#also hey bobbleheads are back!!!!

[https-bobreynolds]

for you (page)

pairing: robert ‘bob’ reynolds x enchantress! reader, platonic! yelena belova x bob & reader

summary: yelena showed and made bob download tiktok on his phone, in which his algorithm decides to show him you, and only you.

author’s note: this is a super long flufffff🥹 i was planning to make it short and simple but i got carried away. they’re not dating yet, but everyone in the world knows how much they’re whipped for each other!! also TYSM guys for all the support you guys have been giving for my enchantress! reader fics!! didn’t expect that many people to like it🥺🫶

robert ‘bob’ reynolds never cared for phones.

he used his for mission briefings, weather updates, reply to texts with “K” or thumbs-up emojis. he only has a phone because he has to.

but today, he’s curled up on the living room’s couch, face bathed in the faint glow of tiktok.

yelena’s sprawled on the rug in front of him, snacking on expired takis and kicking her feet, while bob is staring at his screen like it’s alive, like it’s mocking him.

you see, it started with yelena.

she was bored during surveillance. handed him her phone and said, “trust the algorithm. it knows things.”

he shouldn’t have trusted the algorithm.

because now?

now, it only shows you.

you walking through smoke, cloak trailing behind you.

you laughing during sparring drills, eyes bright and magic curling at your fingertips.

you after a mission, hoodie on, sipping coffee, with captions like:

“just give me one chance, y/n, PLEASE”

“SO SPECIAL 2 ME!!”

“i fear no god but her.”

bob watches each one like it’s classified intel. his face is red, his hands sweaty, his soul… not intact.

then one video stops him cold.

you’re mid-fight, sweat-slicked, magic laced across your knuckles, flipping over a hydra agent, cloak swirling behind you.

music: ariana grande - dangerous woman

caption:

“she could kill me and i’d say thank you. 💚💀🫠”

bob drops the phone, stares at the ceiling like it betrayed him. he squeaks.

a grown man. nearly god-tier power. literally the sentry. and he squeakes.

yelena snorts soda through her nose. “you’re down so bad, bob. i’m proud of you.”

and a few hours later, you walk past him in the hallway, post-workout, hair pulled back, water bottle in hand.

“hey, bob.” you say casually.

he looks up like you just summoned him from the astral plane.

“hi,” he says, voice way too high. “i mean. yes. hello. n-normal greeting.”

you squint at him. “you good?”

he tries to nod. it comes out more like a bobblehead glitching in real-time.

you raise an eyebrow. “yelena mess with you again?”

he looks like he’s about to deny it, then freezes, eyes going wide.

behind you, yelena rounds the corner, winks, and holds up bob’s phone.

she presses play.

the sound of ariana grande starts playing again.

you glance over your shoulder just in time to see yourself in slow motion on the screen. you didn’t even know someone filmed that.

yelena let out a mischievous smirk and a quick “have fun!” before throwing his phone at your direction and running away.

you caught it perfectly, seeing yourself on the screen. you ask, very casually, “is that… me?”

bob jumps like he’s been tased.

“oh my- uh- i was just… it’s just yelena sent-“

you blink. “bob.”

“i didn’t- i mean, i didn’t search for them,” he blurts. “the app just kept showing you and then i didn’t want to be rude by not watching-“

you glance at the screen, swiping once.

another thirst trap. this one with the caption:

“she speaks and i forget my own name.”

you grin. “wow. they’re kinda poetic.”

“i know,” he mutters, trying to hide himself behind his hands. “it’s horrible.”

“horrible?” you feign offense. “that’s me! i think i look hot.”

he peeks over his fingers. “y-you are hot. that’s the problem.”

you blink.

then your grin shifts, softens, sharpens. “well. at least now i know you’ve seen my good angles.”

“i’ve seen all your angles,” bob mumbles before realizing what he just said.

he immediately closed his eyes. “oh my god…”

you laugh, genuinely, wickedly.

then, after a pause, “… you want me to make a new one?” you say, voice low and teasing.

he peeked.

you shrug. “you know, just for you. thirst trap. real exclusive.”

bob makes a sound that might’ve been a whimper.

“i’m not strong enough for that,” he says.

you lean in.

close enough for your nose to almost touch his.

“that’s funny,” you whisper, placing his phone in one of his pocket. “i thought you were the strongest one here.”

and then you walk away, barefoot, cereal in hand, hoodie falling off one shoulder.

bob stares after you like you just rewrote the laws of physics.

later that night, bob’s room is dark. only the faint glow of the moon cuts through the blinds.

he’s in bed, hoodie on, blanket up, headphones in.

the phone? balanced on his chest like a glowing curse.

he should be sleeping, meditating, literally anything else.

but instead… he’s scrolling.

your edits. again.

the algorithm has him in a chokehold.

first video: you walking away from an explosion, hair blowing back like a damn shampoo commercial, captioned:

“she’s the reason i believe in God.”

bob snorts through his nose. he tries to scroll past it.

he does not scroll past it.

next one: a slowed-down training clip, enchantress powers blooming from your fingertips in green, but you’re laughing.

just a clip of you laughing.

the caption reads:

“she smiled at me (i made that up in my head but still)”

bob clenches his jaw. scrolls.

another one: you leaning over a map in the command room, eyes sharp, lip caught between your teeth.

the audio is some slowed, sultry track. and the top comment?

“i’m so sorry bob but she��s mine now 💚”

bob actually pauses the video.

squints at the comment.

then stares at the username. “@toecutter2.0”.

“…what kind of name is that?” he mumbles.

scrolls again.

this one’s you mid-fight, arms glowing, spinning through smoke with two men down behind you.

someone added dramatic strings underneath.

the top caption:

“don’t let her near your man. she is the man now.”

he grips the phone like it personally insulted him.

next comment:

“do you think she’d step on me? i’d say thank you😍”

his ears turn red.

and even more:

“the hold she has on me is borderline criminal.😩”

“it’s beating her name in morse code”

“God made her, then panicked because nothing else could compare.”

bob shuts the app.

throws the phone across the bed.

stares at the ceiling, mumbling to himself

“i’m not jealous of… a tiktok comment. i’m not. that’s not rational.”

pause.

“…@toecutter2.0 can catch these hands though.”

next morning. the gym.

you pull yelena aside.

“i need your help.”

yelena doesn’t ask questions. she just starts grinning.

“oh, this is gonna be fun.”

OPERATION: WRECK ROBERT ‘BOB’ REYNOLDS

• use the gym’s natural lighting.

• wear that training outfit bob can never make eye contact with.

• cast just enough magic to make it ✨ cinematic ✨.

• cue slow motion.

• add in earned it by the weeknd

yelena directs like a chaotic spielberg. “now look over your shoulder like you just blew something up. no, slower. yes, that’s it.”

you toss your dagger, spin, and let a ripple of green magic bloom behind you. you slow-walk past the camera like you’re exiting the wreckage of a spaceship you just blew up with your mind.

yelena claps. “i am so proud of this. bob’s going to short-circuit.”

she posts it with the caption:

“made this for the golden retriever upstairs 💛”

“@sentryofficial don’t pass out please”

five minutes later: THUMP from the floor above.

bob is lying on the floor.

not dead.

just… processing.

he’s watched the video eight times. maybe nine.

his phone is face-down now but he can still hear the audio in his soul.

he gets up slowly, like someone recovering from a knockout punch.

he whispers, “okay… okay. she wants war? fine.”

he sets up his phone. angles it on his desk.

stands in front of it.

realizes he has no idea what to do with his hands.

tries to do a slow hoodie pull, gets stuck.

tries to glow just a little, glows too much.

mutters, “too powerful, too much.”

accidentally drops the phone. curses.

trips over his boot.

lands half-off screen, groaning.

somehow… he still posts it.

the final product? 47 seconds of a man trying his hardest and failing gloriously.

caption:

“this was supposed to be cool but i am not built for this. @you i tried.”

you open it and nearly cry from laughing.

your comments:

“10/10 would simp again 💛”

“this wins the internet”

“do it again but make it worse <3”

later, you pass him in the hallway again.

you lean against the wall, casual as ever.

“you know,” you say, “it’s really cute how nervous i make you.”

he looks away, blush blooming on his face. “it’s not just nervous... it’s, like… heart attack-level admiration.”

you grin. “good. you deserve to suffer a little.”

then you tap your phone and show him something new.

it’s a new tiktok.

you in front of the camera, holding up a sign that says,

“@sentryofficial be my for you page irl?”

his jaw drops, pink hues appearing on his cheeks.

“i’m going to explode,” he whispers.

you lean in and say, “good.”

then you wink, and walk away.

behind you, bob clutches the wall.

but he’s smiling.

because it’s you.

and now he knows you’re smiling back.

“w-wait up..!”

tag list:

@lovetoalll @spongelll

[lanabuckybarnes]

| Handprints |

18+ Minors DNI

✧Pairing✧ Hugh Ransom Drysdale x Fiancé Reader (F)

✧Warnings✧ Soft Rannie, Jealousy, Some lil bitch flirting with what’s yours, Insecurities, Wow Ransom knows comfort??, Drinking, Crying, Assault (deserved), Unprotected PinV, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare King — This is pretty tame for me but if I’ve missed any warnings please don’t be afraid to let me know

✧Word Count✧ 1.4K

✧Author Note✧ Everyone say frick you to this man because I ain’t been able to get things done thanks to his stupidly handsome face and my brain hyperfixating on it. Fr tho I have WIPs, ideas and everything inbetween all left to rot because this son of a bitch is plaguing my mind. He’s so hot tho….

Also big thx to my homegirlies @samodivaa @delicatebarness for reading my filth and coming up with the title 🫶

You didn’t want to go out with Ransom tonight. You had your evening all planned out; sex in the shower, snuggling in bed, sex there too — the whole shebang. But of course, Ransom found himself invited to a dinner party with some old friends that he was excited to introduce you to, so your evening was cut short to merely sharing the shower with him and fleeting kisses between tellings of his long day — he didn’t even have time to make you cum.

The night was enjoyable; most of your fiancé's friends were just like him so you could deal with them. Until she arrived, her curves wrapped in a beautiful floor-length golden gown, her incredibly blonde locks curled to perfection and her eyes predatory.

“Oh my god Rannie!!” She squealed at the sight of your incredibly handsome man, outstretching her perfect little arms and pulling him in for a tight hug.

“Hey Charlotte” Ransom smiled wide, perfect pearly white teeth directed at the stunning lady “This is my fiancé” he said, reaching a large ringed hand out to envelop yours.

Charlotte turned, that cute little lady act dropping to a sneer when she turned her attention to you. Jealously oozed out of her, jealously and bewilderment. Her scrutinising glare made you feel ugly and small.

“Hey,” she forced, spitting your name back at you. Her hand squeezed Ransom’s bicep “Wow Ran you’ve gotten big…” her eyes flickered to him before returning to you “Did you see him in high school, he was so scrawny, skinny little arms and a big bobblehead. Bet you get a lot of girls' attention now hm?”

God you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“Maybe but I’ve only got my eyes on one” Your betrothed looked upon you with sparkling blue orbs, squeezing your hand tight. For a moment the party faded leaving you both staring into each other's adoring eyes until Charcuterie cut it short with a fake ‘awww’.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it then,” she says, giving Ransom a bright, man-killing smile and you a much duller, green eyed glare.

“Well that went well.”

“Huh?” Ransom turns, pulling you close by your waist and laying a soft kiss on your forehead.

“She likes you,”

“Yuh huh?”

“And she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you” he guffawed, his eyes scrunching up until the blue was barely visible.

“She does, she’s jealous” you argued, pushing him away slightly.

“I think you’re projecting pretty girl” he joked, quickly reining in his laugh when he noticed how upset you looked. Ransom put on a more serious look, hooking a finger under your chin with his free hand “Baby, you’re the only person I want. I only love you” You knew that. There was just something in that girl's gorgeous eyes that made your whole mind thrum with insecurity.

“I know” You pouted and he kissed you with a coo.

“Of course you do, look at the size of that rock on your finger” For effect he clasped your left hand, shoving the massive crystal into your eyeline.

The rest of the night you tried to let the situation with Charlotte go. You stuck around your fiancé most of the evening, stealing his warmth while listening to his old college football teammate drum on and on about how good of a quarterback Ransom once was.

“I remember one game he got rushed to hospital trying to challenge this mountain of a man. He was on his ass and there was blood pouring out of his head.”

“That must’ve been why he thought it was a good idea to settle for someone like her, y’know with the head injury.” A loud laugh came from behind your small huddle, you knew who it was before you even turned.

“That was out of order Charlotte” a girl in your group chastised, glaring at the now very drunk woman.

“Oh I don’t care, you lot sugarcoat everything. Ransom you could do so much better than…that” Her ringed hand failed in your direction, and a growl settled on her lips at the mere sight of you. It was enough to push you over the edge.

Shoving Ransom’s arm off your shoulders you darted away, heading straight for the car you came here in. You had to get out of the crowd, you were thoroughly embarrassed and angry at the whole situation, fat tears falling down your face by the time you swung the passenger door open.

You don’t know how long it took Ransom to settle in the seat beside you, not too long anyway. Instantly his arms were around you, a hand cradling your head into his neck while the other rubbed up and down your spine.

