#Fucking. Who let this woman drive professionally. Why.

[lionblaze03-2]

Kind of obsessed with Pam stardew valley. Btw. If anyone even CARES

[bunnivez]

Modern! Zoya…

Her first job was as a tattoo artist. Most of her costumers were women, they would specifically ask for her to do their tattoos; both because of her amazing work and the other… to get a close look at her. Whats better? Zoya is aware of the many women she is pulling (๑>؂•̀๑)

Imagine you two meet randomly bumping against each other and turns out you work at the shop right next to the one she works at!

Or you got recomendad by your friend to go to a certain shop to get your tattoo done, telling you to specifically ask for a woman named Zoya since her work is more professional and she is more trusted to give you great results.

She used to live in an apartment until she got a husky… I mean she it wasn’t like she couldn’t afford an average house but damn, she now has to pay more…

Has a love-hate relationship with her dog TRUST. Often complains of their sudden howling and the amount of hair they shed.

“It’s 1:30AM why the fuck are you howling like that!? You sound like you’re dying!” “Oh my f… You know i’m tempted in leaving you bald so I don’t have to deal with having your hair on the couch.”

At the same time however, they are also her best buddy and friend. There are times where she even lets them sleep with her on bed… For at least an hour before Zoya falls asleep and accidentally pushes s them off the bed in the middle of the night.

Yes she is a messy sleeper, god knows how the heck she ends up with on leg on the headboard and the other hanging on the bed. She snores like a dad…

Like even her huskey got scared for a second and kept barking until she woke up.

Listen, when going out she has this whole badass outfit, rings on her fingers, chains, unbuttoned blouse, a whole ass fit that screams “DADDY”

And then there are times where she just pulls up to the grocery store with an “Idgaf” outfit… Yet somehow she still looks hot. Jorts, a black baggy shirt, socks with the damn sandals or crocs combo (ಠ_ಠ)

Has a tongue piercing and you cannot tell me otherwise. If not, it is definitely her nipples.

Dark or alcohol filled chocolates girly. She isn’t a fan of overly sweet stuff.

Once choked on boba balls.

Honestly she can be romantic at times. She takes you to dates often— if not she plans something you two can do at home. Like cook, watch movies, play games or something.

Motorcycle rides with her are very common, more so with the fact that she doesn’t really own a car… Which she did confess that she may or may not be the best at driving.

Who knows how the heck she managed to stay alive with the many incidents she’s had while driving.. I guess she’s immortal.

Has an electric guitar, she posts videos on TikTok playing it and they get pretty high views! Like 406.1k views or something.

Her reposts mainly contain of two things; brain rots, lesbian.

Takes the most silly pictures of you and posts them on her story.

Source ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

HAHAHSGSBSGAVAWHABE, IMAGINE HER LAYING DOWN WHILE YOU SIT ON TOP OF HER TO DO HER MAKEUP.

Holds you like a stuffed animal when sleeping. It’s actually so cute but it’s kinda hard to break free from her hold.

YOU GUYS PLAY ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS, AND WHOEVER LOSES IS IN CHARGE OF COOKING.

Her cooking is actually pretty damn good! I feel like she is especially a specialist when it comes to cooking meat.

If you are too shy to order your food whenever you two are out, or pay, DO NOT WORRY, SHE LITERALLY IS YOUR SAVIOR, NO KIDDING. This woman gives no fucks at all, too shy to order? She’ll do it, hot your order wrong? She’ll go up and tell them.

Have I mentioned she gets up at 5AM just to do pushups?…

The type to randomly smack or grab your ass, she doesn’t care about the size.

I don’t recommend watching romance movies with her… she will cringe at any kissing scenes acting like she wouldn’t or doesn’t do that with you 24/7.

Not the best at dancing… Girl is STIFF.

I have the feeling she is the type to not admit that she is in pain during her period. She will act all tough and all until she can’t anymore.

(We need more comforting the ptn women on their period instead of the other way around, they also need comfort 😔)

Oh yeah did I also mention she was close to breaking your phone once? It all happened when you were scrolling through TikTok and saw a thirst trap (*cough* Rhea Ripley *cough*) and when I tell you grabbed your phone and threw it… IT HAPPENED.

Says she hates kids but has a soft spot for them actually. They remind her of Horo when she was wayyy younger.

Randomly sends you weird TikToks…. Like it’s so random and she says nothing about it.

She isn’t a fan of dresses, but she once tried it for you and it was a sight. It hugged her curves right and she kept flexing her muscles. If you take any pictures she seriously will kill you. (Especially if you send them to her friends).

If you are out she WILL text and call you every 36 minutes if she can’t come with you. And if she is too busy to pick you up she will face time you on your way home.

Has like so many posters of her favorite bands, korn, kiss, Deftones, ect.

Randomly gives you kisses when you least expect it. They are so random, you could be distracted and she will kiss your cheek, or your forehead, or the top of your head.

If she sees anyone eyeing you while in public she will pull you close and give the person a nasty look.

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 0.5 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

You leave Como, your arrival in Verona is going to make the rest of the trip much more complicated.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance, professor / student relationship, age gap ( 22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity, bickering and teasing, extremely suggestive, somewhat graphic towards end, minors dni. WC: 5.8k

…

You’re driving him fucking crazy. You’re spending far too much time together. The worst part? — You’re actually listening to him now. No, the worst part about that is that you’ll listen to what he tells you, but you’re still giving him all of that fucking attitude about it.

The two of you have spent so much time together, in fact, that Bradley didn’t get another chance to get Natasha alone. It’s for the best, because she actually smiles and waves him off when he leaves this time. Normally, they’ve argued by now. He never moved on and she’s not coming back — the usual kind of stuff.

Today, she had stretched up onto her tiptoes and draped her arms around his thick shoulders, exhaling calmly against the warm skin of his neck. “We’re looking forward to seeing you again next year, Bradley.”

And then, she had taken a step back and entwined her fingers with her husbands. And Bradley hadn’t said anything. He’d looked the woman that he spent so long loving in the eye, and said absolutely nothing. And now, he’s sitting on a packed minibus to a different location, with nothing but you on his mind.

In a professional sense of course.

It’s professional, because he’s sitting here and watching you read the play that he gave you. It’s from the Gracchan period, a time where social mobility was a big focus, but the play itself is by a very wealthy man — making fun of that. It’s about a girl from a poor family of farmers who falls in love with a very powerful man in their town.

Bradley’s eyes scan the page, then flicker up to your face. Your brows are furrowed in concentration, the small playbook open against one thigh and your dictionary wedged open between yours and Bradley’s. You’re just past the first act.

“I don’t… she…?” You shake your head in confusion, lifting it to look at Bradley. “She wants to belong to him? — Like work for him?”

Bradley’s lips twitch. He gives a small shake of his head, leaning closer and taking the dictionary. He flips around a little, his shoulder pressing into yours. Warm skin, the smell of his cologne, the rumble of the wheels against the uneven road.

Pasquale’s love for the 1970s American rock pours through the car in the form of an Eagles album. Bradley knows which one. You couldn’t have less of a clue.

“She’s saying she wants to give herself to him. Not belong to him.” Bradley explains patiently, turning the book towards you so that you can see the rough translation. It’s an easy mistake to make. That’s why he has you reading the play, so you’ll be able to use the context of the scene to eliminate the mistakes you’re making.

You look up at Bradley briefly. Belong to, give herself to — you’re stuck on how that could possibly not mean the same thing, until it hits you. Give herself to. Her body, she means.

“Oh. Thanks.” You set your headphones back on your ears and turn your attention back to the play. Bradley gives you a curt nod and adjusts his sunglasses. He spreads his thighs just a little. His knee presses gently against yours, not pushing, just sitting there.

You don’t mind it much. But, you’re beginning to notice a pattern. He touches you too much. When you’re studying together, his feet rest on your side of the table, constantly nudging your ankles. He’ll get too close when you’re walking by each other. He’ll sit with his legs spread so far that you’ve got no choice but to let his thigh smush into yours. But, you don’t mind that too much.

What you do mind, is that the man in this book was described briefly in the beginning as having brown curls. And now, now that the protagonist is throwing herself at him, there’s only one person that you’re picturing playing him.

It’s not your fault. He’s arrogant, he mocks her constantly and he’s got brown curls. Sounds like Bradley. Unfortunately, at this moment in time, Bradley’s character is all too willing to make the wrong choice. You swallow softly, brows knitted together as you try to convince yourself that you’ve got the translation wrong.

That his hands aren’t trailing up, under the fabric of his skirt. Your eyes dart from the page to Bradley’s hands resting against his thighs. You study the tanned flesh, the sun-bleached, blonde hair at his wrist. The protruding veins on the back of his hands. The gold class ring on his finger.

Bradley feels you shift in your seat, your thigh knocking into his. He glances down again and quickly back to the road. Those denim cutoffs fit your thighs perfectly. But, he can’t stop himself from taking a peek at your face. Plastered in discomfort.

Maybe he shouldn’t have given you a book with a sex scene in it, but this is mild compared to some of the content in his class. This book is the introduction to virtus versus pudictia. He figures the concept will be something you get your head around pretty quickly. Men doing whatever the fuck they want and women waiting patiently for a husband. Sounds exactly like what you’ve got going on already.

It’s only a three hour drive from Como to Verona, and Bradley’s got prep work for his research here to get done. He sits there and cards through the papers like he’s working, but really he spends most of the journey just observing.

Your reaction to his syllabus irritates him, but intrigues him in a way that he just can’t explain. He wants you to stop being so old-fashioned and wake up to the concept that sex is just a natural part of life — but also, he isn’t used to being around girls like you. He has made a point of surrounding himself with people who are nothing like you.

“Hey, Bradley,” You broach the topic tentatively, and he feels you shift slightly closer to Pasquale. He sighs. You dog-ear the page and close the book of the play. His eyes linger on that, before he finally looks up at you. You shift once more, taking a deep breath before speaking. “So, I spoke to my parents…”

You’re not going home. That wouldn’t make sense. You wouldn’t have just spent three hours giving yourself a headache by trying to read a raunchy Roman play if you were going home. Bradley’s brows draw together. He sets his papers down on his legs.

Pasquale winces as he looks between the two of you — it has been such a smooth drive so far.

“My dad has spoken to the Dean, he wants me to have my own room for the rest of the trip. He’s paying.” You explain calmly, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your feet against the bench. Dog-earing pages and sitting like a kid, it just doesn’t fit into this image that Bradley has of you in his head.

He scoffs, lips twitching under that stupid moustache. “Of course he is.”

Between the two of you, neither one is really sure what his problem is. Maybe he wants you to be more independent, maybe he just likes the way your face looks when you scowl at him. Either way, he’s an expert at getting under your skin.

“Would you rather pay?” You bite back. Pasquale cringes, leaning away from the two of you. Bradley’s stare is something to behold. He really has perfected it. It’s mean, hardened and it’s superior all at once. And yet, it still doesn’t make him look any less handsome.

“I’d rather that you at least try to get along with the other kids. It would make your life easier.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You know what I meant.” He knows that. It doesn’t make him feel any better about the way he feels about you. But, he knows that you’re more mature than he gives you credit for. Even if you punched him in the nuts last week.

“It’s really none of your business either way, I was just letting you know.”

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while. Almost long enough for the entirety of Hotel California to play through those dusty speakers.

“Does your dad know that you’re the one who started that fight?” Bradley really can’t help it. He’s a decade your senior, he should really be more mature about things. But, there’s just something about you that makes him want to put an end to your know-it-all attitude.

“I didn’t.” You cross one knee over the other, lifting your chin and straightening your spine.

“Pulled a good handful of her hair out, kid.” He scoffs, turning his attention back to his paperwork. His tone is so dismissive that even Pasquale wouldn’t judge you for hitting him in the balls again.

“I’m not a kid!” You turn sharply towards him, scowling furiously.

“Right. That’s why you’re here, huh? — Because you’re grown up enough to stand up to your dad?” He doesn’t even look up at you. That’s the worst part. Pasquale winces so hard that he has to fight with himself to keep his eyes open and on the road. He waits for the sound of an impact, a hit, a scream — anything.

Instead, you lean in so close that the soft curve of your breast nudges Bradley’s arm. “I’m grown up enough to know that pining over a married woman is pathetic.”

“Pining? — Kid, your own fucking fiancé couldn’t care if you lived or died. Don’t fucking lecture me about love.”

It falls quiet quickly. The voices in the back of the bus fade out, everyone turns their attention towards the two of you, arguing again. You look down slowly. Bradley follows your gaze to his fingers curled around your forearm, tight. He looks back up and this is all to familiar. Sitting with you facing him, blinking at him like you’re about to cry.

“Get out.” He breathes finally, releasing your arm and sitting back against the door. Your face twists, confused. Pasquale shoots a look at Bradley — they can’t just leave a kid on the side of the road, surely. “Sit in the back. Finish that fucking play, we’ve got more to cover.”

Pasquale pulls over to the side of the winding, countryside road and steps out of the van, pulling his door open. You’re silent as you get out and step into the back, finding all of the seats taken. Abigail pushes Luke’s backpack off of a seat and gestures for you to sit with a pitiful smile. You take the spot and secure your headphones over your ears again, reaching to the Walkman at your side and skipping the song.

You don’t say another word for the rest of the drive. Bradley doesn’t even look at you. He gives you your key first just so you’ll go. This place does have an elevator, it’s just dusty and creaky and awful. You’re on a different floor to everyone else too. That doesn’t help.

You sit down, settling against the foot of the bed with your suitcase abandoned in the corner. He doesn’t know anything about your relationship. He just has so many cruel things that he could say to you — she’s all that you’ve got on him, and clearly she is a sore subject. The thought bubbles in your chest to the point that it makes your face warm. It makes you entire body hot.

That stupid look on his face. Like he knows anything about you, or Malcolm, or the way that you love each other.

You wish you had longer to sit and stew. Instead, you’re interrupted by his stupid, big fist slamming against the other side of the door to your hotel room. You know it’s him because he’s the only one rude enough to do it. Unsurprisingly, when you tear the door open, he’s the one in the hall. Without saying anything, he brushes past you and walks inside, then lifts up the textbook in his hand.

“Let’s get this shit over with so that we don’t have to see each other later.”

You wouldn’t be foolish enough to think he was here to apologise, but still, his attitude makes you want to hit him with that textbook. But, he’s got a point, and you would rather not see him this evening either. So, you sit down on the bed and fold your arms over your chest.

He takes a look at you and frowns, then does a survey of the room. Wardrobe, your own bathroom, two nightstands, suitcase rack, floor lamp. No desk. Begrudgingly, he takes a seat beside you on the bed.

“Alright, the play that I gave you,” He exhales like that will make him let go of all of the anger he’s holding on to. It doesn’t. “It focuses heavily on the sexual roles of men and women in developing Rome. Did you pick up on that?”

