#I also may or may not be making the neighbors too-

[l0v3-qu4rtz]

Hi. Can you write stories where everyone thought Spencer was a Sub? But it turns out he's a Dom? And everyone else's reactions? What do they think, what are their reactions? About Spencer being a Dom?

Surprise

Summary: After seeing him take down the unsub, you wonder if he can take you down too.

Pairing: BAU!Reader x Spencer Reid

Disclaimers: Talks of a case, murder, victims, reader gets hurt, unsub taken down. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Masturbation (f), organism, dirty thoughts, just masturbation sorry guys😞

A/N: lmao, sorry this took so long but i just went through a massive change in my life so i had to take a break and in turn, took a while to finish this. Anyway MY FIRST REQUEST !! i love you smm💔 i hope i did your request justice 💔 sorry it's not the best 😞💔💔

I feel like after the team finds out the truth about Spencer Reid, they're definitely gonna treat him differently. Before they treated him as if he was fragile, especially all he goes through and all he's been through. He's always been treated like the younger brother, part because he is and part because the team still saw him as the young genius who came in wearing converse and fidgeting with his satchel strap.

And maybe that's also how you kinda saw him, even though you were new to the team, he never really struck you as the dom-pin-you-down-and-pull-your-hair kinda person. Even though you were now the youngest in the team, you always felt more dominant with Spencer. Always teasing him and poking fun at him and him just taking it. That was until, San Diego.

Serial cheater turned murderer, 4 dead women and 1 dead man. These kills seem almost unplanned, like an out of control escalation. They're messy and full of emotion. The unsub is losing control, the kills seem to be executed faster than the last and that's when he made a mistake; left behind an old phone of the victim. At all the other crime scenes, the unsub raided the house of the victims and took everything that may lead back to him. Garcia found old texts about meeting up to have sex behind the husband's back and those texts lead the team to the address of the killer.

The house seemed very upper middle class. It was built in a very nice neighborhood, built with light colored bricks on a yard that seemed taken care of almost everyday. The outside flowers and bird feeders are a stark contrast to the monster living inside. Spencer and you came to the address, not expecting him to be there after he learned the fbi was hot on his trail so that's why it came as a surprise to feel glass into your temple and see Spencer tackle him and pin him down.

Through the pain, you can't help but feel surprised by seeing Spencer take on such a dominant role in the takedown. You're leaning on the wall and Spencer comes up to you after the police take the unsub off his hands.

"hey, you okay ?" He asks softly in a way that makes your heart melt, he was always so caring in the most tense situation. You nod even though your blood soaked hand is enough to say otherwise, he wraps an arm around your waist and guides you outside the house to the medic. The neighbors looked out doors, windows and recorded the take down. Nosy neighbors are always the worst.

The team, who was filled in on what happened, are very surprised. Usually Spencer takes on the negotiating part, trying to talk the unsub to let go of a hostage or to put the gun away from his temple so this is definitely a huge change. Rossi was the first one to speak up with a pat on his shoulder and a small "good work, kid" before going back to the SUVs. While everyone else was impressed, there was something lingering for you as the medics patched the gash in your head. Between winces and "ows", there's a thought that creeps up in your mind that would definitely send HR to their graves.

Back at your hotel, you sit on the closed toilet as the water runs. Your work clothes discarded on the tile floor and your bloodied gauze in the trash. You're zoning out, thinking about earliers take down. You fidget with your fingers, popping them as you think about Spencer's hand pushing down on the unsubs upper back and how he held down his arms. You should probably step in the shower before all the hot water runs out. Sighing, you stand up and rid the rest of your clothes before stepping in. You wince as the water contacts your gash but also relax as the water undoes all the tension in your body.

As you soak your hair in the water, your mind goes back to the scene. How strong he looked in that moment and how unexpected it was from him. Heat was rising or was it from the shower ? That's what you tell yourself before your hand begins moving. Spencer pinning the unsub down, Spencer arms tensing, Spencer's veins popping out of his hands. You lean your head back onto the shower wall, leaning against it as you begin to rub your clit. You bite your lip to try to muffle any sound that may escape but you ultimately decide the water from the showerhead is enough to cover any small moans.

You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, the thickness a contrast with the thin and lightweight water. You really shouldn't be doing this, that's your coworker and friend but he looked so good in that exact moment. You imagine him pinning you down, holding your arms down, you imagine it was his fingers inside of you, thrusting into you and hitting the spots that make you feel like you're in heaven. You're getting faster and closer, his name spilling out of your lips as your other hand travels to your boobs and you grab one of them. You throw your head back and your back arches, your legs shake as you cum. Spencer is still in your thoughts, "that's right, cum all over my fingers". You ride your fingers through your climax, mewling and biting your lip. Did you really just masturbate to your coworker helping you in the field ? Yes, but somehow you're not mad at it.

Spencer noticed a change in the office and how his teammates treated him. Instead of shutting his nerdy ramblings off, they listened and looked at him with a sort of respect. They sent him out to more investigations and combat situations. Instead of brushing him off as the geeky agent, they treated him like a bad ass agent and maybe that was partly because of how Spencer began to carry himself now that he found that confidence. He also noticed another difference between you two.

He noticed the way you become flustered around him, the way you jumped at the opportunity to go on investigations with him. How you were the first to ask him what he thought on a case and how you offered to hang out with him on days off and after work. He wasn't complaining. For someone who wasn't too fond of change, this was a much appreciated change in behavior from everyone. His confidence sky rocketed. He could get used to this.

Masterlist

[writerjayne]

Wymack owns apartments au

This was inspired by my friend and their wacky ass neighbors in their Apartment complex (including one who is apparently wanted by the police??) We were talking about said neighbors and I went: what if the Foxes lived in the same apartment? But Exy wasn't a thing because being a team gives them a common interest (using that word very loosely), and just being neighbors would not. So without further ado, have this AU that I'll probably never write a full fic of:

So, keeping Wymack in character: he owns an apartment complex focused on renting to people who would be rejected/denied housing by other companies. He inherited it from his parents who were awful to thier tennatns and borderline slumlords. Wymack poured everything he had into the apartments, renovating and modernizing them, determined to make something better than his parents could ever dream of. Wymack lives on the premises and every opportunity he has to do the opposite of what his parents would do, he does. 

Dan's a stripper and can only pay cash? She has an awful credit score, but hey, rent's getting paid, why would Wymack care? (Eventually, he rents some units to her stage sisters too) Matt eventually moves in with Dan, and Wymack doesn't bat an eye. 

Nicky showed up as a 19 year old with two 15 year olds who he has custody of? Wymack knocked a wall down between two units so they had 3 rooms (even if they stayed in each other's rooms half the time Wymack understood the twins may need space and privacy as they get older), and he gave them a discounted rate until Nicky got a solid job.

Kevin escapes his abusive adoptive family and runs to the only other person he knows outside of that circle. If he has no money/prospects? Wymack knew Kevin's mother, of course, he'll take the kid in, set him up with an assistant manager job, and get him enrolled in classes so he can get a certification while also helping Kevin with the legal side of things. Kevin sleeps on Wymack's couch for a month before he's comfortable having his own apartment.

Renee, needing to start over far away from her old gang? Her mother called Wymack and he had a unit free. She quickly befriends other tenants and suggests a community garden to Wymack who is happy to oblige. (Andrew often gardens with her and everyone thinks the friendship is weird) She and Andrew bond per canon and Renee becomes the heart of the complex and as much of a unifying force as she can be given the circumstances.

Allison, disowned and cut off from family money, with no job? Wymack sets her up with a unit and helps her apply for jobs, telling her she won't pay rent until she has a job, as long as she keeps applying. She finds a job within the month and Wymack holds off on charging her rent anyway.

Seth can't hold a job and has multiple evictions on his record? Wymack still gives him a chance. Second and third ones too when rent's not paid. Or when cops show up looking for him. Or when he starts fights with his neighbors. Wymack can see the scared kid who just needs someone to believe in him. 

So when Neil shows up, clearly trouble and too young to be on his own, desperately trying to come across as normal, Neil, who flinches when Wymack moves too fast, but offers enough cash to cover first and last months' rent plus double Wymack's normal deposit request? Wymack asks no questions and simply sets him up in the unit across from Nicky and the twins. 

It would be easy for them to be the kind of neighbors who never interact, but enough of our Foxes are friendly/nosey that I think they would all eventually become friends. So here's how I think some of that would happen:

Allison and Seth do date but it would be a lot more volatile than cannon (though never abusive) with lots of fighting that everyone else in the building just get used to. (Dan and Renee always check on Allison and Matt eventually becomes friends with and starts checking in with Seth too) 

Renee is everyone's friend and often bakes (just seems like her vibe) she unintentionally scares the crap out of Neil his first night by dropping off some chocolate chip cookies to welcome him to the building. (Much later, she's very apologetic about it, and Neil is able to acknowledge that it wasn't anyone's fault. Besides, he had never been upset with her over it, just cautious)

Nicky is the nosiest neighbor but not to the point of invading people's privacy. Anytime there's movement outside, he's peeking out the windows and has been known to crack the window open to listen to loud conversations/arguments outside. He does know everything about everyone even though he hasn't been here the longest.

Aaron is still going to med school, Andrew and Nicky are supporting him.

Andrew often goes up to the roof to smoke (boy likes to be tall) and this is how he and Neil actually meet face to face. (Andrew was aware that there was a new tenant but hadn't seen him) Neil sits up there to burn cigarettes and stargaze, kinda. Andrew immediately is like 'this kid is weird, let's figure out all his secrets,' and Neil is basically along for the ride.

Neil would still be on the run but maybe from just his dad, Mary did still die so Neil was desperate for a slice of normal and took a chance with Wymacks apartments. I haven't expanded this to much further than what I've shared here so I don't have all the answers or even a plot really but I think Neil would pull everyone together like canon.

Layout-wise (if you're curious), I'm picturing we have Building 1:

First floor- Dan and Matt in A1, Allison in A2, Renee in A3 and Seth in A4

Second floor- Nicky and the twins in unit A5 and A6. Across from them is Neil in A7 and Kevin in A8 

Basement has washers and dryers as well as storage units for each apartment. 

Building 2 has Wymack's double unit (B1 and B2), Kevin still crashes here sometimes but Wymacks door is always open to anyone who needs to talk. Abby also has a unit in building 2, B5, and she also helps out where she can. 

Building 3 has an assortment of different tenants, some of Dan's stage sisters, a couple small families and a couple single person units. 

[callmebrycelee]

9-1-1: FLASHBACK

I want to talk about an episode that isn’t particularly popular but it’s one of my favorite episodes because of how touching it is. So, today I will be reacting to the season three, sixteenth episode “The One That Got Away” which originally aired on April 27, 2020 on FOX. The episode was written by David Fury and directed by Millicent Shelton. So, hold on tight and don’t let this episode get away!

Recap

In typical 9-1-1 fashion, we begin with an emergency. A fire, to be more specific. I will admit, one of the things I found lacking about this show on my initial binge is the lack of actual fires being put out. Then an acquaintance of mine, a former first responder, explained to me that nowadays firefighters aren’t just fighting fires. They’re dealing with traffic accidents, rescues, medical emergencies, and hazardous chemical situations. Now that I understand that, it makes the moments where we do get an emergency involving a structure being on fire even more special. So, as I said, we have a fire. There’s a residential building on fire and we see the 118 working to both put out the fire and rescue occupants trapped inside. Hen tends to an elderly man named Anton (played by) who tells her he’s been experiencing nausea for several days. He tells her he’s been taking a lot of antacid. Hen believes Anton may have an excess of calcium in his blood, most likely due to an undiagnosed thyroid condition. Anton asks about someone named Gladys and Hen assures him she has her best boys looking for Gladys. Speaking of best boys, Buck and Eddie are looking for Gladys who is a deaf woman. They go up to the roof of a neighboring building and jump over to the building currently on fire. Buck repels down the side of the building and crashes through the window of her apartment. He gets her out of harm’s way and as they’re both repelling down the side of the building to safety, there’s an explosion. The explosion catches their line on fire and thankfully they land on the inflatable airbag below. Everyone is safe. Gladys and Anton are reunited. It’s such a sweet moment. Meanwhile, Hen and Chimney transport Anton to the hospital. A group of doctors and nurses on standby greet them at the door and Hen tells them about Anton’s potential thyroid condition.