“I'm so sorry baby, I’m so fucking sorry” His words were thick with remorse, his fingers tightening around you “We shouldn’t have come here.”

He let you cry until you ran out of tears, his arms wrapped around you tightly until you pulled away, sighing at the wet patch on his tan jacket.

“I’m sorry” you whispered in a low voice, rubbing a sleeve over his wet shoulder in a feeble attempt to dry it off.

“Don’t apologise, pretty girl, that's what I’m here for. For letting you cry on me…and for slapping whoever disrespects what’s mine.”

“What?” You gawked, red eyes wide at his words.

“I smacked the shit outta her, she’ll think twice about saying shit like that again.” He looked so nonchalant about the whole thing, a pout of sheer unconcern pulling on his lips.

You tried to look appalled at your man’s actions, letting your jaw hang low in astonishment, but it quickly dissolved, a smile breaking out and a shocked laugh bubbling forth.

“Oh my god Hugh Drysdale!!” You smacked his arm softly, giggling freely at just the thought of that blonde’s face with Ransom’s handprint on the side of it. “We gotta get out of here before she calls the cops.”

“Agreed.” He hummed, starting the engine and setting off down the road, singing away to your shared playlist.

“Fuck baby, fucking hell…”

There was a distinct schlick schlick sound coming from the ajar door of the massive house leaving a tiny part of your brain silently thankful for its size. The rest of you doesn’t give a flying fuck.

Ransom laid out on his back beneath you, face and chest flushed and his hair awry thanks to your wandering hands. His hands gripped at your hips, helping you bounce on his thick length, chasing your third orgasm of the night. Somewhere along the journey home your insecurities and jealousy fizzled into raw desire, your hands groping at Ransom while he drove. You barely made it through the front door before you jumped his bones, shoving him into the wall and swallowing his length with ease only experience would get you. Charlotte could never.

“Taking me like such a good girl—fuckkkk—yes baby squeeze my dick” Not only was he a mess physically, his brain had short-circuited after you straddled his body, ripping the belt from the loops of his pants.

“So full Rannie” you whimpered, collapsing onto your hands. Sweat dripped off your forehead and onto his body, you fucked him ferally like two people with nothing on the brain except each other — which wasn’t far from the truth.

“That’s it, good girl, gimme one more baby I know you can” Ransom urged, pushing himself into a sit and using the last of his brainpower to sink a hand between your joined bodies to rub tight circles over your puffy clit.

“She could never make you feel this good could she?” you gripped at his locks, moaning into his open mouth. Ransom’s head shook violently in your grasp, muttering out how you were the only woman in the world that could make him feel this euphoric. Your orgasm was approaching quicker and quicker, jumping over each mental hurdle until all that was left for your brain to think of was the man filling you to the brim.

“Fuck shit m’fucking close baby, gonna fill you up again, you want that huh? Want my cum in that messy little cunt?”

His words hooked your release between their clawed fingers and hurtled it into your body. Your world went white, your body stiffening and your walls milking the man below you for all he was worth. He spilt the last of what he could offer right against your cervix, holding you tight as he shouted like a madman.

The room settled, the only sounds being your mixed breaths gasping for air.

“That was good” Ransom chuckled, pulling out of your with a hiss and flipping you over “might need to make you jealous more.”

“Don’t you dare” you warned with a glare, sealing your lips with his when he leaned down, cleaning up the mess between your legs before dealing with his own.

“I really am sorry about tonight baby, you didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that” The brunette broke the silence that had overcome you both, his fingers massaging down your spine.

“It’s alright, she got what she deserved.”

“Yes” Ransom nodded, resting his weight against your back “and you got what you did too.”

I DO NOT give permission to have my work copied, translated or reposted. If you see my work anywhere else except on this page I have not given consent for it to be used.

Comments, Reblogs, Likes & Asks are always appreciated, although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience. They let me know that you are enjoying what you read and give me motivation to write more.

Thanks for reading~

[fevers-and-emeto-oh-my]

8x11 Spec Fic

I'll BE BACK TO FINISH THIS LATER BUT I HAD A NEED TO PUT IT IN THE WORLD BEFORE THE EPISODE AIRS

Bucktommy fucking in a bathroom stall after running into each other at a bar <3

Buck knows Ravi’s intentions were good. They’re almost certainly a direct result of a group chat conversation Buck wasn’t privy to on how to get Buck to take a break from baking, get out of the house, and stop moping so hard over both men he’s missing.

And in the beginning, it’s fun. Ravi is cool, with plenty of stories to swap from his time at the Academy and with another firehouse. Buck’s pleased to discover that Ravi also had a string of random jobs before becoming a firefighter—they bond over working construction and Buck trades cowboy horror stories for bakery ones.

They’re quite a few tequila shots and a couple of rum and cokes in and Buck is pleasantly floaty when a friend of Ravi’s comes to join them. She’s cute, bubbly, turns out to be the owner of that bakery Ravi worked in. They’ve been friends since middle school.

They knock back a few more shots, and Buck is thoroughly tipsy when he happens to watch the door open.

He blames the alcohol for the gasp that falls out of his mouth as he reaches across the table to smack Ravi’s wrist.

“Ow! Dude, what?” Ravi says, and he must be looking at Buck, but Buck’s still staring at the door. He hears when Ravi follows his eyes though, because he says, “Oh, shit.”

Tommy somehow isn’t noticing them staring at him. Buck can’t tell whether he wants Tommy to notice or whether he wants Tommy to leave without ever seeing them.

Under the amber light of the bar, Tommy looks handsome as ever. There’s a coating of stubble on his face, thick enough to nearly be called a beard, and it does something sinful to Buck’s insides to see that his beard and sideburns are gray.

Ravi’s friend looks between them. “Are you guys good?”

“That’s Buck’s ex,” Ravi says, voice hushed. “Buck? Hey. Uh, you might want to stop staring at him.”

Buck holds up a finger, still staring. There’s one last shot on the table in front of him and he swallows it without touching the lime or the salt, wincing through the burn as he clamors up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

Ravi reaches for him, but Buck swats him away. “No, Buck—“

Tommy’s standing at the end of the bar, leaning on the top with his elbows. The bend shows off the arch of his lower back and the curve of his ass, and Buck’s not sure what his intention is walking over but the way his mouth waters at Tommy’s silhouette is a little suspicious, he has to admit.

Buck stops at the end of the bar next to him and mirrors his stance, elbows on the countertop. He leans in enough to be heard and says, “Hey, uh. Hey.”

Tommy jumps—the place is loud, he probably didn’t notice someone coming up next to him—and his eyes go round with surprise when he turns and spots Buck, but he doesn’t look annoyed or upset, so Buck supposes that’s a win.

“Hey yourself,” Tommy returns. “You just get here?”

Buck shakes his head, jerking a thumb back toward their table. “No, came with Ravi. Whatcha gettin’ to drink?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “A beer? Why, you wanna share a drink?”

Buck nods, a little too enthusiastically, neck bouncing like a bobblehead. He has to lean harder onto the countertop when the quick movement makes all the alcohol do a funky little spin in his head.

Tommy tilts his head at him, an amused smile sliding onto his face. “Okay, maybe *I* will have a beer and you’ll have a water. You seem like maybe you’re in the sweet spot of having had enough.”

Buck shrugs. “Ravi’s fun. Had some rum and cokes and some tequila.”

Tommy’s eyes dart down to his mouth, and something darker flickers into his eyes for just a moment, and then it’s gone. “Mmhm. I can tell.”

“Why, because I’m drunk?”

“No,” Tommy says, laughter plain in his voice. He lifts a thumb and swipes something away from Buck’s bottom lip, but lingers longer than necessary, his thumb swiping all the way down and over the jut of Buck’s chin, resting briefly on his jaw for a second before it withdraws. “You had salt in a cluster there.”

Buck’s blushing, he can feel it, and he’s definitely staring slack-jawed at Tommy, but he can’t get his mouth to close. “Oh.”

A beer bottle and a glass of water materialize in front of them and Tommy turns away for a moment to thank the bartender. Buck’s eyes catch on the roman curve of Tommy’s nose, the angle of his jaw. He’s gotten no less Greek-godlike.

There’s also the beard. This close, Buck can see that it’s actually salt-and-pepper. Tommy had stubble a few times through their relationship, but never this thick, and the silver-fox look of the graying beard against his dark hair has Buck captivated.

“I uh, I like the beard,” Buck says, shamelessly watching Tommy’s mouth close around the mouth of his beer bottle.

Tommy takes a few gulps, Buck watching the bob of his throat and the perfect ring of his lips, and then turns to him as he puts his beer down. “Thanks. I’m off for a few weeks, figured I’d give it a shot.”

Now Buck tilts his head. “W-why are you off? Are you okay? Everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Tommy says. The undeniably soft look in his eyes makes Buck squirm. “Scout’s honor. My captain just got sick of me coming in for overtime, forced me to take some vacation before, and I quote, ‘you and one of the birds splatter on the pavement.’ So. Decided I’d take a bunch of days at once and get it over with to get her off my back.”

He scrubs a hand over his jaw, fingers mussing the hair of his beard, and Buck swears he drools in his mouth a little.

“I’m sorry for coming over here if you were just—looking for alone time. Or, or…fuck, you’re not waiting for someone, are you? I’ll leave, I don’t mean to bother you. You probably don’t even want to see me or, or talk to me—“

“Evan.”

It’s quiet, but overwhelmingly fond, and it stops Buck dead in his tracks. He feels like an idiot for staring, but he can’t help it. He’s been wishing for a couple of months to hear his name in Tommy’s mouth again.

“It’s nice to see you,” Tommy says. “And no, I’m not waiting for anyone. There…hasn’t really been anyone recently.”

Buck tries not to read too deeply into that. He really does, but his drunk brain doesn’t take the memo and instead spills out of his mouth in such a way that he immediately tastes shoe leather.

“Is that ‘cause you miss me too much?”

Tommy blinks. His mouth works like he’s trying not to smile, and a beautiful blush coats the tops of his ears—Buck knows from experience it’ll trail over his cheekbones and meet in the middle on his nose before overtaking the rest of his face.

“What do you think?” Tommy finally says. His voice has dipped, picking up the sultry undertone that always shoots molten heat through Buck’s navel. “Do you think I miss you, Evan?”

The whole bar falls away. The buzz of people around them fades, the outskirts of the room taking on the pleasant blur of an oil painting as everything narrows in on him and Tommy.

“I miss you,” Buck admits. They’re leaning in, he realizes, their upper arms flush, Tommy’s head bent toward his. “I’ve been hoping you missed me, but I don’t know. But you’re blushing and looking at me like you did when you used to pick me up and carry me to bed, so either I’m drunker than I thought or you kinda wanna fuck me right now.”

Tommy laughs, barking and loud the way he does when he’s caught off-guard, and the blush has just started to climb over his nose when he cups Buck’s face in his hands and presses their mouths together.

Oh, how Buck has missed this. The rasp of his beard against Buck’s face is new but not unwelcome, and the velveteen plush of his lips settles something in Buck’s chest.

It’s entirely too chaste for what Buck just said; Tommy doesn’t even open his mouth, just kisses Buck slow and sweet with his thumbs brushing softly back and forth over the hinge of Buck’s jaw.

When he pulls away, though, his eyes are dark, pupils already blown. He steps back and takes Buck’s hand, leads them through the crowd of people and into the men’s bathroom without missing a step.

They go straight for the largest stall, and Buck swings the door shut as Tommy’s hands settle on his hips, sweeping down under the curve of his ass and lifting in a practiced movement. Like puzzle pieces, they slot together seamlessly, Buck’s long legs wrapped around Tommy’s waist as Tommy presses his back against the wall.

“This is new,” Buck says, unable to stop grinning and still reeling a little at the fast turn of events. “We’ve never fucked in a bathroom before.”

Tommy smirks at him, all teeth and wolfish, like he wants to devour him. “First time for everything.”

Buck grins, grabs Tommy’s face and crashes their mouths together. His beard is rough under Buck’s fingers. This kiss is frenetic, almost desperate; their teeth scrape together in their sudden frenzy and Tommy presses his tongue into Buck’s mouth insistently.

It’s everything Buck has missed, Tommy’s hands huge and splayed under his thighs, the dominant press of his mouth and the way he moans sweetly when Buck rocks his hips and knocks their groins together.

The wall is cold under Buck’s back, probably sticky, and the bathroom smells like sweat and piss. For as nice as the bar itself is, the light overhead in the bathroom is buzzing loudly and flickering in an annoying strobe.

It is, by all means, unsexy. But it doesn’t matter, not when Buck can drop his hands and pull Tommy’s shirt up so he can get his hands underneath it. He feels like a teenager, his cock already hard and straining. He gets his thumbs onto the pearls of Tommy’s nipples and rolls, delighting in the way that it makes Tommy break the kiss to toss his head back and groan, back arching into Buck’s touch. 

Buck doesn’t have sensitive nipples, but Tommy’s, always standing at attention, are the perfect spot to tease. 

“Evan,” Tommy groans. “Fuck.”

“Damn,” Buck teases. “C’mon, old man, you’re falling apart already?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow, his expression carefully appraising in the way that usually means trouble for Buck. Tommy nips his jaw and then drops Buck to his feet, pushing at his shoulders.

