#Our Story Pierce Hoodie

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Our Story Pierce Hoodie & Dual Wolf Everson Seamless Valencourt Shorts in Vintage Blossom Woodland Camo from Darc Sport (sold out), Classic Crew Socks (3 pack - $15) & Classic Slip On Shoe ($55) in White from Vans

[igotanidea]

Bound by business: Jason Todd x reader

Summary: Jason x information dealer reader. He only came for the info, but one thing led to another, a bit of whiskey and some teasing and - .... And she's a self made gotham.boss bitch falling for no one...

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!, dirty talk, p in v, teasing, angst

A/N : Been a while since I wrote smut and a story this long. Let me down gently. XD

***

It was dark and the rain was heavy, doing nothing to hide Jason’s irritation as he speeded on his motorcycle to the bad side of Gotham if there was any good side of Gotham in the first place.

Once having reached his destination, he took his helmet off letting rain wet his ruffled hair and started banging on the door.

His contact in the criminal world had been hard lately and he had no idea why, but the reasons behind the sudden change in the attitude were far from his interest.

HE and Y/N had a long history, went way back to the times when he was Robin and she was a good girl, both memories seeming like a fucking grotesque now.

“Y/N! Open the fuck up!”

“The hell Jason?!”

The door opened but she made no move to invite him inside despite the downpour on the outside. Instead she settled on watching him shake the water off like a dog, deriving some sadistic pleasure from the fact he could barely see with his hair stuck to his forehead and falling into his eyes.  

“The gun shipment. Tonight. I need details. Time, place, figures involved.

“Well hello to you too, Jason. I’ve been fine thanks for asking.” She scoffed and then smirked.

“I don’t have time for this shit-“

“Right, right, of course. I probably should thank you for not putting a gun to my head right away, right?”

“That is to be rectified at any moment now.” He reached towards his holster.

“Don’t be stupid, Jason. You know you only get this far with things because of me. You don’t want to lose an ally, do you?”

“You’re just an information dealer. Plenty of those in Gotham.”

“Mhm. Sure. And how many of them are as skilled as I am?”

He scoffed, pushing right past her, casually shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the couch.

“Yeah by all means, ruin my furniture. Drink?” she asked, heading towards the cabinet

“Whiskey. Neat.”

“Wow, someone finally developed some standards. What gives?”

Jason scoffed again.

“Standards, my ass. It’s at your expense so why would I hold back?”

“I might hold you accountable to that in the future. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

The glasses clinked and for a moment they both sipped their drinks in silence which gave Jason a second to actually look at her. She was a badass, that was what he knew. But every time he came around to her place, which was not really happening that often, she was almost innocent. Ironically. No make up, comfy clothes, just hoodie and yoga pants. He had seen women try harder to look I-woke-up-like-this.

Y/N was just being comfortable. 

“What’s with the look Jace?” she smirked from under the rim of her glass, her eyes piercing into him.

“I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“About why you are suddenly not giving me shit.”

“It’s been a long day if you must know. Long and hard day. My shit giving attitude and my humor might be a little off. ”

“Huh!” he huffed dismissively “hard day? You want to hear about a hard day? The one involving guns and fights? And being stabbed with a knife? Twice?“

“We all have our own definition of a hard day, you fool. You deal with bullets, I deal with people.”

“So you’re basically saying that people are worse than guns? Seriously? Damn, girl you got some audacity there.” He half-laughed, taking another sip of the whiskey and swirling the beverage “so, spill. Which one of your usual charming assholes got under your skin?”

“Luckily someone I do not have any respect for.”

“You have respect for no one, sunshine. But please, do tell. Did you kick him in the groin or punched him in the face?”

“Something like that.” She smirked, clearly so full of herself.

“Please tell me you at least broke his nose.”

“I did no permanent damage, that's all I can say.”

“Meaning you did something painful, but not crippling.” He nodded. He was actually learning to use the same method. Putting a gun to people's heads and shooting them dead was not very useful while searching for info. But then again, he had Y/N for that latter purpose. “Black eye? Twisted arm?”

“I thought you came here about the gun shipment info?” she finally sat on the couch and turned to face him with a hint of tease in her eyes.

“I did. But should it stop me from having a little polite conversation with my favorite partner in crime?” Jason leaned back on the coach with a sly smile

“Mh! I call bullshit.”

“How’s your hand doing?”

The question took her by surprise. Right, the hand, of course he knew about it. She got injured during one of her quests last week and has been dealing with the consequences ever since.

“I’m handling.”

“Uh!” Jason raised his hand stopping her in the middle of the sentence “Let me translate: it hurts like hell but you won’t admit it.” Y/N would never confront her pain – neither physical nor emotional. And yes, he was doing the same but it was easier to notice it in someone else than in himself. “So, given the state of that limb you must have got to that asshole pretty hard. Good job, I’ll give you that. It’s not every day I get to hear about your violent tendencies….” He chuckled and sipped the last of his drink, putting the glass back on the table, his eyes fixed on hers with a mischief in them.

“Oh you know damn well about my violent tendencies…”

“Damn right I do. And don’t I just love every fucking one of them…” his voice dropped an octave as he leaned forward, never dropping the gaze.  “Nothing sexier than a woman who can handle herself…”

“Oh yeah?” she allowed him the sudden closeness, clearly enjoying the blooming game “never took you for a guy who loved being manhandled..”

“Oh I am not. But I’m a sucker for watching someone deserving of it experiencing that treatment.” Jason's gaze moved down her body appreciatively, lingering on the swell of her breast under the hoodie and the curve of her hips accentuated by that stupid leggings. He knew she had curves under all those clothes. “It’s a fucking turn on.” He added in a husky tone. 

“Is it now…?” she hummed moving a little closer on the couch, her own drink landing on the table as well as she placed palms on his thighs, using it to lean even more forwards, leaving less than an inch between their faces.

“Fuck yeah it is…” his breath caught in his throat a little at the unexpected but not unwelcomed touch. “Seeing you lay someone down with those gorgeous hands of yours….” He licked his lips.

“Mhm… keep talking…” Y/N switched positions, now sitting on his lap, straddling him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and he instinctively grabbed onto her hips.  Gods, he was a man and suddenly realized how long it’s been since he had a one night stand, too busy with work.

But this?

This was getting dangerous and deep down he knew that once started, wouldn’t end up easily.

This was not going to be just scratching an itch like it usually was. This would hurt a lot and mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea.

But he couldn’t stop, the primal part of his brain already awakened by the closeness of her body, her almost gentle caresses and the soft, sweet yet seductive tone he had never heard before but she had mastered to perfection.

“I said…” she leaned to his ear “keep talking…”

“Fucks…” he groaned staring at her with undisguised lust “the though of you getting dirty… rough….”

“Uh-huh…” she hummed and started grinding on him. Slowly, almost torturously, causing Jason to take a sharp inhale of breath, but quickly composing himself.

“You always fight like that, princess?” his hands wandered from her hips to her ass, squeezing the ample flesh, pulling her closer to the bulge in his pants.

“Only for the special ones.”

 “Special ones, huh?” he held her hips tighter guiding her movements “Like when you want to prove a point? Or-“

“Or. Definitely or.”

She threw her head back, exposing her neck, giving him not-so-subtle hints.

“Or when you want to send a message?” he willingly moved his lips down her skin, sucking on the pulse points, earning a little, delicious moan and hand tangling in his hair. “A message that you’re taken?”

“Am I taken? Can’t remember…” she pulled back, taking off her hoodie and discarding her bra.

“Fuck yeah, you’re taken.” His lips moved lower, kissing her collarbone and cleavage.

“Good to know…” she made a quick movement to pull and toss his shirt somewhere in the room intensifying her movements on his ever growing tent “I think the gun shipment changed the location…”

“You fucking tease.” Jason hissed, changing the positions so she was trapped beneath his body. “Eight inches. Semi-automatic. Brand new and ready for action.”

“Well don’t I love being at a gunpoint…” her hand found a way to his groin, starting to palm the bulge, enjoying the way she seemed to still be in control, even with him on top.

“Oh yeah? A gun to your head?” he groaned, barely controlling himself.

“Maybe not to my head…”

Y/N wriggled on the bed, rolling on her belly for a moment to reach for the condom in the nightstand and that moment was enough for Jason to get hypnotized by that bounding piece of ass.

“I really hope the biggest size will fit you—”

“Fuck, I’ll stuff you so full you won’t walk for a week.”

He pushed her legs open with his knee, doing a quick job of rolling the latex on his length, teasing her clit with a few featherlight touches, loving how she seemed to beg for more with every squirm and entered her in one deep thrust.

“Big enough for you?” he bit her earlobe licking the shell right after, his voice low.  

“I – mmm… shit…”

“Have you ever had this big?” The thrusts were long and hard and deliciously painful at first before turning into a series of perfectly aimed and ideally paced movements that made her gasp from pleasure. “Answer the question, princess.”

“I – ah! Ah, shit!” nails of the right hand dug into the mattress hard enough to make holes, the other hand reaching for the pillow, quickly pressing it between her head and the headboard to prevent the potential concussion. He was not a semi-automatic gun machine. More like a rifle, never shooting blanks. Thank fucks, she was prepared in many ways and started taking pills a few weeks prior. Not that it was her plan or anything. 

“What was that?” he rocked faster and harder, pulling all the way back only to slam right back inside. “Too much for you, slut?”

“Make me come! Make me fucking come to give me incentive to answer that stupid question!”

“Seems to me like I’m fucking your brains out. Is that right, pretty? Am I fucking you stupid?”

“Fuck!”

“Yeah… you’re so fucked, baby.” He was now hitting her cervix with such a speed and strength as if his life was depending on it. “Fucked by no. One. Else. But. The. Red. Hood.“ Each word was punctuated by a deep movement and if someone asked she would swear it was reaching her stomach. Or maybe she just ate something bad.

“It’s an – ohhh! – oh shit!” she gasped, unable to finish the sentence for a moment. “It’s an honor for you to have me like this….” There was no way she was going to let him win and really fuck her stupid.

“Oh I know… But no one else is big and strong enough for you” he circled her clit, bending head to suck her nipple, leaving a wet trail from one breast to another “now, come for me… come baby…”

She bit her lips so hard that a blood appeared on the bottom one, quickly licking it off, turning Jason wild. He was a sucker for blood. Not only the shooting kind, clearly.

“Yeah…. Yeah…oh! Oh!”

She could feel his pace faltering a little as he was so close to his own climax.

And used it against him, hitting right into the momentum, somehow managing to end up on top of him again, hands on his chest, breasts bouncing, ass slapping on his cock as she rocked up and down, still in control.

“Fuck! Y/n!”

“Yeah, yeah that’s right, moan my name as you come Jason Todd. Red Hood. Whatever. Scream my name.”

“You- where did you learn how to take cock like that—”

“You wouldn’t like the answer. Now come on!” It was immensely hard to keep herself from diving into the sea of release but she knew how to get what she wanted. Years of effing experience in this fucked up place.  

His hands were on her ass, squeezing mercilessly, almost to the point of pain as he finally reached the stars.

Only then she allowed herself to let go as well. Winning, yet again, falling on top of him like a marathon runner who scored a gold medal even if there were truly no losers in this game of love. At least not in terms of the body.

“Damn… you’re heavy…” he hissed, wrapping arms around her, trapping her on top of him, nuzzling nose into her hair. She was right with him, next to him, so warm and soft and tender, making him feel so good, so nice, so liberated.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy my fat ass bouncing on you.”

“Too tired to even try to pretend.” He whispered, trying to kiss her softly, but much to his surprise, she rolled off him, swiftly avoiding his grip, grabbed the hoodie from the floor and stood up fixing her hair, letting it fall down her back like a h/c waterfall.

“Well this was nice.” Her tone was flat, unamused and the warmth in his chest turned into icy cold right away.

“Wait… what? But-“

“I’m gonna go piss now. Can’t risk any STIs. Those hurt like hell, not to mention it’s kind of embarrassing explaining to my Ob-gyn why I wasn’t careful again. I swear one more time and she’ll drop me as a patient.”

Was this a joke to her!?

“But-“ he stuttered looking at her with wide eyes. This was not what he expected at all and there were like a million questions in his head.  “Y/n-“

“I’ll be right back, but hey – hygiene right? You should get yourself cleaned too” she grabbed the towel from the rack and threw it on him, effectively flattening his still semi-hard cock and his appetite and energy for another round.

“But –“

“This is serious shit Jason! Gotta stay healthy if we’re to repeat it.”

She winked suggestively, rushing to the bathroom, leaving a little crack in the door, so he could faintly hear her peeing.

What was wrong with this girl!?

This must have been just some stupid nightmare, a product of his tired, messed up, beaten brain--

“So. You wanted to talk about something?” she was back about a minute later. “hey, you still didn’t clean up?”

“Are you always like this?”

“Like what?” she touched her right buttock and hissed at the contact with a scratch his hands left on the skin.

“This no-nonsense attitude!”

“What else do you want me to do?” she tilted her head, looking at him quizzically

 “Oh I don’t know!” he finally lost his patience, feeling too vulnerable and too emotional for his own liking, feeling the compelling need to cover himself. Both physically and emotionally. “Normally people like to – oh, I don’t know – talk after sex? Maybe cuddle a little? But you’re just like oh, hey, it was a nice fuck, thanks for letting me use you, dressing and washing up like a freaking germophobe!” he got tangled in his pants, hardly preventing himself from tripping which would be even more condescending.

“Jason-“

“I’m being serious here Y/N!”

‘You called me slut.” She deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

‘I called you – ok, fine! Fine I called you slut. Is that why you’re suddenly icing me out?”

“No.”

“No!? That’s it? That’s all you got? I can’t fucking believe it!” he punched the wall leaving a little dent, but the broken pride clearly did not affect Y/N.

“Could you please calm down and stop depriving me of my deposit on this place? I’d appreciate it.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable!”

“I don’t understand why you’re being so emotional about it Jason.” It might have been a mirage but from Jason’s perspective it looked like Y/N literally rolled her eyes!

“We had sex!”

“Yes? and?” She hesitated giving him a chance to explain further but he was just standing there with eyes wide and mouth open. “Oh come on, this was just an itch, right? We’re bound by business, not pleasure. You don’t mix two explosives like us. It’s just unwise. We’re both adults, sex is not always about deeper feelings-”

She was still talking but he could hardly hear anything with the way blood was humming in his ears, successfully blocking any other bullshit coming out of her mouth (thankfully for Jason though).

Bound by business.

Mixing explosives.

Unwise.

Unwise!

Fucking unwise!?

“Jason?” she smiled softly, as if nothing happened, bending down and searching his eyes. “That gun shipment of yours? It happens in an hour at the docks and everything is orchestrated by Black Mask. I would take some backup if I were you, it might get ugly.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Without any further words he walked outside, feeling defeated like never before and the nail to the coffin was the sound of the door being locked right after him.

He should have known better that a girl who climbed this high in the criminal underworld would be fucked up in some way.

But how can one prepare for the reality of the broken heart?

Back up his ass. He was about to turn his newly found pain into rage and kill each and every one of Sionis’ men himself.

The moon was about to turn bloody that night….

And the worst part?

She was still his information dealer. The best in Gotham, regardless of what he might have said before.

And he was still going to work with her.

Do you know that warning : don’t drink and drive or better : don’t drink and text?

Yep.

Another one should be the warning of developing feelings for your literal partner in crime. 

@lettucel0ver @oohyasumi @apple---cider---vinegar

[kirammanswifey]

《Beneath the Armor》

Vi

writer's note: writing about vi make my legs go weak fr, i crave this woman for breakfast, lunch and dinner. btw this little (pretty long) scenarios comes from my arcane imagines, i'll let the link down there for anyone is interested, also i'll be posting a story for each one of those scenarios for this week, tomorrow it's caitlyn's turn ;)

link:

warnings: smut, cute lesbian sex (kinda hard but not that hard), shower sex, praising kink, dirty talk because why not, mention of eating disorders, a lot of fluff, vi is such a softie with reader and we love it.

The gym is unlike anything you've ever seen before. It’s more than a place to train; it’s a cage filled with beasts, a space where weakness is unacceptable. The clash of weights and the guttural cries of effort create a charged atmosphere, thick with tension and adrenaline. You feel out of place in your oversized hoodie and sneakers that haven’t touched a treadmill in months. But you’re here. You have to be.

At the far end of the gym, she stands out like a queen in her domain. Vi. Her short, red pixie-cut hair clings to her face, slick with sweat, and her sportswear hugs a body sculpted for battle. Tattoos snake along her arms, dark ink on powerful muscles that flex with each precise movement. There’s a scar cutting across her upper lip, giving her an edge that makes your stomach twist. She doesn’t just command attention—she demands it, without a word.

She isn’t lounging at the reception desk or scrolling on a phone like the other trainers. She’s in the thick of it, standing over a hulking man at a bench press. Her voice cuts through the clamor like a whip.

"Come on, don’t give me excuses!" she growls, her tone sharp, almost feral. "Three more reps. Unless, of course, you want the whole gym to watch you quit."

The man grits his teeth and powers through, the barbell clanging as he finally racks it with trembling arms. Vi smirks—not satisfied, but victorious—and tosses him a water bottle without another word. Her eyes sweep across the room, landing on you.

You freeze under her gaze. It’s cold, calculating, and, somehow, full of curiosity. There’s no warmth in it, but neither is there scorn. It’s like she’s stripping you bare, measuring something unseen.

