concussion. Fine, sit down on the bench."

He did as he was told, this time not yelling at Tommy for guiding him with a hand to the elbow. He sat down with a grunt, pulling off his gun and disarming it.

"Ya'll good here?" Tommy asked and you nodded. "Yeah, I'll patch him up and put him to bed."

"I don't need-"

"Be quiet."

Joel scowled at you and then at Tommy, who didn't bother hiding his grin before turning away toward Maria, who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

You unloaded your kit in silence, cleaning up the dried blood before running a lidocaine pad over the cut. It really wasn't too bad, but it was over his old scar and would be tricky to suture at the angle you were now at. After a few minutes, you very gently prodded the skin around the cut. "Feel that?"

"No ma'am."

"Good, tilt your head to the side and don't move or I'll sew your ear to your head." You heard him chuckle, but he once again did as he was told. Stepping closer to him, you angled his head to the side. You were so focused you almost didn't notice his hands come up and begin massaging the backs of your legs in slow, sweeping motions from the tops of your thighs to the back of your knees. When he got close enough to your backside to make you shudder, you gave his hair a little tug. "You're distracting me."

Joel only hummed in answer, his eyes closing almost in relaxation, as if you weren't sewing his head shut. His hands settled at the backs of your knees, his forehead resting against your chest as you finished up your work. He didn't let go of you immediately, instead pulling his head up and resting his chin between your breasts, blinking lazily up at you. You let yourself wrap your arms around his neck and stare down at him, the forceps and scissors still in your hands.

"You were shot."

"Yep."

"Don't let it happen again."

His mouth curved in an amused smile and his hands squeezed your knees. "Yes, ma'am."

"Now go to bed."

He seemed to open his mouth to object but you cocked your eyebrow in a withering glare. Sighing, he stood with your help, gave you a chaste peck on the head, and grabbed his rifle before moving off toward your home.

+ I. "Wait, so are you and Joel actually, like, married?"

You blinked at Maria's question. You had never actually never been asked that before, as most people didn't even know you were together. You often wore the ring he gave you, if not on your hand, then on a thin chain around your neck, and you had never bothered getting a ring for Joe, as you wouldn't even know where to get one. You did refer to him as your husband and he told you he thought of you as his wife and referred to you as such whenever it came up.

When you were younger, you had, of course, had the girlhood dreams of a big white wedding and a storybook marriage, but when the virus struck, it all seemed so trivial. Now...you weren't really sure how you felt.

"I mean, I guess not," you finally answered with a shrug. "Never really considered making it official."

"What're you two yappin' about back there?"

Both you and Maria flinched in your saddles when Chet barked back at you, nudging your horses faster to keep up with the rest of the patrol. They had been short a man today after Will sprained his ankle, so you volunteered to step in since the clinic was slow and fully staffed. Joel had groused about it, but you were excited to go beyond the walls for even a few hours. And nothing had happened on patrols in months, so you weren't particularly worried.

"Do you want to make it official?" Maria prodded when the two of you got a little closer to the rest of the group, but still far enough back to have some privacy.

"Again, never really thought about it. We've just been getting settled and making sure Ellie gets settle." Another shrug. "It just hasn't been a priority."

"Do you want it to be a priority?"

You gave her a hard side eye. "What's with the sudden investment in me and Joel's relationship? When we got here you didn't even like-"

"RAIDERS!"

Your stomach dropped, panic barreling up your spine into your heart as chaos ensued. Shots rang out and people shouted as horses screamed and reared up in surprise. You scrambled for the gun at your hip, pulling it out just in time to get a raider in the knee and finish him off with one to the head. More shots sounded, closer this time and there was another cry of pain as eleven more raiders closed in.

Pain burned through your arm and you cried out, dropping your gun, which went off as it hit the ground. Your horse reared up in surprise, sending you out of the saddle and sprawling to the ground. When your back met the grass, the pandemonium faded away, overwhelmed by a deafening ring as your head snapped back on your spine and your brain slammed against your skull. Groaning, you tried to breathe through the pain.

It all came roaring back when a massive weight fell into your gut, pushing the air out of your lungs in a massive below. The unblinking eyes of the raider sprawled over you stared back at you and you heaved him off with a grunt. Pushing to your knees, you just avoided a riderless horse as it galloped past you, back toward the commune.

There was still shouting, gunshots, shrieking horses and grunts of pain. As everything came back into focus, you managed to reach out and grab a raider by the ankle, sending him sprawling onto the ground in front of you. He turned onto his back, eyes wild as he leveled the barrel of a pistol between your eyes...

His head snapped back and his gun dropped from his hand, his whole body going limp from the bullet in the back of his head. Blinking against the sun, you could see the group of people running from the direction of Jackson, each of them stopping sporadically to steady themselves and fire off a shot. It was Joel who slowly lowered a rifle aimed in your direction, his eyes wild and his chest heaving.

The group was on you in the next second, falling on the last remaining raiders as they attempted to escape, leaving their dead behind. You hadn't made it to your feet yet, the pain in your arm screaming even as the pain in your head receded. It was Joel who finally hauled you up despite your cry of pain when he grabbed you under the arms.

"What is it? Where? Where does it hurt? Show me! Show me!!" You had never heard him sound so frantic as he ran his hands roughly over your body, unzipping your jacket to look for blood on your shirt.

"My-My arm. It's my arm."

His hands became gentle as he took your arm in his hands and cradled it for Dr. Hansen as he bustled over with a medical kit.

"Just a flesh wound," he said gruffly. "Let's get her back to the clinic. You'll need quite a few stitches. Thank christ you're the only injury."

Joel rounded on you, taking your other arm in his hand and placing a hand on your back to guide you back toward Jackson with the rest of patrol following close behind.

An hour later, you and Joel walked out of the clinic, your arm freshly stitched but still burning in pain. Joel had watched over Dr. Hansen like a bear until you thought the two of them would come to blows. You were exhausted and just wanted to shower and sleep forever. Joel had been quite since you had gotten back and you had a feeling he would blow up when you got back to your house, ban you from ever going on patrol again, and sleep outside your bedroom door with his rifle.

"Joel," you finally prodded as you stepped onto the porch of the clinic, his back to you as he stared out over the town, hands on his hips. "Are you okay?"

Silence.

You sighed. "Joel, will you please--"

"Let's get married."

You blinked, not sure if you had heard that right or if you had rattled your brain more than you thought.

"I'm sorry?"

He turned to face you, his face completely serious. "Let's get married. Right now."

"Joel, what are you--"

He strode toward you and cupped your face so tenderly you could have cried. He let out a trembling breath as he leaned his forehead against yours. "We should have gotten married the day we got to Jackson. It didn't seem important then but now...I didn't know why."

You reached up to grip his wrists. "It doesn't matter to me if we make it official in any way or any of the legal stuff. Is that what's bothering you?"

"You could have died today."

That realization settled into your stomach for the first time and you barely suppressed a shudder. "I could have."

"We've both almost died a hundred times since we've met, and every day I wondered...would they have buried us next to each other? Would anyone have known that we loved each other after we're gone?"

For the first time in a long time, you were speechless, enamored by this man who made you weak.

"I just..." he took a shuddering breath. "I-I love you on purpose. And I want everyone to know. I want you to know."

You opened your mouth once. Twice. "I...okay. Yes. Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"TOMMY!"

His shout sent your brain reeling again and you nearly fell as he let go of your head and whirled around.

Tommy poked his head out from behind the horse he was leading to the barn. "Yeah?"

"Where's Pastor John? Y/N and I are getting married."

"What?"

"Pastor John? Where is he?"

"I heard that part." Tommy had abandoned the horse to a passing woman and headed over, his face comically confused. "You're getting married?"

"Yeah."

"Right now?"

"Yes! Right now!"

Joel had grabbed your hand in his and was pulling you down the stairs toward the church.

"I...okay." Tommy trailed behind the two of you, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out for Pastor John. You had drawn a crowd by this point, Jackson citizens wandering out of the buildings and murmuring excitedly as Joel beat a warpath toward the church and you stumbled after him, grumbling at Tommy to stop yelling before you punched him.

Finally, Pastor John appeared out of the mess hall, adjusting his glasses and straightening the collar of his flannel like it was a full cassock. "What's all the hollerin' about?"

"Y/N and I are getting married," Joel stated as he came to a stop, causing you to run into him with a grunt. "Right now."

Pastor John blinked and looked at you as if for confirmation. You leaned into Joel and nodded happily, the reality of the situation finally beginning to settle. You were getting married. Joel wanted to marry you. And he wanted the whole town to see.

"Ah, okay," Pastor John finally said, adjusting his glasses again. "I guess we should head on over to the church."

The mass of people at your back grew with every step you took through the town until you were all 300 of them were tittering like school kids behind you.