“Just for that, you can suck me off first.”

Buck smiles, wide, the cat that caught the canary as he drops to his knees. He unbuttons Tommy’s jeans and then looks up at him through his eyelashes, keeping eye contact as he gets Tommy’s zipper in his teeth and pulls, slow, slow, barely one notch at a time.

“Evan,” Tommy says, a note of warning in his voice. One hand settles into Buck’s hair, fingers threading through his curls with the threat to pull. “Don’t tease.”

Okay, Buck can play that game. He pulls the zipper down, gets Tommy out of the slit in his briefs, leans in…then bites, hard, on the meat of Tommy’s inner thigh.

Tommy curses above him, yanking at Buck by his hair, but Buck’s still grinning as he’s redirected to Tommy’s cock.

Buck doesn’t consider himself shallow. There are many things he loves about Tommy that have nothing to do with his body or his appearance. 

Tommy’s cock, though, is otherworldly. He’s uncut, average girth, but *long.* Buck can’t wait fr it to bruise the back of his throat.

He’s never been able to resist teasing Tommy, though, so he starts at the head, lapping at his slit with the tip of his tongue just to hear Tommy’s breath stutter and mouthing at it without ever fully taking it in.

“I forgot how much of a tease you are,” Tommy breathes. “Fuck.”

[scoops-aboy86]

Oh, It's Gonna Be A Thing

Based on this ask and subsequent polls because I couldn't decide. Again, sorry for taking so long, anon, despite technically answering the ask back in June!

Also on ao3.

WC: 2813 | Rating: T | CW: weight gain, stuffing kink | Additional Tags: chubby steve harrington, bisexual steve harrington, eddie has a crush on steve, feeder eddie munson, getting together, steve speed runs a couple levels of sexuality crisis all at once, robin learns things against her will

He'd spent hours riffling through thrift store racks and bins with Robin to experiment with a more relaxed look, so this can't be happening. It's not fair. But hey, since when had life been fair to Steve Harrington? 

Past the year 1983, anyway. 

"No, no, no," he keeps muttering to himself, frustrated as hell and taking it out on the jean shorts he's struggling to zip up. "This is my size, it should fit! Come on!"

It's not until he reaches the point of petulantly jumping up and down a bit that he fully realizes why the jeans won't zip: the little swell of belly that pooches out between the denim flaps, trembling with each impact. 

Frowning, Steve pokes at it. He hasn't had a belly since he lost the last of his baby fat in first grade. The abs he'd had all through high school thanks to sports and a few years after thanks to monster hunting are… gone. When had he lost those? 

Jeez, the kids are always quick to tease him whenever he says anything even the slightest bit dumb or cheesy, couldn't one of them have given him a heads up about this? Those buttheads make him host pool parties all the time, they've seen him in just swim trunks often enough!

Scowling, Steve decides to switch his focus for a minute. He reaches for one of the new-old shirts, already worn soft. It doesn't have anything in particular on it, just some colorful stripes and blocks of color over a dark background. It's half over his head when he hears the front door—which he leaves unlocked most of the time, because the scariest things in Hawkins tend to come straight through the walls, and his friends all know this—open and slam. Probably Robin, she'd promised to come over before the pool party to help him pick an outfit but is running a lot later than Steve expected. 

"It's about damn time!" Steve hollers, getting the shirt down enough to see and heading for the stairs. 

"Have a cow, Harrington, jeez, I thought I was early—"

Steve freezes on the third step down, just as Eddie sees him and falls silent. 

"I," Steve says, then follows where Eddie's gaze has fallen and hastily yanks the bottom of the shirt down over his stomach. Unfortunately, it fits a little tight over his middle and isn't long enough to cover the other problem he's having. "I had a big lunch!"

He hadn't, is the thing. Not… Not any bigger than usual. Maybe it's a little more than most people eat in one sitting, but he's always had a bid appetite and a fast metabolism. 

Eddie is nodding like a bobblehead, cheeks flushing a quick pink that, thanks to his hair being up in a messy bun in concession to the heat, Steve can see reaches down his otherwise pale neck, too. "Yeah, no… Big lunch. Happens to everyone!"

Steve can't help putting his hands on his hips and raising an eyebrow at that, because Eddie is built like a bendy straw and is probably constitutionally incapable of eating himself out of being able to close his pants. 

"Where'd you get the jeans?" Eddie blurts out, apparently not even clocking Steve's skepticism. "You're not usually a dark colors guy." Stepping closer, squinting, he adds in something like disbelief, "They've got rips in them."

"Look," Steve says, trying again to pull his t-shirt down further, "I just wanted to try something new. Obviously it didn't… quite work out, size wise. Must be the brand or, or it's that it's second-hand stuff, got shrunk in the wash or something. Let's not make this a whole thing, okay?"

Again, Eddie is reduced to being a bobblehead. The more Steve watches him so this, the more it's… kind of funny. His eyes are taking up, like, approximately half of his face, and the rest is all blush. 

And, look. Steve likes attention. It's why he took so easily to popularity in high school—a little too easy, which could also probably be said of his sex life as a teenager. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty and still stuck in Hawkins behind the Family Video counter, he gets significantly less of both. Maybe he shouldn't miss it, considering getting all that had make him kind of an entitled douchebag for most of high school, but he does. 

So he smirks, lifts his hands from his hips, and does a little twirl. "See something you like, Eds? I could give you these pants, they'd probably look a lot better on you anyway."

"I, uh." Eddie swallows audibly, and that in itself is enough to clue Steve in that this isn't really about the jeans. "I guess? If you don't want them?"

Catching and holding Eddie's gaze, Steve cocks his head to one side and starts deliberately pushing the tight denim down his hips. It's unexpectedly thrilling how quick Eddie's eyes drop once he realizes what's happening, the way he swallows again and grabs a chunk of frizzy hair to pull across his face—but not in a way that makes it harder to see, no. Just enough to hide his mouth and some of the intensifying blush. 

Steve looks down at himself with new eyes. Takes in the budding love handles at his hips, that have pinked lines on them from where the pants had squeezed. Touches, as he goes, where the impossible to close zipper had left teeth indents on his skin, skimming over the hair on his thick, undeniably still powerful thighs. It's more than just a little belly fat; he's bulked up all over without even realizing, and it was blind hubris that he hadn't bothered to try anything on in the fitting room before buying. Robin would have done her best to talk him through this realization, if he'd had it then. 

Instead, he's having it now under Eddie's undeniably intent gaze. Steve knows what a look like that means, having felt it almost daily in high school since that growth spurt his freshman year. And… Eddie seems to like this sort of growth in particular, because the look coming from Eddie is absolutely new. 

Or maybe Steve just isn't very good at noticing things sometimes until they hit him on the head, like a hammer finding a nail. 

Or, maybe it's that he's taking his pants off in front of his gay best guy friend. You know. Occam shaving with his razor, or whatever he heard Dustin saying one time. 

Or whatever. Not the point. 

The point is that Steve likes it. Has always enjoyed being looked at, but something about Eddie right now is making his insides heat in a way that it hasn't in a while, what with the migraines and nightmares and other various trauma leftovers courtesy of the Upside Down. 

It's nice to have that back, and Steve isn't one to look a gift horse too closely in the mouth. 

He steps on the jeans to get them off his ankles, turning one of the legs inside out before he's free. "C'mere," he says, and Eddie actually does. It's like he's hypnotized him, and isn't that a heady thought. "Got a question for you."

Eddie audibly gulps. "Y-yeah?"

Steve puts both hands on his soft hips and grins, because this is obviously only a tiny bit about the clothes and mostly, gratifyingly, about him. "Where do you think these pants would look better: on you, or on… my bedroom floor?"

~

Robin is almost completely winded when she throws her bike down in the Harrington's yard and stumbles towards the front door, vision tunneling in on that and nothing else. She's so late, and has only herself and forgetting to set an alarm before she laid down for a nap to blame. Steve was going to debut his new look at the party tonight and she'd promised to come give her uncensored opinions. Since the dingus hadn't taken the time to try anything on before marching to the register to pay (god, to have the confidence of a straight boy), Robin has put a lot of thought into how to word those opinions gently. Not censored, but… considered. Value-neutral. Because, yeah it's just Steve and he'd let her get away with murder, probably, but she doesn't want to hurt his feelings. 

She doesn't care that he's put in weight, but he's really going to have to adjust his expectations if he wants clothes that actually fit. 

"Steve," she yells raspily as she crashes in the front door. "Late, sorry! Biked here! Very fast! Dying!" And beelines for the kitchen to gulp some water directly from of the sink faucet. Finishing with a gasp, she splashes some water on her flushed face and then abruptly realizes… there's no one here. 

Usually Steve would charge down the stairs complaining at full volume about her being late, so dramatic and bitchy, but the Harrington house is quiet. 

"Steve?" Robin skids out of the kitchen to the foyer, catching herself at the last minute and grabbing a folded umbrella from the bottom of the coat rack before advancing up the stairs. There's an icy pit of dread in her stomach and she hopes so hard that this isn't another Code Red situation that her jaw starts to ache from clenching it. At the top of the stairs she peers up and down the brightly lit hallway, brandishing her umbrella. Finding nothing out of place, she calls, "H-hey, is anyone up here?"

A loud thump comes from Steve's bedroom. It could be anything: a bird flying into the window, a shoe chucked across the room, someone leaving the bed but stumbling on the dismount, anything.

She moves closer, and a low thrum of sound resolves itself into two voices. 

"—don't have to freak out, it's only Robin."

Interesting. That's her platonic other half sounding cool as a cucumber while whoever he's got in there with him is panicking. Doesn't want to get caught in Steve's room?

Wait. Oh god, did that dingus double-book her with a hookup? Rude. She's gonna flick his ear until it's pink over this one—although at the same time she's kind of glad that he's climbing back on the horse, er, so to speak. It's been long enough that she'd started to worry, wondering if maybe all the extra snacking with seemingly no awareness for the consequences was due to loneliness and depression. 

"—course I want her to know, we tell each other everything—shirt's on inside out, by the way, C'mere—"

Well. Obviously Robin shouldn't have doubted Steve and his ability to land on his feet like a big floofy-haired cat. But what's going to happen here? Will the mystery hookup try to escape out the window, or brave the best friend test? No girls have reached such a stage in the time she and Steve have been friends, but Robin has spent enough time considering scenarios that she feels more or less prepared.

"—really sure?" another voice asks, and wait a minute. She knows that voice. "You want her to know about me?"

The following pause is long enough that Robin suspects they're making out, and holy shit. She's pretty sure that's Eddie Munson in there. Eddie and Steve might at this very moment be swapping spit. On purpose! Lowering the umbrella the closer she gets to the door, Robin distinctly hears Steve laugh and say, "No, behave now. I know you're excited because, hey, who wouldn't be? But you've gotta be good or no dessert for you later. And you're really going to want it, because I plan on—"

"Steve," Robin interupts loudly, before she can hear her best friend say something lewd that she doesn't want to have to picture. Just, they can have some secrets from each other, really. "I'm right outside your door. Is that who I think it is in there?"

"Probably," Steve calls. There's a startled squawk that she definitely recognizes as Eddie. "You can open the door, it's unlocked."

"What?! No I—I definitely remember locking that, Steve! Or you did! One of us had to have—"

Robin leans the umbrella against the wall and opens the door with a hand over her eyes, because she may be surprised but she's not stupid. She hears another loud thump and Eddie swearing before she dares to peek. 

Frankly, she was not prepared to see Steve sitting up against his headboard like a king on his throne, shirtless but lower half thankfully covered by blankets, with the remains of something chocolate smeared around his mouth. Not on his lips, though; it reminds Robin of that one time she saw Tammy Thompson before lunch and then again after with her lipstick kissed clean off by Bobby McWick. There are also smears on Steve's front though too, like he'd touched himself with messy fingers.

"Hey Robs," Steve says like none of this is unusual, as if Eddie isn't sitting on the floor with a face the color of ripe strawberries trying to hide a discarded platter that looks to be licked clean under the bed. "You've been practicing your driving, right? Because we need a new cake for the party. Think you could take my keys and pick something up from Bradley's?"

From the floor, Eddie makes a noise like a kettle venting steam. He's trying to get his boots on. "I can, I'll go—"

"Robin's got this," Steve interupts, sounding weirdly proud. As though her ability to operate a motor vehicle is Eddie's only motivation for offering. And the thing is, Steve sounds so sincere that Robin is honestly flattered for a second before the realizes, and crosses her arms. 

"I'll get a new cake," she agrees, "but at some point we are definitely going to talk about the not-so-straight thought process that led to you wolfing down the first one as some sort of bizzare boy mating ritual, capeesh? Without the graphic details, please, I'm still very definitely a lesbian."

Robin doesn't miss the way Eddie's head snaps up from his boots at that, and feels a little gratified. Either his gaydar is worse than hers or she's very sneaky; either way, she wins. 

"Aye aye, Captain Boobies," Steve shoots back with a smirk and a silly salute. He's all… lax and satisfied, ew, but maybe this is what it takes to get the bee out of his bonnet about changing up his look. If he never traps her in a conversation about the nuances of different types of fabrics again it'll be too soon. 

"Right," Robin says slowly, unimpressed. "Okay, I'm going to go. Please both of you be cleaned up and fully dressed by the time I get back."