Back at the station, Buck is in a celebratory mood and wants to go out. Unfortunately, the others all have an excuse not to join him. Buck is dejected but decided to go out anyway. He ends up at a local watering hole frequented by firefighters and strikes up a conversation with a retired firefighter named Red Delacroix (played by Jack McGee). Red reminiscences about the good ole’ days and says to Buck the only time he and his old unit get together is for funerals. Buck then learns Red never got around to starting a family because he was too consumed with the firehouse, being the best, and saving lives. Meanwhile, over at Bobby and Athena’s, the two enjoy a quiet, kid-free evening when Hen shows up unannounced. Hen tells Bobby she heard on the radio there was a fatality from the residential fire. She tells him the person who died was Anton. Bobby says he thought Anton was fine and Hen says he should have been. She tells Bobby that she gave the nurse at the hospital a full rundown on what was going on with Anton and suggested they do an EKG. Bobby tells her he will make a call. After making the call, Bobby says the official cause of Anton’s death was cardiac arrest. Hen is shocked by the news and tells Bobby she told the hospital staff that Anton might have hypercalcemia. Bobby suggests maybe they missed it because they were dealing with other patients from the fire. Hen is upset because she did her job, but the hospital didn’t do theirs.  

Buck, being an absolute gentleman, walks Red back to his apartment. Buck sees a photo of Red’s old house – the Fighting 134 – hanging on the wall. Buck also learns that Red is the man’s nickname, and it was given to him because he was a bit of a hothead – much like Buck. The similarities continue when Buck notices a photo of a young Red with a woman. When he asks Red about the lady in the picture, Red tells him that’s the one that got away. Red says they were going to get married but she got tired of competing with the job. Red asks Buck if he has anybody and he says no. Red provides Buck with some sage advice. He says, “You can be the hero, save lives, but don’t neglect having your own. Last thing you want is to be at the end holding nothing but regrets.” Red’s words hit Buck like a ton of bricks. The next day, at the station, Buck tells the others about meeting Red. He tells them that all the guys from Red’s unit don’t talk anymore. Hen says that life gets busy and it’s easy for people to lose touch. Buck wonders if that will happen to the 118 and the others assure him it won’t. Eddie asks Hen and Chimney if they keep in touch with the old 118. Chimney says he spoke to Tommy the previous year. Eddie, again, assures Buck that they won’t fall out of touch, even if they retire or move to another firehouse.

We get an emergency involving a father and son. The two are riding a motorized scooter when a drone crashes in front of them causing them to get thrown from the scooter. Thankfully they are okay although the dad may have a broken arm. Athena arrives on the scene and speaks with the owner of the drone. He tells Athena the drone got away from him. A woman asks the owner, whose name is Jeffrey Hudson (played by Noah Bean) why he was flying the drone over her house. Athena tells Jeffrey it is illegal for him to fly a drone over private property. He tells Athena he’s a realtor and he was only trying to get aerial views of the home he is trying to sell. The woman tells Athena she knows almost everyone in the neighborhood, and she hasn’t heard of anyone selling. Jeffrey says the home hasn’t gone up on the MLS (multiple listing service) yet. Athena tells him that if he is using the drone for his job, it should be registered with the FAA (Federal Aviation Administration). She asks Jeffrey to see his remote pilot’s license which he doesn’t have. Athena has Jeffrey arrested for operating a drone without a license, trespassing and destruction of private property.

Over at the LAPD, Athena escorts Jeffrey into custody and turns over the broken drone to an officer. Meanwhile, Buck shows up at Red’s apartment telling him he found Cindy, the one that got away. Buck says Cindy is widowed. Buck throws Red’s words about not having regrets back at him and convinces him to go see Cindy. Red agrees to go visit her. When they arrive at Cindy’s home, Buck gives Red two tickets to the Dodgers-Mets series. They go to the door and Cindy’s caretaker Doris (played by Loren Escandon) answers. Cindy also comes to the door and appears to recognize Red. She invites him and Buck inside. Doris serves tea while Red catches up with Cindy. As the conversation progresses, it becomes quite evident that Cindy has some sort of dementia which is crushing for Red. She panics and starts asking about her husband. Buck and Red make a hasty retreat and the latter tells Buck they never should have come. The one lasting memory he had is now ruined. He tells Buck to stay away because he’s not sure he can survive with his help anymore.

Back at LAPD, the officer who Athena handed the drone off to reports finding something disturbing. Apparently, Jeffrey is a Peeping Tom and was using the drone to spy on women. Athena then learns Jeffrey has been released from custody by the Feds. Meanwhile, Buck speaks with Maddie about Red. Maddie asks if the situation with Red is reminding Buck of his own romantic life – or lack thereof. Buck thinks she’s being ridiculous. He then asks Maddie if she thinks he’s lonely. She tells him he stopped trying after Abby. She tells him she understands but he’s quick to remind her it’s him who always gets left behind – not her. In fact, Maddie is the one who always leaves. Buck assures Maddie he’s not mad. He tells her she doesn’t know what it’s like when people walk away.

We have another emergency. We see two chefs competing in a reality TV cooking competition a la Chopped. Chef Maurice (played by Jeff Blim) shakes a can of nitrous whipped cream, and it explodes. The spout the whipped cream is dispensed through gets lodged in Chef Maurice’s chest splattering whipped cream and blood all over the kitchen set. The 118 arrive and Hen and Chimney tend to Chef Maurice. Chimney says the whipped cream spout is millimeters from the chef’s heart. Bobby radios to the hospital to have surgeons on standby. During transport, Hen performs a thoracotomy much to Chimney disapproval. She puts her finger in his chest and keeps it there all the way to the hospital. When the ambulance arrives, a doctor (played by Joe Gillette) scolds Hen for performing the procedure. Hen accompanies the doctor and nurses into the operating room. Another doctor, Dr. Imelda Royce (played by Jessica Tuck) commends Hen for breaking the rules to save the chef’s life. The surgery is a success.

Meanwhile, Buck gets a call from Red who is in the hospital. Buck learns that Red has cancer. Buck, learning from his earlier mistake, simply asks if there’s anything he can do. Red asks if Buck can sit with him. Buck takes a seat and asks Red to tell him a story about his old house. The next day at the station, Hen sees a doctor’s coat hanging over her turnout gear. The others commend her for saving the life of the chef. Bobby congratulates her too and tells her never to do that again. Back at the hospital, Buck arranges for several firefighters to help him escort Red out of the hospital after he is discharged. It’s such a touching scene watching Buck help Red into the firetruck. Red is deeply touched by the gesture. As the firetruck drives off, Red salutes Buck. We then learn from Buck that Red dies. Maddie tells her brother he was a good friend to Red. She then says that Buck is nothing like Red. His life is not Buck’s life. His life is not Buck’s future. Maddie tells Buck the difference between he and Red is that Red didn’t have a sister. She says that she knows she left him behind twice but she came back. She pinky promises to never leave him behind.

In the final scene of the episode, Athena and Detective Lou Ransone (played by Sasha Roiz) go to Jeffrey Hudson’s home. Jeffrey has flown the coop but has left a lot of evidence behind. An officer finds a video of Jeffrey attacking a woman in her woman in her home. Turns out, Jeffrey Hudson isn’t just a Peeping Tom. He’s a serial rapist.

Observations

After the apartment fire, Buck wants to go out and celebrate. Everyone has an excuse as to why they cannot hangout; however, Eddie tells Buck he can come over and help him chaperone Christopher’s sleepover. I know I always have my foot on the neck of Buddie shippers, but I find this moment funny because at times it seems that Buck is only useful to Eddie when it comes to helping him raise his son.

The whole point of this episode is that Buck’s life doesn’t have to end up like Red’s. However, the two share a LOT of similarities. They both go by their nicknames (Buck and Red) instead of their actual names (Evan and John). They’re both adventurous and love being firefighters. They can fly off the handle at times. They both fell in love with red heads.

Speaking of Red Delacroix, this is not the first time I’ve seen his actor Jack McGee play a firefighter. I remember him from the FX show Rescue Me starring Denis Leary.  

Buck is a great active listener.

I love any time Athena and Bobby dance.

Chimney mentions that he keeps in touch with Tommy, further proof that Tommy Kinard has always been around. Also, there’s no malice in the mentioning of his name which tells me that even though Hen and Chimney don’t check in with Tommy regularly, they have no ill-will towards him.

Bobby using the chainsaw made me so nervous especially since we can’t see the dad’s head.

Whenever Buck is really having a hard time, he typically goes to the women in his life. I love how candid he is with Maddie. It was important that he let her know that her abandoning him really affected him. I love their pinkie promise at the end of the episode. It’s not the last time we will see it.

Chef Maurice looks an awful lot like Chef Marcel Vigneron on Bravo’s hit cooking competition show Top Chef

The scene where Buck wheels Red out of the hospital always makes me cry. Seeing all those first responders, past and present, standing at attention is so beautiful. Buck is a good guy. Period. You can never make me hate him. Also, I love how the 118 showed up for Buck as well.

911 Lore

This episode marks the first appearance of Detective Lou Ransone played by Sasha Roiz.

This episode marks the first appearance of Jeffrey Hudson played by Noah Bean.

Hen’s medical intervention could’ve resulted in her being fired. Instead, it inspires a new career path.

Maddie left Buck twice – she left him when she left home for the first time and she left him again when she married Doug.

Now I hope you understand why this rarely talked about episode holds a special place in my heart. I love the friendship between Buck and Red. I wish they’d met sooner. I would’ve enjoyed seeing Buck explore a non-romantic relationship with a character outside of the 118 bubble. This episode, for me, is proof of why Buck is one of the best characters in the show. When he messed up, bringing Red to see Cindy, he did his best to atone for his actions. I love the sendoff he organized for Buck. It truly shows how caring he is towards those he cares about. I also love Hen’s story within the episode. Hen did cross the line helping the chef, but she ended up saving his life. I loved that the female doctor defended her actions. Her story is just a reminder of how female, most specifically Black women, are often ignored by their white male counterparts. Thankfully her 118 family is supportive of her. Lastly, Athena’s story is a setup for what will happen in the last few episodes of the season. I love that in this episode, which is very poignant, we get the origin story of perhaps one of the best villains of this show. Overall, this episode is top notch in my book. If I had to rank the episodes of this season, this one would definitely be in the top half. As for what episode I will be reacting to next. I haven’t decided. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see what happens on 911: Flashback. Until next time …

[woolying]

END OF TETRO PINK COUNTDOWNNN !!

God Bless Mai Masa….two of my faves…..beloved reds…..no one talk to me im gonna miss them so bad it hurts actually😭😭they are so near and dear to my heart i love them

i loved wada hayashi scenes every one of them was for me specifically i am a big fan of how sweet they are ):

[scoliosisgoblin]

doodles and some lore. I'm tired.

[dearest-meat-mutt]

Holding myself back from flying off the handle at a friend bc they said wearing white to a wedding would be a very me thing to do, WHAT DOES THAT MEAN-

[morganbritton132]

An unfortunate byproduct of Steve’s neighbors always calling the cops on him is that Steve is like six years old and hasn’t really learned what’s appropriate to tell people. So now Hopper knows way too much about too many people.

Steve may not understanding the implication of his words, but Hopper does. Dick Harrington is cheating on his wife. Again. And he’s using his son as a cover. Nice.

Hopper predicting a noise complaint call in his future.

He knows that Angela Harrington has ‘special pills’ she takes for headaches and they make her sleepy. That’s why Hopper can’t call her when her son wrecks his bike being an idiot at the quarry.

He also knows that, despite what Steve thinks, Dave and Maria’s oldest boy doesn’t keep a skunk in his bedroom and is definitely getting high when his parents aren’t home.

He knows that their second oldest keeps porn under his bed. Steve told him that one giggling so hard his eyes were watering.

When Carol’s older sister babysits them, she bribes them with candy not to tell their parents that she left them alone.

There’s a newspaper thief in Loch Nora and Steve knows who it is. Tommy Hagan sometimes wets the bed. Benny Hammond will give you free fries if you clean off some of the tables. The teenager that teaches Steve’s swim class at the community pool accidentally burnt a kid with a cigarette last week.

Otis Harrington fought in World War 2, lives in Florida, and is apparently a ninja. Hopper is told this while being karate chopped in the knee.

Joyce Byers has a crush on him. Hopper knows this because Steve tells him that he heard her call him handsome and, “Nicole said I was handsome during recess once and then she kissed me. That means that girls like like you so Mrs Byers’ like likes you.”

Steve informs him, “You should marry her.”

“I’m already married.”

“Oh…” Steve frowns down at his hands where he scrapped the hell out of them on this sidewalk ten minutes ago. “You should get divorced.”

[wonderthor]

your neighbor sukuna who lives in one of the apartments upstairs may be a rough and dangerous man, but he’s funny and nice to you, so you become friends anyway. you even develop a little crush on him, and when he calls you little pet names like sweetheart and doll, you start to think he might like you too. one night you decide to go out for drinks, and as he drinks more he lets out more about his past and you learn he is a little more dangerous than you thought. he talks about how he broke into people’s houses at night all the time to steal their things and when he finally did get caught and locked up, he had probably broke into over 200 people’s houses by then.