"Move! MOVE! No, you get out of my way. Y/n!"

You turned in time to see Ellie shoulder her way through the crowd until she was at your side, her chest heaving like she had personally shoved aside all 300 people to reach you. She stared up at you with huge eyes. "Were you really going to get married without me?"

You cupped her face in your hands. "Baby, I didn't even know I was getting married until five minutes ago."

"Can I be your bridesmaid?"

You laughed. "Of course." She gave you a massive grin and threw her arms around your middle, holding you tight and you could hear her sniffling against your chest.

Twenty minutes later, every citizen in Jackson, from the oldest to the youngest, had squeezed into the small church with you and Joel at the front with Pastor Joe, Elli standing behind you holding a handful of daisies she had ripped from the ground outside the sheep pen.

"...I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

You expected a small, chaste peck on the lips, but Joel took your face in his hands and swooped down to take your mouth in a kiss so intense you had to grip his shoulders to stay upright. The church exploded in applause and cheers and Joel pulled you back upright, giving you one more chaste kiss before giving you the biggest smile you had ever seen on him. Taking your hand in his, he walked you down the crowded aisle.

He never let go of it again.

#The Last of Us #The Last of Us HBO #Joel Miller #Pedro Pasal #Joel Miller x Reader #TLOU #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller x Y/N #Joel Miller x You #The Last of us fanfiction #Awkward-Sultana #5 + 1 #TLoU fanfiction

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aroacesafeplaceforall · 7 months

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You’re pissed that no one took any accountability for their supposed “aphobia/arophobia” but where is the accountability for the constant inhumane and disgusting homophobia, biphobia and transphobia STILL spewing out of ace spaces like puss? When will you all realize you feel that way because you are directly adjacent to the oppressor class and have next to nothing in common with the LGBT community as a whole but nearly everything in common with the average cishet? Y’all aren’t queer for not wanting to fuck, only fucking sometimes “if you emotionally connect”, or being emotionally unavailable to romantic partnership. And if you aren’t also gay, trans, or bisexual, you never will be.

I got my laptop out for this, goddamn. Where would i even start?

"You’re pissed that no one took any accountability for their supposed “aphobia/arophobia”" This tells me everything about you, you possibly don't believe in aro/ace identities. You don't believe people can hate on, or be hateful to, aro/ace spec people. And yes I am pissed. Because it was fucked up.

I would try to justify it with "if this was transphobic/homophobia you wouldn't be acting this way" but im guess you don't care about that as you obviously don't see it the same way.

you were also probably someone who sent asks like this (but more hateful) in 2016 and before, you were probably also someone who posted and reblogged aphobic content and said it was "just a joke" later while still sending asks like this to people. Take of that anon and show your face coward.

"where is the accountability for the constant inhumane and disgusting homophobia, biphobia and transphobia STILL spewing out of ace spaces like puss?"

where is the accountability for the homophobia, biphobia and transphobia still spewing out of ALL lgbtqia+ spaces? Where is the accountability in the REAL world? Where is it anon? Where is the accountability for the acephobia, the arophobia and so many other "not real sexualities/gender identities" -phobias?

You saw a post about aphobia, and instead of being like "yeah that was f-ed up" or "i dont care" you went "but what about meeeeee" which is very all lives matter of you. (I am not comparing racism to homophobia, however the "what about me" bs can be summed up very easily using all lives matter as an example) For the fucking record, all spaces have assholes, all of them. On behalf of the "normal" aro/ace spec folks, i apologise for any homophobia, biphobia and/or transphobia you have experienced from us. "When will you all realize you feel that way because you are directly adjacent to the oppressor class and have next to nothing in common with the LGBT community as a whole but nearly everything in common with the average cishet?" This is a main aphobe talking point so thank you for doing this by the text book so i can break it down easier!

Three pages about asexual hate crimes which im sure every average cishet has to deal with (assuming their white and male) 1 2 (a booklet for asexual people to be actually fucking included) 3

An incredible interview is here but im going to quote a few things from it as theres a 99.9% chance aphobes wont click a link

"We know aromantics and asexuals have existed for as long as humans have. However, it’s only through the terminology recently going mainstream"

"Because of Freud’s influence, many of us grew up learning that our sex drive is the primary motivator of human behavior, but that isn’t the case."

"That mindset replicates itself within the community so that when a new identity emerges, or when people try to explain themselves, there is resistance and pushback from within the community with the mindset that “if we let these kinds of people in, then that will dilute the access to power and resources we have.” And it forces the community to maintain adjacency to white supremacy, patriarchy, capitalism, ableism and classism, all while leaving behind entire groups of people."

" Do you think there will be more identities joining the LGBTQIA+ acronym? JP: Yes. The more words we have to describe ourselves, the better we are understood."

"The biggest comparisons are the lack of visibility and exclusion from communities on the basis that they’re weird, different, othered or “don’t belong in this space.” Every queer person has experienced this narrative and as more join under the umbrella, the newbie will experience the same challenges, discrimination and misunderstandings as those who came before." and here is another article that has a quote i just live by

"When did trauma become the mark of queerness?"

but back to the aphobe ->

"Y’all aren’t queer for not wanting to fuck, only fucking sometimes “if you emotionally connect”, or being emotionally unavailable to romantic partnership. "

if you think queer = sex then so help me. queer does not equal sex, queer is sexuality. and guess what that is NOT always sexual. sexuality is who your attracted to, whether it be romantically OR sexually.

and Asexuality is a spectrum, some asexuals never have sex, some don't want to have sex but have had it due to trauma or peer pressure, some don't care for it, some did it for a partner but just dont care about it.

same with aromantic. Its a spectrum. By your process here, so so so so so many people are removed from the lgbtqia+ community but you couldn't possibly mean that-

"And if you aren’t also gay, trans, or bisexual, you never will be."

-oh you did.

So none of these are part of the community either then? Agender, Bigender, Intersex, genderfluid, pansexual, omnisexual, Omnigender, Questioning, transgender and queer?

interesting anon.

Anyways i hope my followers enjoyed that! Let me know what you think if you finished reading all this!

Love;

An aegosexual, pansexual, aromantic, trans guy with to much fucking time on his hands.

#tw apobia #ask #asks #aromantic #asexual #aroace #aro #ace #aro pride #pride #lgbtqia #ace pride #ace problems #aro problems #cw aphobia #aphobia

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bad268 · 1 year

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Could u write a princess of Monaco and Arthur lecrelc , I see this being written so much for Charles and none for Arthur

thank you :)

Queen of Monaco (Arthur Leclerc X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (haha we have the same mind bc I was already drafting this before you requested it)

Warnings: death of parents and brother (mentioned), google translate, the Monaco curse is affecting Arthur now and that's a warning itself bro. I am in denial about the race results today, so I made this to make me happy.

Pronouns: She/Her

W.C. 4108

Summary: The beginning of the relationship between Arthur Leclerc and the Queen of Monaco.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(@/Arthur's insta from January 29, 2023)

It was a normal day in Monaco. It was not a race week, and there were no pressing matters to attend. I had just returned to Monaco last week after attending the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in the United States, but I just received my Bachelor's degree and wanted to return home before starting my Master's. I decided to take my first semester online, so I could go home and spend time with my family.

When I got back, my parents urgently began to train me for the throne even though I was not next in line. Despite having an older brother who was scheduled to become the King of Monaco after my parents, he had to serve in the military before he could move forward. They wanted to have me prepare in the event that something happened to him in battle.

I had never really been in the public eye due to my brother being the next in line. He was always the one attending meetings, trainings, and keeping up appearances. I was free to do as I pleased for the most part, but in 2015, they sent me to a training school in London. It taught the basics of monarchy and the foundations of how to run a country. It was the same one my brother attended. Even in my spare time, I found my passion in mechanical engineering and aerodynamics. It took some persuasion, but my parents allowed me to attend MIT after my graduation because they were so sure that I would not be needed. My brother is in the final stages of the training. All he needed to do was finish the last few months of military training, and then he would be crowned.

Upon my return, I learned that my mother was ill, so they wanted to get my brother crowned quickly. However, they practically had to start from square one since I was provided very minimal training in London. My father was furious, not at me, but at the situation they had been placed in. They told me the best thing I could do while they prepare the training is to memorize Monaco as it had been nearly seven years since I had been here.

I was walking down the pier, looking at all of the little shops that lined the pavement and the boats at the dock. There was a small ice cream shop, a couple of clothing stores, a few restaurants, and a salon. I realized that I had not had my hair professionally done since before college, so I thought it would be a good idea to treat myself.

“Bonjour, comment puis-je vou aider? (Hello, how can I help you?)” A lady greeted me as I stepped through the door. It was a small shop, no one else was in there, but it was cute and welcoming other than the fact that I could not remember French for the life of me.