As soon as the door closes behind her she hears Eddie burst out with a flabbergasted hiss of, "Oh my god, Steve, why did you tell her about the cake?"

"Uh, because it's Lucas' birthday and he deserves a cake?"

"Then you shouldn't have eaten it!"

"Eddie, it was your idea," Steve laughs, that annoying thing he does where you're trying to be upset and he's just kind of amused and Mr. Cool about it. Robin could sympathize… but it really does sound like Eddie walked right into this one, so she doesn't. "You hand-fed me, like, half of it."

"But—" Eddie makes another tea kettle noise. "Look, Steve, you don't get it. If you want to dip your toe in, screw around with me just to try something new, that's fine, but you can't let people find out! Maybe you had fun throwing me a bone, and yeah Robin won't judge you for the gay part, not if she's queer too—"

"Hey," Steve interrupts, so quiet Robin has to strain to hear. Really, she's slunk back to the door to stealthily press her ear to it. "That doesn't matter, because I tried it and decided I like it. That I like you, you butthead. All of it. So Robin might as well know, because I'm not dumb enough to realize something about myself and then just ignore it."

Oh, Robin realizes, so this is new new. She hadn't even had time to process maybe feeling hurt that Steve hadn't told her about liking guys, liking Eddie specifically, but. Holy crap. Leave it to her platonic with a capital P soulmate to breeze through radical self-discovery and straight to self-acceptance. 

"—do, really?" Eddie is saying. "God, Steve, you're so—"

Aaand they're making out again. Robin tiptoes away to the stairs, giving them their privacy, to find Steve's keys with a snort and an amused shake of her head. 

She still hopes never to discover the exact details of what kind of kinky shit they're apparently into together, but she's happy for them. Those dinguses deserve each other. 

Permanent tag list, ask to be added/removed:

@hotluncheddie @sofadofax @victorclays @wheneverfeasible @yesdangerpls

@hiei-harringtonmunson @oatmilk-vampire @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @theseaofdespair

@ape31

[fandomworld9728]

The Runaway Witch - Chapter 1:

Dear sister,

I found myself in an interesting little town in the human realm.

It is very enjoyable. I have found a job that isn't all that exciting but reminds me of the work you do. It's like my own little taste of home.

"(Y/n)! Hurry and restock those shelves!"

Sighing, (Y/n) set her letter aside to finish later on. Even though the shelves didn't need restocking. Sometimes she thought her boss just liked to order her around. At least it was easy to look busy. It didn't help that she had a bit of a soft spot for the man. He just reminded her of her older sister sometimes.

"You know he only bosses you around like that because you so readily agree to the work."

"Isn't that what I'm getting paid for?"

Wendy may be able to get away with the lazy behavior at since she's a teenager and cooler than someone her age had any right to be, (Y/n) could not. She was a hard-working adult and took pride in everything she did.

"We all know it's because you got a crush on the boss."

"Wendy! I do not!"

"Are you kidding? It's all over your face."

Before she could retaliate, her attention was stolen by the adorable Pines girl Mabel. She was a ray of sunshine that this place needed and in the short time that the twins had been there, (Y/n) had started to think of them as her own family. Which made her miss her own family even more then she already did.

"He's looking at it. He's looking at it!"

"Uh... do you like me? Yes, definitely, absolutely?"

"I rigged it."

Going over to the girl hiding behind a shelf of Stan bobbleheads, (Y/n) crouched down next to her and whispered. "What are we doing?"

"Whoa!" Laughing, she gave the older girl a light push. "Hey. Stop scaring me like that."

"Don't be so easy to sneak up on then. Now, what are you doing over here you goof?"

"Mabel is once again trying to flirt with boys. I know she's going through her whole boy crazy phase, but I think she's kind of over doing the crazy part."

"What?!" Blowing a raspberry, Mabel went over to her brother to try and talk some sense into him. "Come on, Dipper. This is our first summer away from home. It's my big chance to have an epic romance."

"She's right. Summer romances are the most magical. Well... those and winter romances."

"See?!"

"Okay, yes, but do you have to flirt with every guy you meet?"

~

"My name is Mabel, but you can call me the girl of your dreams. I'm joking!" Shoving the boy a bit too hard, she sent him, and the postcard stand crashing to the ground.

~

"Oh my gosh, you like turtles? I like turtles, too. What is happening here?"

~

"Come one, come all, to the Mattress Prince's Kingdom of Savings!"

"Take me with you." Appearing in the middle of the ballons, Mabel whispered to the underpaid teen, making him scream and run away.

~

"Increases your chances."

"Yeah!" High fiving her, Mabel felt much happier. Finally, someone to get her. "Mock all you want brother, but I got a good feeling about this summer. I wouldn't be surprised if the man of my dreams walked through the door right now."

Much to Mabel's disgust and Dipper's amusement, Stan had walked through the doorway before burping. "Oh! Oh! Not good. Ow."

"Oh, why?!"

"More like the man of (Y/n)'s dreams!"

"What?" All three Pines asked, looking at her.

"Wendy! This joke isn't funny anymore!"

"Still seems pretty hilarious to me."

Seeing the cool teen now sitting at the register and reading a magazine, (Y/n) sneakily used her magic to make the stool tip back.

"Whoa! Ow. What the heck?"

"You girls stop being strange while on the clock."

"That's kind of my whole thing. Have you seen my hair and tattoos?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. All right, look alive people. I need someone to go hammer these signs in the spooky part of the forest."

"Not it!"

"Uh, also not it."

"Nobody asked you, Soos."

"I know, and I'm comfortable with that."

"Wendy! I need you to put up these signs!"

"I would, but I... uhh... can't... uhh... reach it." Not looking up from her magazine, Wendy half-heartedly reached for the wooden signs.

"I'd fire all of you if I could. All right, let's make it eeny-meeny-miney... you." Stan pointed at Dipper, intending to choose him all along.

"Oh, what?! Grunkle Stan, whenever I'm in those woods I feel like I'm being watched."

"Ahh, this again."

"I'm telling you, something weird is going on in this town. Just today, my mosquito bites spelled out beware."

Taking a look at the offered arm, Stan squinted at the odd bites. "That says bewarb. Look kid, monsters in the forest thing is just local legends drummed up by guys like me to sell merch to guys like that."

"I can do it."

"Oh, no you don't. I need you. We've gotten so many more costumers since ya started working here last year. Now, stop being paranoid!" Tossing his nephew the wooden signs, he went off to work on something else for the shack.

"Sorry, Dipper. I tried." 

"I know. Thanks for trying."

"Hey, let me know if you find anything out there. I'm writing a book."

"Will do."

Once her brother was gone, Mabel went about following (Y/n) like a cute little duckling while she worked. "So... you're cool and pretty. I bet you had a lot of boyfriends."

"Aww~ Thank you Mabel. But I didn't really have a lot of boyfriends. All the guys in my life have been... kind of weird. Even for me. But I did have some girlfriends."

Gasping, Mabel ran in front of her to stop her from walking. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! You like girls?!"

"I did not get that vibe off you."

"And you're gonna tease me about it?"

"Nope. But if any cute girls come in, I'll tease you about that."

"...I love you too, Wendy."

"Do you just like girls or do you like guys too?"

"My preference is guys. But some girls catch my eye." Moving around the pre-teen, (Y/n) went back to work. "Why so curious? You want some advice?"

"Well... is Wendy right? Do you like my Grunkle Stan?"

"Oh, not you too, Mabel. Don't you have a boyfriend to try and find?"

Next >

[diskaywrites]

Can't Be You

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧 𝐱 𝐉𝐞𝐲 𝐔𝐬𝐨 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐨, 𝐉𝐃 𝐌𝐜𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐡

As soon as Sami Zayn had heard the grunts and groans of a fight in progress, he had stopped the interview he was in the middle of dead in its tracks. Maybe it was just who he was at his core. If someone needed help, he was always ready to extend a hand. So here he was, moving quickly down the dimly lit hallway to watch as two of the members of the Judgment Day launched a vicious attack on...

"Hey!" Sami shouted the moment he realized just 𝒘𝒉𝒐 was on the other end of the human bobblehead who the Raw roster had the misfortune to work with's attack. He launched himself at the Irishman, trading punches with the man before launching him backwards onto the overturned production crate behind him. Sami perched on the man's chest, knee pressed down hard as he landed heavy fists to the Irishman's ugly mug. It wasn't until Carlito pulled the man way that Sami tried to regain his breath, panting heavily as he put a hand on the broad shoulder of the initial attack's victim, "You good, uce?"

The snarl that left the throat of Jey Uso let Sami know that no, the man was not good.

"I didn't need your help," Jey grunted as he tugged away from the arm that Sami had wrapped around his shoulders, eyes unable to meet Sami's gaze. "I would have been fine."

Sami shook his head, a sharp breathy laugh leaving him. "Really? Because to me it, uh, it seemed like you would have been laid out on that crate?"

"I didn't need 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 help," Jey reiterated, trying to storm down the hallway and past Sami. He didn't get very far down the hall before collapsing to one knee. Sami rushed to his side, pushing himself under Jey's arm so that he was supporting the others weight. "Don't you listen, man? I said I don't-"

"Yeah, I know what you said," Sami shook his head, "I also know what I saw. And from what I saw? You needed help. Why couldn't it be from me?"

"Cause...I..." Jey's statement was mumbled into a wince as Sami led the way towards the medic's office. Sami was almost certain he had heard the words in that mumble, but his head was swimming with the nearness of the other. He could smell the undeniable scent of Jey that had been missing from his life for too long, coconut oil for those black locks that were always so well maintained and the sandalwood of his body wash. How many nights had that smell been on Sami's mind as he drifted off into a sleep filled with dreams of the man who had made his time with the Bloodline bearable? "Can't be 𝒚𝒐𝒖."

"Look, I know we may not be on the best terms, but you have no reason to hate me," Sami tried to fight back, "all I've done is-"

"Is be 𝒚𝒐𝒖," Jey closed his eyes, almost stumbling if it weren't for the fact that Sami was supporting most of his weight, "And do you not know how perfect you are?"

Sami's brown eyes widened in confusion, "Do I not know...how...𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕?!"

"God, you are oblivious," Jey's charming smirk was paired with a little chuckle, "you are...I...can't look weak in front of you cause it's 𝒚𝒐𝒖. I'm supposed to look strong in front of you. I'm supposed to be out here saving 𝒚𝒐𝒖."

Sami let a loud laugh leave him, "I'm sorry? You're supposed to save me? Gosh, you can be so dense! You'd rather be attacked than have me save you for some stupid sense of pride?"

"Sounds about right," Jey winced as they finally reached the medics room, "easier for me to deal with, right? Better than telling you that I-"

"Feel the same way about me that I feel about you?"

It was Sami's turn to feel embarrassed, but if they were letting each other past their walls it was only fair. There was a silence between the two before Jey leaned over and pressed a kiss to Sami's bearded cheek. "Maybe we can have a full conversation later, yeah?"

"Yeah," Sami pressed his fingers to his chest, as if trying to calm his once again racing heart, "Yeah we can talk later."

[the-firebird69]

A lot of people are mad at you jackass is here and they're going to have you killed bja dies on Skellig and it's because of what you're doing to granddaddy or Grandpa he calls him you're unreasonable you're surly yours moron who is over there today saying you're a trumpster and he knows who you are and you're wearing your bobblehead and her son says you shouldn't wear a helmet near me you might get your head pulled off hey twisted it's a twist off. And he wasn't laughing and he said boy that's not good but really it's cuz you don't want to listen to anyone and you're a retard.. but they have a gripe with you you're going around taking stuff like Mike Roach at HMC in the f***** didn't listen then and he got beat up and he says what in the hell is wrong with you stupid people you also damn deaf so we saw what happened you got beat up again and you just don't learn so we're going after you and we're going to make it right and we need you to back off our son if you don't you're going to burn and it looks like you're not backing off and you're a f****** fruit and we're not going to allow you to kidnap him and you're going to continue to sit there and try and harm him so like we said people have an ax to grind and they're going to come find you and get rid of you you're unreasonable your Slavs your low lives your small kidnappers even Tommy F and you're nothing you say You're something you won't align with each other and it does it means that you're done with that said:

-we needed to see bja and we do now he's an idiot for admitting it and he's going to pay for his idiocy and he's a fool and he's saying it's a big leader in DeSantis is going to be dethroned it's not thrown but he's going to be removed and we're working on it and he saw that a few things would work and he's saying he's in charge of it so really you have to remove them by force I mean not you stupid and he's talking to bja so do you like making it mandatory and really Tommy f is doing it and these fools are fighting him and don't know cuz they're stupid. They have these meetings they think it's him they never prove it they never do anything and we're tired of that and they're trying to infiltrate slowly and half-assed ways and just grinds away and we're tired of that so what we're going to do is start sending people to ice people who are in our way permanently. There are several ways to do it and we are proceeding. We're going to do it tomorrow no it's the 4th and he's going to be out of office saying he's in office and that's not a deception that's very lame childish and both you are very tired and you have to lean against a building and smoke cigarettes to stay awake... It is not impressive what Stan wasinski is doing here is not impressive what we're going to do to him is going to be impressive and he's going to get ballooned up and start beating these people up and getting our son stuff with dead people and taking the blame himself saying our son is running around trying to have him yell he had them killed and they pop back out lots of times and they go after Stan and he's going to hate it but that's what he's going to be doing that's coming up pretty quick.