You watch him open the textbook and flip through, searching for something in particular. It really would be quite easy to tear the book from his hands and get him with it. It’s a hefty book. Instead, you shrug your shoulders and leave him with a simple, “I guess.”

He looks up at you, bored. “You guess? — The male main character had a wife, a girlfriend and a mistress. The female main character devoted herself solely to this one man, that she knew was never going to be hers. What do you think that suggests about gender roles back then?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do know, stop acting like you’re stupid.” He bites back. There’s a second where you stare at him and both of you take a moment to decide whether this is going to become another argument. You sigh softly.

“It’s patriarchal.”

“Right,” Bradley nods, “So there were these concepts back then called—“

The lesson goes on, and the more you engage, the less hostile he becomes. As much as you struggle when it comes to reading text excerpts and answering the questions he gives you on those, it gets to the point where you’ll crack a joke and he’ll laugh. That’s got to be diplomacy of some kind.

Both of you grow unintentionally closer, shifting periodically, leaning closer to see the text, or look at a picture. So, when you’re stumped by a question and you turn sharply away from him and throw yourself down, smushing your face into the pillow and growling in frustration, he finally realizes just how close the two of you have gotten.

You, laying on your front on this double bed, groaning into the pillow. Him, close enough that if he moved his leg, it would graze your hip. Bradley stares at you for a moment, then — while you’re not looking — lets his eyes trail. Along the feminine length of your legs, up over the curve of your waist in those cut-offs.

He lifts a hand and strokes it tenderly over the top of your hair, careful not to catch of tug at your lengths. He repeats the motion a few times. You feel him shift closer.

“It’s alright,” Bradley says quietly, stroking your hair back with a surprisingly gentle hand. “It’s a hard class. That was good. You’re doing well, I’m impressed.”

“Please,” You scoff without lifting your face from the pillow. You shift just a little and hook your arms under it, hugging it closer to your body. His eyes dart down to the way your back curves into your eyes, then slam shut. He should make an excuse to leave. “The only thing that could impress you would have happened a hundred years ago.”

“You know that this course focuses mainly on things that happened from —“ Bradley stops correcting you as you turn your head and glare at him. His eyes are trained on your face. He’s not looking at the way those denim cut-offs hug your figure, but fuck, he’s thinking about it. “Nevermind.”

He stares forwards. His hand is still resting in your hair. He should move it. He should leave. He hasn’t ever felt like this — countless students throwing themselves at him and he’s ignored every single one. He’s being ridiculous. It’s just the forbidden fruit effect. The proximity.

He should move his hand. He just can’t take his eyes off of your face. The swell of your lips. The slight scrunch of your nose. The narrowed look in your eyes. Bradley lifts his hand.

Then, he takes the length of your hair resting against your cheek and brushes it softly back, revealing the rest of your face to him. He shifts his hips, sitting just a fraction closer, making you easier to reach as you lay at his side.

“I mean it,” He says quietly. Your lips quirk softly, almost a smile. You’re about to tell him that he’s probably never spoken to you so kindly ever. Then, he speaks again. “You’re trying. I see that you’re trying. You’re doing a really good job.”

His thumb swipes softly over your temple, guiding your hair back further out of your face. The smile fades from your face. Then, you’re just blinking up at him. Your face is calm. His doesn’t reveal anything.

Slowly, his thumb swipes along the same trial. Over the skin covering your temple, just slightly into your hairline. It doesn’t even cross your mind to move. Maybe because you’re too thrown off by this sudden tenderness, maybe because you don’t actually hate this feeling.

The third time, he doesn’t follow the same route. His thumb swipes tenderly along the skin of your cheek, gently trailing in a small circle along the apple of your cheek. Further down. You stare up at him. Your heartbeat betrays you, thudding away in your chest as his thumb leaves your cheek and meets the corner of your mouth.

His eyes dart from his thumb to your eyes, studying your expression briefly, before he looks down again. You’re silent as he swipes his thumb delicately over the plump skin of your bottom lip.

“What did you mean earlier? — About Malcolm?” Your sudden question surprises the both of you, putting an abrupt end to the out of body feeling that was fogging Bradley’s mind. He blinks, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pulls his hand away from your face.

“What?”

“You said he wouldn’t care if I lived or died. Why?” You push yourself up from your front, settling onto your knees instead. Bradley’s brows knit together. The only thing he can think to say is your name. He stumbles it out, baffled. “You don’t even know him. Why would you say something like that?”

He could turn this into another screaming match. Avoid answering until you’re yelling so hard that you’re blue in the face. But, he won’t. He deserves answers too — he’s tired of that night clouding his head, having no idea if you remember or not.

“Because he left you on the side of the road to freeze to death last December,” Bradley’s suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he’s sitting on your bed, alone in your room. Your face twists in confusion. He’s not done yet. “And the only reason you didn’t freeze to death was because I hauled your ass into my truck and drove you to your parents’ house.”

He’s expecting to have to elaborate further, but you know exactly which night he was talking about. You remember the three days after blacking out that Malcolm wouldn’t so much as answer the phone to you.

“No you didn’t.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows at you. He wishes there was something he could show you, some way he could prove to you how fucked up you had been when he had found you on that curb.

“You were wearing a blue dress with sparkly shit on it,” Bradley says, his voice too calm. You were. You woke up still in it the next morning. “Open-toed heels.”

What the fuck were you thinking? — In the middle of December?

“Your parents live at the end of a long street with a bunch of Oak trees on it,” They do. Last house on the left. You stare at him, unblinking. “Your room is on the second floor, at the back of the house. Your window overlooks the swimming pool. I called your fiancé from that stupid fucking pink phone on your nightstand eight times before he picked up.”

Your chest shudders with the next slow breath that you draw in. He sits there, watching you try to rationalize what he’s telling you. There’s too much information for it to be a lie. The look on his face tells you that he isn’t lying.

“You… spoke to Malcolm that night? — What did he say?”

Bradley makes a face, then turns his chin towards the ceiling and sighs. He looks down and rubs his rough palm over his jaw, shaking his head at you. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he left you in the fucking snow, unconscious.”

The air conditioning unit rattles behind you, making you all the more aware of the sweat starting to bead on the nape of your neck. You swallow softly and look down at the textbook between the two of you.

“We were fighting that night, but he — I think I — I think I ran off…” Your memories of that night are fuzzy. Truthfully, you can’t even remember what the two of you had been arguing about, much less what happened for him to be so angry even days later. “Whatever happened wasn’t his fault—“

“No?” Bradley interrupts, a level louder than he had been previously. You pull back from him subconsciously, bracing yourself on the bed behind you, trying to find purchase in the sheets. “It wasn’t his fault? — Anything could have happened to you, you know that? — What kind of man lets someone that they love put themselves at risk like that?”

“He probably didn’t realize. I’m sure he thought that I got a cab. Wait, Bradley, what did you say to him?”

Wait, Bradley, what did you say to him? — He’s looking at you, but he’s had this conversation before with Natasha. All those years ago. Seconds before he had answered her and watched any love she had had for him ebb away.

“We had a conversation.” Bradley answers you dryly. Your brows knit together, leaning just slightly closer. “I asked him where he was. If he knew where you were. He asked me if you were still sulking on the curb outside of the quad. He knew exactly where you were.”

Finally, he renders you speechless. For the first time, maybe ever, you’re left without something to say to him. There’s a brief silence between the two of you before he speaks again.

“What were the two of you arguing about that night?” Bradley presses.

“I — I can’t remember. Something stu—“

“Why did you kiss me?”

Your eyes go round, widening incredulously at the man sitting on the other side of your bed. The man that you’ve spent the last week and a half screaming at. The smug, over-confident man ten years older than you who refuses to dress his age or pay grade. The man who threatened your fiancé back in December.

“What?” You shriek, pushing up onto your knees and scrunching your face up at him.

“You sat in my car and begged me not to take you into your parents’ house. You kissed me. I dragged you out of the truck and put you to bed.” Bradley says it so calmly — you wonder how often he has thought about this moment to be able to recount it so easily.

You look him over. There’s no more distance between the two of you than there would be between a driver’s seat and a passenger seat. Obviously you were out of your mind that night, running away from Malcolm and not kicking and screaming when this oaf had put you in his car. But there’s not a chance in hell that you would have kissed him. You can’t stand him.

Still, here with just the two of you, you’re not sure how it would benefit him to be lying about this.

So, you take a deep breath and try to ignore the heartbeat thudding in your ears. You stare at him. His hair is neat enough. Short at the back and sides, curly on top. It would have been shorter when he was in the Navy, but you remember it being longer at the beginning of the year. You hadn’t shown up to many of his classes, so you can only guess at what he wore during the winter. Vaguely, you’ve got a memory of him in grey slacks and a navy sweater. Still not wearing a tie.

If he had come straight from his office, he would be in his work clothes. You would be sitting in the passenger side of his truck. It was snowing out, so you know he would have been cold. The sun-kissed pink hue on his cheeks was probably still there, just frost-chilled in variety this time. His facial hair is always neat. Everything tidily shaved, his moustache always trimmed. He’s certainly not ugly.

Long lashes. A slight bump in his nose, like he might have broken it once, but it suits him. Slightly raised scar tissue on his cheek, his throat. Lashes that touch the bone of his eye socket when he closes his eyes. Freckles dotting his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. Eyes that can’t quite decide whether they’re brown, black, amber or hazel. Pink, plush lips.

Ah. That’s where your attention catches. You practically take a mental snapshot of the place where your eyes land. The hollows of his cheeks, the scars on his left side. His strong jaw, usually clenched when he’s looking at you. The thick length of his neck, his protruding adam’s apple, the gold chain usually visible just inside of his collar. Those thick, reddish pink lips.

Pushing up on your knees, you lift your gaze and find him already staring. He knows exactly what you’re about to do. His hand finds your hip and grabs at it roughly as you put one knee in front of the other and crawl to him. He guides you where he wants you and lifts his other hand, cupping your jaw.

His rough palm sits against your jaw bone. Tenderly touching your cheek, just slightly grazing your throat. Eclipsing the side of your face with the magnitude of his hand size. Even up close, you’ve still got no clue of why you would kiss him. Well, nothing that you can rationalize. No explanation that would make any kind of sense to you on any regular day.

But, if you’re being honest with yourself, it’s because you know that there is no rationalizing this. The want that you feel for him just doesn’t make sense. His fingers curled around your hipbone, pressing roughly into the denim there — it doesn’t make sense.

And yet, when the strong hand on the side of your jaw pulls you forwards, you’re all too willing to lean all the way into him and kiss him. Softly, slowly. Your bottom lip between his, controlled even though all he wants to do is throw you down on his bed and kiss you like he means it.

Bradley figures that’s a bad thing, that he’s in control of the situation enough to be gentle with you, but not to stop himself from making this mistake. His tongue swipes softly against your lip at the same time his hand tugs at your hip. You wobble forwards, he parts his thighs and tugs again making you land unceremoniously against his legs.

You can feel the abandoned textbook digging into your ankle. Its glossed pages, open and forgotten.

His hand trails from your jaw, around to the back of your neck. He feels you tense against him as he pulls you close by your neck and your waist, lifting, and then planting you on your back. The second that your spine touches the sheets, you tear your mouth away from his with a gasp.

He stills, kneeling between your parted thighs, staring down at you. You glance down. He watches your brows knit together and follows your gaze down to the necklace that has slipped from his shirt. You lift your stiff hand from your side and reach out for it. He swallows as the delicate tips of your fingers graze the gold cross. You wonder where his dog tags are. Why he’s wearing this today. If he just wore the tags for Natasha’s benefit, maybe.

“I didn’t know you’re religious.” You breathe out. He’s just close enough to be able to hear you. His hands flex around the pits of your knees, skimming down your calves.

“I’m not,” He answers you quietly. “It belonged to my dad.”

You breathe out hard, but it doesn’t make that weird feeling in your chest go away. You just keep on staring at that dangling necklace. Something keeps you from looking him in the eye. Fear, shame — lust — you’re not sure exactly what it is.

Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of his flexing forearm, planted beside your head. Bradley watches through darkened eyes as you reach out once again, starting at the back of his hand. You trail the vein in his skin from his fist, up along the inside of his forearm, onto his bicep. Stopping at the hem of his white t-shirt sleeve.

Bradley leans down, moving to the side to catch your mouth. This second kiss is different from the first. It’s all him. His tongue swipes your bottom lip and you’ve got the sense to press into him, to open your mouth. Both of you are surely aware of how dead still you’re laying, the way your hands are balled in the sheets at your sides.

But, you lift your chin and chase his kiss like he’s got your next breath. He pushes harder against you, his tongue pressing forwards and grazing yours. Suddenly, your hands aren’t so still any more. They’re up and shoving at his chest.

“What are you doing?” You gasp, horrified.

He sits back on his knees and stares at you. You’re right. What the fuck is he doing? — You’re one of his students, and fuck, your father would never let this go. Your fiancé too. Fuck, your fiancé.

“Keep your tongue in your mouth, what is the matter with you?” You snap at him, sitting up swiftly and hitting his chest with another hard shove. Bradley stares at you. Never in a million years was he expecting your issue here to be with the fact that he’d barely grazed your tongue with his.

“Excuse me?”

“Your tongue, you animal! — What do you think you’re doing?” You pull your legs out from between his thighs and shift away from him, leaping off of the bed. His jaw falls slack, staring at the way you’re glaring at him from the bottom of the bed.

“Kissing! — What? — Are you telling me that you’ve never—“ He shakes his head, trying to make sense of what he’s hearing. He knew you were inexperienced but french kissing has been popular in the US for a lot longer than you’ve even been alive.

“No, I haven’t! — What kind of girl—“

“Alright, stop yelling, stop yelling!” Bradley stands up swiftly and catches hold of both of your biceps. Quieting, you crane your neck back to look at him. He looks down at you and exhales. “That was a mistake. Right?”

His thumbs brush gently along the backs of your arms. You’re silent, just staring up at him, but he gives a quick nod anyway. That’s good enough. Squeezing your arm, he lets you go and then moves.

“Fuck. Okay,” He runs a hand over his jaw and turns, dizzily trying to collect his things. “We’re good. We just need to not get in each other’s way, get you a C — and then we’re out of each other’s hair.”

There are so many things you want to say. Even more that you want to ask him. But, you don’t. You just nod silently at him and tuck your hands behind your back. Then, you make the mistake of glancing downwards. The khaki colouring of his shorts has never looked as indecent as it does now.

Bradley doesn’t need to follow your gaze to know what you’re staring at. He knows all too well that he has been rock hard since he first grabbed at your hip. The little squeak you had made had sent every red blood cell in his body rushing south, and the way you’re staring at his straining dick now doesn’t help.

You make it worse too. There’s no shock on your face, you’re not saying anything. You’re just staring at the way his thick length is pressing against the fabric of the shorts, hard, and because of you. Natasha, that you had understood. She had been touching him and she was undeniably gorgeous. And they had history.