“I’m sorry, my French is no good,” I replied sheepishly, fully prepared to leave, but the woman stopped me.

“Oh, not a problem, dear. My name is Pascale, what can I help you with?” She smiled, kindly, leading me over to one of the chairs.

“Well, I haven’t gotten my hair done in almost four years, so I think it’s time to freshen up,” I explained.

“Oh perfect, I can most certainly help with that,” She laughed, placing an apron around my shoulders. “Are you thinking about dye, highlights, trim, cutting…” She started listing more but I couldn't follow along with all of the terminology.

“Uh, probably just a trim,” I chuckled, “my parents would kill me if I showed up with short, dyed hair.”

“Not a problem at all,” she grinned and began cutting the ends, little by little, as we made small conversations. “What do you do for work?”

“I actually don’t have a job at the moment,” technically, “but I just came back from the United States. I was at MIT for the last four years, getting my bachelors in mechanical engineering and aerodynamics, and before that, I attended boarding school in London.”

“That’s interesting,” she hummed, “Sounds like you like Formula 1?”

“Not so much the races. I just like the cars,” I laughed in response. “I like learning what could make the cars better, faster, stronger, and safer, but the actual races aren't something for me. I watched one too many accidents end badly, so I can never find enjoyment in it anymore. The last race I went to was in Japan, and I lost my best friend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that, dear. If you ever need to talk, I’m here,” Pascale consoled. I looked at her confused through the mirror. She just set the scissors down just as her phone got a notification. She pulled out her phone and opened the notification. It was a text message with a picture. “That is my son, Charles, and his best friend, Pierre. They’re in Formula 1. They went out karting today, and he just sent me this.”

“Oh, Charles Leclerc and Pierre Gasly! I know them,” I recognized immediately. “That’s your son?”

“Yeah, he’s always had this passion for driving, so I’m proud to see him living his dreams,” She smiled, putting her phone back, and resumed cutting my hair.

“Well, I’m proud of him too, and I don’t even know him.” I laughed.

“Maybe, if you’d ever change your mind, you could join us for a race,” Pascale offered. “Only if you’re up for it.”

“I’ll have to see, but probably not,” I declined nervously.

“It’s not a problem, dear,” She said, patting my shoulders. “But you are all done. How do you like it?”

My hair was shorter by a couple of inches, but it felt so much lighter and healthier than it did earlier today. “I love it so much, Pascale! Thank you so much! How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing, just promise you’ll think about joining us? It would do you some good to get to know more people, and you could even check out the cars before the race! If you’re not comfortable staying for the race, you can always leave. Just promise you’ll think about it before immediately rejecting it?” She pleaded.

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” I laughed, “but only because you were so persuasive!”

–

The next time I was out in the streets was nearly a week later. My time was being packed with different trainings and attending private events, but nothing public yet so as to not stir up controversy. I decided to go to a local bakery and get some tea and some food. The food in the castle just did not compare to my favorite bakery. Not by a long shot.

When I walked in, there were not a lot of people in there. It was a small shop with only two tables and a counter. There was the person behind the counter, Ella, and three people at the tables. One sat by himself and the other two occupied the second table. I approached Ella and ordered a tea and sandwich. She said she would bring it right over once it was finished, and I approached the man sitting by himself.

“Bonjour,” I greeted, my French was slowly coming back to me but not enough to carry a full conversation. The man looked up from his phone at me. He had blue eyes and shady blonde hair. He had airpods in and took one out as I approached the table. “My name is Y/n. Would it be alright if I sit with you? The other table is filled.”

“Of course,” He responded immediately, moving the bag that was hanging on the other chair to the floor. “I’m Arthur.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur. Thank you for letting me sit with you,” I laughed, taking the seat that he pulled out for me. “I really appreciate that.”

“It’s my pleasure,” He chuckled along, “It was just empty anyway.”

That was the start of an inseparable bond. It was strange having someone so close again because even though I had some friends in school, they were never as close as Arthur was. For the first couple of months, any time that was not filled with training was spent with each other. Whether it be chilling in his apartment, driving around Monaco, boat rides, and random trips around France and Italy, we were content with doing random acts of entertainment. It didn’t take long before he asked me to be his girlfriend.

One thing we knew would be difficult is the time commitments. With his recent change from Formula 3 to Formula 2 and more royal training for me, we knew it was going to be more time-consuming. That didn’t stop us, however. Tuesdays were the most random day of the week, but neither of us had any responsibilities.

One day in particular, the day before he was set to go to Australia, we were at his apartment, and I was helping him pack since he *conveniently* forgot. We had gone to get smoothies and acai bowls earlier that morning before heading to his apartment. Then, after we ate, we put on some music as background noise while we packed and conversed back and forth.

“Would you ever come to a race with me?” He asked as he pulled a couple of shirts out of his closet. “I know you didn’t have a good experience at the last one, but would you be willing to give it another time?”

“I don’t know, A. I get anxiety just knowing you’re racing,” I explained. Moving to fold the shirts he’s pulling out.

“That sound like an improvement!” He laughed, jumping over and wrapping his arms around my shoulders as I put the folded clothes in the suitcase. “When we first started talking, you said no immediately. Now, you’re saying you don’t know.”

“What can I say?” I leaned back into his embrace, “You are pretty persuasive.”

“What are the chances of you coming to the Monaco Grand Prix with me?”

“The odds are in your favor since I don’t go anywhere,” I laughed in response. He turned me around in his arms. He was pouting and had his head tilted slightly. “No, don’t do the puppy face. You know I can’t say no to that face.”

“Please?”

With a heavy sigh and a joking eye roll, I caved. I was about to vocalize my decision, but my phone started ringing. This time, my sigh was out of annoyance after seeing it was from Mila, my personal guard and trainer. “I need to answer that, but yes, I promise to go to the Monaco Grand Prix with you.”

“Of course,” He exclaimed, kissing me all over my face. “I will take care of everything. You go take the call, and I’ll finish packing in here.”

With a small smile, I walked out of his bedroom to the living room and stepped out onto the balcony before answering the phone. “Hi, Mila. What did I forget?”

“Nothing, but are you near the palace?” She responded. Just the tone of her voice made me nervous.

“Not really, I’m about 20 minutes away. Do I need to head back?”

“Yes, let me know when you get here.” And with that, she hung up. I walked back in to see Arthur with his suitcase fully packed by the door.

“I need to head home,” I started. “Something’s not right.”

“That’s fine,” He reassured, pulling me into a hug. “I’ll need to head out for my flight soon anyway, so I’ll walk you to your car.”

During the drive back, my mind wandered. Was there a meeting I missed? I couldn’t remember having anything scheduled on a Tuesday. Most meetings were on Mondays or Wednesdays and policy training sessions were Thursdays and Fridays. Maybe there was a last-minute meeting.

Pulling through the gates, I texted Mila once I parked in our car park, and a few guards were waiting for me. “Hi, what did I miss?”

“Y/n, we need to talk,” one of the guards, Chris, said, and right then, I knew things were worse than I thought. We walked through the corridors to reach one of the meeting rooms, but the only person in there was Mila. The guards immediately turned around and left the room.

“Mila-”

“Have a seat,” She cut me off, gesturing to the seat next to her. I took it hesitantly as I looked at her skeptically. “So, I’m not going to beat around the bush with this. As you know, your mother, the queen, was sick.”

“I assume she died then? That’s what this was for?” I cut her short. However, there was something on her face that said she wasn’t finished. “Okay, I’ll let you continue.”

She shook her head dismissively, “No, it’s fine, but you’re right. She passed away early this morning.”

“So my brother will be crowned when he comes back?”

“That’s the next news,” Mila paused. I encouraged her to just rip the bandaid off because I was getting impatient. “Your father went to the base to get your brother, but there was an explosion. There was a gas leak, and somehow the building they were in exploded. We’re still waiting on the details.”

“Wait, so my entire family…” I trailed off, but she knew where I was going. She just nodded solemnly as she pulled me into her side. “So that means…”

“It means you are to be the queen.”

Third POV

Ever since the Melbourne Grand Prix, Arthur has been talking about how his girlfriend was going to join him on the paddock for the Monaco Grand Prix. To say that his friends and brothers teased him would be putting it lightly. Any chance they could, they asked questions about this “girlfriend” of his that they had never heard of, and Arthur was willing to spill all of the details. On the Thursday before the Monaco Grand Prix when he was driving to the track with Charles, he accidentally let it slip that he actually had not heard from her recently. He asked Charles to check his phone to see if she had texted him recently.

“Wait, you haven't heard from her in over a month and you’re not at all worried?” Charles asked, very concerned for someone he’s never met.

“No, we’ve definitely texted recently,” Arthur responded in disbelief. When they pulled up to a red light, Charles showed him that the last message from her was April 1. “No, we’ve definitely talked.”