It is coming up pretty quick there are a few deaths lined up one of them that happened here was Judy my son's friends with her but it's really at a distance and he only knew a couple characters and they're both old ladies and not very pleasant because they're old and uncomfortable and they were mean

There are a couple more deaths coming up and yeah it was a very uncomfortable situation here with her next door.

Another couple of people are in line they are in line to die here people are saying it they're trying to hurt people they don't want hurt and they're going after them but her son doesn't know anybody here that much and it's not really great we'll be back on the subject in a minute

Thor Freya

Olympus

[deatheless]

@huntrhaunt sent: i've never been good at connecting dots. / accepting.

❛ i know, but — ! ❜ her sentence cuts off with another round of giggles, mina's cheeks pink with laughter as she leans her head against marcy's shoulder. she's been laughing for a few minutes already, and it seems to be showing no signs of stopping ( especially when it means she can keep clinging to their arm and pressing her cheek into their shoulder like this ).

in their defense, they do freely admit this. and she does know this about her, and it's something she finds deeply, deeply endearing about marcy. but she can't pretend this isn't also kind of hilarious. they've been friends — and they've been ... whatever they are now — for how long now? and it took hearing one of her songs on her car radio for it to finally really click?

❛ you really — ❜ another inhale, and she swallows back another laugh in an attempt to catch her breath properly, ❛ you really never thought, like : hey, i have a friend named amina who's a musician, who i met while she was on a tour, and also i keep hearing people talk about this singer named amina, wonder if it's her? like never once? marcyyyyy ... ❜ she draws her name out teasingly, punctuating it with another giggle, before she smushes her face further against her shoulder with a fond and very squishy smile. her arms wrap around her middle, hugging her tight and lovingly jostling her from side to side like a bobblehead. ❛ it's cute. i dunno how you avoided finding out for this long, but maybe this is a sign you gotta start playing my stuff at work, huh? ❜

[bigtinytoys]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Hey Arnold Mini Bobblehead Figure Nickelodeon Collection Toy Nostalgic Charm.

[anemonet]

HOLY FUCKING SHIT IM GONNA EXPLODE

[jae-bummer]

Irritably in Love

Request: hiiiihiiiii!!!!! would you write a story with seungmin from stray kids using the prompt where a non bias member confessed to you when your bias [aka seungmin] in also in the room?? the only additional thing i ask is no love triangle or poly situation. thankies🫰🏽

Prompt:

18) A member (who is not your bias) confesses to you while your bias is in the room.

Pairing: Stray Kids Seungmin x Reader

Genre: Fluff

.

"Come on, scaredy cat," Seungmin grinned, poking you in the cheek. "It's just a movie."

"A movie that has no effect on you because your weird little mind has already been warped," you grumbled, settling deeper into the couch beside him.

"It's okay, Y/N," Hyunjin hummed, appearing with popcorn that smelled suspiciously burnt. "You can hide in my shoulder if things get too intense."

Seungmin rolled his eyes as he looked up at the older member. "Then what happens when you get scared?"

"I don't get scared," Hyunjin laughed as he sat on the opposite side of you.

"Bug!" Seungmin shouted, pointing to the cushion beside Hyunjin.

Letting out an impressively high-pitched screech, Hyunjin flung the bag of popcorn to the floor before scooting directly into your lap. "Kill it! Kill it with fire!"

You couldn't help but laugh at Hyunjin's dramatics. It was an undeniable fact that he was the king of being fooled, so you weren't surprised that he played right into Seungmin's hands.

"Stupid," Seungmin cackled, pushing at Hyunjin's back in what appeared to be an attempt to get the taller boy off of you.

Hyunjin's panicked expression fell into a sheepish smile. Covering his face in his hands, he wiggled from side to side. "Protect me, Y/N!"

"How the tables have turned!" you joked, wrapping your arms around the noodle of a boy.

Glancing to Seungmin, you noticed an annoyed expression had worked its way onto his features. Avoiding eye contact, he stood, and went to pick up the popcorn pieces that Hyunjin had dropped.

While Seungmin's default mode could often be set at generally annoyed, it was never directed at you. For the entirety of your friendship, he was pretty wonderful, albeit it merciless when it came to teasing. That was one of your favorite parts about him though. He had a certain way of telling you about yourself that made you feel like you were in on the joke. You never felt singled out or targeted by his words, but just a victim of his love language. He was almost always on the defensive, but it was cute in an abrasive way (which may have been the best way to describe him as a whole).

If you hadn't had the self-control you did, you would have fallen in love with him a long time ago. With his demanding schedule, and your general aversion to thinking people could possibly have a crush on you, it was relatively easy. While you loved nearly every part of that bony, bobblehead of a man, you could be realistic. He would never see you that way.

Chewing on your lip, you looked back to Hyunjin who had apparently settled in for a cuddle. He glanced at you carefully, his face much too close for your comfort.

Hyunjin had always been a bit of an enigma to you. It was as if he existed on a separate plane that you could never quite understand. He was easily charming and extremely open. The two of you could talk for hours about nothing at all. You couldn't quite pin down the otherworldly nature of him, but you weren't sure if you needed to.

"Hey, Y/N," he said quietly, looking directly into your eyes.

You could see Seungmin go still in your periphery as he caught the hint of Hyunjin's whisper.

"Hey, Hyunjinnie," you said carefully, trying to gauge when the vibe around you had shifted.

Hyunjin slid himself backwards off of your lap and into the spot where Seungmin was originally sitting. Gathering his long legs to his body, he wrapped his arms around his calves, and settled his attention back on you. "I've been thinking about this for awhile..."

"Maybe you should think about it a little longer," Seungmin muttered, moving to sit down next to you. "We have a movie to watch."

"Seungmin," Hyunjin groaned. "Just give me a second."

"A second has passed," Seungmin said in monotone, tapping at the remote for the television.

"Y/N," Hyunjin tried again.

This caused Seungmin to groan and slump his body against the back of the couch.

You shifted your eyes back over to Hyunjin, waiting.

"I've been thinking about this theory for a while," he nodded slowly. "You know, how all of us are made from the same material as stars...and... I've really decided that our two souls, you and I, were born from the same star."

"Oh," you croaked, unable to move your eyes from Hyunjin's hopeful expression. You weren't entirely sure what he was getting at, but you had an idea.

"We're all made of star stuff," Seungmin grumbled. "I could be part of the same star as you, Hyunjin."

"No," Hyunjin insisted, shaking his head. Reaching out, he set his hand lightly a top of yours. "There's this feeling I get when I'm around you, Y/N. This completeness. It's fate that we've found each other millions of years after our star died."

"I can't," Seungmin gasped, launching up from the couch. "Absolutely ridiculous."

You watched as he shuffled toward the balcony, cursing quietly along the way. Pulling the sliding door open with a bang, he glared over his shoulder at Hyunjin before stepping out into the chilly night air and slammed it shut again.

"Hyunin, what are you trying to say?" you said quietly, now only able to focus on his fingers covering yours.

"I'm not trying to say anything," he chuckled. "I'm saying it directly. This is my confession to you, Y/N. Do you accept me?"

The truth you were trying to avoid was now outlined so plainly. Never in all of the time you had known him had you guessed Hyunjin could have a crush on you. It was a shock in a way, but with how romantic he was, it seemed on brand. You weren't even entirely sure if he liked you, or just the idea of you. That was the issue with Hyunjin. He was easily wrapped up in his own poetic ideals so much so that you weren't sure that he recognized they didn't necessarily apply here.

"Hyunjin, I-" you began, but were immediately startled by the thud coming from the direction of the balcony. Looking up, you could see Seungmin had pressed his forehead against the glass and was now staring intently at the two of you.

Shaking your head in an attempt to get your thoughts together, you looked back toward Hyunjin. "Do you really like me?"

"What?" he asked, furrowing his brows. "I literally just launched into a speech-"

"Which was very nice," you continued. "But also, were you thinking up those words before you met me and just happened to find someone that they might apply to?"

"I, uh," Hyunjin stumbled, confusion painting his handsome face. "Well, I mean, I've had dreams about who I thought I'd be with."

"I very much appreciate what you said to me," you nodded. "But Hyunjin, we're just friends."

"Friends," he repeated dumbly. "Right."

"I'm sorry," you whispered. Glancing toward Seungmin again, you could hardly stand the moody look covering his face as well. "I just...if I'm being honest, I have feelings for someone else."

Hyunjin looked up with a cringe. Catching the direction your eyes were staring, he let out a hiss of understanding. "Seungmin."

"Seungmin," you nodded in agreement.

"Well," Hyunjin sighed. "I guess I can't be too torn up. I should have known better, really."

"Thank you for baring your heart to me," you smiled sadly. "But I think you still have some stardust to reunite with."

"Maybe," Hyunjin grumbled. You could tell he was trying to act unbothered. "Thanks for letting me down in a nice way. I think it helps the crushing weight of being alone."

You let out a laugh. "Did it?"

"Not really," Hyunjin smiled tentatively. Finally taking his hand from yours, he pulled you in for a one-armed hug instead. "Go talk to him."

"Thank you," you said quietly.

"Yeah, yeah," Hyunjin grumbled. "You'll make it up to me sometime."

You nodded before pulling yourself off the couch. Your heart was fluttering in your chest, and you weren't entirely sure if you could handle the other half of this conversation so soon.

Seeing your approach, Seungmin stepped back from the door, and yanked it open. Stepping gingerly out onto the balcony, you slid it behind you again.

"Are you two strolling happily into the sunset?" Seungmin chuckled bitterly. Spinning so he wouldn't have to look at you, he set his forearms on the balcony railing.

"Quite the opposite," you hummed, taking a spot beside him. "I'm pretty sure I yeeted all of his hopes directly into the sun instead."

Seungmin's head swiveled toward you and his brow furrowed. "You didn't return his feelings?"

"Nope," you sighed. "I have feelings for someone else."

"Great," Seungmin croaked, looking away again.

After a moment of silence, he straightened and faced you. "Look, I know you weren't really expecting to hear two guys make a fool of themselves tonight but let me get this out."

You tried not to appear amused as you gave him your full attention.

"Y/N," he said sternly. "I never thought I would care about someone like this. I get it. Love is this unpredictable, unexpected...thing that just forces itself upon you, but frankly, it's been miserable."

You lifted your brows in surprise but remained silent.

"This feeling," he continued, his eyes searching your face. "This feeling that I have...it's going to explode out of my chest. It's too big. These emotions...they aren't even mine anymore. There is so much of you rooted in me that I don't even belong to me anymore and it's really very irritating."

This time you couldn't hold the huffed laugh that escaped from your lips.

"If you could just...please," he finally said, defeated. "Please either give my heart back...or if I'm lucky, give me yours instead. I know I'm annoying, and I know I can be prickly, but-"

As soon as his confession turned into whatever flaws he assumed he had, you wouldn't let it go on any longer. Closing the space between you while he was still in mid-sentence, you leaned forward and placed the lightest kiss on his still moving lips.

Well, that shut him up.

Looking at you with wide eyes, he touched his fingertips gingerly to his mouth and remained very still.

"Here I am," you smiled slowly. "Giving myself to you, as requested."

"I'm sorry," Seungmin said, his voice much hoarser than it had been previously. "Is this real? I just need to confirm I am not hallucinating."

You laughed as you reached up and cradled his cheek. "You impossible boy."

"Not hallucinating," he confirmed, placing his fingers lightly atop of your hand holding his face. "Maybe you should kiss me again just so we can make sure."

You chuckled as he rested his forehead against yours. "If that will convince you."

"Great," Seungmin said quietly. "I'm going to need to be thoroughly convinced, just saying."

[apomaro-mellow]

Part 3

"You guys really don’t have to do this.”

“Yes we do”, Robin and Eddie said in unison.

Every once in a while Steve wondered if he had a type and this was not helping things. But he knew he’d never be able to stop them, so he just threw his hands up and went into the kitchen to finish helping Ms. Henderson.

“I can’t believe you made that book club homemade brownies”, he said as he wrapped a plate in plastic. “I mean, after what Sheila said...”

“Oh I can’t afford to burn any bridges there”, Claudia said. “Or else I’ll have to go back to the women’s bible study group.”

They both shuddered at the thought.

“Besides”, she continued, “It won’t be all bad for long. I’m planning a coup.”

Steve’s eyes widened. He didn’t know when he became the type that thirsted after book club drama but that’s the kind of guy he was now. Before he could ask her to spill the details, Dustin called from the living room that they were starting. He returned to the living room while Claudia took her brownies and was out the door.

“Your mom is going to war, did you know that?”

“I know, I gave her the idea”, Dustin said while shuffling some index cards in his hands.

“I think you’ve got more important things to worry about now”, Robin said.

“Seconded”, Eddie said.

Eddie and Robin sat on the couch next to each other. Dustin had a whiteboard with both of their names, ready to be tallied up with scores. And a handful of question cards, custom made for the occasion.

“This is ridiculous”, Steve said, standing behind the couch and leaning forward, hoping to talk some sense into everyone.