Then she moves. Every step is deliberate, confident, and magnetic. The tattoos on her arms ripple with each movement, as if they’re alive. She stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell the faint tang of sweat and something sharper, like steel. Her presence is overwhelming, her stature daunting, but it’s her eyes—piercing, unyielding—that make you feel like you’re shrinking.

"You’re the actress, right?" she asks bluntly, her voice low and rough, like gravel.

"Y-yeah," you manage to stammer, hating the way your voice wavers.

Her gaze drags over you, not in judgment of your appearance, but in search of something deeper. Something you don’t even know if you have.

"Alright. Are you ready to start, or are you gonna turn around and go back to whatever cushy life you came from?"

The challenge in her tone is like a slap. Your pride flares to life, stifling the nervous flutter in your chest. You straighten your spine, lifting your chin as if you’re not dying inside.

"I’m ready."

Vi crosses her arms, her lips twitching into something that might be a smirk—or a dare. "We’ll see about that. Warm-up first. Treadmill, ten minutes at eight kilometers per hour. If you can’t handle that, there’s no point in wasting either of our time."

She jerks her chin toward the row of treadmills, and you swallow hard before moving. As soon as you step on, you can feel her eyes on you, an invisible weight heavier than any barbell in the room.

The first few minutes are manageable. But as the pace picks up, your legs burn, your chest tightens, and sweat drips down your face. You glance at her from the corner of your eye, hoping for some sign of mercy. She doesn’t move, her arms still crossed, her gaze fixed on you like a predator watching prey.

"Don’t stop," she calls out, her voice cutting through the pounding in your ears. "If you can’t even finish this, how the hell are you gonna handle what’s next?"

Her words hit a nerve. Anger sparks, mixing with desperation and something else—admiration. She’s intimidating, yes, but there’s a rawness to her, a strength that’s both terrifying and magnetic. You can’t let her think you’re weak. Not her.

The timer finally beeps, and you stumble off the treadmill, your legs trembling, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Vi approaches, her boots thudding softly against the rubber floor. She stops in front of you, tilting her head as she looks you over.

"Not bad," she says, though her tone suggests she’s not impressed. Her lips quirk into a crooked smile, one that highlights the scar slicing through her lip. "But let’s see if you’re really serious. Battle ropes, three rounds, one minute each. And don’t give me any half-assed waves—I want those ropes crashing like a damn hurricane."

You grab the ropes, their weight a promise of pain. The first few seconds are easy, but the burn in your arms quickly turns into fire. Each movement feels like dragging a mountain. The world narrows to the ropes, the ache in your muscles, and the sound of her voice pushing you forward.

"Keep going! Don’t stop unless you want to prove me right," she barks, her voice sharp but steady.

When it’s over, you drop the ropes and collapse to the floor, gasping for air. Vi steps closer, crouching in front of you. Her hand is calloused but steady as she offers it to you.

"Decent effort," she says, her tone softer but still edged with challenge. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you see something other than scrutiny—maybe respect. "But don’t get cocky. This is just the start. Strength isn’t just about showing up. It’s about commitment. Are you ready for that?"

Her words dig deep, stirring something inside you. You look up at her, her imposing figure framed by the harsh gym lights. She’s everything you’re not—strong, unyielding, fearless. But maybe, just maybe, she’s what you need to become.

"Yes," you say, your voice firm despite the exhaustion.

Her lips curl into a grin, this one warmer, almost approving. "Good. Take a minute to catch your breath. You’ll need it. This is just the beginning."

You can’t stop thinking about your mother as you change in front of the locker room mirror. Every curve of your body, every little angle that doesn’t align with her ideal, screams back at you from your reflection. “You should eat less,” she used to say. “You’ll never land an important role like that.” Her words never left. They’re tattooed on your mind, each syllable chained to the next like a life sentence.

This role isn’t something you want. It never was. But your mother wants it for you, and somehow, her voice always drowns out yours. She was a legend on stage; you’re just a shadow trying to hold itself together under her blinding light.

When you step out of the locker room, Vi is already there, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed. Her eyes sweep over you, taking in every detail. There’s no malice in her gaze, but it’s far from gentle. She sees everything.

“Ready?” she asks, her tone edged with challenge.

“Yes,” you answer, the word more reflex than truth.

She leads you to the weight training area. The barbells seem more intimidating up close, and sweat starts pooling in your palms before you even touch them. Vi’s sharp eyes remain fixed on you, calculating.

“Today we’re focusing on building muscle,” she says, her voice steady as she grabs a barbell and starts adding weights with a precision that speaks of years of practice. “It’s a slow process, but if you listen to me, you’ll be amazed at what you can do.”

“Sure,” you mumble, though the thought of lifting anything heavier than a water bottle sends a pang of anxiety through you.

Vi demonstrates the correct form for a basic lift, her movements fluid and strong. When it’s your turn to mimic her, your attempts fall short. Your stance is awkward, your grip weak.

“Lower. You’re not engaging the right muscles,” she says, stepping behind you. Her hands land firmly on your shoulders, adjusting your posture. Her touch is professional but firm, and yet, you can’t help but tense up under her guidance.

“I am doing it right,” you mutter, not meeting her eyes.

Vi exhales sharply, taking a step back. “No, you’re not. And if you keep insisting on doing it your way, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” you snap, your frustration boiling over.

Her brow arches, her surprise quickly replaced by a measured calm. “Look, I’m here to help you, but if you can’t handle a little constructive criticism, maybe this isn’t the place for you.”

Her words cut deeper than they should. They echo everything your mother has ever said about you. Shame and anger bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be criticized all the time.”

Vi’s silence is heavier than any weight in the room. Her expression shifts—surprise melting into something more contained, almost understanding.

“Everyone’s got their baggage, princess,” she says finally, her voice quieter but no less firm. “But if you let it drag you down, you’re never going to move forward.”

Her response fuels your anger. How dare she reduce something so complex to a throwaway piece of advice? Without another word, you turn away and head for the battle ropes. You don’t need her telling you what you can and can’t do.

You grab the ropes and start moving them with everything you’ve got. Your arms burn, your legs shake, but you keep going, fueled by frustration more than anything else. Vi stays back, watching silently. She doesn’t intervene, doesn’t offer advice—she just waits.

Finally, when your body gives out, you drop the ropes and lean over, hands on your knees, gasping for air. Vi walks over, a bottle of water in hand. She offers it without a word, and though part of you wants to refuse, another part knows you need it. You take it but don’t look at her.

“Anger can be a great fuel,” she says after a moment, her voice steady but laced with something softer. “But only if you know how to control it. Otherwise, it’ll burn you alive.”

“What would you know about that?” you challenge, your eyes meeting hers with defiance.

Vi smirks, but it’s a small, humorless thing. “More than you think. But we’re not here to talk about me. This is about you.”

Her response catches you off guard. You didn’t expect that honesty. And while you’re still angry, there’s something in her words that makes you pause.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, the words almost inaudible.

She nods, accepting your apology without making a big deal of it. “It’s fine. But if you want to get anywhere, you’ve got to leave your emotional crap at the door. There’s no room for it here.”

Her words are blunt, but there’s something in her tone that takes the edge off. It’s as if she’s saying she gets it, but she also believes you’re stronger than this. And though you’d never admit it out loud, that belief means something.

In the days that follow, the tension between you becomes a constant. Vi pushes you hard, and you, raw and defensive, often lash out. But something starts to shift. She begins to notice things others don’t—how you avoid eating around people, how you linger too long in the bathroom, how your energy drains faster than it should.

And you, despite yourself, start noticing her too. The way her eyes soften when she thinks you’re not looking. The strength that isn’t just in her muscles but in the way she carries herself. How, no matter how difficult you make things, she doesn’t walk away.

And though neither of you says it out loud, something unspoken starts to build between you, a connection forged in sweat, anger, and the tentative beginnings of trust.

That morning, Vi notices something off about you. You show up late to training, hair disheveled, eyes distant, as if you haven’t slept in days. She’s used to clients making excuses to avoid hard work, but with you, it’s different. There’s something more—something you can’t hide, no matter how hard you try.

“You’re ten minutes late,” she says as soon as she sees you, her tone sharp but not accusatory.

“Sorry,” you mumble, avoiding her gaze as you hurry to stash your things in the locker room.

Vi doesn’t press further, but her eyes follow you as you move like a shadow through the gym. She’s learned to read people like maps, and yours is littered with scars she can’t yet decipher.

The session begins with something simple: rowing reps. Your movements are sluggish, lacking the usual strength. Vi frowns, stepping closer.

“What’s going on with you today?” she asks, crouching down to meet your eyes.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” you reply too quickly, the words sharp and defensive.

“‘Fine’? You don’t look fine. You’re weaker than usual. Did you sleep last night? Eat anything this morning?”

Her questions strike a nerve. You avoid her gaze, pretending the seat adjustment on the machine is suddenly the most important thing in the world.

“Of course I ate. Stop worrying,” you mutter, but your voice wavers, betraying the lie.

Vi doesn’t push, but something in her expression shifts. It’s as if she’s piecing together a puzzle she hadn’t realized existed.

In the weeks that follow, she continues training you with the same intensity, but now she watches more closely. She notices how you refuse the protein shakes she offers post-workout, how you disappear into the restroom at odd moments, how your body seems to shed strength faster than you can build it.

Then one day, after an especially grueling session, Vi drops her usual casual tone.

“What are you hiding?” she asks, her voice direct, cutting through the air like a blade.

The question freezes you in place.

“What are you talking about? I’m not hiding anything.”

Vi crosses her arms, her piercing gaze pinning you in place.

“Don’t give me that. I’m not stupid. Something’s wrong, and I’m not going to ignore it. So, what is it?”

Your heart pounds. Heat rises to your cheeks, and for a fleeting moment, you think about telling her the truth. But fear wraps around your throat like a vice. How could she possibly understand?

“It’s none of your business, Vi,” you snap, your voice louder than you intended.

She doesn’t flinch. Her eyes stay locked on yours, unyielding yet laced with concern.

“It is my business. I’m your trainer. It’s my job to make sure you’re healthy, and you’re not.”

“I don’t need saving,” you mutter, grabbing your things to leave.

Vi steps in front of you, blocking your path. For the first time, she looks genuinely frustrated.

“This isn’t about saving you. If you’re doing something that’s putting your health at risk, I need to know.”

“You don’t have the right to meddle in my life!” you shout, your words a mix of anger and desperation.

Vi takes a step back, startled by your outburst. But instead of retreating, her expression softens. Her voice lowers, steady but sincere.

“Look... I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to try and carry everything on your own. And I know how hard it is to admit you need help.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. How can she know? How can she say something that feels so close to the truth without even knowing the full story?

But instead of responding, you grab your bag and storm out, leaving Vi standing alone in the middle of the gym.

The days that follow are tense. Vi doesn’t bring it up again, but her watchful gaze lingers. You avoid eye contact, unwilling to face the questions you know are still there. Yet you can’t ignore how her demeanor shifts. She’s more careful, more patient. Even her small gestures—like handing you water or adjusting your form—carry an unspoken care that you don’t know how to accept.

Then, one day, after a particularly draining session, Vi finally speaks again.

“Why do you keep coming here?” she asks, sitting across from you as you struggle to catch your breath.

“What kind of question is that?” you reply, too exhausted for a fight.

“I’m serious. You’re here every day, pushing yourself to the edge, but it doesn’t feel like you’re doing this for yourself. So who are you trying to please?”

The question hits harder than any punch. A familiar shadow creeps into your mind—the memory of your mother, the weight of expectations, the endless need to prove yourself. Your throat tightens.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, looking away.

“Maybe I don’t,” Vi admits, leaning forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “But I know what it looks like when someone’s fighting a battle they think they have to face alone. And that’s you.”

You don’t know what to say. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

“I don’t need your pity,” you whisper, your voice shaking.

“This isn’t pity,” Vi says softly, her tone unwavering. “It’s respect. Because I see you fighting, and I want to help you win. But I can’t do that if you keep shutting me out.”

Her words linger long after you leave the gym. What if she really does understand? What if letting her in is the only way to move forward?

The tension between you and Vi feels like walking on a minefield. Every word, every glance carries an unspoken weight, like you’re both waiting for the other to finally break. That evening, after another grueling session at the gym, everything finally explodes.

The gym is nearly empty. The last rays of sunlight stream through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. You’re gathering your things when Vi steps in front of you, her arms crossed and her posture screaming defiance.

“We need to talk,” she says, her tone serious but calm.

“Now?” you mutter, trying to sidestep her. “I’m tired.”

She blocks your path, her voice firm. “You’re not running away this time. Not from me.”

The determination in her voice makes your chest tighten. You grip your towel a little harder, your hands trembling as you look away.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” you finally snap, frustration and something deeper breaking through your voice.

“Because I care about you, damn it!” Vi’s voice rises, then softens as she takes a small step closer. “And because I know what it’s like to be stuck in something that feels like it’s swallowing you whole.”

You freeze, her words cutting through your defenses. Still, you don’t respond. She exhales, running a hand through her short hair before dropping it to her side.

“Do you want to know something about me?” she asks, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You glance up at her, surprised. Slowly, you nod.

Vi crosses her arms again, her gaze fixed somewhere far away. Her jaw tightens before she speaks. “I went to prison. Years ago. Did some things I’m not proud of. At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing, but… life doesn’t always work out the way you want it to.”

Her confession hits you like a punch to the gut. You blink at her, your mouth dry.

“Why are you telling me this?” you whisper.

“Because I want you to know I get it,” she replies, her voice rough with emotion. “I know what it’s like to carry something heavy, something you don’t want anyone else to see, something you think defines you no matter how hard you fight it.”

Her eyes finally meet yours, and you see a raw honesty there that takes your breath away.

“I lost a lot because of it,” she continues, her voice cracking slightly. “My sister… she hasn’t spoken to me in years. I let her down. And even though I’m trying to be better, there are days when I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in her words. Vi, always so tough, so sure of herself, now looks as fragile as you feel.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” she says after a moment, her voice steady but gentle. “But I can see you’re fighting a battle you can’t win alone. And I don’t want you to end up like me—pushing away the people who actually give a damn.”

A lump forms in your throat, making it impossible to speak. Before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“I’m not like you, Vi,” you say, your voice breaking. “I’m not strong. I don’t even want to be here.”

She frowns, her brows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Tears sting your eyes, and you lower your gaze, unable to face her. “I don’t want to be an actress. I never did. I’m only doing this because… because my mother made me. She always makes me. She tells me I’m not good enough, that I’m not pretty enough, that I’m not… enough.”

Vi’s expression softens, her usual sharpness replaced with something tender.

“Is that why you barely eat?” she asks, her voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper.

You flinch, your body going rigid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” Her voice is firm but not unkind. “I’ve seen it. It’s not just that you’re thin. It’s the way you disappear after every session, like you’re hiding something.”

Her words hang in the air, and you can’t deny them anymore.

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” you admit, your voice trembling. “It’s the only thing I can control.”

Vi sighs deeply, dragging a hand down her face. When she speaks again, her tone is softer, almost pleading.

“Look, I’m not great at this kind of stuff,” she says. “But you don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to hurt yourself for something that’s not your fault.”

“You don’t understand,” you snap, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “My mother… if she knew I wasn’t perfect, she’d hate me.”

Vi’s eyes narrow, and she steps closer. “And what about you?” she asks, her voice sharp but not unkind. “How long are you going to hate yourself for something you can’t change?”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave. You look up at her, expecting judgment, but all you see is compassion.

“I want to help you,” she says quietly. “If you’ll let me.”

Her proximity feels like a lifeline. Slowly, she lifts a hand, hesitating before resting it gently on your shoulder. Her touch is warm, steady, grounding.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of your pain.

Vi nods, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

The silence that follows is heavy, but not suffocating. It feels like, for the first time in a long while, you’re not completely alone.

When you finally meet her gaze again, there’s something different in her eyes—something that makes your chest ache, but not in a bad way.

And for a moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, you can trust her.

The days following your confession crawl by with a heaviness that lingers, but something shifts between you and Vi. She becomes more attentive, more protective—not in a way that invades your space, but in a way that makes it clear she’s there. She doesn’t judge you. Instead, she watches you with a mix of patience and unyielding determination that you’ve never encountered before.

One afternoon, after an especially grueling workout, Vi stops you before you can slip away like you always do.

“Got a minute?” she asks, holding a small insulated bag in her hand.

You eye her suspiciously, trying to read her expression.

“Depends on what you’re about to spring on me.”

“For this,” she says, pulling a neatly prepared container from the bag. Inside is a salad with grilled chicken, avocado, and a couple of slices of whole-grain bread on the side.

“What is this?” you ask, though the answer is obvious.

“Your lunch.”

Your stomach twists.

“Vi, you can’t just—”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything,” she interrupts, her voice firm but steady. “I just want you to try. And I’m not leaving until you do.”

The weight of her words hangs in the air, but there’s no judgment in her tone. Only that inflexible determination that makes it clear she won’t back down.

With a sigh, you drop onto one of the benches, taking the container from her with shaking hands. Vi sits beside you, keeping just enough distance that you don’t feel cornered, but close enough that you can’t pretend she isn’t there.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, stabbing a piece of chicken with the fork.

“Maybe,” she replies with a casual shrug. “But if it means I don’t have to worry about you passing out mid-training, I’m fine with being ridiculous.”

Despite yourself, you let out a quiet laugh. And as you take slow, hesitant bites, you feel something begin to loosen—not just in your chest, but in the way her presence doesn’t feel like pressure but support.