“that’s crazy, but you wouldn’t get that lucky with me though”

he sets his beer down, raising his eyebrow at you in question.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean that im a very light sleeper, always have been. and there’s no way you couldn’t break into my apartment without me knowing it.”

he picks his beer back up and takes a swig before looking back at you with a smirk.

“you sure about that?”

you confidentially smirk back at him.

“oh absolutely. i get woken up if the wind blows a little too hard against the window. i even woke up that one time i had a mouse in my apartment and i could hear it scurrying across the floor. i would definitely hear you open my door and walk around.”

sukuna taps his fingers against the bar counter with his head in his hands and his eyes still on you, thinking.

“how about we make a bet.”

“a bet? on what?”

“if i can get into your locked apartment and into your bedroom without waking you up, i win. if i do, you win.”

“and what do i get when i win?”

sukuna chuckles at that, almost like a villain’s laugh.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

you roll your eyes at him.

“oh please, you sound way to confident in your impossible chance at winning.”

he laughs at you again.

“i am. there’s a reason i was able to break in so many people’s houses while they were still in there without getting caught. it’s kind of my specialty.”

you take another sip of your drink and lean back.

“your specialty, huh? and you still haven’t mentioned what we get if we win.”

“what do you want?”

his tone caught you off guard for a second, getting deeper and more serious without you expecting it.

“u-um, i don’t know. you can pick.”

he smiles at you again, a devious smile this time as he leans in closer to you.

“if i win, i get to do whatever i want to you. if you win, you get to do whatever you want to me.”

time stops for a minute and you don’t realize that you’re just staring at him until after several seconds.

“what do you m-mean by that?”

he leans back to hold his beer and his playful demeanor is back.

“well according to you, you won’t have to worry about that, right?”

a couple of days went by and you were still on edge. you mentally slept with your eyes open and even kept your bedroom door cracked, just in case you really couldn’t hear him come in. even though you knew it was just a bet and a silly little game, you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding against your chest. maybe because you still didn’t really know what he said meant. and there was also the eerie feeling that you were essentially waiting for him to break into your apartment, like a real robber. like the robber he used to be. and even though you knew he wasn’t dangerous to you and wouldn’t hurt you, you were still admittedly a little scared. you truly didn’t know what to expect.

it had been a couple of weeks now and you were sure sukuna was fucking with you. whenever you saw him in passing, he was his normal playful and flirty self, and mentioning nothing of the bet. you were starting to think he was kidding, just making that up to scare you and mess with you. or you also thought he could have just forgotten, since he was drinking a little and couldn’t have forgotten all about it.

but little did you know that you were playing right into his hands. he was waiting on you to lose your edge, to slowly get comfortable enough again to slip into deep and dream-filled sleeps. that’s why you didn’t expect it, why you didn’t expect to lose.

when you woke up one night, you felt your heart fall out of your body and your eyes almost jump from their sockets. there he was, in your apartment, in your bedroom, on your bed, leaning over you on his hands and knees. when he saw that you were awake and too stunned to speak, he smirked and leaned in closer to you until his face was just inches from yours.

“guess i win, sweetheart.”

[mummelthecryptid]

tumblr if it was ghosts

@gwensy look at my ghost dashboard

🏚️cunty-phantom follow

ough my downstairs neighbors are soooo annoying "can you stop rattling your chains at 3am" this and "some people actually still need to sleep" that. first of all. when you get to my state of decomposition youll understand. second of all. how else am i supposed to haunt this attic, bitch? by being nice and polite?

👻coo0ochie-haunter follow

some of you (not naming names) don't know how good you have it. oooo the straight up castle youre haunting doesn't have enough leaks to drip water through creeply when it rains? well my fucking graveyard got bulldozed and turned into a shitty gasstation. so maybe be more grateful next time

#vague #rant

🏰lonelylady follow

i just wish the couple renovating my castle to turn it into an air bnb hadn't closed up all the leaks in the roof :/

#i really liked the sounds the rain made when it dripped through #i AM exited for the new company though :3

🌲slimy-spectre follow

can we honestly destigmatise ectoplasm? its a normal part of being a ghost, especially for those of us with psychic powers and im so sick of nobody talking about it because they think its "gross" or "too slimy".

👻coo0ochie-haunter follow

just say you dont practice personal hauntgiene and stop posting about your disgusting habits on hauntblr smh

🌲slimy-spectre follow

someone clearly watched too much ghostbusters

#also thats literally not how it works AT ALL

🌑ghoulishous follow

boring victorian dresses are OUT, old bedsheets are IN.

#i know the whole "ghosts wear bedsheets" thing is a huge misconception by humans #but they did kinda pop off with it #may i also say #they make me feel extremely gender

[clownsuu]

Getting back into your Mob!Au for Welcome Home, but I forgot everyone's rolls in the mob! Can we get a refresher of the gang's responsibilities? I know Wally is the boss, Howdy runs the bar, Frank is financial manager, and Dusty protects the vault... but past that, I'm lost!

o h m a n its been a while since I worked, or even thought about these goobers lore wise JJHFGKSFF-- like holy moly I even forgot how to draw em (so take a test doodle lmAo)

cw bug/swarm silhouettes

But what from I remember, here's a list of their respected jobs (in order of Rank)

(for the main cast for now) (there may or may not be anything missing, or added/updated)

Wally: Obviously their most "enthusiastic" Boss. He doesn't do too much besides approve/reject orders, enforce rules, and be a casual reminder that, you are indeed, here forever*. Owns several brands ranging WILDLY (from cigs, to ovens, to baby diapers etc etc. Seemingly random, totally not a fire hazard)

Barnaby: Wally's Left-hand bodyguard. The boss isnt quite the greatest when it comes to discussions with potential clients/neighbors, so Barnaby is usually the one who does all the sweet talking for him. Usually the one who recommends "party" plans.

Howdy: Wally's Right-hand bodyguard. Due to his silent nature, he's purely there to be commanded however the boss sees fit. When not on duty as a guard, he's tending the company building's bar (open to the public on ground floor) and refilling stock.

Frank: Oh goodie look who ranked up! HEAVILY overworked however. He alone deals with all of the most boring of tasks, which include (but not limited to): Keeping every single paper file organized and up to date, calling in appointments for the boss and sometimes the family members, running errands, quality inspection in case they need to call in for second or even third party quality inspection, make online orders, make physical orders, update the decorative flora, plan events, put "party" plans into motion or reject due to budget, also cancel said planned events due to Sally, make sure the nursery is stocked and full, refill not bar exclusive fridges, haggling, getting rid of evidence, planting fake evidence, and so so so so so so so so much more! an alcoholic, and not-too recently started smoking.

Poppy: The only nurse who's available 24/7. Due to her severe insistent and persistent paranoia and anxiety, her workload has been reduced considerably (and shoved onto Frank.) On weekends, on her own accord, she likes to make everyone breakfast and serve it at the bar before everyone wakes up. Usually Howdy is awake as well and helps her whenever available.

Julie: Secondary nurse and "private" assassin. Specializes in poisons/antidotes, and organized crimes. Despite being a nurse, she's rarely doing nurse work, and instead can be found constantly reworking formulas, creating mind altering substances, and hunting for someone who's perhaps willing to be her guineapig to do test trials on (nobody ever is). Sometimes takes pity on Frank and helps him with their work. Sometimes.

Sally: "Public" assassin and a complete menace. Incredibly sloppy with her work and not completely reliable with making sure someone is dead unless she's allowed explosives (She's blacklisted from ever doing so again.) Developed a love for the next best thing: tasers. Mainly used to trash enemy bases and send a message that the mob doesn't take too kindly to their recent behaviors. Basically a physical embodiment of (and nicknamed) "Cease and Desist".

[ihangelic]

PAS DE PUNK ╱ h.taesan

you and taesan go together like classical music and rock: not at all. but similar to the way taesan keeps getting piercings, there’s something about the way he gets under your skin that you kind of like— and you’re too proud to admit why you keep coming back for more.

pair ; punk!taesan x ballerina!reader

genre ; smut (with plot), fluff?, rock band au, enemies to lovers

warnings ; fem!reader, taesan has piercings (including tongue), arguing (flirting), some jealousy, ‘make me shut up’ kiss, confessing of feelings, petnames (mostly princess), lots of mentions of taesan’s hands & rings, dom!taesan, bratty/sub!reader, thigh riding, praise, degr*dation, bre*st play, begging, a little sp*nking, no prep, piv

wc ; 8k

playlist ; smells like teen spirit by nirvana / sugar we’re goin down by fall out boy / a little death by the neighbourhood / punk rock princess by something corporate / she’s kinda hot by 5sos / good girl by thomas larosa / s*xtape by deftones / closer by nine inch nails / all i really want is you by the marías

✉️ 𓂃 ₊˚⊹ note ; happy new year!! idk if it’s unhinged to make a playlist for a smut fic but i couldn’t help myself ><. i avoided using lesser-known ballet terms for non-dancers to understand (aka me), but also tried to make it enjoyable for dancers to read. hopefully i was successful lol.

! . . . COPYRIGHT OF IHANGELIC

dancing along with the music of l’oiseau bleu is practically impossible when it sounds like a rock concert is taking place in the room just across from you.

lowering to stand flat footed in your pointe shoes, you raise your hands to your face, pinching your nose bridge in frustration as you try and resist the growing urge to pull your hair out.

the obnoxious sound of drums, a bass’s low rumble, and an electric guitar’s higher tune rings in your ears— drowning out any of your more rational thoughts until you’re left with only rage.

you try your best to block it out, to take a moment to breathe and try to get a controlled hold over your emotions— and you think it may work after you cover your ears with your own hands, the sound of the instruments still audible but sounding more distant. then the teeth gritting noise of a cymbal pierces through the barrier of your hands and it’s almost like it’s a sound effect for the way your train of thought shatters, letting out a sigh that sounds much more like an animalistic scream before stomping over to your phone and turning off the music.

power walking out of the dance studio and to the very unfortunately placed neighboring rental space, you don’t even have to turn the knob as you look through the glass door. the raging bitch face you wear is absolutely effortless as you mean-mug all three ‘problems’ in the room; ‘problems’ that drip in leather, distressed or patched fabric, spikes, and way too oversized jeans. you’re about to feel acquainted with the three men as this situation seems to occur more and more often.

foam panels are stuck to the walls; black cords are neatly coiled or in squiggly lines across the floor; and of course there’s guitars, a drum set, and microphones everywhere.

finally you catch the eyes of the long, blond haired drummer— and that gives you enough incentive to open the door and barge in like you own the place.

“could you be any louder?” you rhetorically ask, but it goes unheard as two of the men sing passionately into their microphones, eyes closed and hands working the strings of their guitars while the drummer keeps playing his drums— all while staring at you with a relaxed, barely inquisitive face.

“could you be any louder!” you shout, the end of the sentence awkwardly fading in volume when there's a screech from one of the guitars and everything goes quiet.

the two seeming vocalists turn their heads to look at you, all three men now staring while you stand, clearly bothered as your hands are on both sides of your hips and your chest heaves with deep breaths of frustration.

“well…” the dark haired, taller one begins— and your expression only sours more as you’re already familiar with how snarky and full of himself he can be. “you’re the one yelling.”

you let out an appalled scoff, unable to help the way your eyes roll as you’re angered even more by how that only seems to make the man smirk.

“if someone has to yell just for you to hear them that means you’re the loud one.”

“you sure about that, princess?” he asks, quirking a pierced brow. your impending explosive response must be visible as the shorter statured one interrupts for damage control.

“w— we’re sorry!” he starts, speaking on his friends behalves. the blond’s expression never changes as he stares at your fuming face, while the darker haired looks like he’s about to protest— but the other continues before he has the chance. “look..we got off on the wrong foot and…”

the way his hands float in front of him, bass hanging against his chest by the strap— it only adds to how lost he looks on what to do, and it makes you feel kind of bad. (for him at least.)

you’re about to start apologizing when he’s suddenly reaching his hand out towards you.

“i’m riwoo.” he introduces, then gestures over to the other two men. “this is taesan and leehan.”

“…y/n” you say somewhat sheepishly, a bit of your shame coming back at the politeness of the bassist you now know as riwoo.

previously you’d only knock aggressively at their door to ask them to shut up, a few times popping your head in when that didn’t work to snappily ask them to please try and keep it down at least a little. you’ve never actually had a full conversation with them before— or an argument...whatever this exchange of words could be classified as.

“unfortunately we can’t really be any quieter. we have to practice for a gig we got coming up—“

“isn’t your little dance school supposed to be closed now anyway?” taesan abruptly interrupts, yet again grinding your gears with the snarky way he says the words ‘dance school’.

“it’s closed for classes, but the rooms can be used for practice up until eleven pm.” you provide smartly, catching yourself before you scrunch your nose in disgust at him.