“Stop —“ Bradley pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand and dips a hand into his shorts to adjust himself with the other. That still doesn’t stop you from staring. He frowns at you. First you don’t know how to kiss, and now he’s realizing that you’ve probably never seen a dick either. “For fucks’ sake.

Your eyes finally go wide as he grabs the textbook, turns on his heel and leaves the room with a slam of the door. You flinch at the sound, suddenly completely alone in your room, reeling. Ashamedly, your first instinct is to call Matthew.

Bradley walks down the hall, takes the stairs, and into his own room. It’s empty, meaning that Luke’s probably in Robin’s room. Bradley should be an adult and go and lecture them both. Instead, he slams the door to their bathroom and twists the lock. Cold water probably would have been the best thing to do. Instead, letting the warm stream soak his body, his clothes ditched on the floor, he feels like he can finally breathe.

Truthfully, your fiancé is the furthest thing from his mind. The fact that you’re his student has never felt as minuscule as it did when he was kneeling between your thighs and watching your delicate fingers toy with his necklace. You’re graduating. This is just extra credit. If you had passed the first time, you’d be out of his class already.

All the excuses in the world doesn’t make it okay that he has kissed you twice now. But, that doesn’t stop him from trailing his palm along his toned stomach, wrapping a hand loosely around the base of his cock and planting his free palm on the tile in front of him.

Upstairs and three doors to the right, you’re sitting criss-crossed on the same bed that you had just kissed your professor in with an old plastic phone pressed to your ear. The line rings, and rings until it feels like you’re about to burst into tears until finally his voice comes through on the other end.

“Hello?”

“I need to ask you something and I need you to please answer me honestly. Okay?”

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard @cherrycola27 @sugarcoated-lame

[hauntedandmurdered]

You know what feels like a fucking slap in the face? Hearing over and over again that Silence of the Lambs is a bad horror story that only people with a sick brain can get excited about and making the claim that Hannibal and Clarice's relationship is toxic.

This goes out to anyone who can't and won't understand the message and depth that Thomas Harris was trying to convey. May your eyes be blessed. <3

With this work, the author of this tetralogy has created a concept, which is of central importance as a wake-up call for both literature and films, even nowadays. How? By developing a strong female protagonist who tries to assert herself in a world dominated by men. No matter what means she uses, no matter how successful she may be, she is not appreciated but sexualized because she is a woman. Her gender determines her position in society and her career at the FBI. Clarice Starling is the damn heroine of this story and is not recognized for it. She is repeatedly confronted with contempt on various social levels.

There is only one person in the story, her antagonist, the cannibalistic serial killer and psychiatrist, Hannibal Lecter, who respects her for her intellect, kindness and purity. This is part of the special charm that develops throughout their peer relationship. She is the first person during his imprisonment to whom he answers questions. In contrast to all the others who have tried before her and whom he despises for their greed and selfishness, Clarice treats him with respect, despite all his deeds. It is the small but significant details during the interrogations down in the Baltimore state hospitality for the criminally insane that give clues as to how something develops between the two.

Hannibal may be a murderer, but he is also a professional psychiatrist at heart. By letting her work through the trauma of her childhood and gaining insight into her soul, he gives her the relevant clue to see her mission through: the gift of self-absolution. He understands that despite what has happened to her, Clarice is genuinely a good person and that what drives her is ultimately courage and purity, not greed for prestige and self-promotion unlike the FBI. He values her for being on the same level of intelligency. They are equal.

They are also linked by a significant event in their childhoods: both grew up as orphans and lost loved ones. This drastic break changed the lives of both of them, albeit in completely different directions. While Clarice has never given up hope and the pursuit of good, Hannibal has turned his back on precisely that. This is most likely why he admires her, for the small glimmer of light in her that was destroyed in him a long time ago.

Hannibal, from whom one least expects it, shows compassion.

The touching of their fingers during their last encounter for the time being is therefore an indescribably captivating moment; it is the first and only physical intimacy they share.

[episodicnostalgia]

Star Trek: The Next Generation, 123 (May 2, 1988) - “We'll Always Have Paris”

Written by: Deborah Dean Davis & Hanna Louise Shearer Directed by: Robert Becker

The Breakdown

The Enterprise crew are prepping for shore leave (gotta boost crew morale after Tasha’s death, y’know), when a bunch of time-travel-ish space-whimsy plagues the ship by causing people to slightly rewind-and-replay a few seconds of their current conversations/tasks.  It’s a fairly minor inconvenience as far as Galaxy class shenanigans go, but it’s enough for Picard to postpone shore leave for at least 45 minutes (plus commercials). And wouldn’t you just know it, shortly thereafter a distress signal comes in from one Paul Manheim, a renowned scientist whose whole deal involves professionally mucking around with time, so naturally Picard puts two-and-two together.  However, the mere mention of Manheim (a man Picard admits to knowing only by reputation) causes the otherwise stoic Captain to become so tense that even Data starts taking notice.

So what gives?

It just so happens that Paul Manheim is married to a woman (Janice) who used to be Picard’s flame back in the day.  Essentially, Jean Luc ghosted her on the same day they'd agreed to meet to say goodbye, before he shipped off to pursue his Starfleet career. You see, he was “afraid he would lose his resolve to leave," since he loved her so much. So, he did a really unkind (one might even say, casually cruel) thing and left without saying anything to, y'know spare HIMSELF the pain. Anyways, breezing-right-past-unpacking-any-of-that, they would tragically never speak again until this episode. But it all works out very amicably, which is nice I guess, and they finally say a farewell the way the way he ought to have the first fucking time. so it all works out*.

*[If I'm being honest though, Janice is a way better sport about the whole thing than I would have been.  Like, she pretty much just lets him off the hook; to my knowledge that’s the last we'll ever hear of it.]

While Picard’s drama plays out on the side, the rest of the episode deals with the weird time-loop phenomenon that Manheim caused via (surprise surprise) a radical experiment gone wrong.  Long-story-short, Manheim created a temporal rift-or-whatever that causes moments in time to replay in inconsistent ways [sometimes you redo a moment in time, and other times you end up running into an earlier version of yourself; basically whatever helps move the plot along].  Apparently Manheim was working on the theory that there are actually infinite dimensions, and that our perception of time is… yada yada yada.  Honestly, I can't remember the explanation, but I promise you it doesn't matter. All we need to know is that somehow Manheim has untethered his consciousness so that he can perceive multiple dimensions (presumably of the “multi-verse” variety) at once, and it’s driving him crazy.  Not only that, but somehow the affect of Manheim’s temporal rift also has cascading universe-ending consequences if left un-mended.

During one of his more lucid moments, Manheim gives the Enterprise gang the necessary codes to bypass his lab's security protocols, and Data beams down to do some obligatory emergency-space-science; in this instance, placing a canister of anti-matter into a time-rift-fixing machine (no time-lab should be without one).  There’s a brief complication where Data has to coordinate the application the anti-matter to a precise countdown (for unspecified plot reasons), but then he splits into three versions of himself (for unspecified temporal reasons) with no way to tell which one of him should insert the antimatter at the end of the countdown (why not all three, you ask? Also unspecified).  Anyways, the middle Data figures out he’s the right one (with no further explanation as to how he came to that conclusion), and he's correct, which is pretty handy.

With the rift patched up, Manheim’s mind is also conveniently restored, and spared from any residual side affects that one might expect from having one’s consciousness volleyed between dimensions.  Thankfully he’s learned his lesson and vows that things will be different between him and Janice, who he has apparently been neglecting (that woman sure can pick ‘em), and this time he’s going to… keep doing his experiments?  But… *checks notes* uh, yeah no, that’s somehow correct. He’s just going to be more careful, moving forward, and apparently that’s good enough for Janice! So the universe can rest easy knowing that Manheim’s work will continue to go unchecked, except he promises to avoid any more catastrophic mistakes!

I certainly wouldn’t have any concerns.

The Verdict

God, this was dull.  I actually had to watch the episode twice, because I was so bored the first time that I zoned out, and forgot what happened. A little digging on memory-alpha reveals production was temporarily halted by the writers strike of ’88, because the script hadn’t been completed, which honestly explains a lot. On the one hand we have Picard grappling with regret and doubt over a lost love from his past, and on the other hand you have Paul Manheim trying to control the flow of time while ignoring his present relationship with the same woman Picard has longed for. I’m not saying it would win awards, but I shouldn’t have to point out the obvious thematic potential between those two threads any more than I already have. But the end result ends up being… just nothing really.

For starters, the relationship between Janice and Picard was just so underwhelmingly civil.  Don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate it when adult characters behave like adults, but the point of this story was to address a regrettable choice from Picard’s past. And yet, when the two literally-star-crossed lovers finally meet for the first time in decades, the conflict between them amounts to little more than a quaint conversation, and an acknowledgment that mistakes were made. Janice offers almost immediate forgiveness, while barely (if all all) holding Picard accountable for his actions, or even addressing the longstanding emotional grief. 

Apparently the writers (Shearer and Davis) did want Picard and Janice to do the nasty, but that was kiboshed by the various powers-that-be. Now, I’m not saying that would have necessarily been the right way to go, but it certainly would have been more interesting than what we got.  Even a passionate kiss (or something to that effect) would have gone a long way to selling me on the idea that these two people had longed for each other, not to mention addressing Janice’s strained marriage to Manheim, and the internal conflict she ostensibly is meant to feel.  It’s not like the writers were being at all discreet about ripping off Casablanca, so why remove the one thing from that story to help make this narrative slog halfway interesting?

As for the time-dilation subplot, it just felt thematically disjointed, and ends up becoming kind of an afterthought.  Manheim also has virtually nothing in the way of a character arc.  You’re telling me he was SO obsessed with his work that he became an absent husband with a singular obsession, and in the end he’s still going to keep being obsessed, but he’s also somehow learned his lesson?  The script seems to genuinely back the idea that Manheim’s quest to control time shouldn’t be reevaluated at all (outside of avoiding of repeat the specific errors from his previous attempt), and that he and Janice will somehow be much happier (and safer) this time.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was some behind the scenes editorializing/censorship at work here.

But then again, who cares?

1 star (out of 5)

Additional Observations

You know, for a shining utopia that has rid itself of capitalism’s shackles, there’s still quite an emphasis on concepts like ‘careers’, and officers struggling to maintain steady relationships due to the demands of the job.  Kirk was an absentee father who never had time find a steady relationship, Spock’s betrothed dumped him via gladiatorial combat, Riker and Troi’s on-again-off-again romance was mainly off-again until the movies finally let them settle down, and Worf- …well Worf’s wives just get murdered, but that’s basically the Klingon equivalent of getting dumped. Now we have Picard, who evidently ran like a coward from the love of his life because of his crippling commitment issues. Speaking of the dear Captain…

Picard really IS an asshole: This episode establishes Picard as something of a heartbreaker, but the writing is so nonchalant about it, you almost wouldn’t notice.  This highlights one of the issues I’ve had with this season, generally speaking.  Apparently there was an intentional aversion to addressing character flaws/interpersonal conflicts amongst the crew, even when the story required it (because humanity had advanced beyond conflict and selfishness, you see), yet, Picard has spent much of the first season as a cranky, ill humoured, fuddy duddy (excuse my language). The thing is, I actually kind like how he starts off as cold and over-serious, and then begins to warm as the show progresses, but I have my doubts that the shift was executed with much thought or planning (maybe I’ll change my mind as I watch more episodes). Here especially, there was an opportunity to actually address some of his emotional short-comings, which is sadly overlooked.

Troi-SPIRACY: I have nothing concrete here, but this episode features a pretty classic example of Troi’s “I have abilities and can sense something is wrong with you” nonsense, when she approaches Picard about his emotional bagage. Like, oh really Deanna? Could you “sense” Picard was feeling “strong emotions”?  Surely it wasn’t the fact that he went as rigid as a lamp post at the mention of some random dude’s name, or the fact that he aggressively striking the palm of his hand with a tightly folded towel, did you?  No, I’m positive it must have been your magical powers picking up on the same thing the entire crew was also noticing. I’m telling you, Troi is a fraud who is so good at her job that she’s convinced everyone she has powers.

Holo-Horrors: So Picard loads up a holosuite program of some 24th century Paris Café, which comes fully staffed, and filled with customers (all holograms). Each of these holo-folk seem to have complex internal lives, with access to the full spectrum of human emotion, and relationships with histories. One of them (who is talking to a friend about her relationship woes) reminds Picard of Janice, even though she is otherwise entirely unique. So does that mean the ship computer is generating fully realized sentient background "programs" just for the sake of realism? I dunno man, the holosuite tech really does seem a lot more dystopian than I remember it being, growing up.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #146

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

He's gonna be Frank with you. Read the rest of The Frank Program here on Tumblr!

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome back to the new-and-improved Frank Program! I'm Frank, over in the corner is my wonderful son, Daryl, and today our guest is a personal hero of mine, star athlete David Helper-Cummings! Welcome to the Program.”

“Good to be here, Frank, good to be here.”

“Be honest with me, David, you'd rather be competing in the Olympics, am I right?”

“I'd love to be able to compete in the Olympic Games, no doubt, but it just wasn't in the cards this year. Maybe next time.”

“I really do think you're good enough to win gold.”

“Thanks, Frank, but there's just been too much happening in my life lately. The affair, the divorce, I mean, you've heard about all that stuff. It's no secret. I can barely play right now. My short game is in the toilet.”

“You've still got the most impressive drive I've ever seen!”

“Sure, sure, I can still get the distance, but there's too much on my mind. I slice the crap out of it every time. It's really throwing me off.”

“Well'n, forget all of that. Let's talk sports in general. I'm really curious to know what ya think about some controversial topics.”

Daryl closed his eyes and shook his head.

Frank continued. “David, what's your take on transgenders in professional sports?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“You know, men who make themselves look like women so they can get trophies.”

“Doesn't seem to me that a real man would do such a thing. That's downright embarrassing.”

Daryl spoke up. “That's not how it works. There are very specific requirements for -”

“Daryl, will you shut the fuck…” Frank caught himself and cleared his throat. “Daryl, you don't even like sports. Stay out of it. Ya got no business talking about things you don't understand.”

“But you don't -”

“Shh! Anyway, David, it's real and it happens. There was a boxing match between a woman and a transgender, and he beat the shit out of her in one round!”

“That's awful.” David scratched the side of his head. “Can't believe they'd let that happen.”

“Actually, Dad, neither of those women is transgender. The one everyone thinks is trans just has long arms.”

“You're too damn gullible, son. You believe everything you see online? I know more about this than you do.”

“Oh yeah? What are their names?”

“Huh? Who cares about their names?”

“Did you even watch the fight?”

“Pfft. Ain't nobody got time for women's boxing! Hahaha!”

Frank put his hand up for a high five and David quickly slapped it, but realized that might not be a good look.

“Uh, for the record, I respect women's sports. I rescind that high-five and would like to apologize to all the women athletes who were offended by it.”

“Aww, come on, Davey, have a little backbone! You got no spine, man, that's why you keep slicing!”