“Here, pull over. We’ll switch, so you can call her, and I’ll drive us the rest of the way to the track,” Charles said, already getting out of the car as soon as they were on the shoulder. He immediately dialed her number, and after a few rings, it went to voicemail. He thought about leaving her a voice message, but she was already calling him back before he could start.

“Hey, traffic is hideous, but I’m almost there,” She started her explanation. She was sitting in the backseat with a couple of guards, and Mila as her driver took them to the track. “Are you already there?”

“No, we’re not there yet,” he laughed. “Charles and I are still stuck in traffic, but we noticed that I hadn’t messaged you since the Australian Grand Prix. Thought I would call to see if you were still coming.” Charles was half listening to the conversation, but he was smiling to himself, hearing how lovestruck his younger brother sounded.

“Oh, definitely,” She chuckled. Mila nudged the girl with a knowing grin. “I’ve just been insanely busy recently, but I promised. On the bright side, I finished my training!”

“No way, I’m so proud of you, ma chéri!” Arthur cheered. Charles was a little confused as he pulled into the track, but let it go, knowing Arthur would explain it later. “Does that mean there will be a ceremony or something?”

“You could call it a ceremony, yes,” She giggled. She noticed that they were only a few blocks away from the car park of the track, so she turned her phone away toward her shoulder as she directed a question to Mila, “Could I jump out and meet up with Arthur before the race? I promise I’ll be careful, and I’ll be in the box before it starts.” Mila turned to discuss it with one of the guards who was entirely against it. “Please, I won’t leave Arthur’s side, and you know he’s trustworthy.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight, Mila!” Arthur’s voice could be heard through the phone despite it not being on speaker. She gestured to the phone at her shoulder as Mila tried to reason with the guard.

“I’ll go with you,” Mila said as she started collecting their passes and jumping out of the car that was stopped in the traffic going into the parking lot. Y/n immediately climbed out of the back, pulling her phone back up to her ear.

“Alright, Arthur, where do you want us to meet you?”

First POV

“You seem to have gotten shorter since Melbourne,” I laughed as I ran into Arthur’s arms from where he was waiting at the Dams garage.

“You’re wearing heels,” he pointed out after we pulled away. “What are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

“You say that like you don’t like me in heels,” I teased back.

“Ok, lovebirds,” Mila pulled our attention away from each other, “I am going to head up to our seats. Don’t tell anyone I left.”

“Your secret’s safe with me. Thank you, Mila,” I responded as she started walking away.

“You have seats?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to rely on you for the passes for Mila, so she bought us hospitality seats,” I explain. It wasn’t the whole truth, but I could not just tell him that in the open. “Is it possible to talk somewhere away from the cameras?”

“You’re not breaking up with me, right?” He immediately jumped to conclusions.

“No, no, no, no,” I quickly shut down. “Je t’aime trop pour partir, mon amour. I just want to tell you something. (I love you too much to leave, my love)”

“Je t’aime, ma belle, (I love you, my beauty)” He whispered, pulling me in for a light kiss before leading me back towards the driver’s room he shares with Ayumu. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I took a seat on one of the beanbags as Arthur sat right next to me. I took a deep breath before deciding the best way to tell him was just to say it fast. “Arthur, I need to tell you about my family.”

“Are you trying to have me meet your family already? You could meet my brothers and maman today if you want,” He rambled.

“I can meet them, but you won’t be able to meet my family. That day you left for Australia was the day I found out they passed away.” I paused looking at his reactions. He looked sorrowful as he grasped my hands and ran his thumbs across the backs of my hands. “Maman had an illness, and papa went to get my brother from the base.”

“Your brother’s in the military?” He asked.

“Was,” I answered. He looked even more confused at that before I continued. “He was serving in the military as his last stage of training. Kind of like my trainings, he had to serve in the military.”

“What kind of training did you need to do? Was this part of your degree or something?”

“No, that’s the big secret I haven’t been able to tell you,” I whispered, putting my head down as I felt guilty for not explaining this sooner.

“Anything you have to say, I will accept you either way,” He reassured me as he pulled me into his chest and kissed my head. “I understand that you have your reasons for hiding some things, so whatever this is, it is not going to stop me from loving you.”

“What if it is complex with more spotlight than you already have?” I asked, throwing my head to rest on his shoulder and looking into his blue eyes. “What if it’s a big change?”

“When we go public, it will be a big change, but I’m willing to do anything for you, ma princesse.”

“Reine, (Queen)” I whispered.

“Quoi? (What)” He responded just as fast.

“What if I told you my parents were the king and queen of Monaco? And my older brother was the prince of Monaco? And now that they’re gone, I will be the queen of Monaco? What would you do?”

He went silent for a few seconds before whispering, “Are you serious?” My silence was enough of an answer for him to jump up, pulling me with him as he starts laughing and spinning us in circles. He set me down after a couple of spins before holding me at arm's length, “I would completely understand. I mean you probably didn’t plan on taking the throne because of your brother, and you’d just come back from studying. I only tell people who need to know, and when we met, I wasn’t someone who needed to know. We haven't talked since you found out, so I could never be upset with something like that.”

“But now, if we tell people, you will be heavily scrutinized as people will see you as a potential king,” I signed, happy to know he isn’t upset with me, but still wanting him to see all sides before completely agreeing to move forward. “You’d have more on your list.”

“The only question I would have is if it would interfere with racing,” He turned serious.

“I would never let them keep you from your passions,” I laughed. “They have to respect it by order of the queen.”

“Well, then I would see no issues against continuing to be by your side, ma reine,” he chuckled with a mocking bow.

“Merci mon beau prince, (Thank you my handsome prince)” I mocked back, “now by order of the queen, go win this race.”

“And Arthur Leclerc passes Fredrik Vesti in the final turn of the race,” Crofty shouted over the radio during the final lap of the race. I was up in the hospitality seats with Mila and the guards but headed down to the pitlane a couple of laps before since I was going to be presenting the trophies. I was standing at the pit wall with Charles, Lorenzo, and Pascale, who I met (again) just before the race. “The Monaco Curse is broken for Arthur Leclerc as he wins his first Monaco Grand Prix!”

I left the pit wall to meet everyone at the podium and stopped to meet up with Mila on my way over. She and the guards escorted me through the crowds. “I’ll tell you now, one of you will need to tell Arthur not to out our relationship when I give him his trophy.”

At the podium, I stood behind the steps as Alice announces the winners. “In third place, we have Théo Pourchaire! In second place, we have Frederik Vesti! And in first place, breaking the Monaco Curse, the home favorite, Arthur Leclerc! Presenting the trophies today is the future Queen of Monaco, Y/n.”

“I’m proud of you,” I said to Arthur as I handed him the trophy.

“Merci, now if only Charles could win,” He joked, taking the trophy and posing with it.

“I’ll tell him you’re talking crap about him,” I teased back, moving away to grab the next trophy for Dams. I handed them all out and expressed my congratulations to the other two drivers before posing for the picture and immediately ducking back as I knew Arthur would try to spray me. I walked down the stairs to meet up with Charles before he heads back to Ferrari for his own race. “Arthur’s talking shit about you. You better win.”

“I’m starting sixth, so we have hope,” Charles responded as he rolled his eyes.

“Just don’t box for hards at the last lap again and you’ll be fine,” I laughed as if it were really that simple.

“Maybe I broke the curse for both of us or maybe I just had some good luck today,” Arthur said, coming up behind us and throwing his arm around my shoulders.

“Oh yeah, what good luck did you have?” Charles teased, punching Arthur into me.