Vi doesn’t stop there. Every day she brings something different: a salad, a wrap, even a small homemade burger on one of those days when you feel like you have nothing left to give. She never leaves until the food is gone, and though it infuriates you at first, you start to begrudgingly appreciate it.

“You’re like a guard dog,” you tell her one afternoon after finishing a chicken wrap she insisted you eat.

“I prefer ‘guardian angel,’” she fires back with a smirk.

“Too dramatic.”

“And you’re too stubborn,” she retorts, bumping your shoulder gently with hers.

The tension between you begins to ease. Vi keeps pushing you in the gym, but she also pushes you emotionally, constantly reminding you—whether with her presence or her persistence—that you’re not in this alone.

Your progress in therapy is slow but steady. Vi is with you every step of the way. She never pushes for details, never pries. She’s just there—a steady, unshakable presence you can hold onto when it feels like everything else is falling apart.

“How was it today?” she asks one afternoon after your session as the two of you walk down the street toward the gym.

“It was… weird,” you admit, staring ahead as you process the swirling thoughts in your mind. “I think I’m starting to understand some things, but it’s like I’m opening doors I’d rather keep locked.”

Vi nods thoughtfully, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her jacket.

“Yeah, opening those doors sucks,” she says, her voice low but certain. “But sometimes, it’s the only way out of the damn room.”

Her words catch you off guard with their depth. You glance at her out of the corner of your eye, noticing how the sunlight hits her hair, drawing out its fiery undertones.

Gradually, you begin to notice something different about Vi. The way her gaze lingers on you a little longer than it used to. The way her smiles feel softer, less teasing, as if they’re meant just for you. She’s always been careful with you, but now there’s something more in her gestures—a tenderness that feels deeply personal.

And you feel it, too. You can’t help it. Her unwavering presence, her unyielding support, they begin to shift something in you. Suddenly, Vi isn’t just your anchor; she’s something more.

One evening, after an especially tough training session, you’re packing up your things when Vi approaches you. There’s something in her expression—something serious but not intimidating.

“Hey,” she says, her voice casual but carrying a weight that makes you pause. “Got any plans for Saturday?”

The question catches you completely off guard.

“Why?”

“Because I was thinking…” She hesitates for a moment, scratching the back of her neck in a way that feels almost bashful. “We could go out. Not here. Not to train. Just… you and me.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Like… a date?”

Vi’s lips twitch into a small, slightly awkward smile, and for the first time, you see a vulnerability in her that takes you by surprise.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice soft but sure. “Like a date.”

Despite the nervous flutter in your chest, you can’t help but smile.

“Okay.”

Her grin stretches wide, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe that something good might actually be starting.

Vi isn’t the type to plan extravagant outings or overly complicated surprises. She’s direct, intentional, and focused on what matters: making you feel comfortable and, most importantly, seen. On the morning of your date, she texts you early:

Vi: "Meet me at 7 in Central Park. Wear something comfy, but don’t go full gym rat. Trust me."

The message is simple, but it leaves you curious. And as much as it excites you, it also stirs a small knot of anxiety in your chest. What does she have in mind?

From the moment Vi sent you that message, your heart began to race—a mix of excitement and nerves. This wasn’t just a date. There was something else simmering beneath the surface, an unspoken bond that had been building from the moment your lives intertwined.

When you arrive at the central park, you find her leaning casually against a lamppost. The leather jacket she’s wearing hugs her athletic figure, and the warm glow of the park lights catches the reddish tones in her hair. She’s holding two cups of coffee, and when she spots you, her lips curve into a small, crooked smile.

“You’re right on time,” she says, pushing off the post and handing you one of the cups. “I’m not exactly an expert at this whole dating thing, but starting with coffee felt like a safe bet.”

The warmth of the cup seeps into your hands, mirroring the way her presence always seems to calm you, even when your emotions are in turmoil. You smile, trying to mask the whirlwind of feelings her simple gesture ignites.

“It’s a good start,” you tease. “Though, should I be worried about what else you have planned?”

Vi arches an eyebrow, that familiar look of playful challenge lighting up her face.

“If I told you, it’d ruin the surprise. Just trust me.”

She leads you to a nighttime fair hidden within the park, a kaleidoscope of colorful lights and cheerful music. The aroma of fresh food fills the air, and the vibrant energy of the place draws you in, making it impossible not to relax.

Vi is completely in her element. She pulls you from booth to booth, her enthusiasm infectious. At a shooting game, she demonstrates her impeccable aim, easily winning a plush toy. When she hands it to you, there’s a shy pride in her eyes that makes your heart skip.

“Take it,” she says. “Something tells me you could use a pet.”

You laugh, clutching the plush against your chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“Do you have to be good at everything?”

She shrugs, a playful smirk on her face. “Not everything. But I try.”

As you stroll through the fair, she buys cotton candy and tears off small pieces to offer you. You hesitate at first, and she gives you a look that’s part exasperation, part tenderness.

“It’s just sugar,” she says softly. “I promise it won’t hurt you.”

There’s something vulnerable in her tone, as if the gesture carries more weight than it seems. You accept the cotton candy, and the smile she gives you in return makes the world feel a little brighter.

Later, Vi leads you to a quieter part of the park, away from the noise and lights. You find a secluded spot near a softly lit fountain, the sound of water providing a serene backdrop.

“I thought this might be a good place to talk,” she says, sitting on the fountain’s edge and patting the space beside her.

You sit down, your shoulder brushing hers, and the closeness feels more significant than usual. There’s an undeniable tension in the air, not uncomfortable, but charged with something unspoken.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say quietly. “I needed this more than I realized.”

Vi turns to face you slightly, her arm resting on her knee as she looks at you intently.

“I wanted it to be special for you. You’ve been working so hard, and I just… I wanted to give you a night where you didn’t have to think about anything else.”

Her words catch you off guard. Vi’s always been direct, but there’s a softness in her voice now that you haven’t heard before.

“It is special. But mostly because I’m with you,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, she looks away, as if gathering her courage. Then, her gaze returns to yours, unwavering.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she says, her tone more serious. “I know I’m not always great at putting this kind of thing into words, but… you’re important to me. More than I think you realize.”

Your breath catches, and she continues, her words gaining momentum.

“I care about you. A lot. Seeing you work through everything, watching you fight to heal, it’s… inspiring. I don’t just want to be here for you now—I want to be here for you, period. In your life. For as long as you’ll let me.”

Her honesty is raw, unguarded in a way that feels almost sacred. Your heart is pounding, and for once, you don’t overthink.

You lean in, closing the distance between you. When your lips meet hers, it’s as if the world fades away, leaving only the two of you. The kiss starts soft, tentative, but quickly deepens, fueled by emotions you’ve both kept bottled up for too long.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless and a little stunned.

“So…” Vi says, her trademark smirk making a reappearance. “Did I completely screw up this date?”

You laugh, taking her hand in yours and holding it tightly.

“No. It was perfect. Just like you.”

Vi’s smile widens, and as she squeezes your hand, you realize you’ve found something in her you didn’t know you were missing: a partner, a friend, and maybe something even more profound.

The day after your date, the gym feels different. There’s an electric charge in the air, and the thought of seeing her sends a nervous thrill racing down your spine. You tell yourself it’ll be like any other day, but the moment you walk in and spot her, you know you’re lying to yourself.

Vi is at the weight rack, adjusting plates on a barbell. She’s wearing a sleeveless shirt that shows off her toned arms and that tattoo you can’t help but stare at every time you see her. When she notices you, a lopsided grin spreads across her face, but there’s something else in her expression—a spark that sets your pulse racing.

"You’re early. Didn’t recognize you without your coffee," she teases, stepping closer with an easy confidence that makes it impossible to look away.

"I wanted to beat the crowd," you reply, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Vi moves closer than necessary, her presence overwhelming in the best way. The faint, clean scent of her perfume surrounds you, and for a second, you forget where you are.

"Good. Then let’s see what you’ve got today," she says, her voice tinged with a challenge that sends a thrill through you.

The workout begins, but Vi’s proximity makes it impossible to focus. Her hands are firm yet careful as she adjusts your posture during deadlifts.

"Keep your back straight," she murmurs, stepping behind you. Her hands graze your shoulders as she makes the correction, her touch lingering just long enough to leave your skin tingling.

You glance back at her, and your eyes lock. There’s a fire in her gaze, something raw and unspoken.

"Like this?" you ask, your voice softer than intended.

Vi’s lips twitch in a smirk as she steps back, her eyes not leaving yours. "Exactly. Now, let’s see those squats."

But squats are no reprieve. She demonstrates beside you, her movements precise and controlled, her body impossibly close. At one point, she kneels to check your form, her hands skimming your waist as she positions you.

"Relax your shoulders. You’re too tense," she whispers, her breath warm against your ear.

Your body betrays you, stiffening further under her touch. Vi chuckles, low and rough, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

"If you don’t relax, you’re going to hurt yourself," she says, her voice teasing but laced with something deeper.

You can’t tell if it’s your imagination or if she’s enjoying this game as much as you are. Either way, it’s intoxicating.

The final challenge comes on the rowing machine. Vi crouches in front of you to adjust the settings, her face mere inches from yours. Her eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second, and the air between you thickens.

"Ready?" she asks, her voice lower than usual.

"Always," you reply, trying to match her intensity.

You row with everything you have, her gaze on you the entire time. When you finish, she steps forward, offering her hand to help you up. The contact is brief, but the heat lingers long after her fingers leave yours.

"Good work," she says, her voice softer now, almost intimate.

Your heart pounds as you follow her to the stretching area. The gym is nearly empty, the usual noise reduced to a distant hum. It feels like the two of you are in your own world.

"You pushed me harder today," you say, attempting to lighten the tension swirling around you.

Vi grins, but her eyes betray something deeper. "I wanted to see what you’re made of."

There’s a vulnerability in her tone that catches you off guard, and before you can think better of it, you respond, "Thanks for always looking out for me."

Her smile softens, her usual cocky demeanor replaced by something gentler. "I like looking out for you."

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. Your breath catches as she steps closer, her hands finding your waist. Her touch sends a jolt through you, and before you know it, her lips are on yours.

The kiss is slow at first, exploratory, but it quickly deepens. Her grip tightens on your waist as your fingers tangle in her hair. The world fades away, leaving only the heat between you.

The gym is silent now, the last patrons long gone. Vi locks the door behind her as you both head toward the showers, the tension between you thick enough to cut.

"We shouldn’t stay too late," you murmur, but there’s no conviction in your voice.

Vi smirks, tossing her towel onto the bench. "Perks of having the keys. No one’s kicking us out."

“Isn’t that abusing of your power?” You joked, beginning to strip off your smelly, sweaty gym clothes.

Vi mimicked your movements and responded with a lopsided smile. "Sometimes I can get a little too obsessed with power."

That was a pretty open statement, one you decided to let slide since you didn't know exactly how to respond. You just knew that it had turned you on, a bit fucking much.

And before you knew it, you were both naked. It was the first time this had happened, you had seen her in underwear before when you changed together after an extensive workout routine, but nothing like this. You were both totally exposed and it felt so natural, so right.

You step into the steamy shower and the sound of running water echoes off the tiles. The air is humid and envelops you as you turn on a nearby faucet. Vi steps into the stream of water, drops falling onto her bare skin. You stare in awe as the water slides down her broad back and lands on her hard, juicy ass. Vi tilts her head back, enjoying how her muscles slowly relax. God, you wanted to jump on her, scratch her and bite her all over. You wanted to leave your personal mark. A warning to the world that that gorgeous woman was yours, only yours.

You can’t tear your eyes away. Her confidence, the way she moves, it’s magnetic.

"Need help rinsing off?" she asks, her voice teasing but her eyes dark with something else.

You swallow hard, your pulse racing. "Please," you actually begged, approaching her without any hesitation, in fact you had a sudden urge to get on all fours and crawl towards her, like a little cat in heat.

Vi reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours. The shower’s heat pales in comparison to the fire igniting between you as she closes the distance. Her hands slide to your hips, pulling you against her as the water streams over you both.

You moaned in surprise as Vi pushed you against the bathroom tiles, your face pressed into the surface, your back bent and rubbing against her hard abs. Vi gently grabbed the back of your neck and whispered, "I'm going to help you bathe. Don't move."

You nodded, and even though you no longer had the pressure of her hand or her body on you, you stayed in the same position, refusing to move a single muscle. You wanted to be a good girl for Vi. You wanted to show her that you were obedient. You heard Vi open the bottle of shower gel, the clean scent of the soap reaching your nostrils, and before you could think of what flower it smelled like exactly, you felt Vi's hands on your skin again, and then your mind went blank.

Vi's calloused hands rubbed the gel over the pale skin of your back, her fingers tracing indecipherable, invisible shapes. She smiled and took you by the hips, pressing her pelvis against your steep ass, admiring your submissive position, admiring the beautiful body differences between the two of you. While Vi was all muscle and iron, you were scrawny and soft all over. So soft that Vi wanted to chew you up and swallow you whole. Vi began to thrust into you as if she had a penis, hitting you with the prominent bones of her hips, rubbing her clit against you in a pretentious and shameless way. She was driving you crazy with pleasure.

"You know, you used to have a nice ass, but with my exercises it has become more toned and lifted. It's irresistible. Every time I look at you from behind I feel like putting you on all fours to eat your ass." She gave you a little spank, it was obvious she didn't used even one percent of her strength, it was a light spanking. A loving spanking. Of course, if there was such a thing.

"Harder," You moaned shamelessly, turning to the side to face that woman.

The redhead had an almost beastly expression on her face, her brow was furrowed, as if she was upset, her teeth were out, sharp and defiant, ready to strike at any moment. The scar on her lip looked more tempting than ever. You wanted to turn around and kiss her. But you didn't. Because you were a good girl. You were her good girl.

Vi ran a hand through her wet hair, pushing it back so it wouldn't impede the stunning view of your body, and that gesture was so fucking sexy.

Vi moved closer to you and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Oh no, sweetie. I'm going to treat you nice, just like a princess like you deserves. No hitting for now, okay?" She kissed the tip of your nose and continued groping you.

When you went to protest you felt her palm on your pussy. Rubbing a little water beneath it. Clearly teasing.

"Vi," You sobbed loudly. The urge to cry invaded your being. You hated being kept waiting. You had never been a patient person, damn it! You liked to have everything you wanted exactly how and when you wanted it, so it was quite normal that you were so irritable and grumpy right now.

"What's wrong, princess?"

God, you wanted to punch her in the face. She clearly knew what was going on. She knew your childish, spoiled personality perfectly. She was just asking to tease you, because she wanted to play with your patience, to show you once again who was in power.

"Fuck me," You looked at her with a pitiful expression, as if you were going to die if you didn't haved her right there, right now.

Vi's eyes sparkled, you had clearly provoked her. And your attempt of manipulation would have worked perfectly if we weren't talking about Vi. Vi was a prideful person with some pretty marked egocentric traits. Plus, she was someone with a lot of discipline due to her job. It wasn't going to be easy to make her fall into temptation.

"Patience, princess," With a wicked smirk, Vi turned you to face her.

She slowly sank to your knees, letting her lips and tongue trail kisses down your neck, chest, and stomach until she was face to face with your dripping pussy. She inhaled deeply, your scent making her head spin with need.

"Mmm, listen to this greedy little pussy... it's begging to be filled, sweetheart. Begging to be stretched and stuffed full of my fingers... my tongue...," Vi's voice was a sinful rasp, dripping with promise and dark intent.

You stifled a moan and bit the back of your hand in an attempt to cope with both the physical and mental stimulation. If you thought Vi was sexy in her natural state, Vi cursing and saying dirty words was even sexier.

She leaned in, letting her lips just barely brush over your slick folds, her hot breath making you shudder. "But I'm going to take my time with you, sweetie. I'm going to tease and torment this pretty cunt until you're sobbing for my touch."

With that, Vi flicked her tongue out, giving to your clit the lightest, quickest lick before pulling back with a evil grin. She could feel how badly you needed more, and she intended to make you work for every ounce of pleasure that she was going to gave you.

Vi's heart raced as she felt your body go rigid, your pussy clamping down like a vice around her fingers as you came with a scream. She could feel your release gushing out, coating her hand and dripping down her wrist. The feeling of your pleasure was intoxicating, and it only fueled Vi's own desperate arousal.

Without pausing, Vi scooped you up into her strong, muscular arms. She cradled you against her chest, holding you close as she carried you both out of the shower. Your naked body pressed against her own, your skin slick and glistening.

Vi's breath caught in her throat as she gazed down at your flushed, satisfied face. You looked utterly breathtaking—like a goddess fresh from the bath. The urge to worship every inch of your flawless skin surged through her, but Vi had other plans first.

Holding you securely with one arm, Vi used her other hand to continue your pleasure, slipping her fingers back into your drenched, spasming your cunt without warning. She set a fast, hard pace, pumping and curling her digits as she pinned you against the nearest wall.

Leaning in, Vi nuzzled into your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin as she spoke, her voice a low, lust-filled rasp. "Mmm, you're so light, princess... so fucking perfect in my arms like this. I could carry you anywhere... anywhere I wanted to claim this sexy cute little body."

She punctuated her words with a particularly deep thrust of her fingers, feeling your velvety walls flutter and clench around her invading digits. Vi groaned, her own clit throbbing with the need to be touched.

"You like being treated like my personal little princess, sweetheart? Like being manhandled and owned by a rough bitch like me?" Vi's lips curled into a wicked smirk as she gazed down at your face, searching for any hint of hesitation or discomfort. She found none. On te contrary. You were enjoying it too much. And it was because you were having the best sex of your life.