“Hey, I take offense to that, okay? I love women.”

“No kidding,” Daryl muttered under his breath. Frank glared at him.

“Alright, alright. Forget that topic. I've got another question for ya, David, if that's alright?”

“Yeah, uh, sure.”

“Do ya think we ought to have a separate basketball league for Whites?”

Daryl put his face in his hands and groaned. David looked at his watch and pantomimed shock.

“Oh, damn, Frank, look at the time! I gotta be going. I got a divorce hearing in a few minutes.” He got up from his seat and patted his pockets to make sure he didn't forget anything. “I'll see you around, okay? Alright.”

David Helper-Cummings was out the door before Frank could even react.

“What the hell?”

“You gotta stop making guests uncomfortable, Dad.”

“I didn't make him uncomfortable! You got him thinkin’ about PC and woke! It made him nervous to say what he wanted to say.”

“I couldn't let you spread misinformation…”

“Why the hell not? It's my show, boy.”

Daryl crossed his arms. “You want me here, you gotta treat me with respect. And quit lying.”

Frank sighed. “Whatever you say, your highness. Anyway, folks, this has been The Frank Program. Thank'ya much for letting me be Frank with you.”

[agirlwithachakram]

"Am I gay?"

"Oh, sweetie, no, everyone likes prostate stimulation."

"Oh thank god I'm still straight. No, you ass, I mean not bisexual."

"Well, let's see. Spend all your time with a guy who has propositioned you at least once a week since we met, go through wives like you're trying to prove something, but you cheat on them because they're not enough, favorite hooker is taller than you, and your last girlfriend was bossy, which you liked because then you can just do what she says and it's easy to love her, and also she was basically me, who you're screwing now. You had a threesome and you complained about it. Yeah. You're gay."

"But I did love Amber."

"So you had an exception, everyone does."

"Fuck. You're right."

"You're just gonna take my word as law?"

"You make a compelling argument!"

"You need to think for yourself."

"Fine. I'm straight and I've been humoring you this whole time."

"That's so sweet of you."

"Don't people know when they're gay?"

"I know. I was inside you five minutes ago."

"Shouldn't it be about what you do like instead of what you don't? How did you know you were bi?"

"I saw a cute guy start a bar fight over Billy Joel and it gave me funny feelings in my pants, and my mommy said—"

"All right, all right. Wait, seriously?"

"Uh…yeah. Well, there was a guy in college, but we were pretty hammered. Most times."

"You've been following me around this whole time because you wanted to fuck me from the start?"

"More or less."

"But I wasn't even interested. Or, I was, but I didn't…"

"When you're in love, you do stupid stuff."

"I would've had other crushes, at least. Right?"

"You did."

"I did?"

"Yep. I can count like six dudes you got weird about."

"Like six?"

"Seven. You don't remember because you're incapable of centering your own desires."

"That's not…completely true."

"Remember when you had a mid-cancer crisis and bought a sports car you couldn't drive and ate a giant steak and all to see a woman you don't even care about? You reinvented yourself as a sitcom divorcee."

"I…like things on my own. I like theatre. That's not a guy thing."

"It is if you're gay."

"But I didn't know I was—"

"You subsume yourself and your own desires because you're still guilty about your brother to the point that you don't even know what you want. Amber told you to make your own choice and you went with her preference. I told you to pick out one thing you wanted and you got me a present. Most people know they're gay. You couldn't possibly."

"I hate when you monologue about me."

"Am I wrong?"

"No, that's what I hate about it. You're exhausting."

"You like it. We could have a guy threesome. Boys night."

"I don't even know why I care at this point, it's not like I have time to marry anyone else." Pause. "A what?"

"Dude threesome. Eiffel tower."

"No, no. They're too much work."

"Or, you think they are because you're not actually into chicks."

"I…don't know if that was why."

"I've had tons of threesomes, they're fun."

"With professionals."

"Yeah, you had one too."

"Oh goddamnit."

"Chase has good threesomes with civilians."

"I put off homosexuality for thirty years."

"Sounds like it."

"I wasted my entire sexual life."

"Not all of it."

"Fuck."

"Sure! You know I'd never deny you."

"You're ready to go again? I'm not. Hey, you said you liked it."

"Sex?"

"No, the organ, the—Don't say penis. You said you liked what it said about me."

"Uh, yeah, I liked the organ. That doesn't mean it's good for you, that means I like presents. And attention. And you."

"You're mean."

"You like mean."

"Well at least I like something."

"Where are you going? What's on the laptop?"

"I am getting us tickets to the nearest regional theater."

"Oh no."

"Looks like they're doing A Chorus Line. That's fun. I seem to remember you loving that show."

"Wilson. Plays are for making people have sex with you. Musicals are for when you're really desperate."

"And if you're desperate to have sex with me again, you know what to do."

"Fine. But you have to come cuddle now."

"I will. Once I order the tickets."

Snort.

"What?"

"Gaaaaaaaaaaaay."

(This is a complete fic but here’s the AO3 link)

[invisibleraven]

Meet cute + dancing rulie?

Reggie kept the smile plastered on his face as the woman in his line prattled on with her over complicated coffee order. Mentally he wondered why she even bothered getting coffee when all the modifications she was adding would make it taste downright awful.

"-and when I say I want three pumps of hazelnut syrup, I mean three, do you hear? I can taste it when you only add two. Are you even listening to me?"

Reggie is about to give the standard customer service approved answer when the woman next in line scoffed. "Lady we're all listening to you and all we hear is you haranguing the poor barista with your terrible sounding drink! Pay and move!"

The other people in line grumbled in agreement, and the red faced woman meekly handed Reggie the total showing on the screen, sans tip of course, and shuffled to the side.

His hero stepped up and Reggie had to stop for a second because she was absolutely stunning, all soft curves and a gap toothed smile beneath sparkling brown eyes. "Sorry, but she was driving me crazy," the woman offered. "Plus I've worn my share of green aprons, I know what it's like to want to tell off the rude customers."

"Thanks," Reggie replied. "Pretty rare anyone stands up for us honestly." His smile was much more genuine, and he was sure he was blushing to the tips of his ears, but he couldn't help it, not when a truly nice and gorgeous woman was standing before him. "Now, what can I get for you?"

"Large chai tea latte-iced please. And a blueberry scone too, they look delicious."

Reggie nodded, punching in the order and gave her the total, but she looked at him confused. "That doesn't seem like enough."

Reggie grinned and shrugged, "Consider it a thank you, for coming to my rescue earlier." Technically he wasn't supposed to abused his discount like that, but fuck it, the pretty lady deserved something nice after telling off the haughty woman in front of her.

"Well thank you..." she peered at his name tag, grinning once more. "Reggie. I appreciate it." She then took what she didn't end up paying and shoved it into the tip jar, plus a few extra bills with a wink before moving to the side.

Reggie might have watched her out of the corner of his eye until she swayed out of the store, and her lovely smile was still emblazoned in his mind when he clocked out a few hours later. But he didn't have time to dwell on some random beautiful vision when he had to run.

Alex had insisted that everyone get some dance lessons before his wedding to Willie, wanting the whole party to show some flair on the floor. Reggie usually had two left feet, so he was kind of dreading it, honestly, but he and Alex were brothers in all but blood, so he'd agreed. Plus it would look pretty bad for the best man to be flailing beside two grooms who were professionals.

He rushed into the studio where the lessons where going to occur, and gave Alex a panting thumbs up when he slid inside the room. 'Sorry' he mouthed. Alex gave him an eye roll but gestured to where he could stash his stuff. Reggie just prayed he didn't stink of sweat after his rush to get here, but he'd had to stop home to try and eliminate the coffee smell.

Finally he was somewhat composed and heard the instructor greet them. And that voice was strikingly familiar.

"Alright guys, let's get paired up, we're gonna start with a simple waltz."

Reggie glanced up and there she was-the woman from this afternoon, in a flowy black dance dress and smiling wide at him. He gave her a dorky little wave and she beckoned him over. "I see we meet again," she murmured. "Well looks like you're the odd man out, so you're stuck being my partner."

Reggie swallowed down how much he wanted another meaning of the word to apply to him, but instead offered a sheepish grin. "I apologize in advance to your toes."

"They'll live, I'm sure," she said, offering her hand. "I'm Julie by the way."

Reggie slide his hand into hers, sucking in a breath at how right they felt together, the sparks that lit up his spine at her touch. "Reggie."

"Shall we?" she asked. Reggie let her position them, and nodded at someone to start the music. Twirled them around, and Reggie was sure she was wincing by the end of the song, he'd apologized enough through it. "You'll get better-that's what they pay me for," she promised him.

"I'll definitely have to pick up a few extra lessons at this rate," he admitted.

"We can arrange that," Julie said with a wink, handing him her card, a tiny heart scrawled next to a set of numbers.

By the time of Alex's wedding, well Reggie would admit he wasn't going to be winning any competitions, but he figured he looked good enough on the dance floor.

But that might just be because his girlfriend was so captivating there that no one was paying him any attention. And with Julie in his arms? Well he was always dancing on air anyways, so he figured that had to count for something.

[fratboykate]

kybgau - but tell us some of those "I need security at this dress fitting" moments. You know Kate is like "she can't resist me half naked." and Yelena is like "jokes on you, I'm a trained professional" until it's just them in a room and Kate's in her underwear and the stylists are off plucking the new outfit out of a corner and Yelena's eyes are everywhere BUT her stupid client's abs or her stupid client's ass or her stupid client's V-Line. She is a professional and will not succumb to baser instincts even if her client is looking DOWN at her and Yelena hates that and is like "I will fucking put you on your knees" but Kate's like "please. I'm starving. I need a stop at the Yelena gussy buffet." and the whole thing is just a MESS because they're horny. Horny AF. But this is business.

NOT THE FUCKING YELENA GUSSY BUFFET LMAOOOOO

scenarios where yelena is like 'you definitely DO NOT need security for that why are you making my boss make ME SPECIFICALLY go???!!!"

-kate suddenly decides that she can't see her own movies with other people around for the first time so she requests private screenings in movie theaters...and yelena is all like 'have fun' and kate's like...you have to come' and yelena is like "???????????? why?" "im the only one in there what if somethign happens" so its just the two of them in a movie theater watching a film where kate has like three sex scenes (yeah no she didnt need to see shit she just wanted to get yelena alone in a room with her and watch her squirm during the sex scenes)

-kate's like 'i need a mental health getaway. need to get away from the noise, the city, the people. maybe time to write some new songs.' and yelena as usual is like "go be rich and have fun" and kate is like "i rented a house. in the desert. by myself. OBVIOUSLY i need you to come. when i meant 'away from people' but that doesnt include you. we're basically one :D" and yelena is like ffs "WHAT DOES YOUR ASSISTANT EVEN DO WHY ISNT SHE GOING WITH YOU???" "what's my 5'2 100 pound assistant supposed to do if my stalker breaks into the house im renting in the middle of nowhere?" "get a bigger, stronger assistant" "that's you :)". so thats how the end up spending a week at a mansion in the desert where kate wore nothing but thong bikinis all day and she got to watch yelena workout in the desert heat.

none of those (or the fifty other insane things kate tries) work. yelena holds strong. so kate's like "mkay...guess im dressing to drive you crazy now. let's see how far long this lasts now"

outfits kb picked SPECIFICALLY to see how far she could push this woman:

turns out it doesnt last too long lol. before she knows it, kate's bent over a sink at an awards show after party, feeling pretty damn pleased with herself. who says perseverance doesnt get you what you want?

[soulsuckrrs]

@queenxfthedxmned | continued thread | Elliadore & Nina

                ――――――――――― ⌽ ―――――――――――

He wasn't an idiot and knew that despite his best efforts in acting as if he had changed at least enough to fool Nina into believing that he was fine at all, there was no chance that the perceptive woman would not notice. After all, they had spent so much time together, intimate moments and behaviors that he couldn't forget. Why had he allowed the jealousy to take over and drive his every move? If anything made Elliadore an idiot it was that. He had no right to be jealous, Nina wasn't his property and they weren't together anymore.

Observant eyes caught the little tells, she felt just as affected by his presence as he did to her own and for a moment Elliadore had to fight off the urge to reach out and touch her. Let his fingers brush over her soft skin and take hold of her hand, connect them. He fought the urge and cleared his throat again, trying everything he could to regain some sort of control over the raging emotions and urges pulsing through him with the quickened pace of his heartbeat.

She wasn't doing great, he could see that much behind her soft gaze but the words that fell next from her lips somehow tore every fiber in him to shreds though he knew it to be true the moment he had first seen her. I'm on a date. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Laugh? Pretend that the idea of her being with someone else was something he was okay with even though so much time had passed between their separation and now. Dammit, he had no right to feel the way he did, she was more than able to go on with her life, a life he had glimpsed himself in not that long ago.

"That's wonderful, I hope you're having a good time," his tone was nothing but that fake professional he put on when dealing with colleagues or associates he couldn't stand, it wasn't Nina he was upset with but this other man who had swept her up while Elliadore had not been in her life. "This date didn't leave you, did they? The old 'I'll be right back, gotta use the bathroom' trick," the bitterness in his tone was not intentional though he felt it very hotly dripping from his tongue. Eli didn't want to upset or hurt her, he was more upset with himself for feeling the things he did at this moment.

[oldarticles]

The Perfect Mix CD

by Jake Hurwitz

So you finally got the nerve to ask out that hot girl in your anthropology class - and when she turned you down you decided to settle for that weird girl who sits on the other side of you with the short haircut and the lisp. When you found out she was a lesbian you went back to your dorm to kill yourself; this is when you discovered that your roommate's hot cousin was coming to visit. Now it's on! After a long night of party hopping and walking through the Wendy's drive-through like a bad-ass your roommate finally passes out, leaving you and his increasingly beautiful cousin all alone on the futon. If you're a true P.I.M.P.P. (Professional I-pod Master Play-list Planner) like me you've already prepared for this moment by making the perfect mix CD. The play-list might look a little something like this:

1. Dave Matthews Band: Crash. This song automatically sets the mood before your roommate's cousin even realizes what's happening. Memories of making out with her ex-boyfriend/random strangers during DMB concerts flood her mind, and she is rendered powerless against the romantic melody of the song. Dave's soothing vocals will act as the ultimate aphrodisiac as you try to initiate a little conversation. Ask her about her hopes, dreams and fears. Ask her about her first kiss"¦ just to make sure she isn't a lesbian"

2. Enrique Iglesias: Escape. She might giggle just a little bit when this song starts to play, but that's the idea, just like roofies are the key to a women's pants, laughter is the key to any woman's heart. Soon enough the soft electric guitar will take over and you won't need any explanation as to why this song is on your CD. When Enrique hits the high "C", slide your arm around her waist, and put your free arm on her knee, if she then raises her leg over yours (Like you should be expecting.) coolly move your hand up to her thigh. Now you find yourself in a glorious little pretzel of human extremities, see how well you can tangle yourselves together, maybe you'll get stuck!