“we try to keep the noise at a minimum if we’re here at prime hours,” riwoo cuts in again, attempting to explain gently. “but past that…” he trails off, shoulders shrugging as he gives you a sympathetic look.

you process his words, how he really is seemingly trying to help you out here, before sighing softly as your hand raises to press into your increasingly aching temple.

“do you have to use your amps?” you ask, raising a hand to point at one.

“did you not hear him? we have a show to do, we need to practice as best as we can. so yes, we have to use our amps.” taesan firmly states, over enunciating like you can’t hear. his brows are slightly furrowed as his previous amusement is completely gone, a flame of annoyance now in his eyes.

you let your hand defeatedly fall and slap against your bare thigh, taesan’s eyes glancing down at your leg for the smallest of moments before looking back up to glare at you.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” you bite at him, sick of his selfish attitude as you turn your body fully in his direction, crossing your arms.

“wxnder.” he dryly states, making your head tilt in confusion and absolute impatience.

“huh?”

“wonder— but like, with an ‘x’. that’s our band name.” leehan provides, throwing you off as you’re momentarily sidetracked by how deep and smooth his voice is. (are all these men vocalists? also, with an ‘x’— how cheesy can they be?)

“you should come watch us perform.” he smiles widely, eyes creasing and everything. you’re yet again thrown off as he speaks to you with such casual friendliness as though you haven’t practically yelled at all of them and continue to seethe at his guitarist like you want to rip his throat out.

“uh, i…”

“i’m sure miss priss has other things she’d rather do, like dance to swan lake in a feather tutu or something.” taesan finishes your sentence for you, conjuring a string of curses to lace your tongue.

“shut the f—“

“bye, twinkle toes.” he waves you off dismissively, grabbing the neck of his guitar by his multiple ringed fingers as he directs his attention back to his instrument and mic.

“it was nice meeting you, y/n.” riwoo adds somewhat shyly, adjusting the strap of his instrument as well— though much more apologetically.

“see ya’, y/n!” leehan calls before picking up his drumsticks and twirling them in his hands, looking up to taesan for his cue. you watch him cock his chin, the sudden rhythmic pounding of leehan’s drums making you flinch before taesan and riwoo start playing their strings again.

riwoo’s voice starts out soft before slowly raising in volume and you’re shocked by his melodic vocals that contrast so satisfyingly well with the rock instrumentals.

still disgruntled but more off put than anything, you don’t know what more to do than shuffle out of the room, shutting the door behind you as you stare at the air in front of you.

well, guess it’s time to find some earbuds that are sound and pirouette proof.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

you got it. you got the lead role.

all the extra (maybe slightly excessive) practicing, late nights and frustration (which would be a lot less if there wasn’t a band next door) paid off.

you’re playing as princess aurora for your dance studio’s performance of ‘the sleeping beauty’, which will be showing at a local theatre next month.

jaehyun, your good friend and fellow dancer who’s always making you smile and lightening sullen moments during classes— is your dance partner, playing as prince désiré.

the second the both of you found out you got lead roles, jaehyun was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement, insisting that you go out tonight to celebrate.

which is why you find yourself by jaehyun’s side at ‘sundown lounge’, your favorite bar and hang out spot.

“you look good, by the way!” jaehyun attempts to speak over the loud karaoke, leaning a little closer to your ear as you weave through the crowd.

“thanks!” you turn your head to smile at him over your shoulder, hoping your iridescent eyeshadow twinkles under the lights how you wanted it to.

“you do too.” you compliment before someone’s elbow is jabbed into your stomach, squishing yourself against the wall as you and jaehyun try to make it to the bar to order some drinks. “why is it so busy tonight?”

“i don’t know, maybe it’s happy hour!” jaehyun suggests hopefully, but when you finally reach the counter his theory is proven wrong when you’re told everything’s its original price. regardless, you sip on a strawberry margarita while jaehyun holds a glass of something that looks like muddy water before deciding where to sit.

“wanna go there, near the stage?” he asks, pointing over to a table that’s very near the performance area. you’d rather not have to hear a drunk girl sloppily sing a britney spears song right in your ears but jaehyun finds it hilarious, often unable to resist curling in on himself while giggling uncontrollably— and that always makes you laugh. so you nod your head, jaehyun grabbing your hand to make sure he doesn’t lose you in the crowd before leading you to the table.

there’s only two more songs played before the dj hops on the stage, speaking into the mic. “karaoke will be ending as it’s time for the band of tonight to take the stage. give us a few minutes while the performers are setting up!”

some people in the crowd hoot and holler excitedly as jaehyun turns his head to you. “i wonder what type of band will be playing tonight, last weeks was pretty good.”

“it’s punk rock!” a girl excitedly butts in from the table right next to yours, having accidentally overheard your conversation.

“a rock band?” you ask, somewhat groaned in annoyance as you now have a personal vendetta against the genre. but your tone goes completely unnoticed by the girl as her eyes continue to sparkle with enthusiasm.

“yeah! their music’s really good and they’re all super hot, my favorite one plays the electric guitar.”

“what’s their name?” jaehyun asks, curiosity evidently sparked.

“wxnder!” she answers, and your brows furrow with the familiarity of it. where have you heard that name before?

the girl’s head turns at a sound and her mouth drops open, a small uproar caused as some people in the crowd shriek and cheer. the unexpected noise has you flinching before looking towards the stage— and your jaw drops too, but not in a good way.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” you say to yourself in shock, watching as riwoo sits down his amp and plugs it into the wall.

“what?…what!” jaehyun whisper-yells, grabbing onto your arm to try and get your attention.

leehan appears next, sitting down behind the drum set that’s already on stage and wagging his head to adjust his hair, causing another small wave of squeals.

then a broad back covered by a black leather jacket abstracts your view, and he doesn’t even need to turn around for you to know who he is— but he does anyway. the way taesan almost immediately catches your gaze amongst the crowd is infuriating, smirking while glancing down at how close your table is to the stage before looking teasingly into your eyes again.

and it makes you pissed, unbelievably so— yet you feel your cheeks burn as you can’t help but think about how hot he looks, the stage lights glinting off his lip ring and drawing your eyes towards them.

have his lips always been so…plump?

taesan winks at you before looking down to tune his guitar, hands gripping the neck of it. veins pop out from the contours of his knuckles; long, thick fingers adorned with silver rings picking at the strings.

fuck…

“y/n?” jaehyun tries again, and you finally respond with the shake of your head, downing the remainder of your drink like it’s a shot.

“it’s nothing.” you insist.

after a few minutes of setting up, tuning, and making sure everything’s in order; taesan introduces the group (not that he exactly needs to, since it seems the bar is full of their fans), saying that their opening song will be ‘take my tears’, a song he wrote himself.

usually you and jaehyun talk throughout a band's live performance, as they’ll be playing all night— but you can’t seem to look away as you listen to the lyrics and how they perform.

it’s entrancing— much different than when you’re trying to ignore them through the studio walls. the song is somewhat emotional, beautiful; yet it also has such a fun and freeing feel. or maybe it’s just the way they sing it— how taesan sings it, his body grooving and head nodding to the beat of their sound. the lyrics aren’t what you’d expect from him— the guy you thought he was, and it leaves you wondering what more there is to him that you wouldn’t expect.

your heart skips a beat, and you’re not sure if it’s just the thrill of the rock music or if it’s because of him; the annoying, pompous punk who suddenly looks so sexy when he’s performing. (and never any other time. definitely not.)

you’ve just finished your second margarita and are a little buzzed by the time their set is finished, the night passing faster than you realized.

jaehyun is eating on a basket of fries, yapping away so fervently that he doesn’t even notice how you’ve gotten up from the table and are approaching taesan— who again locks eyes with you as he walks down the steps of the stage to meet you halfway.

“so, what did you think?” he asks, a little out of breath from the long performance, having had no breaks in between songs.

he stands closely so you can hear him— and it’s enough for you to smell his cologne; to see the way sweat clings to the skin of his neck; deep breaths coming out in puffs as his chest expands. something about it all has an effect on you— or maybe it’s something in the air, because taesan doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes rake over your body, admiring your legs in your denim mini skirt.

“you..you guys were amazing.” you compliment, sounding a little out of breath yourself.

taesan makes a ‘hm’ sound, faintly smiling at you while biting his lip— and you swear you see the glint of metal on his tongue.

your body heats up as you wonder if his tongue is pierced too, what kind of things he could do to you with it, what it would feel like against your skin— before you frantically try and dismiss the increasingly dirty thoughts, reminding yourself that the man you’re fantasizing about is right in front of you.

“i didn’t think you’d actually come.” taesan says, speaking in a teasing tone that you swear seems flirty paired with the slight quirk of his brow.

“how’d you even know we’d be here? did you stalk us, princess?”

okay, surely that was flirting, right?

you’re about to playfully roll your eyes, paired with a smart little comment and deny that’d you’d ever be interested enough to ‘stalk’ them— until the girl that spoke to you about wxnder earlier suddenly appears, putting herself between you and taesan.

“you were absolutely amazing, taesan.” the girl croons, confidently placing her hand on his forearm as she leans all up in his personal space.

and you expect him to shrug her off, either politely or not-so politely establish some distance between them. but again, he surprises you— in a way you absolutely hate.

he smirks at her, in just the same way he did to you just moments ago— and leans even closer to her face, unneededly close.

“aren’t you sweet. thank you so much.”

“no problem.” the girl smiles cattily, clearly enjoying the attention.

something in your heart burns, and that familiar feeling of uncontrollable annoyance comes back even worse than before.

“do you think i could get your autograph?”

“sure, princess.” taesan answers lowly— and that does it.

without even feeling the urge to look back and see that girl all over him, you’re gone, picking up a drunk jaehyun by his arm.

“wh— where are we going?” jaehyun drunkenly slurs, eyes glossed over as they look at you.

“to get an uber home.” you answer firmly, eyes hard as you once again weave through the crowd.

you feel eyes on your back, but you ignore it until you get to the door, turning your head as jaehyun leans half of his body weight against you. even amongst all the faces, you and taesan’s eyes meet easily, his arm now slung around the girl’s waist as she whispers something in his ear.

his lips are in that same smirk— like he’s taunting you, and you scoff, dragging jaehyun and yourself out of the bar.

you can’t believe you were actually feeling into him— but you surely don’t have to worry about that now.

he’s just confirmed that he is in fact what you thought he was: an absolute ass and a cocky player who sings on stage to get girls in his bed.

well, fuck him. he can get his dick wet with anyone he wants but it sure as hell won’t be you.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

the very next day you’re back at the dance studio, rehearsing for the upcoming performance.

jaehyun whines the whole day, saying that it’s somehow your fault that he got drunk off his ass— but despite that, he does incredibly well during class. you do also, but unbeknownst to you, your friend wonders why you seem so tense— like something has been bothering you all day.

“shouldn’t you go home and rest, y/n?” jaehyun asks you at the end of class hours. everyone else is packing up their totes and leaving, yet you’re stood at the ballet barre doing leg exercises.

“i’ll be fine. practice makes perfect.” you insist, keeping your eyes on your form in the mirrored wall.

“well..just don’t overwork yourself, okay?” jaehyun sweetly tells you, and you flash him a thankful smile through the mirror.

“don’t worry, yunie, i wont. see you tomorrow.”

if it weren’t for the absolute beast you’re known to be in the studio, jaehyun would force you out of your pointe shoes and drag you home himself— but you don’t seem even a little bit tired, and it appears as though you have some steam to blow off.

so jaehyun and you exchange goodbyes before he leaves you in the empty classroom. (yes, completely empty— aside from the lady at the front desk. no one is as obsessive as you to want to stay even another second practicing when you already have for the whole day— on a saturday night, no less.)

you spend the next thirty minutes going over the steps you learned today that you don’t have down perfectly yet, having small cool downs in the form of stretching in between.

‘entrée d’aurore’ is still playing on your phone when you hear the distant voices of what must be the front desk lady and someone else speaking. you wonder if somebody has returned to get some extra practice in as well, and as you hear footsteps approaching, you remain sitting on the floor doing toe touches.

the door to the classroom opens, echoing slightly in the big, empty space— you lift your head to see someone who definitely is not a part of the sleeping beauty cast.

“y/n?” taesan says somewhat quietly, eyes looking around the big room that only holds one ballerina, who looks small in comparison to the high ceilings and vacant space.

your eyebrows furrow, somewhat irritated to see him while also being surprised— not only by his presence but by the unfamiliar way he almost looks sheepish: barely taking a few steps inside the classroom, looking around like he expects someone or yourself to scold him and kick him out.