“Maybe just the future queen of Monaco.”

~~~~~

#arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #formula 2 #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #bad268 #ship268 #thing268 #arthur x reader #f2 #f1 #dams racing

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actias-android · 8 months

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Absolutely wild to me that I know so many nonhumans on a server which isn't about nonhuman stuff at all and a lot of them literally aren't in "the community" or anything. Shit, most of them avoid "serious otherkin" and "serious therians" because they're just not interested in gatekeeping and discourse and all the inventing of terms, and don't relate at all to phantom limbs or dysphoria, so they've even questioned whether they count. Which is sad, man. We had a whole conversation about it and like, the entire moderation crew is plural and nonhuman and autistic and trans and furry, a bunch of the members hit all five too and almost everyone hits at least 2-3, like it's SO goddamn common for some reason in there. People I hadn't even thought were nonhuman chimed in and surprise, they are too. They just feel like they don't want to commit to terminology or a solid identity because the subculture is overwhelming and unrelatable.

This is ultimately why I'm so big on the separation of otherkin-the-subculture from nonhuman-the-identity. There are SO MANY nonhumans out there who just do not want to be otherkin but have no idea that they can simply not be otherkin. It's not helpful or good to have a single subculture become synonymous with a huge range of identity. Inb4 "that's what alterhuman was for" because you basically still have to have dabbled in the kin subculture to hear about it, and adding more overlapping circles to a Venn diagram that people don't wanna touch in the first place isn't doing them any service.

I think there really just needs to be multiple nonhuman subcultures doing their own things with no attempt to unify them. I think it's bad actually to try and shove too many disparate things into one big pool. Like, they don't have to not communicate and they can share members, but overall a single monolith subculture just cannot be everything to everyone and that's normal even.

#otherkin #nonhuman #kin #alterhuman #therian

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iddybiddysquish · 1 year

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I Regret Request: Aizawa x Yamada x Reader

Masterlist: Here

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Gender: AFAB

Warnings: Student x teacher! Oral (fem receiving), fingering, toys, anal penetration, marking, A/B/O quirk, arousal quirk, anal play, ass eating, oral sex, anal sex, creampie and sir kink - not good with terminology to let me know if I've missed anything!

Notes: Feedback is welcomed and I hope you have a good time reading! This is quite self indulgent and my first time writing smut so be gentle with me pls <3 Reader has the ability to copy and edit quirks! Not beta read, we die like men.

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'I regret everything.' I whined as I laid in my bed, thighs heavy with slick as I came for the 12th time that morning. It has only been an hour or so since I'd awoken to an aching need in my cunt that was impossible to ignore and a fever so hot that I was starting to see stars.

I was exhausted and yet nowhere near satisfied. I knew I was going to need to call in sick with how painful this arousal is.

It took me a while to figure out what the cause was. At first I thought I'd been hit with an arousal quirk in my sleep, as impossible as that is. However the more I looked into the quirks I'd copied at random that took my interest, I discovered something that I didn't know when I copied the quirks.

Quirk: A/B/O

This quirk gives the user characteristics of the A/B/O genre, including giving them a second gender. This gives them claws and fangs that can retract as well as basics such as enhanced senses and physiological changes such as scent glands and enhanced animalistic thinking.

Quirk: Estrus

This quirk gives the user the ability to cast uncontrollable arousal in individuals who are touched or are within a 5 m distance.

Apparently, this included heat and rut cycles as well as an estrus cycle, the latter of which is experienced because of the quirk with the same name - side effects of both quirks. It's not helped by the fact that I was weeping out of every hole - even my ass now had a uterus and there was a third uterus with a vaginal opening between my anus and normal vagina, both with slick pouring out of them, like male Omega’s get in the Omegaverse and it was killing me. Three vaginas was too much to contend with when all I had were handheld toys at my disposal.

'I don't have enough hands for this shit.'

What made things worse was that I was capable of experiencing a mating season as well as a heat or a rut despite not being an Alpha, which confused me. I was clearly an Omega - even having the male equivalent of uteruses.

To cum more readily I even activated a quirk that gave me both male and female genitalia but the friction, despite my slick, was starting to hurt my sensitive head and thick knot that had formed from my last orgasm, and I was nowhere near feeling satisfied. So I deactivated it and wiped my hands clean before searching for my phone with disdain.

I am irritable and whiny all whilst pining for an Alpha to be submissive towards. It's a weird concoction that I wasn't appreciating as I laid in what I now realised was a nest of blankets and pillows I'd created to house myself as I cried from over and under stimulation.

Everything was made worse by the fact that I had no clue how long this would last.

‘Is this monthly or annually?’

The more I looked into this quirk the worse I felt, especially as I discovered I would have an annual mating season, would go into heat monthly, would go into estrus biweekly and would go in a rut whenever someone else experienced either one of these phenomena - so I could experience all of these at once, as I was, on top of an estrus cycle that corresponds with my menstrual cycle. I would’ve breathed a sigh of relief if I didn’t remember that there are many other people who would go through heat, estrus and or mating season, meaning I would be triggered into a rut by these and could even be triggered just by using the Estrus quirk.

‘I blame Tokoyami’s mating season…!’ I groaned, ‘Then at least it would just be a heat, estrus and a mating season…’

I wanted to cry.

“I can’t take this any more.” I moaned, deciding quickly I needed to call the school and explain what was going on. I needed help with this; there must be someone with a similar quirk that they’ve known about. After all, I copied these things from someone else.

Much to my surprise, when I explained to the receptionist I needed to speak to Aizawa, I was passed to him relatively quickly.

“(L/N)-san.” he greeted, “Are you unwell?”

“Something like that.” I groaned, crossing my legs tightly, “I’m in a very… difficult situation and I need some guidance.”

“I can help you in class if you want?” he begged, “If you get here sooner we can discuss it before class.”

“I… I don’t know if I can come to class.” I basically whispered. Aizawa frowned at this on the other side of the line with concern.

“Should I be concerned, (L/N)-san?” I sighed.

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you tell me the problem first?” he begged, walking down the hallway to get away from people, realising quickly that this was a private conversation, “Then I can tailor my aid better.” I groaned.

“This is going to be super awkward, so I’m sorry.” I warned, earning a grunt which sent a painful zap towards my clit, making me flush, “I copied a quirk.”

“Uh-huh…” he nodded when I didn’t say anything else for a few seconds.

“It’s given me a clusterfuck of hormones.” I explained slowly, “I’m essentially experiencing a mating season, a heat and a rut simultaneously as well as an estrus cycle - they are different. And I’m a bit scared.”

“... I wasn’t expecting that.” he admitted, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “I assume you’re in halls?” I nodded.

“Yeah.” I laughed humorlessly, “I know, right? I only discovered this would happen today because it’s happening now.

“I didn’t think to look at the weaknesses when I copied the quirk. It just seemed so interesting I couldn’t pass it up. Even if I edit the quirks I can't get rid of what I'm experiencing right now.”

“Stay in the halls.” he confirmed, “I’ll do some research and see what strings I can pull. You won’t be the first to experience either one of those things and I doubt you’ll be the last.

“For now, remain in your room. I’ll explain to the class that you’re having some… complications with your quirk and not to visit you.” he hummed, looking over at the watch on his wrist, “I’ll try to contact you by the end of the day and recommend you stockpile some food whilst the others are gone.” I nodded.

“Thanks sensei. I appreciate it.” he nodded.

“I’ll talk to you later. Stay safe.”

“You, too.”

And just like that I breathed a sigh of relief and laid back down, hand drifting down to my painfully empty holes and clit, only to come away with heavy slick dripping from my fingers. I groaned, pulling my head into a pillow and screaming for a few minutes before going back to playing with myself, unable to hold on for much longer without some kind of stimulation.

To say that Aizawa was concerned was an understatement. One of his prized students was suffering as he walked towards the classroom pondering the best course of action. The reality was that he knew she needed relief but he also knew that he was her teacher and shouldn't approach her. He'd be abusing the situation and his position.

Didn't mean he wasn't still tempted to pay her a visit to see her for himself.

Her quirk had always fascinated him. The ability to copy other quirks wasn't necessarily unusual nor was it unsurprisingly powerful. But it was how she used it to her advantage that impressed him. She thought outside the box and adapted to new quirks so effortlessly that he couldn't help but be in awe.

In all honesty it all went right to his cock.

'Not now…' he cursed, shuffling his pants around to hide the growing chub before entering the classroom with the same enthusiasm as he did every morning.

“Good morning, students.” Aizawa greeted, catching everyone off guard, Denki and Kirishima running to their seats as soon as he entered the room.