3. Eagle Eyed Cherry: Save Tonight. This song will seal the deal. Just listen to the lyrics! This song was written for you and your roommate's hot cousin. When the chorus begins to come in whisper, "I wish you didn't have to leave tomorrow, I wish that you could stay." She won't know why, but she will wish this too, and the lyrics of this song will take on a whole new meaning. Sort of like, "You and me, and a bottle of wine." It will be you and her, and a bottle of Captain, and her cousin sleeping 3 feet away.

4. The Verve: Bittersweet Symphony. This is where you make your move. Allow the violin play a little bit as you look longingly into her eyes. Lean in just as the drums kick in, she wouldn't even be able to resist her cousin at a moment like this, let alone his totally sexy roommate. Clothes will be flying off as the first chorus plays. "I can't change my mind. No, no, no", Richard Ashcroft will croon, and you and your roommates kin won't change your mind about consummating the dirty deed on the very futon you and your roommie bought together.

You will wake up in the arms of your roommate's hot cousin; she will gaze at you adoringly and thank you for the most romantic night of her life. "No," you will say, "Thank you." As you get up to walk her out of the dorm slyly hit the play button on the boom box one last time. Hootie and The Blowfish's 1994 hit song, "Only Wanna Be With You" will come on. As you share a teary goodbye the hot cousin will promise to attend your school next fall. You will make a solemn vow to wait for her, and to call and write everyday. All these promises will be vapid and empty but who cares!? You totally just fucked your roommate's cousin!

[fate-tumbles]

#LIVESTREAM

I just spent almost 2 hours writing what I thought would be one of my most favorite picture essays ever. And it had music and quotes and God knows what else in it.

Because I'll never know, because you'll never know, because Tumblr fucked up and it crash and didn't end up saving the draft. Or at least I couldn't find it.

But I came up with that idea and all my thoughts on it on the spot. And even in the raw form I felt like it represented me enough to share it because I knew the people who got it, would get it. Because I used too many references and layers, and some people can't fuck with onions.

And sometimes I start cutting my peppers instead because they feel more important at the time because that's how my brain used to work. But now I'm making it my bitch, since I know I'll always go back to the onions because I started there already. It's just not the right time for me to cut them now.

But I am capable of everything. And it's scaring me. Because now I want to live since I have so much to do, I'm wondering how I'll ever have enough time.

After my three car accidents for various reasons, I have been telling my family that I will eventually die in a car crash. But there is a reason why I didn't yet. And depending on what car I was driving and what I was doing to pay for it however much I could, I was either so grateful to survive or so. Despondent to think that it couldn't have been so easy.

I've never had a threat of suicide because I've always been too fucking chicken to actually do it myself. I've always tried, but I know half heartedly even though I thought I meant it. Because I wanted to give myself a chance to live.

Since I don't post anything to social media anymore, I didn't have anyone to bear witness, and I like that just fine.

Because I do it all baby. I can't box myself into a dating profile, but professionals and personals are supposed to know everything they know about me through my Instagram as you may?

No. To really understand why I'm about to commit seppuku is not because you're a fucking moron. Throwing yourself on someone else's sword. And inviting yourself to someone else's war on purpose than getting mad because you didn't research your tour guides enough and they let you astray. #thats ultra maga lame tbh #so sorry #hard knock life 🎻🎻🎻

You have access to my auto updating resume, and you might want me on your team because I'm a hard fucking worker. But you're too scared to even look because you know I'm going to come for your job as well too.

But you don't know that I never would because I'd be pushing you to succeed even more than me so I could succeed in my own ways. # we are not the same # thank glob # mutations rule # X-Men #freaksgive #beats

I'm already going to put competition, not collaboration, and I'm the fucking Capricorn on my merch so don't even think about it. I have receipts. And Tumblr always has my back.

And I finally know why they scream witness me before they throw themselves into oblivion. Because at that moment, they're falling into oblivion thinking they're doing what that gross dude at the top of the mountain was doing in Furry Road #funtypo #feelscute #maydelete #later but #enjoying #reading it #now #sothatcanbeenough #for me and #me only

Because he had the biggest balls and access to all the water and raped every single woman and child he made and came across. Doesn't seem like the guy I want to look up to. Even though he's put himself on the highest peak. Like I said, it's all about #perspective. Sorry I figured out the ultimate cheat code to my life and you haven't yet, but it took me a while. And I'm willing to help. Because I'm great at tech and video games and cheat codes and perma death, and whatever you're going to need in the situation because I'm also a gamer.

I'm better than you now but I've seen you succeed and outrun me every single time. And instead of getting upset, I finally get off the couch and run after you because it's fun to see if I can actually get you. Because friendly competition can exist. Because I can insult you and love you at the same time. Because you can't put me in a Venn diagram even if that's all you see your life as. Because I used to, and I used to force my thoughts into boxes. But now I'm following my thoughts and letting me take them where they lead.

[my-life-literally]

I’m not mad. I’m pissed.

No one is here right now. No one is watching.

When no one is watching, I dream of a love made up of tiny things.

I dream of chopping garlic on a wooden cutting board. I hear the sound of boiling water.

When no one is watching, I dream of someone outside of work who knows my travel schedule.

I exclude my dad and brother from the following for the sole reason that I am related to them. And therefore see them as human.

I used to feel so interested in a man’s life. And his schedule. And his cutting boards. Now I don’t know if I can bring myself to care. I don’t care about their thoughts. I don’t care about how their ex/mom/second grade teacher/baby boomers/the guy who cut them off on the highway hurt them. I don’t care about their stupid crypto dreams. I don’t care about their stupid plans for early retirement. I don’t care about what dumb shit-for-brains man inspired them and the other feeble minded dickheads they know. I don’t care that men these day’s don’t have a public role model. I don’t care about their day, or what watch they want. Or how flannel has featured as the co-star in their dumb lives. I don’t care about what they know about car maintenance, or how much physically stronger men are on average because of women. Or how men have more life experience managing testosterone, a key reason why transwomen shouldn’t compete in professional women’s wrestling. Don’t worry ladies, they’re just looking out for our interests. Or how men are “fixers,” why don’t you fix your fucking attitude you magnificent prick. I don’t want to hear about how much they love their mother. I don’t want to hear how much they hate their mother. I don’t want to hear about how this guy they know is a “good guy.” I don’t want to hear their thoughts on what happens when you die. Or their stupid philosophies on a life well-lived. Or how much they hate dating. Or how much dating is easier for women. Or their half-baked thoughts on anti-vaxers; They’re white supremacists Kyle - and so are you, you fucking dickhead. I don’t want to hear about their irrational moods, or the dumb fucking things that make them happy, or how they went out of their empty-headed way to drive their buddies from one dumb-fucking point A to dumb-fucking point B. Or how they were raised by strong women. Or what makes them feel bad, or sad, or mad or glad. Or where The Art of War ends and their personality begins. I just don’t even care. 

I can’t even imagine talking to one. If I get asked, ��have you ever been in a real fight?” one more fucking time ... I am going to set fire to the next Jiu Jitsu studio I see. 

Sir, I am a Woman of colour, living in a white-male centred, Aglo-Saxon apocalyptic fantasy world, have I been in a real fight- have you?

When no one is watching. I am a full person. I fear. I worry. I move. I am still. 

When no one is watching, I can slip into day’s of depression. I fold laundry and then fold in on myself. 

I lay in a ball feeling brown and guilty. Thinking tomorrow will be a better day: I will get up early, I will apply to that job. I will work on that report. 

When I am busier, I am happier. 

These past three days were hard. I mean like really hard. 

Older women are not helpful to talk to either. They are grumpy. I hate to say it. And they think the solution to the existence of having no-problems, is a husband, or random sex. Each articulating her idea of healing or wholeness through their favourite patriarchal lens. They say, “And have you thought about a husband?” “Why don’t you look for a man?” “You’re so very sensitive.” “Take this as an experience in life.” “I thought you would be farther along by now.” “You didn’t have sex yet? Well that’s where you went wrong,” followed by laughter. “I wanted to tell you he wasn’t good, but I didn’t know how to say it.” So let me get this straight: it was easier to say, “he loves you, I can feel it in my body, in my bones honey. Just take a chance. See him as a human. Life is about experiences and taking chances. And learning.” 

Well I don’t want to have fucking experiences. I want to buy a fucking house and die an inaccessible, incomprehensible millionaire. You don’t know the first fucking thing about me. 

“It hurts me that you’re still hurting.” Fuck off. No it doesn’t. And not a shred of curiosity. Just bullshit for days. They’re just like men actually. They’re just the men in their heads talking to each other. And then look over at me with lazy grins of people who mistake possession of horrendous levels of stupidity with Crown Chakra wisdom. And here’s a fun fact: If you have to utter the words that you have ancient womanly wisdom or insight, you don’t. If you try to convince me that when you’ll die you’ll come back to haunt me as a cat, or you and I will connect on a cosmic plain to complete our intergalactic work, I promise you, we won’t. 

I have seen this trick. Older women, seeing someone who is younger, and not loving them, but ready to try and mold and shape a psyche so it looks like theirs. “Look lady, I don’t see spending may days arguing about a 30/70 split over domestic labour in alignment with my life path. So unless you are curious about how a single male mind managed to render Middle Earth as the ultimate supporting character, and who the hell did his laundry, though I think we all know - then fuck off.” Basically, the birds of Middle Earth (who were born on the winds of unpaid labour of a woman so this man could be gifted time to have a think) bring me more fucking peace than trying to look a fucking man in the eye. 

I am conva-fucking-lescing. At least one of you was a nurse. And at one time both of you had husbands whose delicates you washed, hung and folded. Do you not recognize rest when you fucking see it? Or is that special laser-beam insight reserved for men? 

When no one is watching. I drive for miles. I stop in the middle of the sidewalk to re-tie shoe laces. I look at the clock. I boil eggs. I stretch. Spread butter. Wash berries. I watch my hair grow. I chop wood and carry water.

When no one is watching. I still smile at men. I smile at the back of their heads. We all need someone to love.

[catintheruemorgue]

annoying things they do

summary: small things these guys do that just grinds your gears a bit.

characters: oda, dazai, kunikida, twain, akutagawa, atsushi, mori, poe, ranpo, fittzgerald, steinbeck, chuuya, yosano, gin, kouyou, higuchi, alcott and lucy

these are all based off things i do or have inconvenienced my life lmfao i’ll probs do a part two with everyone i missed this just got wayyy to long lol next im posting being friends with double black 

Oda:

If you're wearing shorts and have bruises he will poke them when you're resting your legs on him. He’s silent about it too and if you yell at him he pretends to act like he doesn't know what you're talking about.

Will smack your sunburn but this one is actually an accident. He just wanted to pat you on the back because you're amazing.

Will space out when you talk too long, sometimes certain objects are just so… mesmerizing

Dazai:

Loves to jumpscare you the only exception is if it was a trigger. In that case he will just call your name and whip something at you for you to catch at random.

When you're driving he likes to reach over and honk your horn. It's almost caused so many roadside fistfights.

If he sees a dog in public he will bark and growl at it.

Kunikida:

Won’t let you on the bed without socks on. You could be sick as a dog and he’ll still enforce this rule.

Cleaning is hard because he has a hard time throwing things away. You'll spend extra time as he holds two identical pens, trying to decide which one he wants to keep. He’s learned to plan certain days in his schedule for cleaning now.

Won't let you turn up the music in the car and will keep it at a level that's so low it's annoying.

Twain:

Walks around the house shirtless but then complains about how cold it is.

Blasts his music so loud when he wakes up in the morning and it's always early 2000’s hits. It's not rare for you to have Pocketful of Sunshine by Natasha Bedingfield stuck in your head by 9 am.

Always has to climb something, this stems from his adventurous side. It's not really that annoying but when you’re in a crowded area and he runs off to go climb the tall statue, screaming at you to take a photo… Yes it is. Especially when children try and follow him and you're stuck receiving glares from the parents.

Akutagawa:

Will not let you throw any food products out. He tells you it's a perfectly good meal (even if it's not) and that he will eat it tomorrow. It’s sad because you know this stems from childhood but it’s still annoying.

Reuses the same gross, musty ziplock baggies. You keep buying new ones but he doesn't get it lol.  

Will tell you if your breath smells, hair is messy, outfit is ugly. He does not see an issue with this and it's nice knowing someone has your back but he doesn't have to be so rude about it..

Atsushi:

If he drinks he's one of those drinkers who will not let you take it from him. Keeps an iron grip on the cup. He finishes it no matter how drunk and always throws up. Thankfully he rarely drinks.

He stops to help everyone, literally even if they just look like they need help. You've been late to so many things.

Will eat anything. Once you made steak and somehow forgot about it. It was hard as a brick yet he still almost broke his teeth eating it. You think you saw some tears as he told you it was delicious.

Mori:

Listens to people's conversations in public and isn't afraid to comment, loudly, about it. You know it's loud because they either stop talking or try and confront you guys.

Comes up to stops fast and brakes so hard you feel like he does it on purpose.

Sometimes if he and Elise get into a “disagreement” he’ll try and rope you in to take his side and you always do, knowing it would probably give him more satisfaction if you chose to side with her.

Poe:

Asks for constructive criticism but will then argue with you about why you're wrong.

Always humming a song he heard Twain singing and then it gets stuck in your head too.

Will deny stupid things like why your favorite mug is in the trash or why he just let out rather loud scream in the bathroom. You know he's lying because he looks away and makes sure his bangs are covering his eyes.

Ranpo:

Will call you out on any lie even if you don't mean to lie you just forgot about some of the details.

Don't take him grocery shopping if you have a set amount you want to spend. He won't even sneak, he will just say he wants something and throw it in the cart.

Such a backseat driver even though he can't drive.

Fitzgerald:

Likes to act like he's still in his twenties and will somehow get the two of you invited to college parties where he will attempt to do a kegger in front of everyone. You end up being the one to hold him up and he always ends with a, “LETS FUCKING GO!”

Likes to ask for the senior discount even though he's not that old, he just likes to hear the women validate that he's not old.

It’s scary how he used to buy without looking and now will scream if the price on a price tag is too high.

Steinbeck:

Always looking at the grass for wheat to chew on. It's so cheesy when you walk into the city and he's got it sticking out of his mouth.

He gets weirdly intimate with nature and you feel like you're third wheeling.

Has the mentality that he has to provide for you because he is the man. He gets so shocked when he finds out you still want to work.

Chuuya:

Has a hard time making decisions you could ask him what he wants for dinner and his mind will just break.

Gets way too pissed at movies and will actually get up and walk away. Once you were kicked out of the theater because he wouldn't stop yelling at the screen. Another time he walked out you waited a whole ten minutes before you realized he wasn't coming back.

Sometimes activates his ability at night and it's so scary waking up to him floating halfway across the room.

WOMAN TIME!!!!!!!!!!

Yosano:

Will glare at you so intensely if you say something she disagrees with.