“…don’t tell me you auditioned.” you joke, although it’s said casually. your eyes only scrutinize him for a second before you look back down to your own hands as you stretch them across your straightened legs and to your toes.

taesan has seen you a handful of times when you’re in your casual practice wear, but what you’re clad in for an official performance class is a little different. you’re wearing a black leotard with a little mesh skirt, a cropped shirt overtop, tights, and black leg warmers.

you look..really cute. even when you’re pretending to ignore him.

“no. the lady at the front desk said you were in here.” he explains lamely, all his usual snarky remarks not coming to his thoughts as he watches you in your element.

“good. i don’t want to see you in tights anyway. not your aesthetic.”

“sure you don’t.”

your head snaps to look at him before you can think not to react, cheeks heating up as you see the twinkle in his eyes and the small smile he tries to conceal by pressing down his lips.

you sigh as though you’re bothered— because you are— obviously…and get up from your floor stretches to walk over to the ballet barre again. taesan follows you.

“i don’t know why you’re here but i’m practicing. you should leave.”

“who was that with you at the bar last night?”

your cold indifference is broken at the unexpected question, your expression clearly confused as you look at the man standing beside you in the mirrored wall.

“what, jaehyun? he’s my friend. he wanted to go out to celebrate our castings. y’know, for the performance i’m trying to practice for right now?”

“so it was a date.” taesan remarks, eyes hardening right in front of you— and there’s that angered burn in your chest again, your hands squeaking from how tightly they hold onto the barre as your expression turns sour.

“who i date isn’t any of your business to speculate. i haven’t asked you what you and that fangirl got up to last night, have i?” you snap, raising a challenging brow at him— but it only makes him shake his head in unbelief, staring at you like you’re an absolute idiot.

“what? y/n, i don’t even know her name.”

“yes, well, i’m not surprised over that. i’m guessing it’s not very important for you to learn a girl’s name— as long as you’re in between her legs by the end of the night.”

his hand is on your shoulder, turning you around to face him abruptly as he stands closely, right in front of you.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean? you think i fucked her?”

“i don’t want to know what you di—“

“shut the fuck up.” taesan orders, his fingers curling over your wrists making you wonder when they got there in the first place.

“make me.” someone (you?) says, and then you feel the cold press of taesan’s lip ring against your mouth.

it’s firm at first: the way his lips slam into yours, how both of your expressions still look pissed off at each other, even with both of your eyes closed. but eventually you seem to realize that taesan is actually kissing you— and then you’re melting into him, sighing as you feel his touch soften in response.

his kiss quickly turns demanding, lips moving against yours in pursuit of your taste. you squeak when his teeth bite at your bottom lip, not knowing you’ve fallen right into his trap until his tongue has already seized the opportunity and invaded your mouth. turns out you weren’t wrong when you thought you spotted a ball stud piercing on taesan’s tongue, you can most definitely feel it when he brushes it against your own appendage.

your head is pushed against the mirror from his vigor and you whimper, never having felt so dominated simply by a man’s kiss; taesan explores your mouth like he owns it, like it’s his, and it makes your core pulse, a flicker of neediness growing.

the rough groan he lets out as his hands move to roam and grasp at your waist hints at his possessiveness, fingers pressing into your skin through the thin material of your leotard.

“didn’t fuck her. didn’t want to.” he murmurs between the eager movements of his lips. “just wanted to make you jealous.”

“wh— why?” you manage breathily, taesan pressing his body against yours as your hands move to brace yourself on the barre.

“because i like you, y/n.” he smiles and huffs in disbelief at your denseness.

“i want to take you on a date— whether you let me between your legs or not.” he smirks, referring to your earlier harsh remark and making you cringe at the reference.

“i…i’d like that.” you say shyly, looking at him through your lashes. “the date— and..and the other thing too.”

“the other thing?” taesan repeats, confused as you only avoid his gaze, not further explaining— but funnily enough, your sudden bashful attitude is what makes it click in his mind.

“princess?” he experimentally calls, pleased when you automatically lift your head to look at him. his tongue unconsciously peaks out to play with his lip ring as he cockily grins, hand creeping up from your waist to pinch your chin between his fingers.

“why don’t you be a big girl and tell me what you mean?”

your nose crinkles, a pathetic attempt at defiance amidst your embarrassment. taesan’s other hand pinches the tender skin of your thigh, causing you to flinch and whimper at the slight pain as he makes a disapproving sound under his breath.

“come on, y/n. be good or i won’t give you what you want.”

“i— i want you...i meant—”

taesan does anything but go easy on you, eyes dark with mischief as he lowers his head to nibble at your neck. you squeeze your thighs together, looking for relief from the way your pussy now pulses prominently.

his hands move in tandem, one cradling along your jawline while the other brushes up and down your thigh, making you annoyed at your tights with how they keep you from feeling the cold brush of his rings against your skin.

you want them off. you want taesan to take them off. so you admit it.

“want you to fuck me. please, taesan.”

“awe,” he coos. “aren’t you a sweet one.”

you swear the tone in which he says those words turn you into goo, your hands releasing the barre to desperately hold onto his shirt.

“please.” you beg, finding yourself only wanting more praise— more of him— just anything he’s willing to give you.

taesan is able to identify the look in your eyes, staring at your lips and leaning down so slowly, making you whine at his teasing until he finally grants you mercy and kisses you again.

it’s dirtier than before: a lot more spit, moans, and movement from both of your tongues. taesan’s leg leans against the wall between your thighs, and whether it was his purpose to give you relief or not, you take the opportunity and hesitantly grind your core against his ripped jeans.

the pleasure is immediate, sending a tingle up your spine that has you arching against his chest, forgetting any shame as you begin to earnestly grind your hips against him. the thin layers covering your core paired with the roughness of taesan’s denim creates a wonderful friction, feeling how wet you’ve become in your panties.

“shit, you’re such a slut for it.” taesan remarks in genuine awe after breaking the kiss to watch the little show you’re putting on. his eyes take in every movement, from the way you rock against him to how your eyes squeeze shut and you tilt your head back.

the previous song playing on your phone has long since finished as some other tune now plays from your playlist— taesan suddenly becoming aware of it and that he has a girl whimpering and riding his thigh in the middle of a dance classroom.

he abruptly pulls away, the presence between your legs disappearing as you conjure a bratty sound from your throat.

“y/n,” taesan scolds in a harsh whisper. “did you forget where we are?”

“thought you said you’d fuck me if i was good?” you argue, flashing him a defiant expression.

“you think using my thigh to get yourself off without my permission is being good?”

your eyes widen, not expecting him to call you out on it.

looking to the floor and hearing taesan’s responding laugh at your childishness, it only makes the desire to act out against him stronger— you’re just not sure how you can do it in this moment.

“get your things. we can go to my place.” taesan offers, your stomach fluttering at the idea as you do what he says— moving to grab your phone, bag, and change out of your ballet wear.

your heart is pounding out of your chest and what’s between your legs hasn’t calmed down at all either by the time you walk out of the dance studio and sit in the passenger seat of taesan’s car.

and the drive is just as excruciating.

the man seems hellbent on teasing you by not giving you a drop of attention, keeping his eyes on the road while some rock song plays through the speakers. and you know he knows what he’s doing, how you can’t keep his eyes off of him, because the corner of his mouth is subtly turned.

you see no reason to hide it since he’s already aware, so you stare at him— once again admiring how hot his hands look wrapped around the steering wheel, the contours of his jawline and perfect side profile illuminated by the low hanging sun.

your eyes keep wandering— down, down, down until you get to his lap, where you see the large bulge tenting his pants.

your mouth waters and your hands twitch, wondering if he’s really as big as he looks and hoping you’ll get to find out by the end of tonight.

then you’re struck with an idea, recognizing the perfect opportunity you have right now— and you reach your hand out confidently to grope him over his pants.

you’re so proud at the way it makes taesan softly gasp under his breath, back stiffening at the unexpected touch. you mold your hand over his clothed dick, rubbing and gently squeezing— in all the right ways apparently, as you feel him twitch in your hands— even through the thick denim fabric.

“y/n, stop it.” taesan grits, and you hear the squeak of what you guess is his hands gripping tightly around the steering wheel. you don’t look at him until after you’ve located the head of his cock, rubbing over it with your thumb and meeting his fiery glare with a teasing bite to your lip— clearly pleased with yourself.

taesan is visibly pissed at your blatant act of defiance, but he gives you one more chance in the form of a threat.

“you’re not very patient, are you, princess? keep touching my dick like that and you won’t even get to see it out of my pants.”

your hand immediately stills— the man releasing a huff of disbelief when you pull your hand away completely to lay both of your hands on your lap, avoiding his gaze as you stare ahead.

not another word is shared, taesan enjoying the way you nervously squirm in your seat as he finally pulls into his apartment’s parking lot.

“stay.” he simply orders once he’s parked, and you’re left confused as he exits the car, only to watch him come around and open your door for you— even going as far to unbuckle your seatbelt and keep a firm hold around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs of his building. it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach yet your insides twist with nervous anticipation— because he does it all with the same stern eyes he spoke to you with as he threatened not to fuck you.

when the key is twisted and his front door lightly squeaks open— his residence somehow looks exactly how you thought; dark, moody, vintage rock posters and memorabilia hanging on the walls.

you expect him to be cheesy and press you against his door the moment it’s closed, but he doesn’t— instead walking over leisurely to his couch and sitting down, legs widely spread in an oddly commanding and powerful way.

your eyes widen at the arousing image, feeling yourself become sheepish as taesan lets his eyes roam over your form without shame.

“why do you look so shy now? you were such a disobedient little slut in the car.”

you swallow, hardly able but trying to hold eye contact with him as your face heats up in a delicious sort of shame.

taesan sighs as though he’s annoyed with your silence, patting one thigh with his hand.

“come here.”

“…h— huh?”

“don’t make me say it again, y/n.” he orders— and next thing you know, your body is moving to straddle the leg he’s directed you to sit on.

“there we go. guess princesses can take orders sometimes, hm?” he rhetorically asks, but you’re nodding your head anyway.

taesan just stares at you for a bit, admiring how pretty you look sitting and waiting for what he’ll do next, so different from the bratty attitude you had during the car ride.

then his hands rest on your bare waist, giving him easy access as you had disregarded your leotard before leaving the studio, now only wearing your cropped shirt and athletic shorts.

you’re unable to conceal the shuddered inhale you take as taesan’s hands creep upward, seeing him smirk at the sound before his hands slip under your shirt and reach your tits.

“no bra?” he teases, biting his lip as his fingers pinch at your hard nipples.

“n— no,” you struggle out, flinching lightly as taesan plays with your tits without any restraint, like your body is his toy. the contrast of his cool rings against your heated skin causes goosebumps to rise on the surface of your arms, chest pushing further into his hands. “didn’t think there was any p—..point.”

you watch as taesan shakes his head like he’s disappointed, yet he’s smiling darkly.

“dirty girl.” he remarks, giving a firmer pinched tug to your hard bud and forcing a whimper to escape from between your lips. “just take everything off then.”

you’re quicker to do what he says this time, only letting your sudden shy attitude make you hesitate for a moment before getting up from his lap to discard your clothing to his floor, keeping eye contact with taesan as best as you can manage— as he seems pleased when you do. he lets out a hungry exhale when you take off your shirt and your tits are revealed to his eyes, hand leisurely jerking himself off over his pants by the time your shorts are removed— leaving you only in your underwear.

“is that a thong, princess?” taesan asks breathily, eyes slightly widening in what you think might be surprise.

“yeah? it’s…it’s what i always wear underneath my leotard.” you confirm, somewhat confused— until taesan speaks again, hand moving up and down his dick faster.

“fuck, just— just didn’t expect such a prissy girl like you to— shit, i don’t know. you’re so hot.”

you smile— and it’s equally sexy and cute in a way that makes taesan feel like he’s going to go insane if you don’t get back on his lap right away. your fingers slip beneath the band of your panties to tug them off, but he stops you before you can.

“don’t. keep them on, wanna see you make a mess in them for me.”

a part of you— the bratty side— wants to say you already have, the dark spot from your leaking arousal evidence of it. but you don’t, the desire to listen actually winning over as you remove your hands from your hips and straddle his thigh again. you hover this time, not fully sitting down as you’re embarrassed for him to feel your wetness directly against his bare skin, which are revealed through the large holes in his jeans.

but taesan catches on immediately, tutting fondly as his hands squeeze at your hips.

“all the way.” he drawls, like he’s giving a ditzy dog a command they’re struggling to understand— and it makes your stomach flip, hurrying to do as he says.

you know he feels it, how your panties clinging to your wet pussy lips press against his thigh— and as he bites at his lip, drawing your eyes to his twinkling piercing yet again— your face burns as you’re sure he’s probably looking at the glistening residue you’ve surely left on his skin.