“I think you’re forgetting about the strange correlation between relationships and this game”, Dustin said. “Ever since that first round at the cabin, you and Eddie got together, Mike and El broke up, and now Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle are in this weird, trio thing.”

“And while correlation doesn’t always equate to causation, this game seems a pretty decent measure for how well you know a person”, Robin said.

“And the stakes are too high to give this up”, Eddie said. He and Robin had been fighting over shotgun rights in the car as well as the prime real estate that was Steve’s lap.

Seeing an opportunity, Steve leaned in close to Eddie. “If I promise you a ‘good time’, will you give up the game?”

“You’re playing favorites again”, Robin complained.

Steve covered Eddie’s ears. “He’s just easier to bribe. You’re too pricey, Rob.”

“Hey, I heard that. You callin’ me cheap?”, Eddie accused.

“Can we get started with the game, please?”, Dustin brought them all back to the task at hand.

“Get ready to lose”, Robin started.

“Not on your life, Bucks.”

“Alright. First question: How does Steve spend his days off.”

“A jog, a big breakfast, then he spends the rest of the time lookin after you guys”, Eddie answered.

Robin looked at Steve incredulously. “You jog? On your days off? Steve, I think we might need a jock intervention.”

“It’s not just a jock thing. It’s a I can’t believe how many times I’ve had to run for my life thing.”

Dustin put down a tally for Eddie. “Next question: his go-to dancing song.”

“Take On Me!”, Robin nearly shouted.

Eddie raised a brow at Steve.

“It’s good head bopping music!”, he said defensively.

“Said the human bobblehead”, Robin teased.

“His worst date?”

They answered at the same time. “Lina Williams.”

Steve groaned. “I regret telling either of you now.”

“Who is Lina Williams?”, Dustin asked.

“Bad kisser.” “Chatterbox.” “Compulsive liar.” “Kind of a klepto.” “Won’t take a hint.” “But also never stops dropping them.” “Also a name dropper.” “Bad at head-”

“Okayokayokay”, Dustin stopped the duo’s back and forth. “That was more than I needed to know.”

The next few questions they both answered correctly as well. “Where is his grandma from?” “Describe his hair care routine.” “Favorite thing to cook?”

Steve looked at the scoreboard. They were still tied. He sat down between them and laid his arms against the back of the couch. “You know, I don’t see two competitors. I see two people who care about me very much and just want my attention.”

That made Robin pause. “When did I become the kind of girl who fought for Steve Harrington’s attention?”

Eddie stared into the distance. “Yeah...when did that happen?”

“Yeah, he kinda creeps into your heart, don’t he?” Dustin grinned. “Like a little stray.”

Robin nodded. “Like a little, wet stray.”

“Like a little, wet, sad stray.”

“Okay, feelin’ less loved here”, Steve said.

“Well let me give my stray a collar then”, Eddie smirked. “‘Cause I’m never lettin’ him go.” He leaned in the kiss Steve on the lips but then quickly went to his neck.

“Eddie!”, Steve protested in shock. “Eddie~”, he breathed out next, this one less of a protest.

Dustin covered his face and began voicing his own protests, as did Robin.

“We gotta have a rule for this, right?”, Robin said before removing herself from the couch.

“Yep”, Dustin said, still not uncovering his eyes. “We’re gonna bring it up the next time we have everyone. These two are not allowed within five feet of each other.”

“Dustin, make up your mind”, Eddie said when he came up for air. “Do you want me and Steve to get along? Or be apart?”

“This is like the wish you get from a genie. Or a monkey’s paw”, Dustin lamented.

“So are you two fine with calling it a draw?”, Steve asked.

Eddie and Robin shared a look.

“I call indefinite shotgun rights”, she said.

“Then that means his lap is reserved for me”, Eddie replied.

“Okay. Now that that’s settled”, Steve adjusted his position and Eddie immediately sat in his lap while Robin got comfortable at his side. “Dustin. Tell me about this book club coup.”

Dustin didn’t hesitate. “My mom’s gotten fed up with Sheila’s crap, right? And she’s not the only one. So she and like two other moms are going to...”

Steve didn’t know exactly when they’d all changed. Because there was definitely a time in his life where if you told him he’d be sitting in Dustin Henderson’s home, listening to the drama of middle aged moms, while cuddling up with a band geek and the school freak, he would’ve thought you were insane.

But somehow, someway, here he was. And there was no place he’d rather be.

END

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[lovelytsunoda]

gimme! gimme! gimme! ( a man after midnight ) // marcus armstrong

summary: after graduating college and moving back home to sebring, florida to live with her parents, y/n becomes infatuated with the young man from new zealand who just moved in across the street

pairing: marcus armstrong x female! reader

warnings: money troubles, moving back in with the parents and losing the independence that comes with being a college student living on your own, parental expectations, difficult sibling relationship, implied smut,

author's note: why did it take me this long to write for marcus my beloved? i also kind of hate the ending but i wasn't sure where to end it soooooo

the sebring sun beat down against the road, heat waves visibly radiating off the pavement as y/n turned down on to the street where she grew up.

a street she swore she'd never come back to, until she realized that she couldn't afford to live anywhere else.

her manicured fingers tapped against the steering wheel in rapid succession as the bass guitar thrumming from the asking alexandria album she was listening to completely shook the chassis of her pickup truck.

well, her dad's old pickup truck.

a new car wasn't an expense that she could afford while she was away at school. but she loved that old truck like her life depended on it, right down to the squishy silicone alien bobblehead that sat on the dashboard, the stack of cd's that rested in the center console, the truck itself too old for bluetooth.

she turned on to her interlock driveway, defeatedly parking the truck behind her mother's five year old mercedes. she had just bought that car when y/n went off to school.

the y/l/n's weren't poor by any means: they still had money for family vacations, renovations on the house, to send their daughter to university. but they lived within their means, which meant budgeting out what was necessary and important and what was not.

and sometimes that meant making sacrifices. like moving back with your parents and younger sister after finishing your higher education pathway.

now she had a diploma, but no job, no house, no boyfriend and no prospects.

she cut the engine, deciding that it was better just to rip the band aid off now as she leaped from the cab of the truck, grabbed her backpack from the back seat and began the walk of shame to the front door.

"hey, mom." she said with a small, sad smile as her mother opened the front door, engulfing her in a warm, motherly embrace that made the smile on y/n's face grow a little happier.

"welcome home, sweetheart. let me go find your father and we'll help you bring your things inside."

ten minutes later, the y/l/n family, with the exception of y/n's sister shiloh, who was nowhere to be found, stood on the driveway with a foldable wagon cart from costco, unloading cardboard boxes and massive plastic tupperware containers from the flatbed of the old ford truck.

as nice as it was to be home, she felt like she was losing her independence.

she stacked a cardboard box in the cart before pressing up on her tip toes and leaning back to stretch her arms and her back, limbs still stiff from the drive in from tampa.

she paused to take a look around the neighborhood, taking in how much it had all changed. house prices had skyrocketed in the last ten years, and now the houses in the area were almost triple the price that her father had paid in the early nineties when he first bought the house.

but what really stuck out to her was the bright red high end mercedes amg sports car that sat in the driveway of the house across the street. the house that once belonged to the nice old woman that babysat y/n and shiloh when they were kids.

"who bought the noonan house?"

her father stopped moving boxes to look over at the house across the street. "oh, his name is marcus. great young man, he's about your age."

"he's my age and he can afford a house, while i have to move back in with you lot? that's absolutely fucking great." y/n groaned, looking back at the house. "and that car is at least three times the cost of mom's, and that's without the upgrade package."

her dad shrugged. "If you had taken my advice and gone into trades, that could have been you, kiddo."

"oh, fuck off."

"hey, watch your language." her mom warned, taking a tupperware container up to the front door. "he's a sweet, hardworking young man."

"what does he do for work?"

"he works in the automotive industry."

"and that's why you like him so much." she sighed, grabbing the handle of the wagon and following her mother back up to the house.

her father had always had big expectations for her. cars were the family legacy: her father's father had been the groundskeeper at sebring international speedway. her father had worked the assembly line at chevrolet before retiring and opening his own garage where he restored custom cars as a side hustle. she had been expected to also go into the automotive trade, as the son her father never had.

but that hadn't been what she wanted, as much as she loved cars. she'd been watching endurance races at sebring since before she could walk, and she learned how to use a monkey wrench before she learned what a curling iron did. her real calling was business. the four years of human resources training, and the diploma that had been mailed to her house had proven that.

she wasn't sure if her father had even hung it up anywhere.

she walked down the hallway, gingerly opening the pristine white door to her childhood bedroom. the walls were still painted the same pale purple, cluttered with canvasses that she had painted years ago, a twin bed in the middle of the room with a white down comforter and a pile of build a bears resting against the pillows.

"welcome home, y/n." she sighed to herself.

--------

three days later, the only peace that she could get was outside with the cicadas and the mosquitos. given sebring's proximity to the everglades, there was no small number of pests hovering in the muggy summer air as y/n pulled her hair back and popped open the hood of the pickup truck. there was a ratchet in her back pocket and a cropped, grease-stained white tank top.

any color darker than that and she feared she would get heat stroke.

she leaned over the engine, radio playing in the background as she began to fight with the engine's glow plugs, which she had been meaning to replace for almost a week.

"stupid fucking glow plugs. they're the easiest thing to replace, he said. it's easier to do it yourself, he said. well, why don't you fucking do it yourself, father dearest." she muttered, losing grip on the ratchet again and trying not to kick at the tyres. "motherfucker."

her head was still under the hood when the guest came strolling up her driveway.

"do you need help with that?"

"no, i don't need help, especially not from a man." she snapped, turning to look at the man standing across from her. "i can change a glow plug myself, thank you very much."

the man smirked. "well, i don't even know what a glow plug is, so you already know more than me."

withdrawing from the engine block, she twirled the ratchet in her hands as she turned to look at the man. "where's that accent from?"

"new zealand. i'm marcus, i live across the street."

she narrowed her eyes. this kiwi beanpole was the man that her father was so entranced with? this beanpole who didn't even know what a glow plug was worked in the automotive industry?

"y/n. my father speaks highly of you." she nodded in the direction of marcus' house. "you bought the noonan house? mrs. noonan was my babysitter, you know. from when i was five until i was fifteen. i loved that old woman."

"your dad did all the interior work for me. he's a craftsman, that's for sure." marcus nodded along. "back from uni for a few weeks?"

she'd deny it if you asked, but that statement cut deep. what hurt even more was that she would have to admit to him that she was moving back in with her parents. that she couldn't afford to maintain her independence, stand on her own two feet.

"actually, i just moved back home for good. i can't afford to move out." she sighed, moving to sit on the front steps of the house. "i forgot how hard my family was to live with. i've only been home for three days and i swear i've come this close to strangling shiloh. have you met shiloh yet?"

marcus laughed. "she's a firecracker. i don't think she likes me very much."

y/n grinned, inviting marcus to sit next to her. "she's sixteen. i don't think she likes anybody. ever since she dyed her hair black and got her nose pierced, she's been a different person. a person that i don't know how to relate to any more."

"i'm sure she'll come around. my sister is like, the complete opposite of me. paris thinks i'm full of shit half the time, but we love each other still. i know paris will always be there for me, and i'll always be there for paris."

y/n gestured at the car in marcus' driveway. "so how does a guy like you afford an amg and a three bedroom family home? because you sure as hell don't work in the automotive industry."

marcus raised an eyebrow, a small gesture that made her stomach do somersaults for reasons she couldn't explain. "what makes you so sure?"

"you didn't even know what a glow plug is. all diesel engines need them to run. i learned that when i was twelve years old, you would have learned in high school auto shop. so what do you really do? stripping? black market drugs?"

the kiwi laughed, throwing his head back. "i'm a podcaster, and i work in racing. telling your dad i worked in the auto industry seemed like the best way to get on his good side. he's a good contractor."

racing. something that once brought her so much joy but now left a bad taste in her stomach. she hadn't been to the speedway since she moved out.

"racing is in my blood. i was raised at the track because my grandfather was the groundskeeper. i remember watching the indycar race on his shoulders when i was seven years old, a chip ganassi hat that was three sizes too big resting on my head. i couldn't see a thing." she smiled at the memory. "my dad worked the assembly line at chevy, with some contracting on the side once he learned my mom was expecting me. after he retired he started restoring custom cars part-time, and i think he always hoped that i'd take on the family business with him."

"and you didn't?" marcus seemed surprised. obviously he expected that the girl in the skimpy top and cutoff shorts and the astrology tattoo on the inside of her wrist who cursed like a sailor when things didn't go her way would feel right at home in a garage, ratchet in her hand and wrench in her back pocket.

"i went into human resources. i couldn't stay in a garage all day, breathing in grease and lead paint day in and day out, wondering if things could have been different."

"do you regret it?"

she sighed, biting her bottom lip in a motion that sent a rush of energy through marcus' body. "i don't know yet."

as the silence became awkward, y/n got to her feet again, reaching out a hand to help marcus up. "come on, you're going to learn about glow plugs today."