Vi's fingers never ceased their relentless assault on your sensitive, dripping core. She could feel your body beginning to tremble and quake in her arms. Your breathing growing more and more ragged with each passing second.

Leaning in close, Vi captured your lips in a searing, demanding kiss. She plundered your mouth, swallowing your moans and whimpers as she continued her brutal pace. Her tongue tangled with yours in a dangerous dance.

Breaking the kiss, Vi's lips moved to your ear. She nipped at the lobe before growling, "That's it, baby... I can feel this greedy cunt throbbing on my fingers. It's like it never wants to be empty, isn't it? Always hungry for more..."

To emphasize her point, Vi pressed her thumb against your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles as she curled her fingers deep inside the clutching heat. She could feel your walls starting to flutter, another climax approaching.

"Come on, princess... give me another one. I want to feel this pretty pussy spasm and squeeze my fingers as you cream yourself all over them. Fucking soak me, sweetheart..."

Still pinning you against the wall with her body, Vi used the hand not occupied with fucking your brains out to grab your thigh, hiking your leg up and over her hip. The new position allowed her to sink her fingers even deeper, to reach that special spot that made you see the stars.

"That's it, sweetie... fuck, you feel so good wrapped around my fingers like this. So hot and tight and fucking perfect," Vi growled, her lips brushing against your face.

Vi felt your body go taut, your pussy clamping down on her fingers like a vice as another intense orgasm ripped through them. You let out a choked sob, tears streaming down your face as you came completely undone in Vi's arms.

The sight of your pleasure, that raw, unbridled ecstasy, filled Vi with a fierce sense of pride and possessive hunger. She held you close as the last waves of your release ebbed, Vi pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands. She brushed away the tears with her thumbs, her touch surprisingly gentle for someone so used to force.

Gazing down at your face, Vi felt her heart clench in her chest.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Vi leaned down and pressed her lips to yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with unspoken emotion, with a depth of feeling that made Vi's heart race and her skin prickle with anticipation. Her lips moved softly, coaxing your mouth to open for her, to let her in. And when you did, when your lips parted and your tongues met... Vi felt like she was coming home.

She held the kiss for a long moment, savoring the taste of your tears and the salt of your skin. When she finally pulled back, Vi's blue eyes shimmered with a vulnerability she rarely showed to anyone.

Her voice was a low, tender rasp as she spoke, her breath mingling with your own. "Shhh, I've got you, baby... I've got you. You did so good for me, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you..."

The sound of water cascading from the gym showers blends with the echo of your heartbeat. The thick steam fills the space, erasing all traces of what just happened. Your skin still burns, marked by the intensity of the moment you shared. The mix of sweat and Vi's scent lingers in the heat, and every fiber of your being feels alive, every inch of you recalling her touch.

You stand there, catching your breath, when Vi's eyes meet yours. Her usual confidence has been replaced with something raw and unguarded. Vulnerability. Her gaze searches yours, full of questions she’s too afraid to voice.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Vi’s words break the silence, soft and almost hesitant, but unmistakably clear. Her voice carries a weight that shakes you—like she’s offering a piece of herself she’s never let anyone touch before.

The pause that follows feels endless, and for a moment, you're frozen. But then something ignites inside you. You feel it in your chest—a light, a warmth, a clarity you’ve been longing for.

“Yes. Of course!,” you reply, the word spilling out with such conviction it surprises even you. The ever-present fear you’ve carried seems to vanish entirely.

Vi’s lips curve into the gentlest smile, one you’ve never seen before, and she steps closer, her hands finding yours. Her touch is soft but grounding, her presence a shield against all your doubts.

“I’ll take care of you, princess” she whispers, her voice steady. “Always.”

Your lips curl into a matching smile, and for the first time in a long time, hope replaces the ache in your heart. The world outside doesn’t matter anymore—this moment, with her, is all that exists.

Weeks turn into months, and your life begins to shift. Therapy becomes a safe haven rather than a daunting task. The battles with bulimia, the grueling workouts, the days of overwhelming self-doubt—all start to feel like pieces of a puzzle coming together. Slowly but surely, you begin to see someone new when you look in the mirror. Not the girl your mother used to criticize, not someone trapped by impossible expectations, but someone strong. Someone whole.

And through it all, Vi is there. She’s more than your trainer—she’s your anchor. The one who helps you piece together the shattered parts of yourself. She’s there on your hardest days, steady as a rock, fighting the voices in your head alongside you. And for the first time, you don’t feel alone.

One day, as you walk into the gym, you see her waiting for you like always. Her signature smirk is in place, but there’s something different in her eyes—a softness, a pride that makes your heart skip a beat.

You approach her, nerves bubbling under your skin, and before you can stop yourself, the words you’ve been holding back spill out.

“I don’t need you to be my trainer anymore.”

Her smirk falters, confusion flashing across her face. She straightens, her brows furrowing as if bracing for a blow. “Did I… do something wrong?” Her voice is quieter than usual, tinged with a rare uncertainty.

You shake your head quickly, reaching out to take her hand in yours. “No, Vi. You’ve done everything right.” Your voice cracks slightly as you gather the courage to continue. “But I’m not that person anymore. I’m not the girl who needs to be fixed. I’m stronger now… because of you.”

Her eyes search yours, the tension in her shoulders easing, but she still seems unsure.

“I’ve decided to follow my dream,” you continue, your voice steady now. “I want to study nutrition. I want to help other girls like me, girls who’ve been through what I’ve been through. I want to be someone they can turn to, the way I had you.”

For a moment, Vi just looks at you, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across her face. Not the cocky grin she flashes in the gym, but something soft and genuine, brimming with pride.

“I’m so damn proud of you,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.

Tears well up in your eyes, but this time, they’re not from pain or frustration—they’re from relief, from joy, from knowing you’ve finally found your path.

Vi pulls you into a hug, her arms wrapping around you tightly, and you sink into her warmth. In her embrace, you feel a sense of safety and belonging you’ve never known.

“You’ve got this,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your ear. “And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

[brodygold]

The Golden Haunted House

Collaboration with my bro and our head recruiter @polo-drone-009. Thanks for the pics bro! Also yes this is like my fifth Halloween story I can't help it.

Cody and I had been best friends for years, and for almost as long, we’d been dating. We were two nerdy, scrawny guys who shared a love of video games, comic books, and the thrill of exploring every weird, haunted house attraction we could find each Halloween. This year, though, we’d heard rumors about a haunted house set up by a local soccer team, the Golden Army. The place had garnered a strange reputation, with people saying it wasn’t just any haunted house, but an “experience you’d never forget.”

Naturally, our curiosity got the better of us, and on Halloween night, we found ourselves at the entrance to the haunted house in our standard mummy costumes, staring up at a large, ominous banner that read “Golden Army Haunted House: Enter If You Dare.” Cody chuckled, nudging me in the ribs. “Guess these jocks are trying to get in on the spooky season. Should be fun, huh?”

I smirked, tugging my hoodie tighter around me. “Yeah, probably just a bunch of dumb jump scares. They probably spent more time on their uniforms than the actual setup.” Cody laughed, and we both shared a knowing grin. Jocks weren’t exactly our people, and the idea of a bunch of soccer players putting on a haunted house seemed almost comical.

But as soon as we stepped inside, that lightheartedness faded. The air was thick with a strange smell—a mix of sweat, leather, and something almost earthy, like the smell of grass after it rains. Dim lights illuminated a fog-covered floor, casting shadows that seemed to writhe and move. I felt a slight chill creep down my spine. There was something intense about the space, something… different.

Cody leaned close, squeezing my hand. “Guess they’re taking this more seriously than I thought,” he whispered, his voice tinged with nervous excitement.

We took a few steps forward, venturing deeper into the dimly lit corridor that seemed to stretch on endlessly. The shadows played tricks on our eyes, shifting and flickering. Then, out of nowhere, a figure burst from the darkness, lunging at us with a terrifying snarl. Cody and I both shrieked, clutching each other in surprise before dissolving into nervous laughter. Our reactions were way more intense than I’d expected.

But as the adrenaline rushed through me, I felt this weird, pulsing warmth spread across my chest. My laughter sounded different, almost… deeper. I shrugged it off, trying to brush away the lingering heat in my veins. Cody looked at me with a raised eyebrow, his own face flushed, but he seemed more amused than anything.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, smirking. “You sounded like a full-on dude-bro.”

I laughed, though the laugh rumbled deeper than I expected. “Hey, you did too, bro.” The word slipped out easily, like second nature. It felt strange, yet also oddly natural, and Cody didn’t seem to notice or mind. He just grinned and shrugged, looking almost proud in a way that felt… new.

We walked hand in hand into the next room, where mannequins lined the walls, each dressed in a golden soccer jersey. They were posed as if frozen in the middle of a game—muscular arms flexed, powerful legs braced for action. The figures looked so lifelike that I almost thought they were breathing. For a moment, I felt something in me stir, a strange sense of admiration and envy. These mannequins looked strong, confident—everything I wasn’t. Cody seemed just as transfixed, his gaze lingering on the broad shoulders and chiseled forms of the mannequins.

The silence was abruptly shattered by the blare of a whistle from above. Both Cody and I clapped our hands over our ears, groaning at the piercing sound. “Man, that’s intense,” Cody muttered, his voice sounding… different. Lower, more solid. I glanced over, my eyes widening slightly as I noticed his jawline looked more defined, his cheekbones sharper in the dim light. It was as if his face had taken on a rugged, more mature edge.

“Did you… did you do something with your hair?” I asked, half-joking, though a small part of me wondered if I was actually seeing things. He just chuckled, brushing off the comment, but I noticed him roll his shoulders back, as if feeling the weight of his own frame differently.

Moving into the next room, I felt my own body tingle, a subtle hum of energy that made me feel… stronger? The dim, eerie lighting made it hard to tell for sure, but I could swear my own shoulders looked broader, my chest more solid. I took a deep breath, feeling my shirt stretch slightly across my pecs in a way that it hadn’t before. A flicker of excitement bubbled up in me, unexpected but welcome.

“Come on, man,” I heard myself say, my voice carrying a hint of confidence, maybe even cockiness. “Let’s keep going. This place is kinda awesome.” I felt a strange sense of pride just being here, like I belonged in this place. Cody nodded, and for a moment, he looked at me with something like admiration in his eyes. It felt… good. Like we were equals in some unspoken way.

The next room was pitch black, except for a spotlight illuminating a pair of cleats on a pedestal. Voices whispered all around us, chanting “Golden Army… Golden Army…” over and over, echoing in my mind. The words seemed to sink into me, filling me with a strange warmth and pride. I wanted to be a part of this, to belong to something powerful and unbreakable.

The chant grew louder, and I felt the muscles in my body tensing, like they were coming alive. Cody grabbed my shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and I could feel the strength in his grip—a grip that felt more solid than it had before. His eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, it was like we were connected on a deeper level, bound by something unspoken.

“Golden Army…” he murmured, almost as if the words were a prayer, a mantra we’d both known all our lives. It made sense. We’d always been part of this, hadn’t we?

By the time we moved to the next room, we both felt different—stronger, bolder. A large mirror covered one of the walls, and I caught my reflection. My shoulders were broader, my shirt tight against my chest, showing off a physique I knew I hadn’t had when I walked in. My arms were thicker, veins standing out faintly beneath the skin. I glanced over at Cody, who seemed equally transformed. His posture had changed—more confident, almost cocky, and his arms looked… huge.

“Whoa,” I said, though the sight didn’t alarm me. It felt… right, natural. I flexed my arm, watching the way the muscle moved under my shirt. Cody did the same, his eyes lighting up with pride. We looked at each other, sharing a grin that held more than a hint of competitive energy. “Looking good, bro,” he said, punching my arm playfully.

“You too, man,” I replied, my voice carrying that same pride. It was strange, but it felt like I’d known this version of Cody forever. Like we’d been teammates, brothers on the field, for as long as I could remember.

The next room was a replica of a locker room, complete with golden jerseys hanging neatly in open lockers. Each jersey bore a different name, but I felt drawn to a specific one, like it was calling me. The name on it read “Jake.” Cody seemed to gravitate toward a different locker, his fingers brushing over a jersey labeled “Dan.” We exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between us. Without hesitation, I pulled the jersey off the hanger and slipped it on. It fit perfectly, hugging my chest and shoulders like it was made just for me. Cody did the same, pulling his jersey over his head and smoothing it down over his muscled torso.

For a moment, we just stood there, taking each other in. We looked like different people—no, like the same people we’d always been, just… more complete. More right. The jerseys felt like they belonged on us, like we’d been wearing them forever.

Suddenly, a towering figure in a golden jersey stormed into the room, barking orders at us like a drill sergeant. “You boys think you’re Golden Army material?” he growled, his eyes intense and challenging.

“Yes, sir!” Cody and I shouted in unison, our voices filled with pride. We didn’t even think about it—the words came naturally, with conviction. We felt honored to be here, like we’d earned our place. I glanced over at Cody, no longer thinking of him as my boyfriend but as Dan, my teammate, my brother on the field. And I knew, deep down, he felt the same about me.

We marched into the final room together, feeling powerful, unstoppable. Every step was steady and assured, each movement purposeful. I glanced down at my arms, now sculpted and muscular, veins prominent under the skin. Cody looked just as transformed, his once-slight frame now radiating strength and confidence. We weren’t the nerdy couple who’d walked in just an hour ago; we were Jake and Dan, proud members of the Golden Army, ready to crush it on the field.

As we left the haunted house, the cold night air hit us, but it didn’t faze us. Our only thought was that we were here, together, as teammates, as brothers. The last remnants of our old selves faded, leaving only pride, loyalty, and an unbreakable bond. All that mattered now was the team, the game, and each other.

[luvzshy]

One where reader and Billie get matching tattoos and fans start to catch on

Inked Connection

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple as you walked hand in hand with Billie Eilish through the lively streets of Los Angeles. The evening air was crisp, filled with the hum of city life, and your hearts raced with anticipation. Today was special—you both had decided to get matching tattoos, a commitment to one another that felt both exhilarating and deeply meaningful.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Billie asked, her blue-grey eyes reflecting a mix of excitement and nerves. You could sense the weight of the moment in her tone.

“Absolutely,” you replied, your grip tightening around her hand. “This is our thing now. Something just for us.”

At the tattoo parlor, the atmosphere was buzzing with energy. You both sat in the waiting area, exchanging playful banter while you discussed your design with the artist—a delicate crescent moon cradling a small star, a symbol of your late-night talks under the starlit sky. It felt like the perfect representation of your connection, fragile yet luminous.

As the needle pierced your skin, you glanced at Billie. She wore her signature oversized hoodie, a hint of nervousness in her smile. With each buzzing moment, you felt the intensity of your shared experience; it was a rite of passage that would forever mark your relationship.

When the tattoo was finished, you both admired your new ink—two identical designs now etched onto your skin. “We’re officially moon buddies!” Billie laughed, her voice warm and genuine. The joy in her eyes made your heart swell.

After leaving the parlor, you wandered through the streets, the world feeling vibrant and alive. With your arms wrapped around each other, you snapped selfies, capturing the moment and the giddiness that surrounded you. You posted a photo online with the caption: “Always with you, under the same stars.”

The following day, you scrolled through social media and noticed fans starting to catch on. Comments flooded in, speculating about the tattoos. “Are those matching?!?!” “Billie and the reader are the cutest couple!” You couldn’t help but smile as you read through their excitement.

Billie laughed softly as she read the comments aloud. “They’re so invested! It’s kind of sweet,” she said, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“Can you blame them? We really are something special,” you teased, nudging her playfully.

As the days passed, your bond grew stronger. The tattoos became a cherished symbol of your love, visible to the world yet deeply personal. Fans began to notice the small gestures—the way you intertwined your fingers, how Billie would often steal glances at you during interviews, and the easy laughter that flowed between you.

One quiet evening, as you both lounged on the couch, Billie rehearsed for an upcoming show, her voice filling the room with warmth. She paused, looking over at you with a softness that made your heart flutter. “I’m really glad we did this,” she said, her expression sincere. “You mean the world to me.”

You felt a rush of emotion, the truth of her words wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. “I feel the same way. This is just the beginning for us.”

As she leaned in, her lips brushed against yours, and in that moment, everything felt right. The tattoo on your skin was more than just ink; it was a testament to a love that was vibrant, real, and growing stronger with each passing day.

Together, you faced the world, ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing that your connection was unique and beautiful—a love story written in stars.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha Sam

Word Count: 1417

*Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter

Warnings: A/B/O, non/con elements, dub/con elements, enslavement, pandemic, non/con drug use, collaring/leashing, forced mating, forced breeding, branding, BDSM elements, show-level violence

*Additional warnings to be added

Square filled: @spnabobingo non traditional alpha traits @spnkinkevents free space @j3bingo jewelry/piercing

A/N: * UPDATED 3/24 first three pasts of series

A/N II: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

PART IV

John read through the contract and had to admit that the Dealer was a stickler for details, continuing to the addendum that the original purchaser sold the O as-is to him for one dollar. 

Ignoring the still-fuming Dealer, John signed all three copies before handing them and the payment to an on-site notary who stamped the copies before handing one back to John, one to the suit with their monetary compensation, then disappeared with the last to finish registering the sale.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Winchester,” the suit says as they untether the twin and lead her out of the room. John placed his copy in his canvas jacket pocket and said, “I need the O cleaned up and dressed.” One of the Alphas reached into the cage, attached a cheap dog chain to the D ring on her collar, and used it to drag the O across the floor, dropping it at John's feet as Helms smirked. “Sorry, we would normally comply with your request if it were our merchandise you purchased. You have a nice day, Winchester.” 