“good girl.” he mutters roughly, you whining in response as your hands fist into the material of his shirt.

you feel like such a slut, sitting on a man’s lap almost completely bare while he’s fully clothed, your needy pussy slowly drenching his thigh in your juices; and you sound like one too as taesan leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth.

you gasp and stutter— unsure of what you’re even trying to say as taesan chuckles around your bud, continuing to flick and roll his pierced tongue over you. the contrast of his warm appendage and the occasional brush of round metal against your skin makes you sensitive, hole clenching around nothing with every other swipe of his tongue.

“like that?” he whispers before switching to give your other breast attention.

“yes,” you quietly moan, wrapping your arms around to grip and play with the hair at the nape of his neck, subsequently pushing his face deeper into your tits.

he likes that— if his responding groan is anything to judge by, his hands pulling your hips forward and drawing a more unabashed sound from your lips at the movement.

“use me. get your little pussy off on my thigh.”

“fuck— yes,” you obey, rocking your hips and finding a rhythm.

“shit. that’s it, baby.” he coos, his hand suddenly reigning down against your ass a contrast to his soft tone as it leaves your skin tingling with heat. “just a few little touches is all it takes to get the brat out of you, huh?”

you scoff at that— though it’s interrupted by a moan when taesan flexes his thigh. shame burns your skin and his little remark makes you want to act out again, but all you can do is grind your pussy against him, gasping and going faster whenever your covered clit gets brushed over just right.

your hands that are still tangled in his hair pull to disconnect his mouth from your tits, leaning down to kiss him instead. taesan doesn’t scold you for the demanding gesture— but he does lift a hand to grasp it over your throat. he doesn’t squeeze, but the simple act makes you feel so good and dominated— and his other hand which gropes at your ass and snaps the string waistband of your thong has you falling further into delirium.

“please— please, tae. wanna cum.”

“then cum.” he says simply, and when you finally open your squeezed shut eyes, he’s staring at your desperate face with amusement— and just like that, you’re pissed.

“taesan! i can’t! not— not enough!” you whine, not even able to think about how pathetic you sound.

“you’re cumming by my thigh or not at all. this is what you get for acting like a fucking whore while i was driving.”

you whisper out a sigh, and it’s so broken and helpless as you rock your hips earnestly against him that he almost feels bad— but the bigger part of him is proud; proud in a dark and twisted way at how he’s dwindled the ballerina down to nothing but a mindless slut that’s practically crying with the need to cum.

another spank is delivered to your ass and you flinch, taesan’s hand around your neck getting a little firmer as he forces your teary eyes to look up at him— and you feel like a dog in heat as your hips never stop their efforts to bring you to release.

“please.” you beg, and taesan’s eyes turn hazey at the beautiful sound.

“come on, princess. i know you can do it for me.” he encourages— and turns out that’s all you needed.

taesan gets an up close view as your eyes roll to the back of your head, mouth dropping open in a silent cry as he feels you ruin your panties even further.

his thigh is dripping as you keep rutting your hips against him, letting out small whimpers as you work yourself through your high. taesan grants you mercy at the very end, helping you grind your hips before eventually slowing you to a stop.

then he’s picking you up and carrying you into what you can only assume is his bedroom— because in the next moment he’s laying you down on a black comforter-covered mattress and stripping off his clothes.

you’re panting, still catching your breath— but you still manage to make a somewhat teasing comment as the man’s bare chest is revealed to you.

“no tattoos?”

taesan looks up at you right after pulling his shirt over his head, black hair disheveled and brushing over his eyes as he smirks silently at you and combs it out of his face.

“i thought all emo’s had tattoos.” you tack on— and that gets him to respond.

“emo?! i’m not emo, i’m fucking punk!” he argues, somewhat offended but mostly amused as he works on removing his jeans.

“emo, punk, metalhead. it’s all the same thing.” you offhandedly say.

“…i’m about to go soft.” taesan threatens.

“kidding!” you laugh, sitting up on your elbows— and the smile is completely wiped off your face when taesan removes his boxers and his dick is finally freed, slapping against his abs.

“shit..” you whisper to yourself, watching as taesan rolls a condom on before climbing on the bed and caging you underneath him with his body.

“need me to stretch you first, princess?” taesan sweetly asks after peeling off your drenched panties, hand brushing up and down your hip soothingly.

as much as you want his sexy fingers in your cunt— you can’t wait any longer, spreading your legs for him as you flash him your best puppy-dog eyes.

“no. please just fuck me, taesanie. need you.”

“god…” taesan sighs, not making you wait anymore as he lines his head to your entrance before pushing in slowly. “oh, fuck. you’re so tight, princess.”

your chest heaves as he pushes into the hilt, your hands gripping against the sheets.

“move. fuck me hard, please. want it rough.”

you think you hear taesan mutter something about you being a dream before his pulling out till just the tip is stretching your hole— and slamming back inside.

you both turn a little animalistic and desperate, learning how the other feels and bodies being taken over by the pleasure of it. taesan’s cock stretches you out so good— he fucks you so good. the rocking of his bed frame hits against his wall, and you have a fleeting thought about if the walls are thin and if he’ll get a noise complaint— before all that is forgotten as taesan takes hold of one of your thighs and bends it against your chest.

“feel it, baby? feel how fucking bad i want you?” taesan groans between his teeth, hand squeezing tightly around your leg unconsciously— and you secretly hope it leaves mark indentations from his rings; tiny bruises from his fingers you can admire the next day.

you only can respond so his deeply uttered words with a broken moan, and taesan only fucks you harder.

“that’s it, princess got what she wanted.” he coos, eyes surprising you by how they turn a little soft— though the movement of his hips certainly never do. “always give my princess what she wants.”

you whine at that, grabbing him by the shoulders to ask for a kiss.

“fuck, you drive me crazy, y/n.” he breathes before leaning down to yet again give you what you ask for.

“but i like that about you.” he finishes between kisses.

your thighs are trembling in pleasure, sweat is lining your hairline and glistening from taesan’s chest— and you can’t take it anymore, wrapping your legs around taesan’s waist as your nails dig into his back.

“can i come, please? oh, fff— please?”

“such a good fucking slut when you got a cock in you, huh? can’t believe my princess likes it rough.”

his hand manages to squeeze between your bodies despite how tightly you cling to him, his fingers finding your clit and tracing shapes over it.

“cum, baby. get it all over my sheets.”

your body going stiff before trembling uncontrollably against him, all while your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock— it brings taesan to release as well, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow each other's cries of pleasure.

the come down is slow, taesan rolling over and pulling your body on top of his so he doesn’t accidentally fall against you in exhaustion.

your deep breaths puff warmly against his neck as he cradles you on his chest, hands swirling patterns over your back absentmindedly.

“that was…amazing.” you say around a sigh, enjoying the comforting aroma of taesan’s cologne imbedded into his sheets.

“yeah…are you done?” taesan asks, still breathy yet curious— and you raise your head to look at his face.

“you want to go again?”

“well,” taesan starts, somewhat sheepishly— yet his eyes hold that constant playful sparkle. “just thought you might be curious what it feels like to get eaten out with a piercing.”

your eyes widen, clearly shocked by not only the question but at how correct he is.

“come on, princess. you’re not slick. don’t think i didn’t notice you staring at it when we were at the bar. plus, you did say you wanted me between your legs—“

“can you stop bringing that up!?”

note ; and for anyone wondering, yes, taesan went to reader’s ballet performance. (and yes, he got jealous watching her and jaehyun dancing on stage together…part two material?🤭)

all taglists (perm/fluff/smut) are open if anyone would like to be added! age must be in bio/somewhere on pinned post if you want to be tagged in perm/smut taglist.

[txrully]

I'M SO STUPID IN LOVE!

·˚ ༘ ꒱ summary lovey-dovey things they'd do for you!

·˚ ༘ ꒱ characters isagi yoichi , bachira meguru , itoshi rin , nagi seishiro , mikage reo , chigiri hyoma , hiori yo , shidou ryusei , itoshi sae , michael kaiser , alexis ness .

·˚ ༘ ꒱ warning lowercase intended

·˚ ༘ ꒱ song inspo stupid in love - max ( ft. huh yunjin of lsrfm )

·˚ ༘ ꒱ isagi yoichi

you know how isagi’s brain is basically soccer, soccer, soccer? well, this man rewires his ENTIRE system for you. suddenly, every time he scores a goal, he dedicates it to you. like, mid-celebration he’s shouting your name in front of thousands of people. embarrassing? a lil. cute? definitely.

he’s also the type to leave you notes everywhere. you’ll open your locker, and boom: "i hope your day is as perfect as your smile. also, pls drink water. - yoichi 🩵"

or you’ll find random sticky notes around the house with stuff like: "you're cuter than my dog. and that’s saying a lot." ( i hc he's a dog person, fight me 🫠 )

"yoichi, did you seriously compare me to your dog again?"

"is that bad?? you’re both my top priorities!"

·˚ ༘ ꒱ bachira meguru

bachira is a walking ball of chaos, and it only gets worse when he’s in love. he makes you weird handmade crafts—like a necklace with your initials carved into a random rock he found because “the vibes were immaculate.”

he’s also the king of grand gestures. once, he showed up outside your window in the middle of the night blasting your favorite song from a boombox. and no, he didn’t think it through—he got yelled at by your neighbors, but he swears it was worth it.

"meguru, why is there a rock with my name on it?"

"because i love you. duh."

"…you couldn’t just buy a necklace??"

"where’s the FUN in that?? D:< "

·˚ ༘ ꒱ itoshi rin

soft tsundere energy incoming. rin doesn’t say much, but when he’s in love, he SHOWS it. like, he’ll memorize your coffee order, your favorite book, and the exact way you like your hoodie sleeves rolled up. you swear he’s psychic, but he’s just that attentive.

he also sends you texts at random times:

"don’t forget your umbrella. it’s going to rain."

"i noticed you like this song. added it to my playlist."

you’re 99% sure his search history is “how to take care of someone without being obvious.”

"rin, did you... did you learn how to make my favorite food?"

"shut up and eat it."

"you’re so sweet it’s disgusting."

"i said shut up."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ nagi seishiro

nagi’s love language? pure, lazy dedication. he may not seem like the romantic type, but trust me—he will move mountains for you... as long as it doesn’t require getting up too much.

once, he spent HOURS figuring out how to build you a playlist of all your favorite songs, complete with a cover photo of you two. he even labeled it: "for my player 2 🕹️"

"sei, this playlist is amazing!"

"mm, yeah, it was exhausting. now can we nap?"

"you literally just sat there and clicked buttons."

"exactly. so tiring.."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ mikage reo

reo goes all out for you—no budget, no limits, no second thoughts. one time, you mentioned how pretty cherry blossoms are, and the next thing you know, he’s flying you to a festival in japan. casually might i add.

but the sweetest part? he remembers the little things. your favorite snack? stocked in his pantry. your favorite flower? delivered to your doorstep every friday. he spoils you rotten but somehow makes it feel like the most natural thing in the world.

"reo, this is too much—"

"no, it’s not. nothing’s too much for you."

"you’re literally insane."

"only for you, babe."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ chigiri hyoma

chigiri is the definition of 💌romantic aesthetic💌. he writes you poetry and leaves it in random places, like your bag or your coat pocket. sometimes, you don’t even notice until hours later.

he also takes you on dreamy dates—picnics in scenic fields, long bike rides at sunset, and slow dances in your living room when it’s raining outside. everything he does feels like it’s straight out of a romance movie.

"hyoma, did you just quote a shakespeare sonnet to me?"

"maybe."

"oh my god, you’re so dramatic."

"and yet you’re still here."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ hiori yo

hiori is the sweetest, softest boy in love. he keeps a journal where he writes down all the little things you do that make him happy. once, you caught him scribbling, and he turned BRIGHT red.

he’s also the king of quiet acts of service. your phone’s always fully charged, your favorite snacks magically appear in your bag, and you never have to ask for help because he’s already two steps ahead.

"yo, were you writing about me again?"

"no... maybe. okay, yes."

"you’re adorable."

"please don’t look."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ shidou ryusei

oh boy. shidou is CHAOTIC in love. this man would probably fight a wild animal to impress you. he’s all about making you laugh, even if it means doing the dumbest stunts imaginable.

one time, he literally climbed a tree to get you a flower. it wasn’t even a nice flower. but hey, it’s the thought that counts.

"ryu, you’re bleeding. what did you do??"

"got you this flower. cool, huh?"

"you FELL OUT OF A TREE FOR THIS??"

"worth it."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ itoshi sae

sae is the definition of quiet but deadly romantic. he doesn’t show his feelings often, but when he does? damn. like, he’ll casually fly in from another country just to spend the weekend with you because “it’s no big deal.”

he also sends you fancy gifts out of nowhere. but if you call him out, he’ll play it cool like it’s nothing.

"sae, did you just buy me an entire designer collection?"