----------------

"shiloh, can you keep it down?" y/n shouted, staring numbly at the resume on her computer screen. nobody told her that she'd be graduating without a single prospective job offer, and now she was scrambling to find a proper hr job, otherwise she'd end up working the counter at white castle.

she was in the basement, at the table she used to use to finish assignments in high school. the floor, once shining hardwood, was now adorned with rice mats for her sister, who was currently cycling through her second workout video, the basement filled with the younger girl's grunts and the sounds of weights knocking against the padded floor.

"i'm trying to do my workout." shiloh answered coolly. "i have a tournament in three weeks."

"i don't give a fuck, shiloh, i'm trying to find a job so that i don't have to live with mom and dad until im thirty years old."

shiloh rolled her eyes, turning back to her kettle bell weights. "they're always hiring at sonic burger."

"i'm not working in fast food for the rest of my life, jackass! i spent thousands of dollars trying to get this goddamn degree and now i can't even use it for anything!"

"should have listened to dad and gone into the trades. maybe you aren't trying hard enough."

"shut the fuck up, shiloh!"

"girls!" mrs. y/l/n called. "what is going on down here?"

shiloh pause her youtube video, getting to her feet. despite the four years between them, shiloh towered over her older sister, and was often confused for the older one. "y/n keeps interrupting my workout."

y/n gawked. "i was here first! and i'm trying to get a job, at the only damn desk in this house, and shiloh can't even give me ten minutes of peace because it's 'her routine' and i'm 'being disruptive'."

"well, your sister's workout is important. she's a high performance athlete."

"i don't give a shit, mom!"

"language, y/n! go upstairs and work at the dining room table, stop fighting with your sister. you've only been back home for a week!"

"yeah, ande it's like you don't have space for me here anymore!" y/n shouted, slamming her laptop shut and running up the basement stairs, trying not to cry.

this is the last way she expected her life after college to go: hunting for jobs in her moms basement, her sister telling her that she wasn't trying hard enough to get hired anywhere other than a fast food restaurant who would hire anybody off the streets during the busy months.

she couldn't even stand to be in that house, walking right out the front door and striding across the street to the noonan house without even looking to see if there were any cars on the road.

she walked past the mercedes, hand curled into a fist as she knocked on the front door, hoping and praying that a certain podcaster was home.

"y/n?" marcus' voice was soft and concerned after he opened the front door. "what are you doing here?"

"can i get some work done here? i'm trying to fix my resume so that i don't end up working at white castle for the rest of my life and i can't get anything done with shiloh around."

“of course,” marcus laughed “I’ll open a bottle of aperol spritz?”

"god, yes!" she breathed out, stepping into marcus' front hall and slipping out of her flip flops before she followed him into a large open concept main room, a kitchen island running down the middle. the back wall had been all replaced with sets of french doors that were more window than door, letting light into the bright, modern space.

"you're house is incredible. i don't think mrs. noonan updated this place since the sixties."

marcus chuckled, grabbing a glass wine bottle from the counter. "don't i know it. the master bathroom still had a green toilet. a green bloody toilet."

"oh god." y/n laughed, sitting at the island and opening her laptop. "can i trouble you for the wifi password?"

once marcus got her hooked up to the internet, she pulled up her cv, looking at the sad, small list of qualifications she had. she'd been lucky enough that she hardly ever had to work over the summer or in high school. everything on her resume were the community service hours she was required to get to graduate secondary school and the one paid position she did for the town of sebring three years ago.

"i'm never going to get a fucking job, am i?" she groaned quietly as marcus passed her a wine glass filled halfway with aperol spritz. "i'm going to be working a fast food counter at an all night mcdonalds."

"you could always work for me." marucs shrugged. "not to brag, but i just signed a major indycar deal with chip ganassi and i'm trying to expand my team, both with podcasting and racing."

"hang on, podcasting and racing?" y/n blinked, looking up from the screen, blue light still glowing onto her floral patterned shirt. "you're a racing driver? you could have mentioned that!"

marcus laughed as y/n reached over the counter to swat at his arm. "what? i assumed you would have googled me!"

"i have better things to do than google my neighbours!"

"i'm being serious, look me up right now."

y/n rolled her eyes before typing marcus' name into the search bar (after bothering him for his last name, which she realized she didn't already know).

"well shit. i'm staring at the newest driver of the ridgeline lube chip ganassi number 11 indycar."

"i told you." marcus grinned goofily, taking a sip of his drink. "seriously, you said you went into hr? we'll need someone like you to be on the podcast team for screaming meals."

y/n smiled softly at the boy across from her. the boy who had already lived more life than she could ever have dreamed of. "yeah, okay. maybe i'll take you up on that."

----------------

it was the first time she had been alone in the house all week, and she was ready to take advantage of that fact.

all week she had been back and forth between the childhood bedroom she was trying to redecorate and marcus armstrong's living room. many a night had been spent sleeping on his couch after a night of shitty comedy movies and cheap supermarket wine.

no, her parents and shiloh had left before six in the morning to take her to a cross country meet in daytona, and they wouldn't be back until well after ten p.m.

the silence was nice, she thought to herself as she paced the house in her soft cotton robe, the hem barely covering her ass, a warm, almost empty mug of hot chocolate in her hands as she drained the last dregs of laura secord and placed the mug on the kitchen counter.

she shut the bathroom door behind her, the heating tubes underneath the tiles warming her cold feet as she connected her bluetooth speaker, 'just like a pill' by p!nk echoing around the room as she leaned into the shower, trying to run the water warm.

the shower sputtered, weakly spitting out three drops of lukewarm water.

"oh for the love of god!" she groaned, pressing her head against the glass shower door. "the one fucking day i have the house to myself."

she sighed, lying down on the floor and opening the doors to the cabinet under the sink. there was a problem with the pipes, the one thing that she couldn't fix (and also didn't want to risk making worse, with things between her and shiloh being particularly tense). cursing under her breath, she reached for her phone.

"hey, marcus. can you come over? there's something up with the pipes in the bathroom and my shower won't start. you wouldn't happen to know how to fix that, would you?"

on the other end of the line, marcus laughed. "funnily enough, that's probably the one thing your dad taught me that he didn't also teach you. let me go and commence the wild goose chase required to find a tool box in this house, and i'll be there in ten minutes."

"you're a lifesaver, armstrong."

true to his word, ten minutes later, marcus armstrong was lying on her bathroom floor, shirt riding up to showcase his perfectly toned abs, muscles rippling under his skin as he tinkered with the pipes. it was taking every bit of self-restraint that y/n had not to cast aside her bathrobe and ride marcus on the heated floor.

she swallowed the thought, closing her eyes as she mentally chastised herself for thinking about her neighbor, and only friend within in a ten mile radius, like that. feeling her nipples hardening under her robe, she crosssd her arms over her chest (and her legs over each other, to try and deal with other issues) in an attempt to hide her arousal from the kiwi.

"i think i've got it!" marcus shouted. "try the shower now!"

grateful for the distraction, she padded over to the massive shower, reaching inside and turning the dial to warm. she let out a sigh of relief as the shower started up, warm water cascading down the rainhead and swirling down the drain.

"marcus armstrong, i could kiss you right now." she beamed, turning back to the man, who was now leaning against the doorframe. "thank you so much. there has to be something i can do in return."

marcus swallowed, realizing now how small the bathroom truly was, despite the size of the rather large shower. and with that realization, he also realized how close to y/n he was standing.

and he could also see the outlines of her nipples poking through the cotton robe, a sight that made him draw in a breath.

he wasn't supposed to think about her like this. not with the season coming up, and her about to start working for him in the screaming meals production department.

it wasn't proper.

but why did it feel so right?

neither of them said a word, marcus' hand coming up to caress the side of her face. refusing to spend any more time overthinking it, he kissed her first, cradling her bottom lip in between both of his.

what started out as a sweet, gentle kiss, quickly became hot and heavy, hands wandering under shirts and robes falling to the floor, shower still running behind them as marcus palmed y/n's ass, a small, sugar-sweet moan leaving her lips.

"you have no idea how long i've wanted to do this." marcus breathed, voice husky as he fumbled with the belt on his jeans. "every time we've watched a movie on my couch, i've wanted to pull the blankets over both of us and take you right there. they day you came running over to my house after shiloh was giving you shit, i wanted to kiss you and tell you everything would work itself out."

"well, now's your chance, armstrong. the shower is big enough for two."

__________

"marcus, can i ask you something?"

two rounds later, they were lying in y/n's bed, the plush white duvet pulled around their bodies. it was a tight squeeze, getting them both to fit on the twin sized mattress. her build a bears had been unceremoniously shoved onto the laminate floor.

"whats on your mind, pretty girl?" marcus asked softly.

"how are we going to make this work? i live with my parents and my teenage sister, for god's sakes. i'm back under their curfew, sleeping in a twin bed in a room that hasn't been redecorated since i was seventeen."

marcus kissed her on the forehead softly, moving to lace his fingers with hers, his hair still damp and ruffled form the shower. "we try, as simple as that. we'll find you a job, and you can stay over at mine however often you want. i can't promise your parents that you'll be back by the time curfew hits, but i can promise them that you're safe with me. and who knows, if this goes really well, maybe you could even move in with me."

y/n laughed softly. "hold your horses, racer boy."

"i'll hold the horses back as long as it takes for you to realize that i'm hopelessly in love with you."

[peculiarpatches]

𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙮 𝙌𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙣 𝙭 𝙁!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧: 𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙮

       This is my first time writing  a Dom&Sub GXG so please be nice to me. This involves smut. Dominate Harley, submissive reader. Slapping, spanking, dirty talk, oral, fingering. I just watched Birds of Prey and thought of this halfway through, so, lmao. I hope yall like it. And remember, feedback is appreciated so please give a ‘like’ and or reblog. It’d mean the world to me. Also, if you have any suggestions, just message me and I might write them! :) lots of love. xx

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Harley was trying, damn it. Give her some credit, cut her some slack.  Try as she may, the anger and jealousy only continued to bubble up, no matter how hard she tried to swallow it down, it kept rising in the back of her throat, eager to come out and explode everywhere. That and it might be a bit of bile, too.... as gross as that may be, more than likely, yeah, it was a mixture of both. 

Harley had been drinking a lot of liquor as if the clear substance poured in the small glass shots were water rather than vodka. 

 Harley bit on her bottom lip so hard she could taste blood on the tip of her tongue. So, she continues. 

 Continues to drink until she feels every other emotion besides the bitterness feeling she was getting as she watched her best friend, (Y/N) on the dance floor.  (Y/N) and Harley were like two peas in a pod, inseparable those gals were. You'd never see Harley without (Y/N) by her side, the same way with (Y/N). They were attached  to each other like glue. 

Expect of course, right now, they were not. Harley sat, sulking, at one of the back booths of the club, eight empty glasses pushed aside, her hands holding up her face as she pouts and huffs to nobody other than herself.   

"I came here to have fun with her, not her to have fun without me," Harley whined, the pout on her face only growing bigger. Groaning, she facepalms  and shook her head from side to side, feeling frustrated tears starting to build in the corner of her eyes but she blinks them away before they could reveal themselves.  

 Her head snaps forward, so fast she swears she gets whiplash, when she hears (Y/N)'s laughter fill the air. Her laugh always caused goose bumps to bite at her skin and a chill to run up and down her back. Harley shivered as if she were cold but that was far from reality.

 In reality, Harley suddenly felt hot.  It felt as if she was on fire. 

Then she realizes, there's no use in trying to stop these feelings or try to push them away. They were bound to come out sooner or later.  (Y/N) was hers. Nobody else's.  End of story. The two have hooked up before, all of which the two were either really drunk and or had one too many pot brownies, but they have gotten together before.  

And as of right now, Harley was going to show (Y/N) just how better off she is with Harley by her side rather than some six feet muscular guy that (Y/N) was currently grinding up against. Harley growls as she stands up, trying her best not to fall as she exits out of the booth and pushes people out of the way before finding (Y/N).  "C'mon. We're leaving. Now." Harley barked, painted fingernails curling around (Y/N)'s wrist. "Well, hey there, good lookin', might I ask what you're doing, stealing away this beaut from me? If you're jealous, don't fret, love. There's more of me to go around. Sharing is caring, ain't that right, babydoll?" Harley's blood boils at the pet name he gives to (Y/N) and before she realizes it, her fist comes in contact with his face and her leg rises up as she kicks him in the groin.  "I said we're leaving." She spits.    

Taking (Y/N)'s hand, Harley drags her through the whispering crowd, half of the people laughing at how a man that tall and muscular so easily dropped to the floor with one swift movement, both from the hand and leg; others taking their phones out and snapping pictures of the scene.  Harley didn't care if people gave her glares as she walked past. Harley could care less.  She drags (Y/N) towards the back exit door, kicking it down as she then marches down to her apartment complex which wasn't even a foot away from the club. She's practically dragging (Y/N) behind her like a rag doll but she didn't care. All she cared about was showing (Y/N) who she belonged to. Once the door was open, Harley twirls around and bends forward, picking the girl up before walking inside  the small space that she called 'home'. It wasn't much but she loved it, regardless. Harley drops (Y/N) on the couch before crawling up and over her body, pinning her arms above her head.  During this whole 'meltdown' (if that's what you want to call it) (Y/N) remained quiet. As quiet as a church mouse. She didn't dare utter a single word, didn't dare say anything. She was either too drunk or too scared to speak.  "Babygirl," Harley's voice isn't soft and sweet, but sinister and cold. (Y/N)'s breath hitches and she shudders as Harley holds her face with the palm of her hand before backing her with it, earning a small gasp to spill out from (Y/N)'s lips.  