Always tries to rope you into drinking with her even if you’ve said no the past ten nights.

Will describe wounds or injuries in such detail and just won’t stop, almost like she’s trying to fuck with you, but she’s not.

Gin:

Claims to be nothing like her big brother but then will go on to make the same facial expressions and do some of the same mannerisms as him.

Will spend hours trying things on just to put it all back, leave the store and change her mind when you’re almost home. Then she’ll have you run back with her to buy it all.

Is used to sneaking around so scares you a lot. Also on the topic of being silent sometimes she just won’t respond, thinking you can just read her vibes / mind.

Kouyou:

Will judge what you eat, especially fast food but will try and steal a fry in private when you're not looking.

Will say things like, “Well that's just the way the world works.” If someone tries to share their baggage with her. You understand she’s had a pretty rough life but it's caused you to almost spit out your drink multiple times.

At functions forgets about you for about an hour while she mingles with everyone else, you could tap on her shoulder and she'll dismiss you like you're a subordinate. Until you clear your throat again you'll see the slight blush as she apologizes.

Higuchi:

She has no sense of privacy. If she hears a crash or loud noise she will bust down the door. It’s sweet but not when the noises are usually from you knocking all the shampoo bottles down again.

Horrible road rage actually puts you on edge to be in the car with her. She doesn't even have to be driving.

Likes to act like she's a professional at everything and people usually believe it because of her suit. It's so nerve wracking when she giggles when they walk away with false information.

Alcott:

Will agree to everything you suggest but you can only tell when she doesn’t want to do it when you’re currently doing it.

Yet she’s not afraid to grumble about how annoying it is when someone bumps into you and doesn’t apologize. It’s sweet but you’re left dealing with the situation if the person is aggressive enough to say something.

Always corrects your spelling or if you say something like “I could care less.”

Lucy:

Will fish for compliments in a very obvious way like, “Wow. Wish someone would call me pretty..” and then just stare right at you.

Kicks you so violently in her sleep but won't let go of you so you cant get away.

Constantly stealing from restaurants. You're banned from a couple restaurants because she got caught trying to steal a cup or salt shaker.

[luckyasfuck]

back seat of his car [k. bakugou]

pairing // katsuki x fem!reader

warnings/themes // NSFW, mafia leader!katsuki, illegal racer!katsuki, mentions of stalker!reader, gun violence, katsuki point his gun at your neck, katsuki checks under your skirt without conset, slight knife play, breeding kink, creampie,

synopsis // finally gathering your courage to confess to the guy you’ve been admiring, the night takes a dark turn when he assumes you’re working for his enemy, and all the secrets unfold.

word count // 2.5k

a/n // i am aware that race cars don’t have passenger seats nor back seats, just shut up and read already.

tonight was exciting. the skirt you wore hung beautifully around your hips, giving your thighs the attention they very much deserve. the nights were always cold, but you’d do anything to get bakugou katsuki to glance at your way. tonight was the night you’d finally make a move after practically stalking the male car racer for weeks now. it was obvious he knew about your ministrations, he’d look back here and there and become more cautious as the nights dragged out. 

a black face mask covers your face, the competition was illegal and it would be a bitch to be caught by those bastards that call themselves cops. boots clicking on the pavement, you speed-walked to the street. the muffled screams and sounds of cars grew louder as you turn the corner, already seeing people cheering the racers on. pushing through the crowd, you manage to slip through the dudes that called themselves ‘guards’ and onto the road. a quick span around the area and you see him.

katsuki is wearing a black leather jacket, his infamous skull shirt underneath and black pants to match the aesthetic of his black racer car. his blonde hair is messy as he takes off his helmet, leaning on the car. you gulp, could you really do this? the satisfying click of your boots makes the respected racer glance at you, eyeing you up and down. with a quick and confident, you eye his car. “that’s a really fucking pretty car.”

he scoffs, “you competing here, woman? don’t even try.” he clicks his tongue. “why? cause i’m a woman?” a death glare is sent his way before you chuckle, leaning on his car too. “no, cause it’s really risky. police are gonna raid this area any second now, that’s why i parked here near this alleyway just incase.” 

huh? “and how would you know that?” the crowd screams louder and your voice is barely heard, new racers coming in from all areas. the sound of their car engines fill the silent night and you watch katsuki pull his phone out, texting someone. this fumes you, does he have a girlfriend or something? i’ll fucking kill her-

“so,” the phone is shoved back inside his pocket, now his attention is all on you. half-lidded vermillion eyes stare into yours as he smirked, putting his hand inside his pocket. “where’s your car?” his eyes span the area, looking for a car that you might own and use. “oh, i’m not racing.”  this response shocks him, looking at you with knotted eyebrows and his head tilted slightly to the side. 

“how’d you get past those guys?” the ‘guards’ push the crowd away harshly, preventing them from entering the road. they push, throw, do anything to keep the crowd at bay. they’re pretty big guys so they don’t get beat up that easily. “i’m a woman.” you reply with a giggle.

“and i may have told them i know you.” 

the blonde’s phone dings with a notification, “do you really know me now?” he reads through the text with a smirk. muffled police sirens are heard and the crowd silences for a minute before everybody’s frantically exiting the street, the car racers getting in their car and driving off full speed.

fuck, where you gonna go no-

the sound of a car door opening breaks you from your trance as you see flashes of red and blue lights rounding the corner. “get in.” katsuki rushes to his side of the car and without a thought, you enter his car. with a quick and professional manuever, the both of you are rushing through the empty and dark alleyway in seconds. the darkness seems endless until the blonde turns the corner and stops. looking back, he squints his glowing red eyes to check for any police cars. 

a relieved sigh leaves his lips and he gets out the vehicle, leaving you confused. a hand opens your side of the car and you’re yanked outside harshly, “what the fuck?!” a loud thud fills the silent alleyway as your back hits the hard concrete. a sound of metal is heard and the next thing you knew, katsuki has you pinned on the wall with a gun held straight to your throat. “don’t fucking think i haven’t seen you lurking around.” 

how were you supposed to know that your harmless stalking sessions meant so much to him? you gulped, forcing yourself back on the wall trying to detatch your sweating neck from his cold gun. “you working for deku or something, hm?” the weapon is shoved into your skin more and your eyes close in fear. “i... i don’t know who that is.”

katsuki tears the weapon away from you and the sound of a loud bang makes you whimper, eyes tearing up. “oh really, now?” opening your eyes, a tear trickles down your cheek as you looked up at his hand pointing the gun he just shot to the sky. noticing this, katsuki puts it back in it’s place against your neck. “i- i really don’t! i just stalked you... cause- cause i liked you and you’re- you’re hot.” you admitted, fearing for your life. 

ignoring the confession, katsuki kneels down and using his unoccupied hand, he uses the flashlight on his phone. his hand hoists your skirt up without warning, attaching the hem to your waistband as he shined the flashlight on your thigh. expecting to see the symbol for deku’s little clan on your thigh, his hand is already on the trigger, ready to pull it and end your life.

but he saw nothing, just your bare, quivering thighs. and maybe your lace panties too, but he looked away before he could stare at it for too look. with a harsh movement, he fixes your skirt and pulls the weapon away from your neck before grabbing your collar and staring right into your eyes.

“listen here, you fucker. you like me don’t you?” a relieved sigh leaves your lips and you nod, staring back into his lust-filled eyes. “i’ve been fucking stressed lately, and you fucking added to that. so let me fuck you into oblivion as a punishment.” the straight forward statement made your pussy wet.

it was the fact that he still asked that made you agree, even after you life was fucking threatened 30 seconds ago. katsuki bakugou may be bad, but he’ll never stoop to that level. plus, it could be a form of sorry for pointing a gun to your neck and almost pulling the trigger. in the back of his head, he made sure he would make you feel like a fucking princess.

it was an ‘in the moment’ kind of thing, the car was heated and condensation pooled at the windows as you and katsuki made out with each other, his thigh making its way in between your legs to rub your clit on the rough material of his jeans. the shirt you wore was cut open by the knife he kept in his pocket and in an instant, he attacks your collarbones and a hand creeps up to cup your boob under your matching lace bra, your nipple being twisted around by his fingers. “you fucking slut. you absolute whore. getting off to someone who almost ended your life? yeah, you want this cock in your slutty fucking pussy, don’t you?” 

without you noticing, he had ripped off his leather jacket and shirt. you drooled over his toned torso, admiring his abs and the slight hint of a blonde happy trail leading straight down into his pants. unconsciously, your hand goes to graze your fingers down his bare upper-half, trailing down the blonde hair leading you to where you wanted to touch before you cupped the large tent in his pants “yes, i want it.” you whimpered out, squeezing his bulge slightly, making him grunt.

katsuki massages your inner thigh as his unoccupied hand goes to unzip his fly and rid himself of any remaining clothes. as soon as his underwear is out of the way, his cock slaps right against his lower stomach and you stare in awe, gulping. the size and girth intimidated you, but this is exactly what you wanted. he strokes himself a few times before teasing your sensitive clit with his tip, moaning at the feeling of your lace panties against his slit. your panties are soon yanked off, katsuki leaving them dangling off your ankle as he propped himself between you, hands pinning your wrists above your head and your legs hoisted up on his shoulders. 

he angles his cock to tease at your entrance, smirking at you. “come on, beg for it.” the tip goes in and out of you and you whimper out in a frantic state, “please! just- just put it in already, i want it, i want it, i want it- fuck!” your toes curl in both pleasure and pain when katsuki slams inside your without warning. the stretch burned, he was probably the biggest thing you’ve put inside you in a while. his hips still and he looks down, admiring the way your cunt swallowed him up, feeling you clench around him. “good girl.” an unoccupied hand grips your hips as he started to thrust into you slowly before gradually picking up the pace until he was pounding into you.

the car shook back and forth as the racer railed you in the backseat, skin slapping and moans prominent even outside the car. “fuck! t-too deep, bakugou, too-” a pair of lips slam into yours, cutting your sentence off. katsuki ignores your complaints and lets out a dark chuckle. “am i hitting your womb, slut? that’s what you wanted, right? you want me to fuck my babies into you so you’ll be swollen for nine months.”

“ye-”

“no. we can’t have my little fuck toy be too sensitive for sex, right? you’re my fuck toy, my cumslut. mafia boys like me are always stressed and need obedient girls like you with tight fucking cunts to keep sane.” there’s no time to think about the term he used for himself as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mind going blank as you neared your orgasm. cumming all over his cock with a loud moan, your legs quiver as katsuki goes faster and sloppier, chasing his own orgasm. his hips stutter when he cums, painting your insides his shade of white. a few more thrusts and he pulls out of you, panting. he stares straight at your glistening pussy, watching his semen slowly seep out of you.

the sight makes whimper, feeling himself getting hard all over again. “i hope you can take more, princess.” the grip on both your wrists becomes tighter and you let out a loud moan, tears spilling from your eyes down your cheeks as katsuki bottoms out inside you for the second time that night. “’cause i’m not stopping for anything.” he doesn’t wait for anything and starts pounding into you again, abusing that sweet little hole of yours. “bakugou! fuck! too much!” your legs quiver, but his speed doesn’t falter. instead, he goes faster.

lips attach to suck on the supple skin of your neck, “call me katsuki.” he whispers, biting your neck softly. “k-katsuki, gonna cum again.” you cried out, fingernails digging into the hand that kept your hands at place. “then cum, cum all over this cock again. no one, and i repeat, no one is ever gonna make you feel this good. got it?” the question is left unanswered when a loud moan erupts from your throat as you came. katsuki follows a few thrusts after, moaning uncontrollably.

the both of you pant, a heavy layer of sweat covering both your bodies. katsuki pulls out of you, instantly replacing his cock with two of his fingers, making you jump as he scissors them inside you. “katsuki, n-no more... please...” you begged, whining.

“shh...” he calms you down, pulling his fingers out and prodding them at your lips. “suck.” the command instantly has your lips encaging around his fingers covered in both of your love juices. a moan escapes your lips at the taste, pulling away once you’ve lapped all of it up. the car becomes silent, katsuki taking a roll of tissue from the corner of his car, starting to clean you up. large arms gently keep you from jumping up from the overstim. “just a little more, it would be uncomfortable if you had cum dripping all over your thighs.” a choked ‘okay’ leaves your lips as he cleaned up the remnants of his orgasm. 

“there,” the window opens and katsuki throws the used tissues outside. “are you hurt anywhere?” he helps you sit yourself up on his lap gently, his red eyes looking all over your body for any bruises he might have left. “i’m fine, thanks.” you panted out, smiling at him. the blonde looks away, gently setting you down and handing you his shirt. “sorry for tearing yours.” he picks up his clothes and the weapons on the ground, starting to dress himself. you did the same, heart jumping in joy at his scent on the shirt. 

the both of you climb to the drivers and passenger seat, katsuki still half-naked. the black jacket is thrown to your exposed thighs and you look at him in confusion. “you’ll get cold-” a hand keeps the jacket on your thighs as the car starts. “i can handle it.” he started to drive through the rest of the alleyway. “whatever you say.” you stay put in your seat.

“i’m... part of a mafia group.” katsuki starts. “deku, the guy i assumed you work for, he wants my head. i don’t know why, but i am sure not losing to a broccoli looking headass. and since you couldn’t mind your fucking business, you’re involved now.”

“how so?”

“i need to keep you at arms length. not to protect you or anything! it’s so you can’t go around telling everybody, and i still don’t know if you really work for that bastard or not.” the car rounds into an abandoned street. god, you were gonna get killed, weren’t you? you thought as he stopped at a worn out house, stepping out the car. “come on.” 

his footsteps are loud, and you do follow him. he left his weapon inside the car, as if to make you trust him. “we were pretty sure that you worked for deku, but i think you’re too dumb for that. don’t be surprised.” the blonde warns as you both near the door. nothing was heard inside. katsuki opens the door and in an instant, metal clads with metal and 6 guns are pointed straight at you. but with a raise of katsuki’s hand, all the guns are put down. you shook uncontrollably in your spot, maybe the fact that you could barely walk from what you guys did earlier. “she doesn’t work for dek-”

“she’s pretty.” another blonde smiles at you, waving and winking. as you’re about to wave back awkwardly, katsuki pulls you beside him by your waist. “don’t even fucking try, denki.”

“she’s mine.”

[kiribaku-queen]

Sexercise [18+]

TW: rough sex, multiple partners, overstimulation, oral sex, penetration, spanking, choking, hair pulling, smacking (face), fingering, bruising

Word count: 6.8K

Summary: When you go to a new gym for special workouts but you aren't getting your needs met. Your trainer is here to help, offering special sessions to help get both of your sexual frustrations out.

A/N: Okay, shit writing BUT just think about the concept. I took the liberty of writing this piece because I couldn't get it out of my head!! This collab was really fun to do! Although stressful, I would love to do it again! Check out all the other writer's work for this collab! They are all so talented and just W O W

Inspired by the Korean Webtoon: Sexercise! It's actually really good and I was so obsessed with it. Here's my version but with Bakugou <3

Also, sorry if I tag the trigger warnings wrong >< I'm so new to this!