They left John alone with his newly acquired property. He scooped up the unconscious O and was surprised at how light she felt, made his way through the open dock door of the building and spotted the Impala. When his sons climbed out, John issued orders.

 “Dean, get your ass over here and take your property. Sam, front seat with me.”

“There’s a clinic two blocks on the left, sir,” Sam says, climbing back into the Impala, cracking a disposable ice pack, and handing it over the seat to Dean, who places it over the O’s swollen eye. John's thankful it’s a short drive cause the mouth-breathing sounds filling the car were disturbingly similar to that Shtriga he’d hunted. 

Sam bolts out the door before John has the car in park, taking several deep breaths before opening the back door and helping Dean maneuver out with the unconscious O. 

The quartet enters the clinic, and a bored-looking receptionist slides a clipboard over without looking up, telling them to fill out both sides. They cross to the waiting area where John and Dean sit, automatically leaving the chair between them unoccupied. Sam mentally sighs and pulls his hoodie lower to keep his painfully hard cock hidden, sits, and starts mouth breathing again, making John growl and scribble faster before marching back to the receptionist.

Dean shifts the unresponsive girl, and Sam says in a strained voice, “Dude, she’s flashing everyone!” Dean sees his darting eyes peer down, noting the old army blanket gaped open, exposing the O’s breasts. He can’t help himself. “Look at you, Sammy, blushing like a virgin on her wedding night. So adorable.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Boys,” John interrupted, “Let's go.” Dean closed the blanket, followed him down the hall to an exam room, and placed the O on the table. “Wait outside the door, Dean. You too, Sam.”  A while later, smallish, fifty-something Beta with their nose in a file came towards them and finally noticed the two tall Alphas slouching by the doorway. Smelling his unsureness, Dean reassured them, “We don’t bite..usually.”

Clearing their throat, the Beta walked between them when Dean slapped his hand against the wall, creating a loud thwack that made them hurry into the room. “Not funny, man,” Sam chastised but couldn’t help grinning.

John insisted on remaining in the room during the examination, knew how these clinics worked, and wanted to be sure the O had no severe injuries or undisclosed maladies. 

“I don’t see your DNA ID on the intake paperwork.”

“DNA? What are you talking about?”

“There have been many fraudulent ownership claims in this state,” the doctor said as he did the exam. “For new registrations, all Alphas in the purchaser's immediate pack must submit their DNA ID number and to STD testing. I assume you were in service?” John affirmed he was. “Good, and your offspring? No? Okay, what state did your Omega whelp them in?” John frowned. “My mate was an Alpha.” 

“It’s almost unheard of for a female Alpha to have more than one pregnancy.” The doctor resumed the physical, noting a mild concussion, but her swollen eye was undamaged, and considering the extensive skin trauma, mainly on her back, she likely had bruised ribs, too. “As a precaution, I will administer fluids and a broad-spectrum antibiotic. I need your help with this part. Please move the O to the scale so I can see if its stats match the paperwork.”

The doctor and John, who’d guesstimated her height earlier, were shocked. Most O’s rarely hit five-four, and she was nearly six feet tall but was thirty pounds underweight. John laid the O back on the table, covered her with a warming blanket as the doctor hooked her to the IV, then collected the other samples from Winchesters except for the STD on Sam, who had to admit he was still a virgin. A tech arrived for the samples and handed the doctor some paperwork. “I see you purchased the O for your elder son, who’s not of age yet. Do you require any additional stipulations for registration?” 

“I want Sam to have proprietary rights in the event of my untimely death.” 

Dean peeks through the register office's doorway and sees a slightly chubby Beta in her late twenties sitting at the desk. She looks up, giving him an apprentice once-over, and chirpily inquires, “You with the O just brought in?" He responds snarkily. “You got a bunch of other O’s that just arrived?"  Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “I'm sorry, that was uncalled for.” 

She hummed sympathetically and clicked the mouse, searching for something on the computer. "It’s alright. Things like this can be stressful, so I’ll try to get you through quickly. Help yourself to the coffee. It’s hot." Pouring a cup, Dean sipped it and grimaced. "Okay, here we are. Name?"

"Uh, Dean." He sat down, positioning himself to see out into the hallway, and heard the Betas' long nails tacketing-tacketing over the keys. "And will you be changing the name?" "Huh? Why the hell would I want to do that?” The Beta flinches at his tone. "It's a routine question. Some people don’t like the name of the O they’ve purchased, so they shorten or change it entirely.” It took him a second to catch up. “Oh, sorry. I'm Dean, and ahh, I don’t know what her name is." The tacketa-tacketa resumes. “Hmm, the O only has numerical identification. You could pick something neutral or a favorite nickname. How about leaving it for now? If or when you decide to change it, you can do it through any state registration center."

"Uhh, okay, let’s do that." 

"No problem. Now, has the O been branded yet?" Dean's hand firmly gripped the edge of the desktop. "What the fuck? That's a regular thing you do here!” Dean's loudness makes the Beta frown; she leans over, opens a side drawer, rifles around, and pulls out a pamphlet, pushing it toward him. Dean frowned at the title: Your New Omega and You: An Alpha's Guide to Handling and Training.

 "O branding is the traditional form of marking to deter theft and help with identification. North Dakota is one of a few states that mandate it but all others accept it. A sanctioned clinic, such as ours, uses a local anesthetic, so it’s quick and relatively painless. The unique symbol chosen for the individual owner will be on the lower back to not spoil their aesthetics.”  More tacketa-tack-tacketa. ‘We do piercing for free. Are you interested in having the O’s nipples, clitoral hood, or labia done?” Dean shakes his head negatively. “For low-income families, public assistance will generally cover breast augmentation or genital modification since it doesn't interfere with fertility.”

“Now, state law requires that if testing confirms that the O's are a non-viable carrier, we spay them. I am obligated to inform you this procedure can lead to malaise, but it reduces the chances of other diseases as they age. Since you’re not a resident, if you choose not to, we can provide a doctor's exemption certificate.”

“What kind of fucked-up Deliverance-style place is this? I am not authorizing any fucking modifications of any kind, you hear me!” The courteous attitude disappears. "I don’t appreciate your tone, sir,” as she resumed tacketa-tack-tacks on the keyboard. Dean wasn’t sure how much more he could take before he hit something.

Part V

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva   @lassie-bird   @nancymcl   @spnbaby-67   @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78  @deans-spinster-witch  @ilovetaquitosmmmm   @strawblueberrys

[rainbows-r-nice05]

Frozen Camera

I watched Rise of the Guardians and fell in love with Jack Frost because he is my baby. Anyway here is something I just whipped up and I know it's bad but I needed to so it to ease my mind.

I hate studying, I really do. My mind tries to focus but it drifts into dreamland. Dreaming of the impossible. Fighting dragons, ruling a kingdom….....finding true love. But enough about that. To relax a little, I decided to go read a book outside. Since it was Christmas time, I picked up the story about all the different kinds of Christmas characters. It was night time so I made sure to bring some blankets out. As I stepped outside on my back porch, coldness engulfed me. My porch was spacious with lawn chairs and a brick pillar on the side that leads into the grass. Oh, how beautiful it was. Christmas lights dance around my neighbors backyards across the lake connecting them. Lights from blue and white to red and green. The fountain was still going as the wind danced through it. I sat down in order to enjoy reading a bit into my novel. This section was about the famous Jack Frost to whom I believed in when I was a little kid. But not anymore since I am a junior in high school.   About 10 mins into my book, I absentmindedly start singing a famous Christmas Carol.  

God rest ye merry gentlemen

Let nothing you dismay

Remember Christ our Savior

Was born on Christmas Day

I heard distant barking of dogs nearby which was normal. And the rustle of plants that were caused by the wind.  

To save us all from Satan's pow'r

When we were gone astray

Oh tidings of comfort and joy

Comfort and joyI

Oh tidings of comfort and joy

All of a sudden, my ears perk up at this crinkle or a sound of frost covering something. Like a tingling sound of some sort. I looked around and saw one of my security cameras had frost covering the lens. 

“That's weird,” I muttered to myself as I stood up, set my book down and walked toward the camera. Over the lens it looked blueish with little snowflakes covering it. My curiosity got the best of me so I decided to go inside and get a ladder. (The camera was on the ceiling). I got the ladder from the garage and walked back outside. I opened it and climbed all the way to the top. I looked closely at the camera and scratched the frost off of it. Somehow, the frost just would not come off. 

“OH GOS-,” suddenly I lost my balance and was headed toward the ground. 

“Gotcha,” I was caught by someone who was levitating off of the ground and wrapped my arms around this persons neck. It seemed to be a boy around my age who had piercing blue eyes and platinum blond hair. His skin was pale white and freezing for that matter. His dazzling white teeth showed as he smiled lovingly at me. My goodness was he handsome.  

“Woah…” I was too starstruck to even comprehend what was happening. 

“Lost your balance, there sweetheart,” the mysterious man said.

“You-your-you…” 

“Jack Frost is the name,” he said as he lowered me to the ground. 

“Oh my goodness.. It's really you,”

“Of course it's me, alive and in person.” His smile…. Is so…..loving. I finally got a good look at him and he was wearing a blue hoodie with some light brown pants. He was indeed barefoot as he was Jack Frost.  

Oh my gosh.  OH MY GOSH The Jack Frost in front of ME!!!

“And what might your name be pretty girl,” 

Pretty girl…. I flushed deeply at that. I smiled sheepishly as I introduced myself. 

“(Y/N) (L/N) at your service,” as I extended my hand out for him to shake. 

He shook it softly and his hands were beyond freezing. 

“Wait, what are you doing here?” I was so puzzled as to why he was here. It was December right, but it does not even snow over here. 

“Oh.. Well…” he walked around with his staff tapping the bird bath with it and it froze solid. 

“I got quite bored while I was patrolling so I decided to fly across a random area where I found a beautiful singing voice in this very backyard.”

As if I could ever be more redder, my face would be a tomato. 

“What were you doing out here,” he said as he pointed his staff at me. 

I gently pushed his staff out of my face and raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, It is my backyard” I started to walk around him. 

“But if you want to know, I was reading a book.”

“Oh… interesting” 

“Y’know, you have a very nice backyard,” he stated as he walked around and faced the lake. 

“And a very nice show you get to watch.” 

I giggled lightly at that. 

“Oh yes, Christmas is the best time of the year when I get to sit outside in the cold and light a fire. I see all the Christmas lights in their glory.” I smiled at last night's occurrence which was just like how I described. 

“Well, isn’t that nice,” he said as he gazed at me. 

All of a sudden I hear this ringing noise that sounds jolly. Jack takes a small device out of his hand and looks very disappointed. He verbally groans. 

“Wish I could stay, but Santa needs me.”

“You mean North,” I say out of the blue

“Wait how do you-” 

“Jack,” I giggle a little, 

“Might want to go see him” I say as I step in front of him pointing at the device smiling. 

He smiles as he is about to fly away. 

“Wait!” I put a hand up signaling him to not go yet. 

“Will I ever see you again?” 

“I’ll make sure I will see you again, snowflake.” He says as he takes my hand and kisses it with his cold yet soft lips. 

I smile and yet again, I flush at the nickname. 

He then flies away and I am left alone outside. I walk back to the camera and see that the frost has disappeared. I smile as I walk back inside. I gaze back out across the lake where I think of the many events that Jack Frost will show me. 

thinking on a part two maybe or a milti series thing idk yet lol

I have to get back to studying though

[descriptive-tickles]

A Lee’s Challenge:

I have to give a massive shoutout to @idreamofticklehugs because this concept came up through our conversation and thank you for allowing me to share! Hopefully I do the idea justice in story form.

——————————

We certainly see plenty of times when a ler challenges a ler… hold this bar whilst being tickled, don’t bring your arms down whilst being tickled, stay still… all fair challenges BUT, teases work both ways so what if a lee challenged a ler - it’s also important to realise that things can backfire. Intrigued, well read on 😜

————————————

Yourself and your ler have been building up quite the teasy dynamic as you’ve gotten to know each other. You’ve teased, been teased and confidence and trust in each other has grown substantially. Always the best foundations for any relationship.

They have set you challenges previously within your boundaries - keeping your arms raised up whilst soft tickles are applied, or maybe being pinned in such ways to expose your most sensitive spots. But this time. You as the lee have the idea.. you’re going to make it difficult for that mean tickler and you’ve already grabbed all that you need. A simple hoodie!

The next moment you get you put your tease into action. You put on the jumper in front of your ler with that familiar look in your eye. But this time you grab there hands. You know one of their favourite things to do if find a way to get to your bare tickle spots and you’re not going to make it so easy this time. “Nu uh - not this time” and you smirk with a smug look. “New challenge for you this time. If you can set challenges so can I. These hands are not permitted under this hoodie. Understood”. The ler mockingly tries to bring the hands immediately inside the hoodie.. your giggles already start escaping but you hold firm.. “no. That’s not allowed” as you smack at the hands playfully.

The ler smirks and looks at the hoodie and makes eye contact with you.. “okay deal”. It’s all about give and take. What you weren’t aware of is that first attempt to go under was a chance for the ler to investigate the hoodie you picked up. It’s a simple navy blue with a large pocket in the front. Your ler stands up and spins you so your back is against them. Ramping up the situation as you know the tickles are due to start soon enough.. you manage to giggle out.. “rehehehember nohohoho cheeeheheating”. The ler does not answer. But so far is following the set parameters.

“Let’s see how thick this hoodie is.” They say first of.. and as one arm locks you in place in front of them. The other free hand begins poking through the hoodie up your left side. Testing for signs of reactions and if the hoodie indeed nullifies the ticklers efforts.

Next, after the poking technique, the ler’s hands form two claw like shapes attaching to your sides once more and frantically tickling into the soft parts of your sides just above your hips. The stronger and constant tickles definitely helping to pierce your hoodie armour creating a thicker exterior.

Getting some joy with the more forcing tickles the ler almost without thinking brings there hands to the front of the hoodie, taking up spots on the left and right side of the large pocket and digging their fingers in wiggling them back and forth relentlessly as you try and curl inwards but you remain defiant. The hoodie is holding back some of that ticklish sensation.

The ler now starts making connections.. the pocket in front goes all the way through so their hands move inside the pocket so this lines up with the centre of your tummy around your bellybutton and waistline and the same scribbling repeats the hands move along side to side within the pocket as the ler fights the material but still elicits some wonderful giggles.

All of a sudden, the ler stops.. as you look up they almost look confused… surprised… and then that familiar smile.. “we, how old is this hoodie”’they ask unexpectedly. “You’ve had it for quite some time right” and that’s when you feel it.. a lone fingers wiggled not through material but on bare skin.. the bare skin of your tummy. THERES A HOLE THROUGH THE POCKET screams through your mind and your ler has that smug look once again… as if striking gold.

“Now.. you said I couldn’t go under the hoodie. You didn’t say I couldn’t go through it” they whisper.. and the hole begins to stretch as one finger moves through, then a second and the outer armour has been breached. And soon a whole hand emerges through the protective layer and reality sets in.

You’ve voluntarily put yourself into a situation where you cannot move forward with such convictions and confidence and now and your poor ticklish tummy is just as vulnerable. Your tummy, bellybutton and waistline all accessible and all within the restraints of your challenge. No rules broken here.

And with all the realisation your sensitivity skyrockets.. you plead that it’s not allowed and it’s all a mistake but you challenged the ler and the ler will claim their victory.

This is definitely the lers favourite hoodie now!

Morale of the story, teases go both ways in this business, but some challenges can be worked around if you’re not careful. Oh, and check hoodies for holes before a ler finds them.

[xmads-omensx]

When We Were Young

Masterlist

Word Count: 2,160

Pairing: Andy Biersack X Wife Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, kissing, getting lost in a large crowd, mentions of injury (bruising), references to smut (but no actual smut)

Summary: Y/N and Andy's son has a burning question that simply cannot go unanswered

“Dad, can I ask you something?” Nick asked Andy.

“Of course you can bud, what’s up?” Andy replied, looking at his seven year old son with a smile on his face.

“How did you and mom meet?” Nick asked with a grin on his face. Andy caved to that adorable grin every single time and Nick knew it. Manipulative little angel.

Andy sat in silence. Thinking about how to go about answering the young boy’s question. “I’ll tell you what,” he began, “how about you wait for mom to get home from work and we will both tell you? Sound good bud?” Andy asked

Nick nodded his head rapidly as an excited grin lit up his features. Andy had no choice but to laugh at his son’s actions.

Nick was practically a photocopy of Andy, from his piercing blue eyes to his tall frame. He had even inherited his father’s natural blonde hair as opposed to his mother’s darker hair.

The two of them had been practically attached at the hip from the moment he was born. They did everything together and I loved it.

My two favourite boys were the best of friends and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Nick could hardly wait until I came home from work so that he could ask me his question. Andy wasn’t exactly sure what had sparked his son’s curiosity in the way his mom and dad met, but for one reason or another that boy was determined to find out.

Unfortunately for Andy, Nick had inherited my stubbornness and would not be budging until his question had been answered to his standard.

The moment I walked through the front door of our house, I was practically tackled to the ground my a very hyper and excited seven year old.

“Hello to you too honey. What’s with the enthusiastic welcome home?” I asked with a laugh.

“I have a question mommy. Dad said to wait until you were home so that both of you could tell me the answer.” He smiled up at me widely.

I looked at Andy with a puzzled and slightly worried expression. It was too early to have the good old ‘talk’ with Nick. Andy just smiled widely at me, looking genuinely happy about whatever crazed question our son was going to repeat to me.