"it’s just clothes."

"just clothes?? this cost more than my rent!"

"and you look better than rent."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ michael kaiser

kaiser loves showing off, especially when it comes to you. he’ll buy out a billboard just to plaster your picture on it with the words "the love of my life 🩵."

but he’s also surprisingly sweet. like, he’ll carry your bag, fix your hair when it’s windy, or randomly pull you into a dance in the middle of the street just because he can.

"michael, did you seriously put my face on a billboard??"

"obviously. everyone needs to know you’re mine."

"you’re ridiculous."

"ridiculously in love with you, yes."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ alexis ness

ness is a total softie. he writes you little love letters and leaves them in your mailbox, signed with his initials like he’s a secret admirer. you obviously know it’s him, but you let him think he’s being sneaky.

he’s also BIG on cuddles. whenever he sees you, it’s like he can’t function until he gets a hug.

"ness, you know i know it’s you, right?"

"…you’re supposed to pretend you don’t!"

"why?"

"because it’s romantic!"

© txrully

do not copy/translate/plagiarize/repost my works in any way. ( i will find you 😶‍🌫️ )

likes + reblogs appreciated ‹𝟹

[beloveds-embrace]

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

-> part. ii here!

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

[madamechrissy]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Satoru Gojo Drabbles/ Headcanons ˚୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

all of my shorter oneshots/drabbles and hcs

Emperor! Gojo - you've been set to marry the new emperor Satoru Gojo, but he wants nothing to do with all of that, he doesn't even come to your first meeting - rude!

Stripper! Gojo- Satoru Gojo is the leader of a male revue, and you're promised to be a bride to Naoya Zenin - and just want one night of freedom before

Pornstar! Satoru - Satoru is a pornstar who loves his life till he meets you and you mess his career all up - you're losing yourself and he's losing himself (now a fic)

Bully! Gojo- NSFW - Gojo is a complete dick and bullies you in college, and you honestly fucking love it, lil masochist Part Two Part three

Priest! Gojo- NSFW You have a confession to make to Father Gojo you sinner, but don't worry, he'll fill you with love and light!

Pervert! Gojo- also have some Pervert! Geto here - NSFW Satoru can't help but fuck you and send videos to his bestie Suguru, and make you cum in public

Sugar Daddy! Gojo- NSFW - Gojo loves to spoil you constantly, with his mone, with his mouth, and with his cum <3

Vampire! Gojo - Vamp Gojo rly wants your blood, oh and he also totally wants to marry you- yay!?

Yandere Roomie! Gojo - Yandere Satoru may or may not have got you kicked out of your apartment so you have to live with him, you may or may not rly care bc of that dick

Escort! Satoru - You hired Satoru for a date, but both of you fall. He has one rule - no kissing! Drabble mini series where Escort Satoru gets down bad for a client - five parts

Mafia! pretty boy Gojo- from Losing Control Mow - Mobster Gojo x Bartender reader, Gojo instantly falls and knows he must save you from dangerous people

Fratboy! Gojo- cute and freaky hcs of fratboy Gojo x Sorority reader from Took You Like a Shot - Part Two

You're mine, got it baby?- Yandere Gojo x short fem reader (request!) NSFW you asked the neighbor to change your porch light, Satoru needs to teach you better

One Night at the club - Yandere Gojo x Tall fem reader (request) NSFW - Satoru meets you at a bar and you knock a dude out- hott!

How to get a raise: Satoru Gojo x smol boob reader (request) NSFW you wear a new bra at the office, Gojo doesn't like it!

Just one more time: NSFW -Satoru needs to go again and again, just one more time plz

Bad Idea Right -NSFW- you trip and fall into ex boyfriend Gojo's bed, whoopsie!

His Instrument - Yandere Gojo x Musician Darling- nsfw- Gojo goes to all your operas, it's totally normal don't worry!

You Cryin baby? - NSFW - Satoru Gojo x Busty reader- Satoru really likes your titties and loves seeing your tears

I'm Into it: NSFW - Satoru and you are best friends, and there's only one place to sit, his lap- teasing/college au.

Yan!Gojo wants Geto's girl - NSFW- Just Gojo jerking off to a pic he stole off Geto's phone of youuu (mini series)

Ice Cream: SFW- You are pregnant and miserable, Satoru calls you an orca LMAO

My first kiss went a little like this- SFW- arranged marriage, jujutsu sorcerers, you can break Gojo's barrier- sweet, fluffy cute

Tell me how you hate me - NSFW- just Gojo hating you and loving your coochie lol

Need a Seatbelt when I ride it - nsfw - some cute and freaky ass domestic smut with you and soccer dad Satoru

Morning after Christmas with Satoru - nsfw the morning after Christmas, how long do you all have before the kids wake up? Enough time to make more babies

Even though I'm wifey you can hit it like a sidechick - CEO Gojo and his assistant/wifey love office breaks

Dom Gojo/sub reader reader is edged like a mf and dommed by a jealous Satoru

Virgin Gojo and Virgin Reader - nsfw- Gojo and your first time- cute and sweet little drabble

Fratboy Gojo waxes you- nsfw- Where your baby daddy waxes you since you're a lil too far along to shave <3

Aftercare With Satoru - NSFW drabble of Toru bein' freaky

Figure You Out- light smut- College AU, Reader and Toru are both nerds tbh, FLUFFY and sweet, some sexual tension, lots of unspoken feelings - 3k wc

Lead It Southbound an alt universe with reader from Baby You're a Star, with secret Onlyfans star Nanami and Pornstar Satoru where they share you on cam - PWP, obsessive Nanami and Satoru - 4.5k

An Arranged Marriage with Gojo: NSFW - You are arranged to marry Gojo, sight unseen, and run into a hot white haired guy at the bar the night before, you both decide to have some fun before your 'wedding' (longer drabble)

Losing focus every time you speak, girl - nsfw - Yan Gojo mad that your boss Sukuna flirts with you at the Christmas office dinner! (longer drabble)

First Time -Satoru Gojo x Virgin reader- NSFW - you want your best friend to be your first, and find out you've both had feelings all this time (longer drabble)

For Me? - nsfw- Satoru Gojo really loves making you feel better on your period, but maybe it's a little selfish, since he loves fucking you during it so much. (longer drabble)

Masterlist of all my full series/ fics // Long Oneshots of Gojo here - Masterlist Gojo Full length fics here - Masterlist // by me a glass of wine here - Kofi Link

[voidbellamy]

domestic habits | bob reynolds

summary: while the rest of team is on missions, you and your husband have the tower to yourselves

content warnings: this ones suggestive, a little steamy, if you will (as always, nothing at all explicit) fluff, family dynamic, banter, domestic bob, husband!bob, sentry appearance, suggestive (hiighlyyy suuggessstiiveee) themes, inappropriate jokes, bob being an absolute dream husband, kissing (🤭) you may sweat a little..

you tilted your head, phone tucked between your shoulder and your ear. “i’m telling you, i will not survive three more days of this.” “uh huh,” you flipped the pancakes, smiling in amusement as walker ranted on.

“he snores.”

“you snore, walker.”

“he snores so loudly that the room next to us banged on our door at two am, telling us to shut up.”

“oh… well, at least they didn’t wake you up, knocking on the door and you were already awake.”

“oh, that’s very funny…”

“why thank you. i’ve been working on my standup.” john snorted, “god, you would be a terrible comedian. no one would ever laugh at your jokes.” you scoffed, “bob thinks i’m hilarious, thank you very much. he laughs at all my jokes.” “bob also has the palate of a child and takes your side on everything, even if it’s factually wrong.” you smirked slightly, “he’s a very smart man.” “he’s biased. of course he’s going to take his wife’s side.” you felt yourself grinning; you still felt giddy anytime someone called you his wife.

“how are things there?”

“quiet… perfect.”

“you two are so in love, it’s disgusting.”

you smiled again, “don’t be jealous, walker.”

“don’t rub it in, reynolds.”

another smirk, “can you survive another three days with alexei?” john groaned, “i can. i can’t guarantee he will.” there was a slight scuffle in the background, muffled voices were arguing.

“hello, princess!” you jumped at the sudden loud voice in the speaker, “shit-“ your startle had caused you to jerk the side of your finger into the hot pan, “ah, damn it.” you muttered it, scrambling to run it under cold water and keep an eye on breakfast.

“hello, alexei… how are y–“

“i was snoring so loudly i woke the neighbors!” you winced, holding your phone further from your face, “that’s nice.” there was no need to put the call on speaker. “soldier boy was so angry!” his booming laughter nearly blew the speakers of your phone. “can i have my phone back?” you could hear john in the background, quietly, “seriously man, you’re getting cheeto dust all over it.”

“soldier boy wants phone back now.”

“okay, alexei-“

“wait!” you nearly jumped again; the pancake you were trying to flip nearly became a casualty.

“yes, alexei?”

“when we get back, you make tacos?”

you rolled your eyes, “okay, alexei…”

john had gotten his phone back, finally, “sorry if you have a headache now, he took it out of my hand.” you snorted, “slight burnt hand, no headache.” “i’m sure bob will kiss it better for you.” he sighed dramatically, exaggerating it greatly, “must be nice…”

you rolled your eyes with an amused smirk, “it really is.”

“goodbye, reynolds.”

“goodbye, walker.”

you dropped your phone on the counter, adding the final pancakes to the stack. you had made entirely too many for only two people. you were used to cooking for the entire team, which was usually slightly less food than an entire football team ate. your phone buzzed again and you groaned, trying to put butter and syrup on a plate of pancakes one handed as you answered.

it was yelena.

“hello, if you are calling to rant about a fellow teammate, please leave a message. i will get back to you in the order your complaint was received.”

“i’m going to use that, it’s very clever.” you smiled; despite the interruption, you were glad to hear your best friend’s voice after almost two weeks. “how are things? very quiet and romantic, i’m sure.” your cheeks heated up, thankful no one was here to see how flustered you still got anytime bob was mentioned. “i am just checking in to make sure no one died. tell the loverboy i said hello.” “you realize i’m the one that makes sure no one dies usually? and bob is still asleep.” “is that so?” yelena hummed slightly, checking her watch on the other side, “it is late morning there… …you wear him out?” you gasped slightly, dropping the silverwear— you should have been used to her comments by now, “i— yelena!” you heard her snickering through the phone, “i– yes.” you smirked to yourself as yelena whistled, “have fun, kids. always use protection.” “yelena—!” the phone clicked off and you rolled your eyes.

you balanced the plates and mugs of tea- for bob- and coffee for you, turning around precariously. you yelped as you turned around and nearly crashed into bob. “whoaa—“ bob grabbed you to steady you, pulling you against him secularly with one arm. he caught the plates before they fell, manipulated the pancakes back onto their neat stacks and caught the mugs before any liquid could spill, with a simple twitch of his finger. yeah, he could do that. you exhaled, partially from almost falling, partially because of the closeness to your favorite person in the world. bob shifted the plates and mugs back to the table. once the breakfast you had worked so hard on was safe, he turned to you. his eyes still glowed golden, looking up and down, “good morning, gorgeous girl.” your heart fluttered, like it did around him, especially at the nicknames he used. you wrapped your arms around him, nestling into his chest, face burrowing against his chest. he kissed your head, then tilted his head up to meet your lips. “whatever you made smells good. pancakes?” bob didn’t let go of you, keeping you in a tight hug. he always hugged for just slightly too long. you loved it. the too long hugs, the need to always be close, the hands always roaming your body- protectively, possessively, or just to pull you as close to him as possible. “i was going to bring you breakfast in bed...” you pouted slightly and bob stroked your lip with his thumb. “am i ever going to get to make you breakfast?” you smirked, “no, sir. that’s my job…” bob just smirked, pulling you in for a passionate kiss again.

you had taught bob how to cook in the early days, when the team had benched him indefinitely, until he could fully control his powers. you were more of the house keeper, strategizer and manager of the team, so you rarely went on missions, and never got in the field of fire. this situation meant you and bob spent a lot of time together. it was the two of you alone together more than not. you two had gotten close very quickly. when weeks went by with just you and him, it was really inevitable. you trained together to stay in shape. you exchanged book recommendations, watched movies when neither of you could sleep at night. the team began noticing the shift in dynamic between the two of you and the very obvious looks you gave each other. eventually, the team placed bets on when you two would finally get together, not knowing you were already together.

bob did the dishes as you stretched out on the couch with a book. you heard the sink turn off, dishes being placed back in their cupboards, silence, then the water being turned back on, a curse, water being sprayed, another curse. the shuffle of bare feet crossing the room, growing closer. you lowered your book just slightly, glancing over the top of it with a raised eyebrow. bob was looking at you, shirt soaking wet and clinging to him in a way that left you with nothing appropriate to say. “the sprayer wouldn’t turn off. i’ll fix it though! i just need to…” you bit your lip, half listening, “m’hm… real shame…” bob raised his eyebrows at you. you very clearly were not listening to him, and you had just realized along with the soaking wet, clinging shirt, he was only in his boxers. bob smirked, eyeing you as you looked him over with a slightly feral expression. “do you see something you like?” bob crossed his arms slightly, covering the tantalizing outline that the soaked, clinging shirt provided for the eight pack. you snapped out of it, looking slightly dazed, “sorry- i- what?” bob laughed, tilting his head slightly, tongue flicking out just barely to catch a bit of the water running down his lip from the rogue sprayer. your eyes now held a look your husband was positive he had never seen. “i said…” he dropped onto the couch, arms above your head, landing with a knee on either side of you. you felt the air get stolen from your lungs as your poor heart frantically pumped blood, trying to figure out why your brain was telling it you were now, suddenly, doing intense exercise.

well, not exactly.