You stepped out of the freshly, hot shower, carefully drying every inch of your body before putting on the exercise clothes the gym had provided you.

You know. You didn’t bring your own clothes and the gym gave you some to wear? Well, this isn’t your typical gym.

It all started when you saw their promotion flyer hidden behind many others on the bulletin board on your way home. You’ve been meaning to get back to the gym and this one looked promising. A new form of exercise that’ll make you come back for more? Curiosity got the best of you and you headed to the gym to check it out.

Upon arriving, it looked like a regular gym. They had all the necessary equipment that you see in any gym. What’s so special about this gym? And what ‘new form’ of exercise were they talking about, you asked yourself.

“Hi, are you new here?” you hear a voice from behind you. You spun around to see a beautiful, fit woman greet you.

“Ah, yes I’m actually looking to sign up for that new form of exercise written on this flyer,” you explained, showing the lady the flyer you picked up. She grabbed it from you, shocked and disbelief written all over her face.

“Who the fuck did this?” she grumbled under her breath. But she did it right in front of you so you heard everything she said. She didn’t sound too happy, by the way her eyebrows crunched in rage. Her reaction made you back away, feeling uncomfortable. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to come to this gym after all. The lady noticed how you were shifting in your stance and cleared her throat, fixing her posture to look professional.

“Sorry if I scared you,” she laughed embarrassedly. “We just don’t promote this gym very much so it was a surprise to see this flyer. I’m guessing you’re not familiar with the workouts we do here?”

“Uhm, not really,” you say shyly. She looks you up and down and thinks for a moment. Then, she goes behind her desk and pulls out this thick contract.

“Well, before we get started, I’m going to need you to sign this nondisclosure agreement and fill out your personal information here. After all this is completed, I can take you around for a tour!” she exclaimed. You were a bit reluctant to even sign this and was about to walk out the door. What kind of gym is this that you need to sign an NDA? But it couldn’t hurt right?

When you signed the last line of that NDA form, she took you on your tour right away. And that’s when you found out the through about this gym.

“Ah, fuck~!”

“HNGH, hah!”

“Good, I wanna see 10 more reps.”

This gym helps their members enjoy working out through the pleasure of sex.

So here you were, stretching your muscles out in your assigned room for your first session. You felt that familiar feeling at the bottom of your stomach due to nervousness and excitement. You’ve always loved having sex. Having multiple partners? Eh, not so much. But you’ve been single for way too long and it’s been a while since you’ve had a good sex experience. Plus, you’ve been meaning to start exercising again so this was such a perfect gym for you. You’re just hoping that it’ll meet your expectations.

You heard two voices coming in your direction. A muscular man with dark green hair and similar clothes to what you were wearing and an angry, blondie with a trainer outfit on were entering the room, chatting away like they knew each other.

“(y/n)?” the blonde one spoke up.

“Ah, yes. That’s me,” you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and reached out your hand to shake the trainer’s hand.

“Bakugou. I’ll be your trainer today,” he introduced himself. His palm in yours felt so heavy andstrong. He gripped your hand firmly, but only for a second and let go, his presence leaving you empty. Who knew that someone could have that kind of effect on you. You wanted so badly to take his large hands and have them roam all around your bod- You shook your head out of these naughty thoughts. What were you thinking? Sure, you were having sex but this was your workout, not some hookup. Plus, he’s your trainer. He’s not the one you were going to have sex with. It was that handsome hunk beside him.

“Introduce yourself,” Bakugou nudged the man. The green-haired man gave you a shy smile and a small wave.

“Midoriya Izuku. Most people call me Deku, but you can call me by what makes you most comfortable,” Deku says. You smile. His personality and demeanor reminded you of a puppy. But not a small puppy. He was more like a Great Dane: sweet but large in size. Looking at both of them now, they were both very muscular, almost towering over your small figure. You looked over at your trainer who was writing something down on his clipboard. Now he was very attractive. He’s got the face, the voice, the body. God, he was your type. Your partner was also good looking. No matter how much you wanted to have this session with someone else, your partner will do for now. With a build like that, you were sure you were going to enjoy this sex session.

“Alright, (y/n). Since this is your first time here, I’ll run over the basics. Before every session, each partner will give the other a massage to loosen up. If you could lay on the mat, please,” he instructs, pointing over to the mat that was laying on the floor.

You nodded in understand, laying on your stomach and resting your chin on your arms. Deku comes up behind you, sitting on top of the back of your legs. You jump in surprise, but Deku hushes you and gently pushes you back down.

“I’ll make you feel good, don’t worry,” he leans down to whisper in your ear.

Deku starts his massage by pressing both of his thumbs in the middle of your back, going up your spine. You almost let out a moan of pleasure from how good you felt. His large hands felt amazing on your back. Damn, forget about the sex. You’ll gladly be content with this. His hands skillfully rubbed your entire back, switching between a firm and soft pressure. You definitely felt relaxed and comfortable now. So this is why they start off every session with a massage. You were about to fully succumb to his touch, that is, until your trainer interrupted you.

“Okay, you can switch now. Sir, please lay on your stomach,” he instructed. Ah, right. You were still being talked through everything by Mr. Grumpy Pants here. Deku was used to this, so he laid down and you were the one to get on top now.

You started your massage off slow. Your touch was soft and gently, trying to touch every part of his body and get him to relax as much as possible. You tried copying a few of his moves, improvising here and there. So far, so good. You could feel Deku’s muscles loosen under you and he sighed in satisfaction.

“Alright, sir. Now I’m gonna have you lay on your back. Ma’am, go ahead and massage his chest,” Bakugou instructed. Swiftly and skillfully, Deku maneuvered his body around so that you were straddling his waist from the front.

“Oh!” you made a sound of surprise. You could have gotten up and let him take his time turning around, but he had his own plans. You could tell he’s done this many times before.

You were shy about giving him the massage at first. It’s not the first time you’ve touched a man’s chest, but it was your first time giving a massage with the man looking at you with such intense eyes. Deku’s hands were crossed behind his head, enjoying the show he was given. His eyes never left yours for a second, making sure he mapped every inch, every curve of your body and imprinted in his brain. You didn’t know where to look. While he was staring at with you eyes of lust, you were looking anywhere else but him; his chest, the floor, your hands. How could you concentrate when he’s looking at you like that?

You couldn’t help but shift in your position to get more comfortable, but in doing so, you sat right on his crotch. A bolt of electricity shot through your body when you felt his hard on growing larger with each passing second. It took you everything in your power not to moan right then and there. You didn’t want to look desperate so soon in the session. But Deku was making it so hard. Bakugou looked up from his clipboard to see a very obvious tent in the male’s pants.

“Hard already? It’s only the beginning of the massage,” Bakugou pointed out. Deku smirks and puts one hand on your thigh, caressing firmly.

“What can I say? She’s a beautiful girl,” Deku compliments. Bakugou doesn’t respond to his comment and instead, instructs him to do something else.

“Sir, please massage her breasts in this position,” Bakugou says. Without hesitation, Deku gropes your breasts with his massive hands. Every time he squeezed a bit too tightly, every time he readjusts his pose, it was all driving you mad. The heat between your thighs was telling you that you wanted, needed, to be touched. You bit your lips to stop another moan from coming out. Deku takes notice of your small action and decides, with a devilish smirk, to take matters into his own hands. He grabs a hold of your waist and juts his hips upwards so that his boner rubbed against your sopping, wet cunt. With so much force he put into that thrust, your body got pushed forward, allowing Deku to grab your breasts even more tightly. Finally, that long awaited moan escapes your lips.

“There we go,” Deku whispers, continuing his movements. You closed your eyes, enjoying the friction he was supplying you with. But before anything could get too heated, Bakugou, once again, interrupts.

“You probably already know what to do but I’ll explain just in case,” Bakugou starts, putting down his clipboard and goes to the draw that was sitting on the side. He brings out a bottle of oil and kneels behind you. “May I?” he asks while pointing to your top.

“Ah, yes,” you softly say. With his rough, calloused hands, he rakes his fingers up your side before removing your top. Your breasts spill out with a flop, making Deku’s eyes widen in thirst. Bakugou disregards his reaction, continues to put oil on his hands and starts to massage your breasts.

“Be careful when massaging women’s breasts. You don’t want to be too rough that it hurts or too soft that she can’t feel anything. The closer you get to the nipple, the more sensitive she is so be careful when touching them,” Bakugou explains. Like a pro, he starts to play around and twists your sensitive nipples. But just like in his explanation, he used different pressures in different areas to give you the ultimate pleasure. You moan in ecstasy, allowing yourself to submit to his touch. The back of your head landed on his shoulder and you just laid it there while he played with your breasts. Bakugou chuckled softly in your ear and gently pushed you up.

“Okay, give it a try,” he was addressing Deku. Deku nodded with excitement, eager to continue the session. Bakugou guides you to your partner, but his touch lingered on your back for a second too long. You looked back at your trainer and made eye contact with those fiery, crimson eyes. But your attention was stolen by the green-haired man under you. Deku had this talk to many times before that he goes right in to touch your soft, naked tits. It doesn’t take long for his tongue to find its way to your nipple. His wet tongue sliding against your sensitive buds excited you and only made you want more. You started griding your hips downwards to meet his upwards thrusts.

Very quickly, the chemistry between you two started getting more heated. Clothes were coming off one by one. Deku moves so that he is sitting up while you straddle. You cupped his face and brought him in for a kiss. As you guys were making out, you pull his shirt up to reveal part of his abs. At first, you just wanted to tease and feel his body but your horniess was off the charts and just touching caused you to want more of him.

For a moment, Izuku separates from you to take his shirt off and then his lips are right back on yours. Then he leans you back so you’re laying on your back and he’s leaning over you. He quickly disposes of his clothes and then rips your pants off. He sees that you’re already so wet and don’t need prepping. Neither does Deku apparently. When you looked down, he dick was so erect that precum was already leaking out.

Deku leans over you, panting slightly from your make out session, and lines his dick up with your entrance while pumping it a few times. Before he’s right about to stick it in, Bakugou slaps the back of his head. A now agitated Deku springs up, but before he could say anything, Bakugou just throws a condom at him.

“Slow down. Don’t forget that this is an exercise session. Now I want to see 50 reps,” Bakugou scolded.

“Fuckin hell,” he complains. He looks back at you and smirks. “Ready?” You nod eagerly wanting more than anything to just be fucked right now.

Deku slides his throbbing cock inside your long awaited pussy and you swear you could see stars. The stretch from his thick, veiny dick felt so amazing that your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Deku stayed still to let you adjust to his size. The feeling of being stuffed by a fat cock, and by a handsome guy at that, is already making your pussy clench tightly around him.

Deku lets out a sigh of pleasure and starts thrusting. The numbing feeling caused all his hairs to stand on end.

God, when he put his dick in, man did it feel good. But as soon as he started fucking you, you didn’t feel fully… satisfied. The initial stretch was the best feeling you’ve had yet. For some reason, the sex didn’t feel as good as you wanted it to be. Maybe you were too into your head? Maybe you just had to relax and just have a good time. But that was hard to do when your partner was whispering the countdown to himself.

There was no doubt that Izuku was enjoying his time with you, but he was so concentrated on the 50 reps that he wasn’t thinking about making you feel good. He thrusted inside you, not taking into consideration of where inside you he was hitting. Heat rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment. This wasn’t what you had in mind for your first session. You felt bad that you weren’t enjoying it, but you didn’t want to show it. With each snap of his hips, you forced out a moan to make it believe that you were having a good time. Every now and then, you’d let out a bigger, more convincing moan to change it up a bit.

This sucks. What’s the different between this and having sex with some stranger after a night out? They both can’t hit the right spot. He isn’t even going the speed you want him to. You wanted to be pounded into. You wanted him to fuck you so hard and so rough that you can’t walk the next morning. You wanted him to leave dark bruises all over your body but he wasn’t giving it to you.

You started getting bored midway through his reps and opened your eyes to look around the room. Maybe you could entertain yourself some other way while Deku was having his fun. You happened to look at your trainer who was looking at his own clipboard. He wasn’t even paying attention to you guys at all. He was writing down notes. What was he really writing though? Bakugou glanced away from his notes and made eye contact with you for a quick second. It was only for a second but it was enough to make you feel embarrassed that you got caught. You immediately closed your eyes to pretend that that small little eye contact didn’t happen.

“…48…49….50!” Izuku finally finished, giving you a nice, deep, hard thrust to finish it all off. That was good, but not enough. You eventually got fed up and flipped him over so that now you were on top. You were going to ride him until you were satisfied and full. But before you could lower yourself onto him, Deku holds your shoulders to stop you. He became a little flustered that you decided to take control because this wasn’t a part of the session. He looked at Bakugou for approval and he sighed, but eventually nodded his head.

“We can change it up,” Bakugou allowed. “But, (y/n). Now I want to see 50 reps from you.” He instructed.

“Yes sir,” you replied quickly. You just wanted him inside you, you didn’t have time for this chit-chat. So slowly but surely, you lowered yourself onto his dick, gasping the way he filled you up. You were able to fully sit, his dick disappearing completely inside you. The tip finally hit you where you wanted. Using your heels as leverage, you moved in the way you wanted. You made sure that pull all the way out before slamming into his dick again, loving the way he just fills you up. You loved how you were in control, shaking your ass up and down, hearing your sloppy cunt slap against his skin, how wet it must be down there.

God, but you wanted more. You guided Deku’s hands to grab your ass but all he does it grab onto it. Maybe a squeeze here and there. He was so entranced in the sex, his head was tilted back with his eyes shut closed, constant moans escaped his mouth. He loved the feeling of your pussy clenched around him to even think about anything. But you bit your lip in frustration. You didn’t want his hands just laying on you. You wanted him smack it with as much force as he could. He could put those muscles to use and man handle you a little. But you were here to fend for yourself. A visible pout was permanent on your lips but your partner wasn’t able to see it because he was enjoying himself below you.

But your trainer did. Bakugou was paying close attention to you. From the moment Izuku’s cock entered you to your little pout, he noted every movement and every expression you made. He raised an eyebrow, noting that small action and saving it for later.

Deku’s moans were growing louder and more inconsistent. He bucked his hips up, trying to be in motion with you but was getting sloppier by the second. It soon became too much for him and hot, white cum exploded inside the condom.

“Fuuuuck,” Izuku let out one last breath and flopped his arm out in exhaustion. He took a minute to catch his breath while you were getting off him and already started cleaning yourself up. Dammit, you didn’t even cum.

You were gathering your belongings, meanwhile, Izuku was chatting it up with Bakugou again. Before he leaves, Izuku comes up to you, places a hand on your lower back and gave you a genuine smile.

“Thanks for the amazing session,” he said. You gave him your best, fakest smile.