“You’re here early, sir?” Yaoyorozu spoke up, raising her arm. Aizawa nodded.

“I have an announcement.” he confirmed, “As you know, Tokoyami is still off. However (L/N)-san is having some complications with her quirk.

“As a result it would be wise for you all to leave her be in her room and don’t communicate with her until it resolves. It’s likely to last for at least a week.”

“So we won’t see her at all?” Ashido begged, earning the shake of a head.

“But what about food?” Hagakure begged, “(L/N)-san eats a lot.” Aizawa removed some of his hair from his face, thinking about the response, before answering.

“We might need to ask one of you to deliver the food to her door.” he concluded with distaste, “It’s not ideal but it’s imperative that all of you leave her alone. It might be best to have one of the girls to deliver the meals…” he sighed, fingers to the bridge of his nose, “Although that might not help.”

“Is she well?” Uraraka begged, concerned. Aizawa nodded.

“She’s not sick. It’s just something related to her quirk.”

“Why do they have to be female?” Iida begged, raising his arm. Aizawa groaned.

“It’s not necessary. But it would be best that all the men stay away from her door.”

“Why?” Kirishima begged, “What would require only the men to stay away?”

“Is it the same reason as Tokoyami?” Asui begged, raising her hand before Aizawa could respond. He sighed.

“Wait, why is Tokoyami away?” Midoriya begged her way.

“Mating season.” Asui noted casually with a shrug.

"Oh hell yeah!" Mineta cheered, causing Sero to cringe.

"You are banned from that floor, Mineta." Aizawa warned, his hair flying all over the place as he glared, earning a gulp from the boy. His words caused everyone to turn back to Aizawa, who was rubbing his temples.

“It’s a private matter. That’s all you need to know.” Bakugou raised a brow at this.

“So who’s gonna feed her?” he begged with a glare. Immediately everyone turned to Bakugou, causing his brow to twitch violently, “Why me?!”

“You love cooking.” Todoroki stated as though it were obvious. Shinsou snorted and Bakugou ‘tched’ and looked away sharply, glaring ahead of him as Aizawa looked at his watch again before divulging into the remaining announcements, none of which really kept Aizawa's attention.

He concluded he needed to speak to his friend and coworker about this issue. (L/N)'s recklessness was beginning to worry him and he knew he would need to be careful when he mentioned this to Yamada.

Aizawa wasn't the only person to be almost infatuated with the girl. She was arguably Yamada's favourite student. She was studious, curious and, to top it off, she was attractive.

'Not now…' he cursed to himself as he left the classroom to wait for his friend to turn up for English class. In his mind this issue couldn't wait. He was tapping his thigh as he contemplated the position (L/N) was in, writhing in desire without him there to help.

It was becoming a common thought and problem for his trousers to contain.

"Yo!" Yamada grinned, throwing finger guns at Aizawa. For once Aizawa seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, even if it was to help distract from his ever growing erection.

"We need to talk." Yamada blinked, smile faltering as he took in Aizawa's appearance.

He looked as exhausted as usual, but this time there was worry. It was clear as day that he was contemplating something and it worried the blond. Aizawa was antsy as his eyes flickered around to make sure they were alone before his tone dropped.

"It's about (L/N)." He warned, the topic regaining his attention.

"Sure thing. What's up, man?" He begged, leaning against the wall casually.

Yamada attempted to look casual, but deep down he was concerned. (L/N) was rarely in trouble and fairly low maintenance as a student. So it had to be serious for Aizawa to approach him like this and risk making him late for class.

"She took on a random quirk." Aizawa sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in disdain, "A Quirk that gave her heat."

Yamada blinked. Once then twice.

"You don't mean what I think you mean, surely?" Was all he could say, earning a dead eyed look from Aizawa that told him everything he needed to know. He sighed and shook his head, "Right. So she's not in class, right?" Aizawa nodded, "Damn that's a shame.

"So what's up?"

"I am worried about her." Aizawa admitted, also leaning against the wall opposite the blond. Yamada raised a brow but thought carefully before he spoke.

"She's alone, right?" Aizawa nodded.

"Tokoyami is at home." Yamada nodded before rubbing his chin.

"We should probably pay her a visit." Aizawa raised a brow, causing the blond to raise his hands, "To check on her. Make sure none of the boys get to her." The pair immediately thought of a certain grape-like fellow and simultaneously sighed.

"Point taken." Aizawa nodded before pushing off the wall. With a grin Yamada did the same before slapping his hand on Aizawa's shoulder.

"She's strong willed. She should be fine. Worst case scenario she has us to look after her." Aizawa smirked and nodded.

"Right."

With another nod Aizawa walked away and Yamada made his way to English class. And although they both felt better knowing they had each other's backs, they were still worried deep down.

In truth both were attracted to the girl. And they knew it was irrational given tshe was their student, even if she was 18 and a legal adult - that was their only rationale they both held onto.

Neither, however, felt threatened by the other. They had a mutual understanding that both cared for the girl and that if either had a chance, they could take it. But if they hurt her, they'd feel the consequences.

I waited and waited until I knew the coast was clear. The only other person would’ve been Tokoyami two floors below, but he was staying at home, so for the first time I was on my own in the halls. Despite this, I was nervous to leave the safety of my nest to the point that I waited for far longer than I needed to.

It just didn’t feel right.

Opening the door I went to walk forward, but found myself freezing in the spot at all the scents.

“Oh… my god.” I reeled, gulping.

It took me a good few minutes just standing there in order to get used to all the smells. Some were pleasant, some were repulsive.

But others were tasty.

‘The strongest scent is…’ I realised quickly, mouth watering, ‘Bakugou’s…’

My scent-clouded mind wasn’t so surprised by this reveal. Bakugou smells like burnt caramel normally, so it’d make sense that I’d be attracted to it. It really was a no-brainer, even if I longed not to be attracted to the interesting scent, just glad that he wasn't here to witness this. It's not like I was actually interested in him beyond his tantalising smell.

The scent that I wasn't expecting to be drawn to, however, was that of Shinsou's. It was soft and tantalising. Like a comfortable cloud. It made me relax and feel like curling up and taking a nap despite my current circumstances.

What was more interesting was the minty freshness that was Todoroki’s scent I could detect from the elevator.

‘It’s almost spicy to the senses.’ I mused, feeling a wave of calmness wash over me.

Again, it didn’t surprise me that I felt myself drifting his way. Todoroki was very attractive and we had been getting closer as of late. It was almost predictable.

However the scent that was most tantalising, surprisingly, was Aizawa's. It was the faintest since he was rarely here. But it was still there, teasing me and making my mouth water.

'Does he know he smells that good?'

I had to slap myself to stop myself from following his scent and instead made a beeline for the kitchen and raided my pantry, grabbing every snack and unspoilable food I could before running back to my room. I was as quick as I could feasibly be. But as I went to close the door, I found myself peeking outside and down the hallway towards Aizawa's scent.

I shook my head.

‘I can’t go sneaking around like this.’ I scolded myself as my Omega whined at me, begging to investigate. I shook my head again as I felt my thighs clench and almost whined myself.

“No. I can’t.” But I didn’t move away from the door.

‘... Ugh why does he have to smell like that?!’ I cursed, looking back down the hall. Before I even realised what I was doing, I was sneaking towards the heavenly scent, as though I were about to be caught at any moment. I could feel Aizawa scolding me, but of course it never came since he was in class with everyone else.

‘This would be so amoral of me…’

Despite knowing this, I found myself turning myself invisible as I stalked towards the teachers quarters.

However when I arrived I was smacked in the face with the scent of Yamada. And suddenly I felt my cunt clench as I took in the double scent of the pair that made my mouth water.

'Lord save me…' I almost moaned as I thought about where I wanted to investigate first.

'I came here for Aizawa…' I sighed, eyeing Yamada's door. But with only slight hesitation I made my way towards Aizawa's door with a small promise made by my Omega to visit Yamada's soon after.

I cringed at the squeak as the door opened, checking there was no one else around, but I was quickly blindsided by the absolute raw stench of his scent and felt my Omega trill in happiness.

From there I had zero control of myself as I entered his room and closed the door behind me, sniffing deeply as I attempted to fill my entire lungs with his scent.

Naturally, his bed smelt the strongest. And I couldn’t stop myself from lying on it and taking a deep breath of his pillow. With little effort I could fall asleep here and God did I want to.

However, I didn’t want to be caught by a cleaner or anything, so I regretfully removed myself from his bedding and skulked around his room with intrigue.

It was fairly neat and tidy. Everything was neatly packed away - even his dirty clothes were in the hamper, none left in sight. There were a few personables, such as collectables and books. I was drawn to the books, noting that a lot of them were either fiction or textbooks for class, some of which were missing, before looking over the neatness that was his desk with little surprise.

I couldn’t help rummaging through his things as though I were searching for something. But I was careful enough to put everything back exactly as I found it before eyeing the exit with disappointment.

However I trilled when I realised it wasn't over yet as I had Yamada's room to visit yet.

‘I need to leave.’ I concluded, anxiously despite feeling safe immersed in his scent. Regardless, I needed to get back and the need to hide was strong.