…or.. not yet…

“i said,” bob leaned in closer, lips brushing against your ear, “do you,” a gentle nip against your neck, “see something you like?” you swore the room was spinning. you exhaled slowly, trying to recall what the book you had just been reading was about. for some reason, you couldn’t…likely not even with a gun to your head. you finally forced yourself to nod, already feeling out of breath, “very much so…” you smiled playfully, despite your body giving you signals that you were in a life threatening situation. bob smirked smugly, “and to think i’m still worn out from last night…” you huffed slightly as he shifted off of you- just slightly- now sitting just above your hips, just looking down at you casually, “tease.” he smirked, just eyeing you, “do you think it will take the other one- the golden one- to get your fill of me?”

sentry had been allowed to come out pretty regularly, especially now that bob had full control of his powers. he was quite convenient, really. he had nearly endless powers and made everything easier, faster, and usually safer. sentry would come out as the two of you would go on your evening walks. some evenings, he would come out just to hold you against him as you hovered on the roof, looking at the stars, watching the traffic go by. he was the strongest aspect of the team, but bob still was reluctant to let him out on missions; a part of him still scared he would get carried away or lose control. especially if you were involved; the other other one would come out if he thought you were in any sort of danger- or could, potentially be in danger at any point, in your entire life, ever. sentry tended to be much more jealous and protective than bob. not that bob wasn’t- it was as if it had been dialed to one hundred. void, however… if you were ever flirted with, looked at wrong, looked at in sexual way, or touched by anyone, void would claw his way to the surface, taking complete control without any warning or chance of stopping him. he was bob, multiplied by one thousand. he was sentry, dialed to one hundred. in a twisted way, it was quite like having three husbands… all three protective, all three keeping you the priority, all three obsessed with you.

you hummed, hands resting against his hips, “baby, honestly, i could probably wear the other two out too before i ever got tired of you. and i mean that sincerely. in more ways than one.” you smirked slightly at the last comment as he leaned in to kiss you. he laughed slightly against your lips, “i truly love your confidence. but the other two physically can’t get tired.” you hummed again, thinking, debating, “i’m willing to test that.” bob smirked deeply, eyes darkening just slightly at the thought, “i’m pretty sure you like having full use of your legs though, right?” you gasped up at him, smacking him gently. you held back a laugh, he was holding back an amused smirk. it was a wonderful thought, but really, there’s no way you would last.

painfully, rudely, bob shifted off you, “i’m going to go take a shower. probably a cold one.” he eyed you at the last part, amused smirk spreading across his face. you eyed him coolly, watching him round the corner towards your room. you would have joined him, if you didn’t hate cold showers more than anything.

you ordered pizza for dinner, begrudgingly. bob had insisted if you weren’t going to let him cook, he was demanding a night off from cooking for you. you were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket with your head in his lap. he had picked jurassic park and you didn’t complain. bob would laugh at you every time you jumped, despite seeing the movies a dozen times. he stroked your hair, pulling him closer against him. “if dinosaurs came back from extinction,” you shifted to look up at him with an amused smile, hoping he never stopped with his questions that drove the others crazy, “what ones would you want to come back?” you hummed as you considered, “definitely no carnivores. definitely not raptors…” “did you know that actual raptors were very small and had feathers?” you eyed him, failing to hide your adoring smile, “can i answer your first question?” bob blushed, ducking his head slightly with a shy smile, “sorry…” god, you loved this man– with his stupid questions that didn’t feel stupid to you; and his random facts that you always remembered, keeping them tucked in your head. “triceratops and brachiosaurus.” bob contemplated, hummed once, then nodded, satisfied with your answer. “okay, if you could be any dinosaur, what would you pick?” bob looked down at you with a huge smile, thrilled that you had joined him in his “stupid questions”, “micro raptor.” you scrunched your eyebrows and looked up at him, “why a—“ he held both hands up, measuring a small size between his hands, “they’re the size of a crow, so you could carry me around.” you snorted, shaking your head. god, he was so adorable it made you dizzy. “what about you?” he was still smiling, clearly very proud of himself for that answer. “pterodactyl. just so i could fly.” bob tilted his head when he looked down at you; a very playful, very dangerous look on his face, “you want to fly?” you regretted it immediately. you were terrified of heights, but obviously a flying dinosaur wouldn’t be. “no, i don’t- i really don’t-“ he still was looking at you, eyes now glowing gold in the dark room.

oh, no.

“you never told me you wanted to fly… you realize i know a guy for that? you realize i am that guy?” you exhaled, shaking slightly, “you’ve taken me flying-“ it was a lie; bob had held you several times as he hovered a few feet off the ground. when he was kissing you, you were distracted enough not to be stupid enough to look down. oh, but he looked so excited. and so hurt that you had never mentioned it…

ohh- what the hell…

“please?” bob had pulled you to your feet, pulling you against him, burrowing his face against your neck, “please let me take you.. just once…” damn it, damn it, damn it. you couldn’t do this. you could not do this. why had you even said that? why had you even considered it? absolutely not. there was no way you could–

“don’t drop me.”

you had to stop yourself from slapping a hand over your mouth and looking insane. where the hell had that come from? why was that what came out of your mouth? bob’s eyes glowed brighter and you cursed. he was pushing the elevator button before you could argue, dragging you along behind him eagerly, like a child heading to a toy store. you were holding your breath. you knew you were holding your breath and that you needed to breathe, but you physically couldn’t. the elevator doors opened to the roof and you felt nauseous. bob wrapped his arms around you and nearly stumbled as you tensed yourself up like a board. “baby—“ he tilted your head up to look at him, fighting your tense posture, “we don’t have to do this… you said you wanted to. that’s the only reason i offered…” you took deep breaths, trying to avoid his eyes, trying to pull yourself together and convince yourself you weren’t going to die. bob obviously wouldn’t drop you.

bob stroked your jaw, pulling your attention back to him, “do you want to do this?” you really did. you nodded once, fighting away the fearful tears that were staring to form. bob held stepped back, hands on your shoulders, bending slightly to look into your eyes, “do you trust me?” you really, really did, with everything in you. you nodded once, biting your lip, stepping into his chest. “what if you drop me?” your eyes were squeezed shut, face buried in your husband’s shirt, squeaking pathetically as you felt your feet leave the ground. “i promise i won’t drop you, sweetheart.” you clawed your way closer to him as wind picked up in your face. you could just tell you were much higher up than you had been. “what if you do?” bob exhaled, tightening his hold on you even more, just to make you feel more secure, “i won’t.” “but what if you did?” you heard him laugh slightly and you would have smacked him if you weren’t clinging to him for dear life. “if i drop you, the other guy will catch you.” “and what if—“ he cut you off again, clearly trying to hide his amusement, “if sentry drops you- which we never would- then the other one will catch you. as an absolute last resort.” you exhaled, relaxing slightly.

“open your eyes…”

you did, slowly; it took everything in you not to scream and start flailing in a panic. you were at least one hundred feet above the tower, overlooking the city- which you felt like you could see all of. “i’ve got you.” you couldn’t breathe completely, voice shaking as you replied, “i know.” “hold on…” you could hear the smirk on his face in his words; it was his plotting tone..

“robert, no! don’t you dare-“

his arms tightened around you, shifting slightly to hold you up at a different angle.

“this was quite enough-“

you screamed as he jolted forward like a torpedo, flying above the city like a rocket. “slow down–! robert, i swear—“ you swore you heard his laughter above the roaring wind in your ears. he slowed, hovering once again. he took your hands, eyes coming to meet yours. his expression was passionate, fiery, so full of love you thought you may melt. he brought one hand to your cheek, stroking it as he leaned in for a kiss. kissing this high above the city was invigorating, it felt even more like flying, it felt like you weren’t even—

he wasn’t holding you.

he had a hand on your waist and hand on your cheek but he was not holding you.

you began hyperventilating, flailing frantically to get back into his arms. “hey! hey hey hey-“ bob grabbed your shoulders, “look at me, sweetheart. look at me.” you forced your wide eyes to him, trying to ignore the screaming in your head, trying to force away the panic slamming against your chest. “look at me…” his voice softened, pulling you back to him. “i. have. got. you.” then, horrifically, he let go of you completely. you didn’t fall. you didn’t scream. you didn’t panic. you just kept your eyes locked on your husband, watching a proud smile spread across his face, “look at you…” he moved forward, wrapping his arms around you again. “god, i love you. god, you’re spectacular. i’m so proud of you.” you were smiling- widely. bob wrapped his arms around the back of you, kissing your head and then resting his chin on top of it. you exhaled slowly, looking out over the city, “it’s..beautiful up here.” you lay your head back against his shoulder.

“thank you for this… i love you.”

“i love you more…”

“not possible.”

bob held you tightly, flying you back to the tower at a steady pace. you buried your face into his neck, placing lazy kisses up his neck and along his jaw. he groaned just slightly, tilting his head back to give you easier access, “careful,” his voice was low, warning, “i might drop you…” he smirked playfully. “the other guy will just catch me, then…” bob exhaled, it came out as a low growl, “don’t… don’t bring them up right now.” you smirked, “jealous?” he narrowed his eyes at you slightly as your feet touched solid ground again. you dug through your pocket and pulled out the key for the roof entrance. you felt hands gently slide down your sides. you dropped the keys again, bending down to grab them again. bob stepped closer to you, right behind you, just barely pressed up against you. you sharply inhaled, knowing exactly what he was doing. he rubbed your back, innocently. “stop…” you stood up and faced him, and there, just behind his eyes, was the look. you smirked innocently, unlocking the door as bob backed you into it, agonizingly, kissing you slowly.

“i love you.”

he ran his fingers through your hair, tugging gently, backing you through the door with more urgency now. he closed the door behind him, nearly tripping down the stairs. bob had picked you up, your arms wrapped around his waist. your back hit the wall beside the elevator, his thumb repeatedly pushing the button, as if it would make the elevator arrive faster. your fingers slid up his shirt and he breathed in sharply against your lips. the elevator dinged, the door slid open and your back hit another wall. shirts were discarded before the doors had closed completely; bob propped you up against the handrail on the back wall, tucking himself against your knees. the elevator dinged again and you were picked up, carried, and dropped on the couch- not remotely gentle. he climbed over you, hovering over you slightly, looking down at you with the same dark expression.

you stretched up to meet his lips, pulling him down against you. you were already breathless; both giddy and giggling like lovesick teenagers. the elevator dinged once again, though you were both too distracted to hear it. “surprise! we are back early— oh god.” bob nearly screamed, almost falling off the couch. you hadn’t really even been doing anything that shocking- yet… you sat up, trying to subtly adjust your sports bra, while bob looked like a deer in headlights, beet red. bucky, ava and yelena stood just outside the elevator, bags hanging stiffly by their sides, one was smirking, one was glaring, one was covering her mouth. “i’m moving out.” bucky dropped his bag where he stood, walking briskly to his room without another word. “we were just— we thought you weren’t coming back for a few more days…” yelena raised an eybrow, expression flat. “we were watching a movie…” he nodded once, trying to sound confident as he straightened himself up again, sitting on the opposite end of the couch as you. “a movie…” yelena deadpanned, eyeing him with the slightest hint of amusement. “must not have been very interesting.” ava smirked, looking away from the pair. “we had already seen it.” you smirked, deciding to own it. yelena just rolled her eyes, “good night, люблю птиц…” you smirked slightly, watching the pair head to their rooms. bob shifted, putting his arm around you once he knew they were gone, “what did she call us?” “love birds.” he smirked, looking down at you to give you one more kiss, “fitting.” he stood to his feet, turned off the tv and held out a hand to help you up. he tucked you against him, both arms around you, fingers double interlocked with yours as you trailed him along behind you, towards your room. he placed a kiss on your temple and you thought, achingly, that the others should all be away on missions more often.

***

a/n: i’m not sure how i feel about this tbh. i just needed fluff