“Okay honey, let me get changed and then you can ask your question.” I ruffled Nick’s blonde hair as I walked towards Andy and I’s shared bedroom.

I closed the door behind me and began to undress out of my work clothes. I pulled on a pair of black cycling shorts and one of Andy’s old batman hoodies. Then, I ventured into the bathroom and took off my makeup before doing my skincare routine. I always liked doing it after work as it helped me relax after a hectic day. I pulled my hair into a messy bun and returned back to the living room where my excited son and suspiciously happy husband sat and waited for me.

Upon entering the cosy space, I was once again tackled by Nick as he grabbed my hand, jumping up and down, and pulled me to the couch to sit me down next to Andy, before throwing himself onto my lap.

“Can I ask my question now mommy? I’ve been waiting soooooooo long.” Nick asked again with an exaggerated voice.

“Of course honey. What’s up?” I laughed at his theatrics.

“How did you and daddy meet?” He innocently asked.

“Oh?” I said, surprised at his curiosity. “You really wanna know?”

Nick nodded his head rapidly. “Uh huh.”

“Okay then.” I began. “So do you wanna tell him or should I?”

“I think you should start seeing as it was you who bumped into me.” Andy suggested.

“Hey! That’s not what happened and you know it!” I protested with a laugh.

“Ugh! Stop talking and just tell me the story!” Nick shouted in frustration, causing Andy and myself to laugh at his antics.

“Okay, okay.” I laughed. “So, your father and I met back in 2011, so thirteen years ago.”

“Gosh we’re getting old.” Andy laughed.

Nick cut him a glare for his rude interruption of his special answer to his burning question, causing the both of us to laugh once again.

“I had gone with my best friend, your aunt Taylor, to Warped Tour to see some bands that we liked. We were moving to go see a different band when we got separated…

WARPED TOUR 2011

“TAYLOR!” I shouted, trying to locate my friend, but to no avail. The crowd was too big for me to spot her familiar face. I had to face the fact that we had been separated. Her phone had died about twenty minutes prior, so calling her wasn’t an option.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, trying to see if there was anyone who I could contact to help me. Taylor’s boyfriend wouldn’t be able to help me as he had headed back to the hotel about an hour ago, claiming heatstroke.

I frantically looked around for some kind of help tent or any staff who could point me in a direction that might lead to me finding my friend.

Hoping she had been hungry, I looked around some of the nearby food stalls, but couldn’t find her there. She wasn’t at the Bring Me The Horizon tent, or the Sleeping With Sirens one. There was no way she would be in line for the Pierce The Veil tent, she would be too nervous meeting Vic.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

My mind and heart raced as I looked from left to right trying to spot that familiar blonde hair in the bustling crowd.

All of a sudden, I collided with something hard. I fell to the floor.

“Shit!” A deep voice cursed from above me. “You okay?”

Hands grabbed my biceps and began to pull me up so I was standing again.

“Yeah I think I’m fine.” I stuttered out.

I then looked up at the man who had both made me fall and picked me back up.

He was tall, thin and relatively heavily tattooed, however I couldn’t really tell because of the black body paint that covered a large portion of his skin. Long dark hair cascaded over his shoulders and spiked up at the top.

“I’m Andy.” The man offered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Y/N.” I replied with an equally awkward laugh.

My back and ass ached and I tried like hell to play it off, but I could only do so much before Andy noticed.

“You sure you’re okay? You kinda keep wincing?” He asked again with a voice full of concern.

“No really, I’m fine. Guess it will just be a bruise tomorrow.” I assured him.

“God I’m so sorry, I feel awful.” He went on.

“Honestly it’s fine.” I laughed.

“You’re sure?” He asked.

“Yep.” I smiled up at him as he towered over me.

He started patting the back pockets of his obnoxiously tight skinny jeans frantically as if he was looking for something. After thirty seconds or so, he produced a scrap of paper and a sharpie and began scrawling something on it before handing it back to me.

“Here’s my number. If you need anything while you’re at Warped, give me a call. Helping you out is the least I can do.” He gushed.

“No really it’s okay. If anything, I bumped into you. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I reassured him once again.

“Well, whatever happened, just take my number. Just in case.” He laughed.

“Sure. Okay.” I conceded and took the piece of paper. “See you around I guess.”

I then turned around and began to walk away, resuming my search for Taylor.

Thirty minutes had passed and I still hadn’t found her. I tried her phone again, but it was still dead. That meant she hadn’t gone back to the hotel, so I could rule that out.

Where could she possibly be?

I went back around the tents and food stalls but still couldn’t find her.

A large hand wrapped around my bicep, causing me to jump and yelp in shock. I whirled around just to be greeted by Andy once again.

“Are you here alone?” He asked, clearly concerned.

“No. I’m here with my friend but I cant find her.” I explained, slightly panicked still.

“Okay. Do you have a photo and I’ll help you look?” He suggested.

I pulled my phone out and showed him the selfie that we had taken together during the All Time Low set earlier in the day.

“This is the most recent one I have of her.” I said.

He didn’t reply, but nodded his head in acknowledgement before pulling his own phone out.

“What are you doing?” I asked, confused.

“I’m calling security so they can help find her.” He explained.

Soon after he ended the call, three intimidating men appeared and asked to see the photo. I showed them and they left in separate directions to find my friend.

My panic lessened ever so slightly as more people had joined my search.

“We’ll find her, don’t worry.” Andy reassured. Wrapping a long arm around my shoulder and squeezing gently.

“I hope so.” I replied.

Shortly after Andy and security joined the search, Taylor came rushing towards me and wrapped me in a tight hug after security found her by the Medical tent looking for help finding me.

“Holy shit I finally found you!” She gushed. Squeezing my body so tightly that I could barely breathe.

“Oh god I was so worried!” I replied, hugging her back.

We agreed to call it a day on the festival and head back to the hotel to have a calm rest of the day and watch trashy chick-flicks.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!” A familiar deep voice called after me.

I turned around and was greeted with Andy running towards me, slightly awkwardly due to the tightness of his jeans.

“What’s up?” I smiled at him.

“I gave you my number earlier.” He stated, breathing heavily with his hands on his knees.

“Yep, you did.” I said slightly confused.

“Will you still use it?” He asked.

“What? Why would I use it? We found Taylor?” I replied, slightly confused.

“Well… I just thought… that maybe… um…” He began, stumbling over his words. “Maybe we could… you know… go on a date? Or something? We don’t have to! Just thought I’d ask.” He gushed.

“A date?” I asked.

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. Maybe a coffee?” He said, not quite able to meet my eyes.

Taylor nudged me in the ribs causing me to yelp in pain. I shot her a confused look whilst she just vigorously nodded her head back at me, mouthing ‘say yes’.

“Ummm… Sure okay. Why not.” I replied.

His head shot up. “Really?”

“Yeah. When were you thinking?” I asked.

“Um… Well… I have an off day tomorrow? Maybe we could go then?” He offered.

“Sounds good.” I replied. “See you tomorrow I guess.” I turned to walk away with Taylor when he grabbed my arm again.

“Can I get your number though? So I can send you the details?” He asked.

“Yeah of course.” I took his phone from his outstretched hand and punched in my number. “See you tomorrow Andy.”

With that, Taylor and I walked back to our hotel, with Taylor gushing the entire way back about how I had managed to get a date with THE Andy Sixx, despite me not having any clue what that meant.

PRESENT

“… And then I walked your mom back to her hotel after our coffee date.” Andy finished the story.

I looked down at Nick who was still curled up on my lap, apparently having fallen asleep somewhere during the story.

“Let’s take him off to bed.” Andy whispered, lifting the sleeping seven year old off of my lap and into his arms.

We tucked him into bed and looked down at our son.

“We did good huh?” I looked up at my husband.

“We did amazing.” He replied, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before leaning down to plant a gentle and loving kiss on my lips.

“Almost makes me want another.” I whispered.

“Really?” Andy replied, slightly surprised at my statement.

“I said almost idiot. I am never doing that again.” I laughed and began walking back to our shared bedroom.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t practice.” Andy said, wiggling his eyebrows with a grin on his face.

I laughed in reply and playfully smacked his chest.

“You’re so weird.” I replied.

“So are you.” He raised his hands in defence.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and picked me up, carrying me awkwardly into our room.

“Now shut up it’s bedtime, weirdo.” He said in a fake serious tone.

I laughed once again.

[twyftwyt]

a little Noah imagine I wrote last night, so enjoy

warnings: smut

“Did you miss me?”

We hadn’t seen each other in over a month until I decided to go surprise him on tour. He had a few more shows before the end but I just couldn’t wait any longer. I had been touch and love deprived for a month now and I needed to see the only man that could ever make me crawl out of my skin. So I took the first flight to Toronto, where they were playing tonight and landed a bit dizzy but ready to surprise the hell out of him. I had previously called Jesse to let him know I’m coming and he made to sure to send me an AAA pass, so I could access the venue before they even got to it themselves.

I put my bags down in one of the green rooms and got a bottle of a water from the mini fridge. 12:30, they should be here any minute now. My phone, discarded on the leather couch I was sitting on currently, came to life with a buzz.

“Just got here. Where are you?” - Jesse

“Third green room to the left once you enter from the back.”

“Cool. I’ll send him there.” - Jesse

Jesse was a top tier friend for keeping my secrets and helping me with the execution of all the little, sinister plans I had for Noah. Like that one time I surprised him with a trip to New Zealand for his birthday but had to make up a story that the AC in his room broke down and he couldn’t use his room for a few days, so essentially Jesse sent him to my place.

I heard the knob of the door and my eyes immediately shot at the tall, lean figure that entered the dim lit room.

“Hi, handsome.”

His eyes pierced mine the moment my voice danced around his ears. He was wearing his Naruto hoodie, a pair of black shorts and a black Omens cap. And damn, did he look good.

“What the–“ was all he could mutter

“Surprised to see me, baby?”

I got up and started walking over to him slowly. He was still looking at me in disbelief. The moment I reached him and locked my fingers behind his neck, I felt his muscles tense. Our bodies responded in such a way every time we were around each other and it was fucking epic every single time. Like electricity but worse.

“I sure am, so give me a fucking minute, please.”

I was already on my tippy toes grinning up at him. My eyes lingered from his eyes down to his lips and back up to his eyes.

“You’re not gonna give me a little smooch?”

I puckered my lips at him and he showed me his pearly whites, grinning back at me.

“I’ll give you a fucking beating, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Mmh–“

My moan was cut short by his hungry mouth. I felt his tongue slip inside and trace my own before getting into a little fight with it. He was cute like that but I quickly felt him turn primal.

“I’ve a sound check in 30.”

“30’s a solid number. We can do 30.” I moaned into his mouth.

“Then let’s do fucking 30.”

I felt his hands around my waist, guiding me backwards until my knees hit the couch. He pushed me onto it and took his sweatshirt off along with the shirt he had underneath. I wasted no time tugging at the hem of his shorts, pulling them down until I freed one my favorite things about him. Looking up at him, I wet my right hand and gripped him firmly.

“Fuck–”

“Did you miss me?”

“Almost every fucking bight, babe.”

[standatsvthoughts]

HEY MUTUALLLL😋

CAN I REQ A E42 MILES FIC WHERE THE READER LIKE CAME TO VISIONS AS A NEW GIRL IN THE MIDDLE OF THE YEAR AND THEY BECAME LIKE BEST FRIENDS BUT THEN THEY BECOME THE BORDERLINE OF BEST FRIENDS OR DATING??!!! (they end up dating duhhh)

i need it bc this is the trope i have for my oc🙏🏽🙏🏽 and I also just think its super cute 🫶🏽

HI MUTUAL! And of course you can!

I hope this will be to your liking and what you pictured :))))

Pairing: 42!Miles Morales x fem!Reader

Content: fluff, slight angst, overall nice feelings (somewhat) enemies to friends to lovers, second person POV, angst if you squint

Warnings: bullying, Miles is a dick to begin, autistic coded character because I’m autistic so shh, school (yes school is a warning), implied shorter then Miles reader, cursing, slight violence (Miles punches a guy, pushing, no blood), protective Miles, slight mutual pining, kissing

Not proofread or edited! I repeat, not proofread or edited!

Story Below the cut ⬇️

Your POV

Moving in the middle of the year will never be a fun thing. Especially if you’re enrolled into a new school in the middle of the year. Which you just so happen to be.

It’s not like you chose this. No, that was all your parents decision. So now, here you were, suffering the consequences of their decision by being subjected to a new wave of bullies, annoying teenagers and mindlessly learning.

That’s what for you here, walking through the new hallways of your new school, keeping tightly to yourself as you pushed through the people, doing your best to keep to yourself and not touch anyone.

But their piercing stares are hard to ignore as people whisper and gossip about the new girl. Which now happened to be you. They’ve probably already created thousands of rumours about you, if you know teenagers.

You walk into the office and see the secretary talking with another student. He had dark brown hair that was braided back into two French braids and was wearing a dark purple hoodie with black pants. He seemed less then pleased to be there. The secretary noticed you enter and gave you a friendly smile.

“Oh hello Miss. L/N! Glad you were able to find your way here. Welcome to our humble school,” she greeted you with an overwhelmingly positive attitude. It made you wonder if she was new because no regular secretary would be this happy with dealing with teenagers every day for eight hours.

You wave awkwardly, glancing back at the boy who was also there. He had a scowl on his sharp features and didn’t seem happy to meet you like the secretary was.

“This is Mr. Morales. He had happily volunteered to help show you around the school for your first day so you don’t get lost,” the secretary laughs. Looking back at this ‘Morales’ guy, he clearly didn’t volunteer and he definitely didn’t do it happily.

“Have a good first day Miss. L/N!” She gives you and the boy a small little push towards the door as the first bell rings, signalling the day beginning and you can see students begin to clear the hallways.

You follow as the boy walks quickly out of the office and you have to jog a couple steps to keep up with his long strides.

“Thanks for showing me around. I’m-“ you start to introduce yourself, thanking him once he stops to wait for you but he cuts you off.

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this because I have to. So don’t talk and let’s just get this over with,” he says, his tone is cold and snappy as he scowls down at you. You falter, huffing in annoyance.

‘Off to a great start Y/N’ you think to yourself bitterly. You’ve been here less then five minutes and someone already hates you. Great. Just great.

“Can I at least know your name. Unless you want me to call you ‘Mr Morales’,” you say back, not sparing to be nice to someone who isn’t nice to you and give him a hard look back. He huffs, clearly annoyed by you.

“Miles,” he answers shortly, not caring that he’s coming off rude and begins walking again. It’s almost like a workout with keeping up with him.

He shows you through the school with very little words, only saying the names of the places before ending off at your first class.

“There. Now don’t talk to me again. If you have questions, go bother someone else,” he says and walks off, leaving you in the middle of the hallway alone.

“Well this day is absolute shit and it’s barely just begun,” you mutter to yourself in annoyance and confusion. It was all so overwhelming and there was nothing you could do about it.

Begrudgingly, you head into your first class, awaiting the judgement, confusion and more overwhelming situations that are likely to come.

- - - Time Skip - - -

It had been a week since you started at the new school in your new town and safe to say, it has been complete shit.

The main bully’s of the school had a field day with having a new victim to pick on. They would laugh at your attempts to defend yourself, which only made it worse.

You had barely seen Miles since your first interaction with him, and you were fine with that. He had been a bit of an asshole to you so it’s not like you were dying to see him again.

Every time you tried to approach him, he glared and walked off without another word to you. It was clear he didn’t want to be friends with you, and you were fine with that. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

However, your week become even worse when you got cornered after school one day by the people who had been tormenting you. And there wasn’t a single person in sight. Just your luck.

They were teasing you, ridiculing you and belittling you, but you weren’t listening. You weren’t saying anything. Just staring ahead, not looking at them. That is, until one of them pushed you.

“I’m talking to you! Listen to me when I talk to you new girl!” One of the older jocks demanded as he pushed you into the lockers. You groaned but refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you weak.

“Answer me!” He yells again, pushing you again and you tried to fight back. The jock was ready to hit you when a voice interrupted.

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls. You turn your head and see none other then Miles Morales standing there in all his intimidating glory.

“Leave her alone,” Miles demands, pushing the jock away from you and standing in front of you.

“Oh, what’s this. Emo Morales talking. Never though I’d see the day,” the jock teases Miles who just glares at him.

“I said, leave,” Miles demands again and the jock laughs.

“And why should I? What are you going to do?” The jock laughs and you glare at him from behind Miles. Miles looks down for a second, giving the jock a false sense of security and he goes to talk again, but is swiftly cut off by Miles punching him in the jaw.

“That’s what I’m going to do,” he remarks with a smirk. You stifle a laugh at how shocked the jock and his friends looked. It was amusing to you.

The jock slowly looks up with anger and Miles’s eyes widen. “Shit,” he mutters and grabs your hand quickly, running away from you before the jock can get any hits in.

“Yeah you better run Morales! You coward!” The jock yells back and you can’t hold back your laughter anymore as you and Miles hide in an empty classroom.

You both look at each other before both of you burst out in laughter.

“Did you see the look on his face? That was priceless!” You say through laughing.

“I know!” Miles agrees through his own laughter. It’s a moment or two before you finally calm down, still having a wide smile on your faces.

“Thanks for that,” you thank once you stop laughing.

“Don’t mention it,” Miles brushes off. Another moment of silence passes.

“Let’s start over, shall we. Just ignore everything that happened this past week,” you suggest and hold out your hand to him. “I’m Y/N L/N,” you introduce yourself.