I couldn’t force myself to leave quickly. I eyed the bed and whined before eyeing his dirty clothing hamper with a dangerous thought in my mind.

‘I can’t.’ I argued as I looked inside, moving things around a bit as I took in his scent further, ‘He’d so notice if I took something of his.’

As if that was the only reason not to steal his clothing like some kind of smell-pervert.

‘Man I’ve really stooped to a new low.’ I concluded as I pawed at a shirt of his that smelt the strongest. Instincts told me I needed it for my nest and no matter how much I tried to rationalise, I found myself stealing the shirt and running back to the hallway, only to freeze when I took in the delicious scent of Yamada.

Shirt in hand I looked around carefully before skulking towards his room and quietly padding my way inside. I immediately jumped on his slightly messy bed and squealed to myself as I took in his warm scent.

Both scents were different. Aizawa's was warm, like sandalwood and cedar. It was calming and inviting. Yamada's, on the other hand, was unusual. Partly because of his hair gel, but despite that he smelled sweet and juicy, like citrus.

I enjoyed the polar scents greedily as I searched his floor for something he wouldn't miss if I took it. Finding a shirt with a hole in the armpit, I shrugged and took it before giving his room one last look over.

His room was more messy than Aizawa's, though I didn't mind. There were posters and artwork around the room with photos and other personables. It was busy, but inviting.

I knew I had little time left, so I spent it nosing through his things before leaving and using the invisibility quirk. I needed to leave despite my pouting and whining Omega and more importantly I needed to get back to my room to hide - from everyone and my shame.

I was grateful to Aizawa for warning off the rest of the class now that I’d committed a crime. But the way my Omega praised my decision left me feeling euphoric, especially as I snuggled the shirts and preened the den I’d created.

I spent most of my time preening, snuggling their shirts and masterbating. It was a simple routine as I stored my snacks carefully as though I was creating a proper den to live in. And I supposed I was, given I’d be stuck here for the next however long it would be before I could go back to normal.

When I started to hear the whirl of the elevator and the sounds of people talking that was my first clue that school was over. My next clue was the knock at my door.

"(L/N), it's Midoriya!" He whispered, making me blink and look over at the door. I immediately raised a brow but didn't say anything as I heard him shuffle on his feet, "Just wanted to let you know everyone is thinking of you. Try to hang in there. I'm sure Sensei will help you out!"

'I can think of a few ways he could help me…'

"Midoriya?" I blinked, tilting my head as I took in Todoroki's voice, "What are you doing?"

"J-Just checking something!" He squeaked before I heard his footsteps recede along with Todoroki's as their voices got further away.

I felt myself swell with happiness even if I found myself growling at the intrusion. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything back though as the pair muttered to one another quietly before going to their individual rooms. I found myself on edge, listening intently to everyone returning to their dorms or going elsewhere as I hid in my nest.

I had no idea how anxiety-inducing it would be now that everyone was back. But now I knew: it’s very anxiety-inducing.

I managed to fall asleep by burrowing myself with blankets and pillows. However I stirred when I sensed someone outside of my door, hearing them muttering something to themselves.

That’s when I realised it was Aizawa of all people.

I practically leaped out of my nest, thoroughly ruining it, and leaned across the door, taking in a deep breath of his scent. It was then I realised I smelt something else tasty and wondered if he’d made food for me.

My heart and Omega leapt at the thought.

"(L/N)-san." He spoke curtly, "Yamada and I will be delivering your food from now. Eat up."

'For me…?'

I had to claw at myself not to open the door and jump on him. Taking deep breaths I tried to focus on the smell of the food instead of the smell of Aizawa as I listened to his footsteps recede. And only when I was sure he’d retreated did I open the door and take the contents, eating quickly before leaving the bowl outside of the door as he had done.

This continued morning and evening for the next few days and sadly I wasn’t improving despite ordering new toys and other kinky tools to try and earn some relief. I was extremely grateful for Hagakure bringing them to me, oblivious to the contents, although I realised quickly she was hoping he’d get to see me when she knocked on the door. I heard her sit down outside of it as she began telling me about what I’d missed at school.

It was sweet of her.

"I had to run so fast for so looooong!" She whined, "How was I supposed to know her quirk? She kicked the crap outta me!" I giggled at this, though I felt immediately upset at the last thing she said, "But don't worry! Recovery Girl patched me right up!"

I sighed with relief and relaxed again.

I considered sitting by the door, but I was too desperate for a release, I worried I’d open it and ruin everything. And of all people, as wonderful as Hagakure is, my rational brain and Omega didn't want to have sex with her.

Only Aizawa or Yamada would work. They were my prime Alphas.

So I didn’t and waited for her to leave before taking the box and abusing its contents.

By the time I had finished it was dinner time, and I basically sat glued to the door with blankets on me as I listened for Aizawa or Yamada to arrive.

The strength of the symptoms seemed to wax instead of wane as time went on and I realised I was starting to really struggle when I heard familiar footsteps coming towards the door. However much to my surprise I detected a second immediately and jumped out of my bed to take in the scent of who was approaching my room, greedily, once I realised who was approaching.

"She hasn't said a word." Yamada uttered, stretching his arms up towards the air, "I'm worried!"

"She's doing what I told her to. We should be pleased." Aizawa shrugged as the pair got closer and stood outside the door, "Maybe she'll talk soon." Yamada sighed and nodded.

"So as long as she hasn't spoken to any of the other students I can't complain." Yamada muttered, earning a low chuckle from Aizawa before he knocked on my door.

"(L/N). Your food is here."

I immediately began to purr and nuzzle the door, pretending it was them.

"Alphas…" I muttered.

However it wasn't the same. I wanted to be closer. I wanted them.

"(L/N)?" Yamada begged hearing me. He leaned closer to the door and began to hear my purring. He frowned and eyed Aizawa, who raised a brow.

"Are you okay?" Aizawa begged. I nodded.

"Better now you're both here." I hummed, still nuzzling the door.

Neither teacher knew what to make of that. But they both were happy to make her happy if nothing else.

"How you doing, kid?" Yamada begged, crouching down to my level. Aizawa looked around before doing the same.

I immediately whined.

"Horribly." I almost cried as I felt along the door, "Need knot really bad…"

"Knot?" Yamada begged lowly earning a sigh from Aizawa.

"You know we can't give you that, (L/N)." Aizawa explained, "You're our student."

"So?" I protested.

Yamada quickly realised what the pair were talking about and gulped. The thought hadn't just crossed his mind, but burrowed it's way deep into his brain. He could just imagine how her mouth would taste as he took her.

He immediately shook his head, earning a raised brow from Aizawa, though he said nothing.

"Please?" I begged, reaching for the doorknob. When the door clicked as I opened it, the pair sat back and looked in as I peaked my head out, giving my best puppy dog eyes I could muster, "Need you really bad, Sir."

Both men felt that go straight to their cocks, both twinging in their pants.

The pair could see I was flushed. They didn't need to know the details to know that I'd been cumming all day - the smell of sex was evidence enough. It wasn't helping the predicament in their trousers, unfortunately. Aizawa had a stronger will than Yamada, however, who immediately reached out to cup my cheek. I pouted up at him.

"You're burning up sweetness." He sighed, "We should get Recovery Girl to look you over." I shook my head.

"I just need you."

Yamada's will was slowly being chipped away the longer he stared at his pretty girl, cheeks puffed up and body wanting. However Aizawa had more clarity as he stood up with a sigh.

"I'll get you some paracetamol." He concluded, "Keep her in her room."

Yamada immediately saluted him and turned back to me. I was pouting.

"Don't leave me." I whined, opening the door slightly to peak out further as his body began to retreat.

"I won't be long." And with that he headed towards the elevator, leaving the pair of us together.

With a sigh I sat back down and let the door open fully as I set my eyes on Yamada, who was desperately trying to look anywhere other than my hardened nippled through my shirt or the visible wet patch of my underwear.

It wasn't an easy task.

"How you holding up?" He begged as he looked around the room, noting all the blankets and pillows covering the bed and floor. He wasn't sure how she amassed that many but it looked cosy.

"Desperate." I sighed, tightly holding my arms as I attempted to stop myself from jumping him, "Really need knot. Please, Sir." I begged, slowly unfolding myself and crawling towards him.

Yamada jumped as I got closer and looked around panicked as though he were about to be caught. He knew this was inappropriate but he couldn't help the erection in his pants that jumped when he got a good look at my cleavage.

I sashayed up to him, swaying my hips gently as I slowly crawled onto his lap even as he backed up and hit the wall. He gulped when as I put my hands either side of his face and tilted my head, a pleading look in my eyes.

"I need you, Sir. I'll beg if you want me to."

"Uhh…" he stammered, "(L/N) we shouldn't be doing this-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence when I sat fully on his lap and pressed against his hardened cock, causing him to gasp and lean his head back. I smirked when I felt his hands grasp my hips.

"We really shouldn't." He muttered with a groan. However when I rocked slowly I felt his hands move to my ass as he moaned. I mewelled as the tip of his cock pressed into my wet clit and couldn't help myself but to rock more readily against him, clawing at his chest and yanking on his shirt. He began to guide me, pulling at my hips and placing my hips in the best place to rock against his cock.