“Back at ya,” you reply. Your smile dropped the moment you turned around and you sighed in annoyance. You hated to think that you’d have to go home to finish yourself off but it looks like that’s exactly what you were going to have to do. Bakugou came up behind you and cleared his throat, causing you to jump in place.

“How was your first session?” he asked. You took a sip of your water to give it a bit of thought. Was this a fun experience? Oh, most definitely. Would you do it again? Probably. Did you cum? Hard no.

“It was good,” you lied. The experience was definitely new and refreshing but the sex was so mediocre that it was almost a little boring. But you couldn’t tell your trainer that. So you gave a sweet smile and picked up your bag. “I’ll see you at the next session!”

But the next session felt exactly the same as the first. You had a different partner this time. A big, scruffy dude with semi-long red hair that was pulled in a ponytail. He was just as built as Izuku, if not bigger. He had the cutest and sweetest personality. And just seeing him, you’d think this cute puppy would turn into a hungry wolf but you were wrong. As per usual.

Bakugou had made you kneel on this couch that he had provided. Kirishima was fucking you from behind but not hitting any of the right spots. His large hands were placed on your hips but they were glued there and he wasn’t touching you anywhere else.

Again, you faked your moans to mask the image of you not having a good time. Though, when you peeked behind you to get a look at your partner, he was in pure bliss. Eyes closed, mouth hung open, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, sweat trickling down his forehead. Damn, was it a sexy sight. At least he was having a fun time.

Every now and then, your mind would wander. It could be many things: you could think about what you were going to eat for dinner, or what your partner was like in bed with a lover, or if you forgot to turn the light off in your bathroom. Oh shit, what were you doing again? You opened one eye and Kirishima was focused solely on slamming his dick in your vagina. Sighing, you had to remind yourself that this was meant for exercise, not for pleasure. Although, it would be nice if you could feel nice too once in a while. Exercise was the prime reason you signed up but like… you thought it would be a win-win situation.

Your mind continued to wander for the rest of the session until you mind was set on a certain trainer you have the hots for. You could see his muscles through his tight fitted shirt, making him look even more buff than he already was. He looked so strong, you could only imagine what having sex with him was like.

You could imagine it now; face twisted in pleasure as he pounds into mercilessly, just like how you want it. You could feel that familiar butterfly feeling in the pit of your stomach just thinking about it. But then, you thought that he must be like all the other men; only chasing their own high instead of pleasuring their partner.

Session after session was exactly the same. You can pleasure that dick, but he can’t even find the clit. But honestly, you were okay with it because at least you could exercise while doing your favorite sport.

You were wiping yourself up after one session, drinking from a bottled water as your trainer, Bakugou, comes up behind you.

“How was the session?” Bakugou asked after your partner has just left the room. You took another sip of water before answering.

“Mhm, it was okay,” you tried your best to sound positive. You thought your conversation was going to end there, like it always has but something in Bakugou decided to investigate a little further.

“How do you really feel?” he questions you, stepping a little closer and observing your facial features for any lies. “I could tell that you weren’t enjoying it. Off day?” You put your water bottle away, thinking of how to respond to him. Did you really want to tell him how you were really feeling? You didn’t want to seem like a freak to him. Did you really want to tell him how you like to be choked, so much so that you feel like you can’t breath. Or that you want someone to just spank you until there’s bruises because you love the idea of being marked. Or that you want to feel stuffed to the brim but still beg for more?

“I just like it a little rough,” you explained. Bakugou nods his head and hums in understanding.

“I thought they were going pretty rough on you,” he thought. But you just groaned and rolled your eyes.

“I guess, but I want more!” you exclaim, letting out an exasperated sigh. “This is why I have such a hard time with my sex life because every guy is too busy chasing after their own high that they forget that I need to feel good too. Not every guy is into rough sex. I know that. But I just want someone to blow my back out for once! Like not holding back and just fuck me until I’m in tears… but one can only dream, right?” you chuckled at the end. You didn’t mean to go on a tangent but fuck it, why not? He’s your trainer anyway. He’s supposed to know everything about you if he wants to tend to your needs. Bakugou just looks at you in silence. You take that as a sign to continue.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. This whole program is fun and I really love the idea but just once in a while, I want to have good sex, too,” you continued to open up to your trainer. You finally turned your head to get a look at his reaction to your rant and you saw those crimson getting closer and closer to you until you were right under him, looking up. Your heart skips a beat having him so close to you. You could smell his burnt vanilla caramel cologne, his scent filling all of your senses at once.

“Then would you like a private session?” he asks you in a whisper, his head tilted down at you. You were so mesmerized by him that you followed his every move.

“With who?” you asked.

“Me.” He responded in that sexy, raspy voice of his.

“When?”

“Now.” Bakugou pushes you against the cold mirror as a form of intimidation. Bakugou knows that he shouldn’t be doing this. Taking advantage of your weakness, suggesting private sessions when he’s strictly not allowed to, especially not on company’s time. It was wrong. But he’s had his eyes on you since the moment you walked in the gym for the very first time. And when you said what you said earlier, it was practically fate that you became one of his students.

The cold mirror touching your back sent you into shock, but the warmness of his body touching your chest made up for it all. He tilts your chin up so you could look in his half closed eyes full of lust. And then you couldn’t take it anymore.

You grabbed him by the neck and pulled him in for a hungry kiss. Your lips smashed together, causing your teeth to crash but you didn’t care. And neither did Bakugou because he was just as hungry as you, kissing you with the same amount of passion.

He wraps his arm your waist, pulling you closer to him, if that was even possible at this point. With one swift handful of ass, he lifts you off your feet so that your legs were wrapped around his waist. The moment you became stable, Bakugou gives your ass a smack, making you jolt up.

“Mhm!” you made a surprised noise through the kiss but didn’t stop kissing him. God, you didn’t want to stop. When you came back down, you could feel his erection resting right on top of your clit. He carries you to one of the equipment stored in the room, a couch, while you grind on him, hopping to get more friction to stimulate your needs.

As soon as your back hit the couch, clothes were already being stripped off of you. There goes your shirt, then your sports bra. Finally, your pants. Last but not least, your lace panties that were already wet from your previous session are now even more soaked from his teasing. Wasting no time in discarding your panties, he pulls your waist I so that you’re laying flat on your back, your pussy right in his face I all of its glory.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me. I haven’t even done anything yet,” he says. You could feel his beath tickling your wet folds. He was so close yet so far. Just having his breath on you made your pussy clench over nothing. Bakugou puts his nose right on your clit, taking a good whiff of your after workout sex. God, it was intoxicating and he couldn’t wait to dig right in.

“Thank you for the food,” he says before completely devouring you. He took no time in exploring every fold, every inch of your pussy, eating you out like there was no tomorrow. He was rough around your entrance but soft and gentle around your clit. It was like light feather licks, barely touching you but sending you into sensory overload. When he got closer to your entrance, that’s when he started to get rough. Slurping and devouring your wetness, getting every last drop and leaving no leftovers.

Bakugou grabbed hold of your thighs, squeezing them and pulling your body even closer to his face so he could tongue fuck you. His tongue enters you, pushing its way through to get a better taste of your sweet cunt. At the same time, your mouth is hung open in pleasure, moans spilling out of your mouth and you couldn’t stop. Bakugou took this opportunity to stick three fingers in your mouth.

“Noisy bitch. Suck,” he commanded. And so you sucked on his fingers, like a little girl eating her lollipop. He only had three fingers in your mouth, but they were so thick that you couldn’t possibly put any more in. Yet you still covered his fingers in your thick saliva, making sure each finger was coated and wet enough so he could fuck you.

You looked up at him, purposefully making a sultry face, with your big, innocent eyes. You wanted to give him a small show, making sure that he was watching every move that you made. Your tongue found its way in between each finger, licking up and down, sucking each individual finger, and letting go with a loud ‘pop’. You got disappointed when Bakugou removed his hands from you mouth. But was pleasantly surprised when he stuck all three fingers in your throbbing cunt without warning. It’s not like you needed the prepping anyway when you were already soaking wet. Your back arched and chills ran down your spine. You didn’t know how this was possible, but the moment he entered his fingers, it was pure bliss. You already felt like you wanted to cum because he just managed to hit that magical spot in one go. You couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like when he fucks you with his fat cock.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. I can feel you clenching around me,” Bakugou watched as he slides his fingers in and out of your slick folds. He gives you a minute to adjust before picking up the pace. Every thrust of his hand, he keeps getting deeper and is always right the perfect damn spot. It was driving you mad. He hasn’t even fucked you yet and you were already a moaning mess. You couldn’t even form any words, you were such in a trance. It wasn’t before long until you had that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. The feeling gradually and rapidly escalated. Bakugou could feel it too: the way your walls clenched around his fingers a little too tight, he knew you were going to cum anytime soon.

“Bakugou~” you whined, holding onto his forearms for dear life. You needed to prepare yourself for this one.

“Gonna cum, princess?” Bakugou teased. You couldn’t answer him. More like you weren’t able to hear his question because you were so focused on this intense feeling that was going to explode any minute. Bakugou took his free hand and pushed your legs up so that they were pressed against your chest. He, then, leaned on them so weren’t able to move or squirm out of his grasp. And he went even faster, the sound of your juices was sinful.

“AH!” you screamed, letting your orgasm take over and wash over you. You thought he would stop once you had your first orgasm but he wasn’t stopping. He continued his fast pace. You wanted to make him stop, the overstimulation was getting too much for you. You tried moving your legs but Bakugou’s grip on you was nailed down. You weren’t going anywhere. You just had to take it but it still felt so good. The moment you felt like it was all too much to handle, Bakugou took his fingers out. And they were covered in a thick, white consistency. If he spread his fingers out, your cum would string along each finger. Bakugou didn’t hesitate to lick it all off with one swipe of his tongue.

“On all fours,” he demanded, standing up while pumping his cock for you. You didn’t have to be asked twice. Despite the numb feeling in between your legs, you enthusiastically got on your hands and knees, ready to be penetrated by your trainer. Bakugou gave your ass a small smack before lining his cock in front of your entrance. That small smack was enough for you to have hearts in your eyes. You let out a small mewl of delight and Bakugou smirked.

“Yeah? You like it when I smack your ass?” Bakugou asked.

“I love when you smack my ass. Please spank me again,” you begged. Bakugou took his hand and gave you cheek another blow, this time harder than the last. Bakugou made sure to look for any change in your expression, careful not to hurt you. But you wanted more. You wanted him to hit your harder.

“Spank me harder, sir,” you pleaded, moving lower so that your ass was hanging in the air. You wiggled your butt, wanting more from the strong blonde. He smirks even bigger, almost animalistic like.

“That’s a good girl,” his voice became raspy and wasted no time in giving you a nice, hard smack to your right cheek. You cried out in a pleasurable pain. You smiled into your moans, drool starting to come out from the sides of your mouth. The sound of his hand making contact to your bare cheek was so loud that it could be heard from outside the closed room. Bakugou spanked you until your cheek was red and raw from his large hands. This. This was what you wanted. This is what you’ve been wanting for so long and you were finally going to get it.

Oh sweetie, the main course hasn’t even started yet. How could you feel this good when he hasn’t even fucked you yet? You could feel the tip of his dick teasing your entrance. You wanted to lean into him yourself, not wanting to wait any longer, but Bakugou had a strong hold on your hips. He gave his cock a few more pumps before slowly sliding his cock inside your ready, wet pussy.

You both moaned in sync at the feeling: his fat cock throbbing inside you and your tight pussy clenching around his cock. Bakugou started thrusting at a good pace. But just like how his fingers felt, he was hitting that sweet spot of yours perfectly. Every thrust was making you see stars.

“Mhm~ Bakugou, faster!” you whined in between moans. Bakugou grabs a fistful of hair before pulling you up so that your back was arched.

“Needy, aren’t we? And what if I say no?” Bakugou asked in your ear. You just whimpered, reaching behind you to grasp his waist and force him to go faster as you try to back into him at the same time. Bakugou didn’t like this too much. He let go out your hair and went straight to your neck, cutting off your air momentarily.

“Did I say you could do that?” he questioned through gritted teeth. You quickly shook your head.

“No, sir,” you barely managed to say due to your lack of oxygen. He gave you another squeeze before a few smacks to the cheek.

“There we go. Now let’s try that again. What if I say no?” he asks again. You bit your lip trying to come up with an answer. But it was hard to think with a hand was at your throat.

“Please! God, I want you so bad. I want you to fuck me, please!” you practically screamed.

“Good girl,” he said and let go of your neck. You gasped for air, coughing in the process but Bakugou didn’t allow you to fully recover. He pounded into you with no mercy. You couldn’t stop your ahego expression from happening, your tongue hung out and your eyes crossed.

He stopped pounding into you to slowly slide his cock fully out of you before slamming into you again. It felt heavenly but a naughty thought came to your mind. You were probably going to get punished for it later, but you were feeling rebellious in the moment. When he slide his cock out, before he could enter you again, you got up and pushed him on the couch. Midair, Bakugou sensed what you were doing. So instead of being victorious and pining him down, he flipped you so that you were pined against the couch, your hands pined above your head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he gets close to you. You giggle and look away playfully.

“Not playing by the rules,” you laughed. Bakugou couldn’t help but break a smile as well.

“Naughty, naughty. I’ll show you who’s the dominant one,” he said and smashed his cock back inside you, not giving you time to breath or adjust to him in this new position.

You could feel another wave coming and it was fast approaching. Bakugou was being even more vocal now, huffing and groaning into your neck. His hips rutted into you sloppier each second and more frantic. He was getting close too.

You whined loudly, not being able to hold onto anything as your orgasm hit you like a tsunami so you arched your back and fumbled with your legs. The clenching of your walls caused Bakugou to reach his limit. He pulled out, spraying his cum all over your stomach and chest. His hot cum felt sticky on your skin. Despite being covered in his specimen, Bakugou pulled you close to his sweaty body, your foreheads resting together while you both catch your breath.

You entered the gym with a smile and a skip to your walk. You got a little surprised when you saw that your trainer and new partner were inside the room before you. Puffing out a cheek in disappointment, you scold yourself for not leaving earlier. You were always early to get a good stretch in. But as soon as you saw your handsome trainer, a smile came back to your face.

You rushed to his side, jumping into his arms and giving him a kiss on the lips.

“Hi, baby!” you greeted him. He smiles back at you.

“Ready for your session?” he asks and you just give him a lovey dovey smile and a nod.

“Ah, this is one of my good friends. He’ll be your partner for today,” Bakugou sets you down to introduce you to yet another partner. The two toned hair guy gives you a shy wave.

“Todoroki. You can call me Shouto,” he introduces himself. Aw, he seems really sweet. Shy, but hopefully he’s not like that in bed. Todoroki leads to you the mat on the floor to get your session started. You glanced back at your trainer and give him a wink. He shakes his head at you but you didn’t miss that smile he was trying to hide. Because you know that he was going to make up for this session later tonight.