“Miles Morales,” he says after a beat, shaking your hand firmly in his. His hands were rough and calloused, yet had a feel of gentleness to them at the same time.

“Sorry for being so mean. I’m not good with people, especially new people,” Miles admits sheepishly, pulling his hand back and rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“It’s fine. I get that. I’m not the best with people either,” you assure and he gives you a small smile.

“So… friends?” Miles asks hesitantly and you nod.

“Friends.” You agree with a smile.

That’s how you created your best friend in this town. The one thing that actually went well during your first few months in the town. And possible your crush. Ok, maybe more then possibly, but it’s not like you could ever tell him. You couldn’t ruin the one friendship you had.

“You going to prom?” Miles asked one day after school near the end of the school year. You had been at the school for a few months now and the thrill of having a new kid died down and now you were just a regular student.

“I don’t know. No one’s asked me. And loud dances aren’t exactly my idea of fun,” you answer back. He nods.

“If someone… were to ask you… would you say yes?” He asks slowly. It makes you wonder what he could possibly be planning.

“That depends who it is,” you shrug.

“Do you like someone?” He asks quietly. You look over at him as you answer, your kind filled with thoughts of just him.

“Yeah… yeah I do,” you answer. Miles looks up at you and you can see a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he looks back down. He clears his throat, looking back up and smiling with his so called ‘rizz’ he likes to tease you with.

You giggle at how silly he looks when he makes that face. To any one else, it would have been intimidating, but to you, it was more funny then scary.

“Y/N…” he says your name and you nod, mimicking his tone.

“Miles…” you repeat but with his name.

“Would you go to prom with me?” He asks hopeful and you feel your heart skip a beat. You glance between him and his lips with a smile.

“I would love to go to prom with you,” you answer happily. He leans forward and gives you a small peck on the lips, just a small one to gauge your reaction, hoping he isn’t ruining something.

You smile and lean forward, connecting your lips to his in a longer kiss. You’ve waited for a while to do that.

He pulls back. You both didn’t need to say anything. Your feelings for each other were clear. Through your longing, loving looks to each other, it said more then your words ever would.

“So… dating?” He asks and you laugh, giving him a quick kiss.

“Dating,” you agree. You’ve never been happier.

Finished :)

Hope you enjoyed this and hope it was to your liking!

Feel free to send as may requests as you want!

[whoahoney]

Alright yall, Deftones/septum piercing boy turned into a ghost, may he rest in peace 💀 but never fear….

the Pizza Guy is here. 😏👀

That’s right, a new white boy of the month in Honeyland but that’s okay, I’ve decided to award him white boy of the month, every month for the rest of the year (at least) because he’s my BOYFRIEND!

he actually asked me and everything, like whaaaat?

I love the story of how we met so much so imma write it out a little bit before I toy with turning it into an Eddie fic like I did with the chilis waiter 💀🫶🏻

Read on if you’re interested in my weird love life, it’s appreciated but never required!

TW: pregnancy sickness, crush on someone other than your shitty ass husband (it’s okay we’re divorced now 🥳😂)

Basically back in 2021, I was heavily pregnant with my second child and alllllways craving pizza. I already order dominos often enough they know my name and order when I come in, but it was much more often than normal while I was growing a human 😂

One day, I go to pick up my order at the dominos hot spot in town and there is a handsome Covid-masked boy there waiting for me.

I’d never seen him before so I knew he was new. I got shy and just accepted the pizza, trying to get back into my car as quickly as possible. But then he gave me the loveliest smile and wished me a good day and I thought about it a smidge longer than a married woman should.

The next time I saw him, he gave me tons of paper plates and napkins and full shakers of pepper and Parmesan, and that became a regular occurrence I didn’t think too much of. (Turns out he was STEALING FROM WORK)

The next time, he asked me about how I was feeling, about my baby, and what his name was going to be.

And then the next time, I was late picking up my order, and it’s protocol to call the customer in that instance, so he calls me and asks if I’m okay. Truth be told, I wasn’t 💀 I had BARFED all over myself (cause pregnant) as I was driving over there. I was so upset, clamoring around my car searching for an old hoodie to pull on, but I couldn’t find anything 🥲

Obviously I wasn’t going to tell him all that, so I told him I’d be there momentarily, that I had just been sick.

He offers to drive it to me, free of charge, but I was almost there anyway.

He didn’t even acknowledge the puke on my shirt and gave me the same smile he always did (that I couldn’t see cause of the mask lmao) and told me to be careful going home.

lemme tell you that when I got back, I had a text from an unknown number asking if I got home okay 🥺 my friend was utterly convinced this dude had the hots for me but I was married and pregnant so I had a hard time hoppin on that bandwagon, “it’s not like anything’s going to happen anyway”

I’d say a month after that, I stopped seeing him and assumed he’d moved onto bigger and better things than dominos.

Cut to January 2024, I’m swiping on bumble, minding my business and I see the cutest guy in a Metallica shirt eating noodles straight from the pot over the sink. I was already set on swiping right, but then I looked further at his profile and lo and behold, a selfie in a familiar domino’s uniform!! It had to be him.

I swipe right, we MATCH, I confirm it’s him, he REMEMBERS ME, and we plan a date.

He suggested that we meet at our “old spot” and he’d bring dinner.

And what does he bring??

A dominos pizza and a dozen red roses. 🥺

Turns out my friend was right, he confirmed that he had a “huge little crush” on me and that he’d bargain with the other drivers to get my order if it wasn’t his to take 😭 he’d give them the tips I’d give him if he ever had to convince someone to switch with him 🥲

I’ve dated some very kind and respectful people since July 2023 but this guy blows them all out of the water 😭

He’s so communicative, his boundaries and emotional intelligence are unmatched, we have the same taste in music, his love languages are the same as mine, he’s also a single father (and absolutely rocks it), we share the same values, every day he’s surprising me with some lore of his, or his kindness, or thoughtful nature 🥺

he plans every date, sends me his work schedule so I know when I can come in for a surprise visit if I want to, he brings me snacks, pays for and pumps my gas, opens every door, and won’t even let me lift a finger in my own house!!! All without me asking.

And don’t get me started on the sex bro… I— I can’t. 🥲🫠😮‍💨

If you read this far, I love you, I hope you’re doing well, I miss my tumblr/eddie hyper fixation so much, but I feel it coming back 🤍 I hope to finish our beloved stories and give them all the endings they/we deserve 😌🥰

Xx

Honey

[winxanity-ii]

⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 18 Chapter 18 | big fat phony⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

You sat at your desk, enjoying a rare moment of calm during your lunch break, scrolling absentmindedly through Facebook when your phone buzzed.

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐀 please where are you?? im scared

You sat up at the text, brow furrowing in confusion; quickly you send a reply.

𝐘/𝐍 ????

Instead of getting an explanation, she just sends a quick 'no time to respond' before plugging in her location.

You don't waste a second, springing up to your feet, urgency propelling you forward, your meal long forgotten, your only focus on reaching Seora as quickly as possible.

A thousand scenarios raced through your mind. What could possibly have gone wrong? Was she in some sort of trouble?

As you darted through the building, your heart pounded not just from the physical exertion but also from concern for your friend.

Gasping for air after your sprint across the building, you finally regained your composure and tapped on the door to the press conference room.

A woman with a headset cracked the door open, peering out at you.

"I'm... I'm here... for Seora," you managed to say between breaths.

With a nod, she ushered you inside, revealing a set meticulously designed to mimic Yoongi's dorm room, complete with a bed and walls adorned with posters. A wave of familiarity washed over you as your eyes landed on a Kumamon poster, reminiscent of images you'd seen online from fan-pages.

As you absorbed the uncanny resemblance, Seora's voice pierced through your nostalgia. "Y/N! Over here!" she called, her hands waving frantically from across the room.

You couldn't help but notice her transformation, now clad in high-waisted shorts and a large black hoodie, her hair styled in a playful ponytail, allowing her curls to fall behind her head like a waterfall with tendrils framing her face, a stark contrast to her usual attire.

Approaching her, you couldn't contain a "Wow," impressed by the makeover.

"I get to keep these!" Seora beamed, spinning to show off her new look.

Your attention was diverted as a familiar, gruff voice chimed in from behind. "How long is this gonna take? I'm ready to get this shit over with," Yoongi grumbled.

You watched as the two of them get shuffled onto the set. As the make-up artists fixed up any last minute things, a countdown is being shouted out.

You quickly took out your phone, and opened up VLive. Deciding to watch them there to see the comments.

"Be sure to read what you rehearsed because once we go live, we can't stop," Someone tells Yoongi and Seora before exiting off the set.

"In 5...4...3...2...Go!"

Immediately, Yoongi's demeanor shifted seamlessly into his public persona, greeting the audience with his signature gummy smile. "Hello ARMYs! I decided to make this VLive to deliver you all an important announcement as well as clear up some misconceptions."

You stared at the scene in front of you, if you didn't know this was a set up, you would have thought this was real.

"So, recently, there was a meet-up here at HYBE headquarters to deliver lost items to previous volunteers we've had at our most recent fan-meeting a couple of weeks ago. It's here that a peculiar incident occurred," Yoongi began, maintaining a calm demeanor. "Some of you might have heard rumors—and even seen the video—about this, so I'm here to clarify what actually happened."

Despite the numerous comments rolling in, stating how the girl that hurt him deserved to die or needed to go to jail for laying a finger on him, Yoongi's delivery was flawless, his expression earnest as he recounted his rehearsed lines.

"The person you saw tackling me wasn't a sasaeng fan, nor did she cause me any harm," he continued, skillfully weaving the fabricated story. "Actually, she's an old childhood friend from Daegu."

Internally, Yoongi wanted to scream out how everything was a lie, but he knew that it was not just him at stake if the truth were to come out; BTS as a whole could be in jeopardy from his careless actions.

"I recognized her and was so surprised to see her during the meet-up that I tackled her into a hug," Yoongi elaborated, his story painting a picture of a harmless reunion tinged with a dash of unexpected comedy. "It was something we used to do when we were kids, but I think I might have frightened her, and she ended up hitting me on reflex, but once we cleared everything up, she apologized."

The change in the comments were immediate; they all began turning positive, some even awing at how soft Yoongi was being to see his old friend.

Yoongi eyes scanned through the many comments pouring in on his phone. One of them immediately caught his eye.

Instead talking some more about his childhood friend, Yoongi skipped it and went right into the next step.

"I see that a lot of you would like to meet her. So, if it's okay with you guys, I'd like to introduce you to her," Yoongi stated, a genuine smile growing on his face at the happy comments popping up. "Seora," he said, looking over to the right, like he practiced, and waved her over.

Seora bounced into the frame, casual and bright. "Hey there, Oppa!" she greeted, her casual tone throwing Yoongi off for a split second.

Yoongi's eyes briefly narrowed at the unscripted name, but he quickly masked his reaction with a smile, encouraged by the positive viewer response.

"Everyone, this is Seora, my old buddy from back home. And Seora, say hi to the amazing ARMY, the people who inspire me every day," Yoongi improvised, adding a personal touch.

Grinning, Seora waved at the camera. "Hello ARMY~! Oppa always shares how much joy and motivation you bring into his life," she said, her enthusiasm genuine, her eyes twinkling with delight.

The excitement in the comments grew as fans lavished Seora with compliments on her beauty and charm, flooding the live stream with heart emojis and compliments; you even saw some asking if she was single.

For the next few minutes, Seora and Yoongi communicated with those commenting live. Sometimes, as he delved into the rehearsed tale of their supposed childhood friendship, you could see the occasional scowl cross his face, quickly smoothed over by years of practice in the limelight.

All-in-all, you were certain everything was going to work out.

Well, that was until one certain comment popped up.

Isn't that Yoongi Oppa's favorite black hoodie?

You watched as Yoongi read the question, his whole body freezing up, before turning his head to look at Seora. His mouth dropped open in shock when he saw that she did, in fact, have his favorite hoodie on.

"You have my favorite hoodie on?" he asked, going off script.

"Yeah, so?" Seora said, eyebrows arching in a challenging way.

"Alright, fun's over. Hand it here."

Seora clutched the hoodie tighter, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Not a chance," she retorted, clearly enjoying the tug-of-war over the garment.

"No."

Yoongi's attempts to maintain his cool demeanor were slipping as he reached for the hoodie's sleeve, tugging on it. "Seora, I'm not kidding. That's my favorite one. Give it to me. Now."

"I said no. Plus, it's cold, and I like wearing it," she snapped, snatching the end of the sleeve away from him.

The staff around you grew nervous; both Seora and Yoongi were going off script. No one could go over them or tell them to stop because if they were seen, ARMY would realize everything was just a fake set-up.

"I could really care less. Besides, who even gave it to you to wear it, I thought it was put away?" Yoongi asked, tugging on the hood of the hoodie.

"Dee," Seora stated, smacking his hand away from the hood.

"Dee who?"

"Deez Nutz. Now stop tugging on it, you're letting out all of the heat," Seora whined, nudging him away from her.

"Seora," he spok in a low, almost threatening growl, her name practically hanging in the air.

"Yoongi," she mimicked, her voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You found yourself glued to your phone screen, no comments popping up on the VLive feed; even the usually chatty ARMY held its breath, as if waiting to see what was going to happen.

"Oh, no," you nervously chuckled to yourself as you saw Yoongi's trademark eye twitch kick in, a sure sign he was nearing his boiling point.

"Seora," he growled again, this time through gritted teeth.

Seora, oblivious (or perhaps deliberately pushing his buttons) wrinkled her nose in mock disgust. "Eww, stop winking at me, Gramps," she chirped. "Dating isn't really on the agenda for this princess."

Yoongi's eyebrow shot up in surprise. "That's it!" he roared, lunging for the oversized hoodie that engulfed Seora. "Give me that thing!"

A yelp pierced the tense silence as Seora scrambled back, swatting at his outstretched hands. "Not a chance, grumpy grandpa!" she shrieked, her voice laced with playful defiance.

A back-and-forth tug-of-war ensued, Seora's head whipping from side to side like a ragdoll caught in a whirlwind. "Ack! Let go, Yoongi-oppa!" she commanded, her laughter tinged with breathless exertion.

Then, in a move that defied all expectations, Seora struck.  A swift, precise pinch landed right on Yoongi's unsuspecting nipple.

The room fell silent, the only sound a strangled gasp escaping Yoongi's lips. His eyes bulged, his previously fierce expression dissolving into one of pure, comical pain.  "Ow!" he yelped, clutching at his chest like he'd been struck by lightening. "What the— What was that for?!"

Seora, eyes wide with mock innocence, batted her eyelashes. "Self-defense, obviously! You were practically strangling me with that hood."

Yoongi scoffed, his eyes narrowed into tiny slits. "Yeah, right. More like grand theft hoodie. Give it back, thief." He rubbed his chest dramatically through the fabric, milking the pain for all it was worth before attempting to make another grab for the jacket.

Seora, unimpressed, was quick on her feet, dancing away laughing, "You'll have to catch me first, Min 'Can't-Catch-Me' Yoongi!"

The chase was on. Yoongi lumbered after Seora, his movements more akin to a grumpy bear than a stealthy predator.

Seora weaved around furniture and props, her laughter echoing through the room. Just when Yoongi—with a surprising burst of speed—managed to corner Seora, she ducked behind a giant cardboard cutout of his alter-ego, Agust D, leaving him flat-footed and fuming.

Suddenly, a mischievous glint sparked in Seora's eyes. Before Yoongi could react, she darted out from behind the cutout and launched a surprise attack. Not with fists or kicks, but with a barrage of tickles aimed squarely at his exposed midriff.

Yoongi, caught completely off guard, let out a high-pitched squeal that would make any dolphin blush. He writhed and squirmed, his previous scowl replaced by a wide, gummy grin.

The staff, initially bewildered by the turn of events, couldn't help but crack smiles as Seora unleashed her tickling fury.

The previously tense atmosphere dissolved into a cacophony of laughter, with Yoongi's booming guffaws echoing through the room.

The VLive comments section exploded in a frenzy. #TeamSeora and #TeamYoongi were locked in a digital battle, showering the screen with heart emojis and fire symbols.

"Don't make me get my brother to beat you up!" Seora threatened, puffing out her cheeks like a defiant hamster. "He knows Judo! He'll whoop your pasty butt with his black belt!"

Yoongi snorted, a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh, yeah? Well, prepare for him to be swept off his feet by the taekwondo master himself, Jeon Jungkook!" He swooped in, aiming a tickle attack right for Seora's giggle zone.

Seora shrieked, tears welling up in her eyes – tears of mirth, of course. "Okay, okay! Truce!" she gasped, doubling over with laughter. "Just... just give me a sec... to breathe!"

"Only if you surrender the hoodie," Yoongi bargained, a wide, mischievous grin splitting his face.

"Never!" Seora declared, dodging a lightning-fast tickle attempt and launching herself onto the bed with surprising agility.

With a dramatic flourish, she grabbed a pillow and launched a feathery projectile at Yoongi's unsuspecting face.

"Hey!" Yoongi yelped, momentarily stunned. He narrowed his eyes at the traitorous pillow, then back at Seora, who wore a look of mock innocence.  "You did not just—"

"Did what?" Seora interrupted, parroting his earlier words in a sing-song voice. "Cry about a little pillow fight?"

Yoongi's competitive spirit flared. "Oh, it's definitely on now," he declared, snatching a pillow of his own and charging towards Seora.

The room transformed into a whirlwind of feathers and laughter. Pillows soared through the air, narrowly missing valuable equipment and unsuspecting staff members.