It was then that the elevator doors opened, revealing an upset looking Aizawa when he caught sight of us. I smiled as he approached.

"Join us, Alpha." I purred as I stood and pulled Yamada up and into my den. Aizawa blinked and followed, intent on trying to save his friend from my clutches.

However when he entered and placed the pills on the table he saw that Yamada was already making out with me as I sat atop of him on the bed.

Aizawa sighed.

"You'll be in serious trouble if you do this." Aizawa concluded, calmer than he probably should be. Neither Yamada nor I knew which of us he was talking to. But I concluded it was likely both of us.

I smirked.

"I'm a bad girl?" I begged, pulling away from Yamada as I sat up and moved towards Aizawa, like a predator stalking its prey.

For once Aizawa felt uncertain as his resolve weakened. He took in my appearance with greedy eyes as Yamada grinned over at him and gave a thumbs up. I pulled Aizawa to me, placing my hands over his chest as I felt him up and leaned close to his lips.

"Please, Sir? I promise to be good. I'll do whatever you tell me to."

My words were thick like honey. He felt his cock jump to life again as her hands slowly glided closer and closer to his belt.

With a sigh he made his choice and headed towards the door, severely disappointing me and confusing Yamada. However, to my relief, all he did was close the door before he grabbed me by the neck and forced his lips onto mine.

I immediately mewled as Yamada came up from behind and pulled my hair to force my neck to be exposed to him so he could nip and suck at the delicate flesh. I moaned into the kiss as Aizawa felt along my stomach and slipped his fingers into my panties.

It was no shock to Aizawa that I was practically flooding with slick - they'd seen it through my underwear after all. No, what surprised him was how readily my body was prepared for him as I sucked in his fingers tightly. He almost groaned into the kiss as he slipped in a second finger.

Yamada's hands, too, began to glide down my body, resting to grope my ass. However he paused when he noticed there was slick coming from my asshole as well and curiously decided to investigate with his finger, still keeping a tight grip on my hair. I moaned as both began to finger me as I let my underwear fall to the floor and rocked against them.

"Well we don't need any lube." Yamada snorted, earning one from Aizawa. I bit my lip at the prospect of both taking me, wanting to both speed things up and slow it down so I could get to the good parts but also to experience it for a longer period of time.

When both sets of fingers retreated I whined.

“No, Sir-”

“Shhh.” Aizawa muttered, shoving his fingers in my mouth. I moaned as I sucked, cleaning them as best as I could with drool escaping from my mouth. Aizawa smirked down at me as he slowly pulled his fingers from my mouth, Yamada grinning behind me.

“Such a good girl for us, huh, (F/N)?” he whispered in my ear. Immediately I nodded. However, when Yamada pulled away from me I whined again. That was, until he climbed on my bed and reached his hand out for me, “Come over here, kid.” he smirked.

Nodding, I followed his orders as Aizawa started to unbuckle his belt. Yamada then commanded me to get on all fours, so I did as requested, raising my ass into the air and face into the bed. To my surprise, however, he didn’t touch his belt. Aizawa, now naked, came onto the bed in front of me and watched as Yamada began to rub my ass and play with my slick that was leaking onto my thighs.

It wasn’t long before he dived into my folds, eating me out with vigour, making me squeal. Aizawa chuckled, grabbing my chin and forcing me to moan out loud for them as he stroked himself. Before I realised what was happening Yamada began to move up past my taint and towards my ass, tonguing it. Aizawa took advantage of my open mouth and slowly shoved his cock in, making me groan. As Yamada encouraged me to buck as I hollowed out my cheeks and took Aizawa's full size down my throat, making me choke. He lovingly stroked my hair as he forced himself down my throat again with the same result.

"Such a good girl." He muttered. Hearing the praise, Yamada broke free from his feast and slapped my ass hard.

"Does she deserve a little treat?" He begged, wiping his mouth where all the slick had built up. Aizawa grunted as I attempted to take his cock down my throat right to the base but ended up choking again. Still he stroked my throat as I did, watching as tears slid down my cheeks.

"I'll take that as a yes." Yamada chuckled, going back to eating my ass. However, he introduced his fingers, slipping two effortlessly into my aching cunt and using his thumb to play with my clit. On top of that he began to penetrate my asshole with his tongue, which added a whole different level of pleasure.

Aizawa immediately chuckled as I moaned through his cock. He couldn't lie, the dirty noises that I strangled to make because of what Yamada was doing was a huge turn on. He never thought about having a threesome with the man but he was having a good time.

Yamada on the other hand had always been more open to these sorts of ideas. Especially with his friend. And even more so with his favourite student. This was the sort of thing he fantasised about, albeit maybe not with Aizawa but he was happy with it nonetheless.

As Yamada ate me out I continued my ministrations on Aizawa, using my hand to massage and grope his balls gently, earning a pleased groan, which made Yamada chuckle. It was enough to get Aizawa to begin lazily bucking into my mouth. Eventually he started to slowly pick up the pace as his thrusts got more serious. Simultaneously Yamada slipped in a third finger as I started to get close, my hips stuttering against his face.

I was close and they both knew it. Yamada sped up his ministrations and I sped up my own. Aizawa gritted his teeth as he picked up the pace, grabbing the hair he was once delicately stoking and yanking it as he used my throat as a personal cock sleeve. It wasn't long before I came on Yamada's fingers.

Aizawa wasn't far behind. His hips were beginning to stutter as tears streamed down my face with each thrust. When he finally was about to finish, however, he pulled out and came down my front.

I coughed and groaned, falling to my side as I recovered once Aizawa let go of his vice-like grip on my hair. Yamada chuckled.

"Oh c'mon kid, we both know you aren't done yet." I grinned lazily up at him and nodded.

"Of course, Sir."

"Good girl." Aizawa affirmed, pulling me over his lap. I squeaked as Yamada slotted himself undere from the front before he smeared Aizawa's cum along my breasts. When he reached my nipples he tweaked them, making me whine.

"You ready?" Yamada begged as he lined himself up with my pussy. Aizawa grunted as they both waited for my go. I nodded almost immediately.

"Yes Sir!"

"Very good." Aizawa muttered as he lined himself up with my asshole.

I wasn't given any warning as the pair entered me quickly, simultaneously. I let out a loud moan as they both paused inside of me, having sheathed themselves down to the hilt.

"God…" Yamada moaned, "You feel so good, kid. So good for us."

Yamada's grip tightened to a bruising grip on my hips whilst Aizawa's hand was on the back of my neck, forcing me onto Yamada and down on their cocks as the pair pulled out almost entirely before thrusting back in quickly again. My ass and breasts jumped with each thrust as they both started at a slow but sharp pace. It was piercing in the best way possible, sending zaps of pleasure straight through me, which was only intensified when my clit caught on Yamada's pubic hair.

I felt full. And I realised I really liked that sensation.

"Yes Sir! Please, right there!" I begged as the pair picked up the pace, slamming perfectly into those spongy areas that felt eye wateringly good, so much so that, as the pace quickened, I began to feel my orgasm building.

"I-I'm getting close, Sir…!"

"Don't cum yet." Aizawa snarled in my ear.

"You don't cum until we say so. Right, kid?" I whined.

"P-please, Sir!" I pled. However the pair looked at one another before stopping. I almost cried, "No, please-!"

"You don't cum until we say so. Right?" Aizawa affirmed. I nodded feverently.

"Yes Sir…"

"Good girl." Yamada praised before they both started to fuck me again. As I got closer I panicked and quickly told the pair again, which ended in the same motion. This happened a few more times before I was literally crying from overstimulation.

"P-please, Sir! I need it so badly!"

"No."

"Aw c'mon. I think she deserves a treat." Yamada grinned, "Don't you think, Aizawa?" I nodded furiously in agreement. I heard Aizawa sigh before he gave in.

"You have been good so far…" he agreed, making me trill in happiness.

"Thank you!"

And just like that the pair didn't hold back. Their only goal was to make me cum and damn I was close. Each thrust led to a zap of pleasure as they bullied their way inside of me, making space for their huge cocks.

It wasn't long before I came undone, screaming at the top of my lungs as I clamped around them and locked up. From there the pair continued to fuck me through my high. And they just kept going, not giving me a chance to recover and instead building me up for another orgasm.

It was when that hit that the pair began to grow sloppy in their thrusts as their cocks twitched inside of me. It was obvious they were getting close but I knew they wanted me to beg for it.

So I did.

"Please Sir! Please cum in me!" I begged.

"Such a dirty girl." Yamada teased through gritted teeth, nails digging into my hips, "Knows exactly what I wanna hear."

"Such a good girl." Aizawa agreed, pulling me back to meet their thrusts. As I bounced on their cocks I felt myself building again and warned the pair.

"Good. Cum for us. Be a good girl for us." Yamada encouraged. I nodded furiously, biting my lip.

"Yes, yes!" I squealed as I came on their cocks for the third time. And it wasn't long before they both came inside me, first Yamada and then Aizawa.

I slumped, the only support being the two men sandwiching me as we all laid on the bed, never pulling out. I felt safe, satisfied and full.

"I feel so full." I purred, earning two chuckles.

"You rest now." Aizawa muttered, delicately brushing my hair.

"You did good kid." Yamada added, rubbing my back. I smiled.

'This is what I needed. Thank you, Sir.'

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