All thoughts of the script and the VLive audience were forgotten as they descended into a glorious battle of fluff.

"Who even names their kid Seora? You're not even Korean," Yoongi taunted between throws, narrowly dodging a sneak attack on his ankles.  "Sounding like you fell out of a K-drama!"

Seora, ever the quick wit, flung a pillow right back. "Hey, it's not my fault my mom went through a boy band phase! Blame DJ DOC and Sechs Kies for this mess!" she shouted, blurting out two known K-POP groups during the 90's.

You couldn't help but chuckle, watching the adorable chaos unfold in front of you.

You looked back down at your phone a only to see everyone commenting how compatible the two are.

At first, I thought that this was just a fake get-up, but now that I look at them, I'm able to see how friendly they are with one another! I wish I could have a best friend like Seora-ah.

"Ugh, fine," Seora grumbled, flinging the pillow across the room with a dramatic sigh. "You win, grumpy grandpa. Take your stupid hoodie back." She flopped back onto the bed, chest heaving dramatically as she tried to catch her breath.

Yoongi, his competitive spirit sated, dropped his own pillow with a triumphant grin. He couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Seora.

Her carefully styled hair was now a wild mess, strands plastered to her forehead with sweat. Her face, flushed a rosy red, held a pout that somehow managed to be both adorable and defiant.

Then, just as quickly as the pout appeared, it was replaced by a tired smile that sent a jolt through Yoongi's system.

Wait a minute, a traitorous thought wormed its way into his mind, She's actually kind of... pretty? He quickly shook his head, trying to dispel the unexpected feeling.

Seriously, Min Yoongi, where did that even come from? Lack of sleep? Man, I need to get laid, out here thinking bugs are cute, he thought with a grimace.

Pushing those troublesome thoughts aside, he straightened up and addressed the camera, a playful smirk returning to his face.

"Alright, folks, it looks like playtime's over for today," he announced, wincing slightly as a barrage of comments flooded the screen begging for more. "Seems like some of us have a lot of pent-up energy to burn," he added with a side-eye at Seora, who just smirked innocently.

"Don't worry, ARMY," he continued, his voice regaining its usual playful lilt. "We'll definitely do another live stream soon. Maybe even convince some of the other lazy bums"—he shot a playful glare at the camera—"to join in the fun, huh?" he mused, running a hand through his now messy sandy hair, a testament to the unexpected wrestling match with Seora over the hoodie.

Just as he was about to wrap it up, a new wave of comments caught his eye. They were all asking the same question: would Seora be joining them next time?

Yoongi started to formulate a reply, "Well, I don't know, Seora might not be able to—"

A mischievous glint flickered in Seora's eyes as she cut him off, plopping herself down right next to him on the bed, the stolen hoodie draped nonchalantly across her arms. "Yoongi-oppa, was just saying I might not be able to do what?" she asked, batting her eyelashes innocently at the camera.

Yoongi, momentarily surprised by her boldness, sputtered out, "They were asking if you'd be available for the next VLive." He stole a glance at her, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Seora, sensing his amusement, simply grinned and met his gaze directly. "Oh, well, if the lovely ARMY wants me there, then of course I'd be happy to join!" she declared, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. Her smile widened as the comments section erupted in a flurry of "yeses" and "please dos."

A slow, genuine smile spread across Yoongi's face. This chaotic day had definitely taken an unexpected turn, but seeing Seora's infectious enthusiasm and the positive reactions from the fans, a warmth bloomed in his chest.

Before the comments could explode with suggestions (and demands) for other guest appearances, Yoongi dropped another bombshell. "Oh, I almost forgot to announce some exciting news!" he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Taehyung and a super talented upcoming artist will be featuring on the OST for a new K-drama called 'Threads of Destiny: Love Beyond Time.'"

The comment section erupted in a fresh wave of excitement, a mix of heart-eye emojis and questions about the upcoming artist. Seora, ever the opportunist, leaned into the microphone.

"Maybe it's me!" she chirped, a playful wink at the camera.

Yoongi's eyes widened in mock-horror. "Don't even think about it, Seora. You can't hold a tune to save your life!"

Seora just stuck her tongue out at him, the playful banter causing the comments to go wild.

As the live stream wrapped up, one thing was certain: with Seora around, things were never going to be dull.

"Alright everyone," he addressed the camera once again, "we gotta head out now. But before we go, I just want to say thank you, ARMY. You guys are the reason I keep going, the reason I keep making music. You inspire me."

Seora leaned in and chimed in playfully, "And don't forget to eat healthy and get enough sleep! We don't want any ARMY falling sick, now do we?"

With that, Yoongi winked at the camera and ended the live stream.

"And... cut!" a voice boomed from somewhere off-screen, signaling the end of filming.

The room buzzed with activity as the crew began dismantling the set and packing up equipment.

You made your way over to Seora and Yoongi, who were now surrounded by a group of staff members.

"Yoongi-ssi," one of the managers called out, waving him over. "Bang Pd-nim wants to see you in his office."

Yoongi nodded and turned to leave, but Seora grabbed his sleeve before he could take a step. "Hey, wait a minute," she said, holding out the black hoodie. "Don't you want your precious hoodie back?"

Yoongi grabbed it, staring down at the hoodie. Finally, with a barely-there shake of his head, he tossed the garment back at Seora with a playful smirk. "Nah, you keep it. Looks better on you anyway, shrimp."

Seora yelped, fumbling to catch the hoodie before it tumbled to the floor.

A surprised laugh bubbled up from her chest. This little prank war had taken a delightful turn.

"Besides," Yoongi added, a glint in his eye, "I'll need to contact you later to finalize that song, right Y/N?" With that final, playful dig, Yoongi sauntered off towards the manager, leaving Seora holding the hoodie and a smile that could rival the sunshine.

You couldn't help but nudge her playfully. "Looks like someone's got a case of the hots," you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seora's eyes widened as she stammered, "N-No way! It's just... hot in here, right?" She fanned herself dramatically, hoping to cool her burning cheeks.

As if on cue, someone from the crew yelled out, "Hey! Can someone turn off the air conditioning? It's freezing in here!"

A slow smile spread across your face. "Oh, really? I thought it felt a little chilly too," you replied with a playful wink.

Seora scoffed, but a hint of a smile peeked through her blush. "Whatever, Y/N! It is hot!" she insisted, following you out of the room.

"Sure, sure," you chuckled, leaving Seora to stew in a delightful mix of fluster and amusement.

***sorry for not updating this friday, so to make up for it, today will be a double update 💗 also i had TOO much fun with this, loool. We stan a comedic queen like seora...

[ardent-fox]

Tag Game Masterpost

Got tagged by some wonderful humans, including @celestialmickey, @energievie, @creepkinginc, @metalheadmickey and @look-i-love-u to complete these fun tag games, thank you and spring blossoms to each of you! 💐💙

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✨️ Tag Game Tuesday Wednesday ✨️

Name: Lyds ⚘️

Age: 34 for another 4 weeks or so 🗓

Where in the world are you? Europe, middle of nowhere📍

The meaning behind your URL: 'Ardent' is one of my favorite words, husband calls me Foxxy cause of my red hair, also it sounds like 'ardent fucks' together so cheeky win 🍑

Your second favorite color: Dusty pink 💕

Any pets? Jasper the bun 🐇

Favorite season: Spring, I feel as if I'm in love with the whole world during it, it kicked in earlier this year and I'm absolutely fine with that 🌸

Last thing you read: Galladrabbles. My brain has been doing its cute thing where it can't focus on reading or writing anything longer than that for the past few weeks 🙃

Last song you listened to: I played the Crazy Ex Girlfriend soundtrack while getting ready to go out, so Gettin' Bi (which has become an anthem of mine ngl) 🎵

What are you wearing right now? A hoodie with a crumbling print of a tattooed and pierced out princess Jasmine taking a selfie, black sweatpants and socks with chihuahuas wearing Santa hats on them, my go-to sexy at home look 😅

A hobby of yours: Writing fanfiction and planning our home makeover, both usually taking place only in my head 💭

Your comfort show or movie: Got several, going with Pride and Prejudice (the 1995 BBC miniseries) this time 📜

And finally, what are you up to today? Had a monthly supply of hay delivered to me this morning, went to a job interview that went surprisingly well, did some chores and now I'm chilling here 😎

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✨️ Tag Game Fandom Edition ✨️

Your name: Lyds 🌸

Your age: Still 34 😅

Your first fandom(s): Not sure what qualifies, but probably House M.D. 🩺

Your current fandom(s): Though my hyperfixations are always changing, Shameless/Gallavich is the only fandom I actively engage in 🧑🏼‍🤝‍🧑🏻

How did you first get into fandom? I was part of a Tim Burton/Johnny Depp RPG message board where I played 3 characters and we also used to write what I now realize was fanfiction on the spot over MSN. A bunch of us were obsessed with House M.D. and someone must have mentioned fanfiction.net to me cause I got hooked on reading Hilson and Huddy stories around the same time 👀

How long have you been engaging with fandom spaces? The RPG/House era started in 2008, but I didn't become active on Tumblr and AO3 until getting involved in the Shameless fandom as of April 2022 🗓

How often do you read fanfics? When my brain is in the right place, I'd say a couple stories a week 📱

Top 3 characters from your current fandom(s): Ian gallagher, Mickey Milkovich, Castiel (still going through Supernatural and loving every bit of it) 💙

Have you ever written a fic for a fandom? If so, shout it out! Yes, still at one completed ficlet and a Galladrabble collection on my AO3, not counting the 5-6 WIPs I have in my docs 📂

Have you ever drawn fanart for a fandom? Nope, can't draw to save my life 🙃

Share a personal headcanon that you feel very strongly about: Probably not the most original one, but Mickey never liked his full name until Ian stated he thought it was beautiful. Him using it in his wedding vows is symbolic of him reconciling with the darkest parts of himself and accepting them before offering his whole self to Ian, a declaration of love for both of them in his own way. The fact that it somewhat mirrors the act of him apprehensively coming out in front of his own hostile audience, only to confidently show his self-acceptance and love for Ian in front of their favorite people 6 years later is just icing on the (wedding) cake 💖

You’re trying to convince a friend to get into your current fandom(s) with you. What episode, clip, or scene are you showing them? The "I can explain this" scene when Mickey gets shot in the ass and the social worker appears at the Gallagher house, it's peak Shameless madness 😄

And finally, what does fandom mean to you? A sanctuary of creativity and comfort where we can all be, make and enjoy whatever we want, the closest thing to utopia there is 🫶

Tagging @ian-galagher, @sickness-health-all-that-shit, @gallawitchxx, @gardenerian, @squidyyy23, @juliakayyy, @whatwouldmickeydo, @auds-and-evens, @thisdivorce, @sleepyfacetoughguy and whoever sees this and would like to play! ✨️

[maxfaiden]

get to know a simmer

I was tagged by @igotsnothing on my main (@greighish), but since this is "get to know a simmer" I'm responding on my simblr. They have quickly become one of my favorite simmers, as a person and a creative mind. You should check out their story, Bite Me! It's a... vampire vs human romcom? Yes, "vs", go read it, you'll understand. Anyway, on with the show! (Don't mind that some of these answers appeared in a previous one because some things never change.)

show your wallpaper: personal/work/phone

last song you listened to: I wasn't listening to anything, and then, just as I told Google to play I like It by DeBarge, I got a text from the BFF with a link to Into My Arms by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds. It took me back to our days at Tower... makes me miss the days when I didn't consider leaving the house a form of torture.

currently reading: A lot. But I am genuinely counting the days for the next update for The Dangerous Convenience Store, Ao to Midori, Semantic Error, and Second Piatto. Additionally, I'm actively reading these simblr stories: Bite Me ⬆️, Things Fall Apart by @cinamun, Night Life Series by @nightlifeseries, and The Organization by @windenbro.

last movie: I don't know. It's been so long.

last show: See above...

craving: Pain-free mornings

what are you wearing right now: My “uniform”… t-shirt dress, zip hoodie, heel sleeves.

how tall are you: 5'8"/173.

piercings: One in each ear, but I haven’t adorned them since I stopped stretching them.

tattoos: None. I wanted one when I was a teen, but decided I wouldn’t get one unless I would feel the same way about it forever. Then I learned I have commitment issues.

glasses? contacts?: Glasses.

last thing you ate: Shrimp Mei Fun, extra spicy.

favourite colour: Since gray is not a color, I have to go with green.

current obsession: Reading; it's a lifelong one.

any pets: Nope.

favourite fictional character: No overall faves, but there are characters who are my faves from particular series, like Kagami (KnB), Tsukishima (HQ!!), Aizen (Bleach), Hojo & Asami (Sanctuary), Tenka (Laughing Under the Clouds), and Nodame (Nodame Cantabile).

last place you traveled: I work from home and live in an immunocompromised household and even before COVID I was not great in public spaces, so nowhere, I guess. Or rather, today I drove around the corner to the mailbox, 2 months ago I drove to Delaware to visit my grandmother, and in 2007 I went to Belize, whatever happened in between is lost to me.

I'm tagging a mix of simmers from here and my main: @whimpysims, @beebiesims, @sierraelil, @faetheegrey, @twofingerswhiskey, @vulpossims. No pressure, of course; take a rain check if you like. Anyone else that wants to join in, I really mean it when I say please do and tag me so I can get to know you, too.

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last song you listened to:

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last movie:

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what are you wearing right now:

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glasses? contacts?:

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[corduroydisco]

(a mediocre short by me 12 years ago when i was in high school)

bad religion

"Platner!" 

Off of Fenton Road, I could still hear Gwen's lovely, girlish voice, as we walked up into Canton's Chinese. The late November day took over my body, it was cold. It was the type of cold that pierced your bones and overcame the numbness. Her dark, boyish curly hair contrasted the early, heavenly Michigan snow. She lit up a pink Camel to pass the time and to “warm her up” until we had arrived. The smoke puffs blended with the fog. I walked stiffly behind her, taking note of her every edgy attribute. Her small frame walked up to the shabby, old counter of the neighborhood egg-roll spot, the one that wasn't even run by Chinese people.

“Wait...what the hell? Dude, it’s closed...”

“What do you wanna do?”

“I mean, gee, I don’t even know. There’s no point of living right now...” She sighed with sarcasm.  

Her eyes glowed noticeably a pine forest green color. She carried her body across the pavement, petite and dainty, but she had an unmatched cutting, urban style and powerful, androgynous attitude. She wasn't just cute, she was sexy and mysteriously beautiful. Half Asian, half White. Nothing like a girl from Flint. She was a spitting image of one of those girls from NoHo that every guy here dreamed of. Ethan, Mikey, Zach, and all the rest of the boys at Flint High asked me about her and in some sense envied my friendship with her. I mean I didn't blame them. You know when they say nobody's perfect? Well, then I guess she's nobody because Gwen was perfect in every single way.  

“It’s gonna rain you know? Let’s go somewhere else.”

“Yeah, shit...I mean I came prepared though.” She put her grey hoodie on and did a “G” pose and laughed pushing my arm. Her army cargo pants contrasted with her tight black belly shirt, revealing her pale body. 

I stood there amidst the fog and drizzle, “Haha, I see you Lil G!” I wanted this to be a date, but I wasn’t feeling it. I didn’t feel anything. That’s when I started to think there was something really wrong with me...   

That Thursday, sitting alone at Grendall's Java House, I met Lonnie Odegaard. He’s the guy that worked at the thrift shop on the corner of Tessa’s two story house and lived two blocks away from her. Geraldine said that she had seen him sitting on the curb reading The Alchemist. Last week, he read A Clockwork Orange. He didn’t speak much with other workers except Helene, who he occasionally smoked a cigarette in the back of the store with. He wore black professor looking glasses on the weekends, when he worked on his art projects. 

It was a busy day at Java and the music added to chaotic coffee and burger joint. Eight people waited to be seated in the front. Gwen stood me up. I waited an hour or two by the bridge looking at the river. I sat eating my burger alone until someone interrupted my shitty mood. 

“Yo, you mind if I sit, I’m hungry.”  

“Sure, sure.” 

We talked about Interpol, A Tribe Called Quest, and Coldplay. He laughed when I told him I secretly loved “Maps” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and said it reminded him of high school parties that tried to be edgy but weren’t.

We talked about Flint—how the kids from Central loitered the streets at night, doing things no one wanted to talk about. He mentioned the rock on Seventh, the one painted with the words:

God, help save Flint...

 “I’m adopted. I mean, I didn’t ask to be caged in this place, I kinda just got dumped here." Lonnie sipped his coffee calmly, his hand shook  

“Me neither...” I muttered, staring out of the foggy thick bulletproof window.    

He smiled at me and I smiled contagiously. It made me happy. 

That summer, before going off to college, we spent everyday together. Everyday, I looked forward to waking up and meeting up with him to have our long talks while walking the river. 

He became my best friend and everyday I wanted more and more to be with him only. 

He had been the only person who understood me, the only person I felt at peace with. I connected to him. I saw myself in him and everything I believed in. His smile warmed me up and our boyish bodies sat reading books in silence. I fell in love in the midst of that sweet sweet silence...

 I wanted to escape this feeling I couldn’t understand and delve deeply into hiding my emotions and having them disappear. But, they were genuine. There was no running away from them. 

I was in love. Deeply in love with Lonnie. 

I told Lonnie that week and that was the week I never spoke to him again. He said he just didn’t feel the same and he was really sorry for it. But, he never responded to my messages.

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

I was left by myself. Feeling complete but alone.   

by lluvia perez

november 26, 2012