"You are in trouble, do you understand? You and your slutty fuckin' self. Who do you think you are, grinding against another man as if you want a cock when you already have a plastic one at home? Besides, is my tongue and fingers not cutting it out for you anymore, sweetheart?" Harley's  words were laced with malice and held as much venom as an Inland Taipan. 

"Don't you know who you belong to? You're mine. Always was, always will be. It's about time you realize that." Her voice is loud, booming, really, it causes (Y/N)'s ears to ring from how loud her best friend was being but all of it - the anger, the bottled up jealousy and affection exploding out of her - sent a shiver down her spine. It was also making her soaked, dripping with wetness. 

 "F-Fuck..." it's the first thing she's said all day and a bit of Harley is thankful the girl still knows how to speak, that she didn't totally scare her off with showing her dominate side.  "I'm really sorry, Harl-" "No." Harley cuts her off, pressing her fingertips to (Y/N)'s lips, smearing lipstick all over her fingers as she does so.  "You know what to call me." Harley stood up, crawling off of her best friend as she points to the couch. "Lay on your stomach, ass hanging in the air. You're getting a spanking." (Y/N) feels  warm and tingly all over and she's sure it's a combination of both being so turned on and drunk.  Either way, like a good girl, she follows orders. "Mistress..." Her voice is weak, barely above a whisper.  "I really am sorry." Her voice shook, as well as her body; every part of her was trembling and shaking. It wasn't out of fear, fuck no - she shook with nothing but excitement.    Harley shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she watches how horny - how desperate - (Y/N) was.  "Look at you, sprawled all out, legs separated, all for me to taste and to enjoy." Harley runs her hand over (Y/N)'s skirt, lifting the fabric up and touches the outside of her panties, loving the way the lace feels underneath the tips of her fingers. She was always a sucker for lace.  

Harley pulls her panties down, slowly peeling it off of her thighs and down to her ankles. Licking her lips, Harley smiles a seductive grin, her own wetness pooling inbetween her thighs.  (Y/N) was beautiful, without a doubt. 

More and more, each second of each passing day, Harley found herself falling more and more in love with the girl.  She loved everything about the girl. She could list off everything, tell all of it to (Y/N) but that'd take way too long and she felt as if time was running out and all Harley - really - wanted to do was taste (Y/N) on her tongue, in her mouth.  

Harley guides her fingers across (Y/N)'s ass, ghostly brushing along the skin before picking her hand up and slamming it down, earning a loud whimper and yelp to come from (Y/N)'s lips. "Fuck.... more, please, mistress, give me more. I've been so bad, such a naughty little thing, I deserve it. Please."    Harley grinned wickedly, giggling softly as she raises her hand again and lifts it back down. One slap followed another which followed another.  (Y/N) was begging for it and Harley fucking loved every single second of it.   "I know you deserve it because you're a slut, aren't you, princess? You're a filthy, dirty whore." Harley slams her hand onto (Y/N)'s ass again, rougher than the previous ones. 

 (Y/N) whimpers and pushes back up against Harley's hand, nodding eagerly. "Y-yes.... need to be punished. Please, punish me."  (Y/N) sobs, broken little cries falling from her mouth.  "That's just what you want, isn't it, baby?" Harley cooed, taking her hand off of (Y/N)'s bottom before reaching down and gazing her thumb over (Y/N)'s cute little clit.  

 "You want to be punished, don't you? Because you like it, right? Love it when I fuck you with a fake, plastic cock. Love the feeling of my fingers being buried deep inside your cunt. You love all of it - punishment or no punishment - because you're a fucking slut."  (Y/N)'s whines are - somehow - even louder than before and she's nodding rapidly, Harley giggles at the sight because her movements remind her of a bobblehead.  "Please," (Y/N) begged.  "Please, fuck me. Give it to me, nice and rough, just the way I like it. Show me who I belong to, Harley.... mistress, I meant... Mistress, please... I want it. I need it. I want your fingers, your tongue, anything, please." Harley knows by the sound of her voice, (Y/N) has tears in her eyes and she's willing to be fucked just by anything at this point.  "Filthy thing, you are." Harley murmurs, licking her lips before sinking to the floor. "Turn over, baby. Let's see how soaked you are."  Doing as she's told, (Y/N) rolls over and sits up, back against the cushions of the couch as she displays her pussy for Harley.  "Want Mistress to fuck you, huh? Fuck your tight little core until you're sore in the morning and can't walk without a limp? Want me to mark you up so everybody knows you're mine?"  All (Y/N) does is nod, far too flustered for words. "Say it. I want to hear you say it." Harley growled as her fingers shove their way inside (Y/N)'s eager and dripping wet cunt.  Moaning, (Y/N) nods as she throws her head back. "Mark me, Har. Make me your bitch. Fuck me like you hate me, please."   Harley smiles widely as she adds another finger, happily going to do exactly that.     "You're so tight, baby girl.... fucking dripping on my fingers." Harley cooed as she scissors her fingers back and forth, pushing and pulling, twisting and turning.  Before (Y/N) has any time to reply, or even say anything at all,  Harley's mouth is at her heat and (Y/N) groans at the sudden and unexpected gesture.  Harley hums, sending vibrations all over (Y/N)'s body. This causes her hips to jerk upward, moan after moan slipping out of her mouth. 

Harley swirls her tongue back and forth, inside and out, making sure her pussy wasn't going to go untouched. Every part of her womanhood,  she licked and sucked on.  Harley gazed up and a blush washes over her cheeks as she notices (Y/N) had already been looking down at her. 

 She was sparkling, loving the triumph at the mess she was making out of her dear and lovely best friend.  (Y/N) could feel that white and hot tension building in the pit of her stomach. Her entire body was broken out with goose bumps and she was shaking, trembling like a leaf. 

Her moans grew louder in volume, more high pitched, her nails dug into the cushion of the couch and as she closes her eyes, she's quick to reopen them due to the fact Harley had stopped what she was doing.  "Hey, I was enjoying myself-" "This is a punishment, remember, doll? Now, be a good girl and eat my pussy out. You were born to be my good pussy eater, weren't you? So, get to work. Get to pleasing me; your Mistress."  (Y/N) grunts, loving the foul language she spoke as she gets off the couch and falls to her knees, quick to put her mouth to good use.  Above her, Harley hummed in delight, slowly rocking her hips back and forth against (Y/N)'s warm and wet mouth. "There ya go... there's my good girl." Harley purred, lids fluttering close as she enjoys the way (Y/N)'s tongue feels against her clit.  

 Harley hadn't known how worked up she was until a few seconds pass and just as quickly as they started, she's spilling all her fluids and juices onto (Y/N)'s face, coating her skin with her cum.  "Fuck... 'm sorry about that, princess...... You just had me so worked up. Really, I've been thinkin about you all day. And I saw you with that guy and I just.... I got a little jealous, y'know?"  "No reason to be," (Y/N) replied, licking off the remains of Harley's orgasm off of her lips. "I was just havin' some fun. Besides, like you said, I'm yours. Always will be, always have been. Now, enough of this mushy chick flick moment, are you going to pound me and wreck me or not?"  Harley laughs and nods, taking (Y/N) up off of her feet and kisses her, not minding the taste of herself on her best friend - well, girlfriend's - lips.   "Let's go then, shall we?"  (Y/N) giggles loudly as Harley, as she had done before, lifts her up and carries her off to the bedroom.   "We're together now though, right?" "Yes, of course, dumbass."  "Just needed that confirmed."  "Of course, baby, I love you. I’m sorry I had such a hard time admitting that until today... Now, open that mouth up and let me choke you with this fake cock before I dick you down with it."

[isabellitah]

🧡 HAIKYUU x MANAGER READER

Title : it’s all part of the job

Pairing : (all platonic !) inarizaki x reader, aoba johsai x reader, itachiyama x reader

Warning : threats?

INARIZAKI

The fangirls of the VBC team of Inarizaki are well… frightening, to say the least. But the most frightening belonged to not only the Miya Twins, but also to one Suna Rintarou. The others’ fangirls were quite tame, some even friendly, with you. But the rabid fangirls of those three? Yeah, no. They’re out for blood. For your blood. And it’s all because you were forced to be the manager of the VBC team.

It all started when Aran, politely forced (read : bribed with food) you to be their manager because they needed one that would ‘t oggle over any of them. I mean don’t get me wrong, you do oggle, but you do it internally mainly because you don’t want Atsumu’s head any bigger you genuinely treasure your friendship with them.

Read here : you are their friend. Not girlfriend. And yet, those bobbleheads can’t seem to register it in their heads that, just because you are a girl and just because you can be close to them and talk to them like a regular friend, you are not their girlfriend.

Now the boys normally don’t leave you alone because well one, you get lost easily. And two, they know what rabid fangirls can be capable of. In the words of one Suna Rintarou, “they have no brain cells left to think properly.” But it just so happens that while they went into their locker rooms to change and you started to set up the net, the fangirls slowly started entering the gym.

Of course with their high heels click clacking on the floors, you heard them a mile away but chose to ignore them because they’ll come when they’re stupid enough.

And they are. Stupid enough, that is.

Just as you finished setting the net up, you heard an annoying voice call out, “HEY YOU!”

She didn’t say your name so you didn’t bother looking at her. Why waste energy, y’know?

Yeah, that didn’t work out.

Next thing you know, someone dug their nails into your wrist and forcefully spun you to face them. You winced at the sudden force but didn’t get the chance to voice out your pain when you heard a voice you never knew you’d be relieved to hear, “OI! WHAT DO YA SQUEALIN PIGS THINK YER DOING TO MY MANAGER?!”

Paling, the two girls with bitch 1 turned tail and ran off. Pussies. Their main bitch stayed though- still gripping onto your wrist with her fake nails. Speaking of your wrist- you felt the skin break as her grip tightened the longer the team glared at her.

Knowing she lost, the bitch scoffed, muttered “whatever.” and stomped away.

While the others continued glaring at the girl, knowing they can’t fight because technically they’d be at fault if it was ever reported, Kita and Aran looked at you with concern- which confused you to say the least.

“Are you okay, l/n-san?”

Looking at Aran, you nodded, “yeah, of course. Why?”

It was Kita who answered you, “l/n-san… you’re bleeding.”

You and the rest of the glaring team immediately looked at your wrist.

Huh. It was bleeding.

You shrugged, “it’s okay. I don’t feel anything at the moment.”

“Even so, dumbass, we should get you to the clinic. Who knows what germs that pig had in her nails-” Suna visibly shuddered at the thought, “it could be infected for all we know.”

Nodding, Kita gently wrapped your wrist with his handkerchief and took your things while Aran placed his hand on your lower back to gently coax you to start walking with Kita leading you both towards the clinic leaving the rest of the team to start cleaning up. It was a silent decision : practice was cancelled for today.

It was all quiet until a loud THWACK followed by an OW echoed through the gym.

Suna quickly brought his phone out to film the interaction while keeping in mind that this may entertain you later on and lighten up your mood- while also thinking about the perfect blackmail against the twins. The rest of the team dispersed and prepared to go home the moment the gym doors closed behind you three.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR, ‘SAMU?!”

“YER MANAGER?! WHAT DID YA MEAN YER MANAGER?! SHE’S ALL OF OURS, DUMBASS!”

Flushed red, Atsumu spluttered for a response before being decked by him brother on the face which caused him to retaliate by pulling his hair and biting his shoulder, “OW YOU LIL SHIT!”

“YOU FUCKING STARTED IT!”

Ah yes, the perfect blackmail.

AOBA JOHSAI

So. Tooru’s fangirls huh. Yeah, scary, I know. But that’s not gonna make you stay away from your childhood friend. No sir. You ignored their threats to leave their King alone because you believed they were just that. Threats.

Yeah, big mistake.

Because next thing you know, you’re waking up at the clinic of the school with the Seijoh 4 around you looking extremely worried.

When asking them what happened, Tooru teared up and apologized profusely to you before giving you his milk bread. Confused you took the milk bread and thanked him before asking him why he’s apologizing to you.

Hajime took control of the situation and told you about how Kentarou saw you getting beat up by a bunch of girls- girls he recognized as the one always trying to sneak in the boys’ locker room to take pics and girls who always screamed out Oikawa’s name during games. Said that by the time he found you, were already down with a bleeding head. Kentarou scared away the brats and immediately brought you to the clinic before sprinting down to the gym to get the four of them.

While everyone in the team was worried about you, they knew that these four needed to see you first on their own. You guys are the closest in the team, after all.

Now caught up on what happened, you touched the bandage around your head and winced causing Takahiro to grab you wrist and say, “don’t do that you dummy.” which led you to pout at him, “yah I’m injured, Hiro-kun! Don’t berate me.” with that said, you felt the tension lessen in the room.

Tooru still looked down so you gestured for him to sit beside you on the bed you sat on and he hesitantly did so. You proceeded to open the milk bread he gave you split it into five pieces; four equal ones and one bigger than the others. You gave the bigger piece to Tooru and the three equal ones to your other friends who all smiled and thanked you. Laying your head on Tooru’s shoulder, you told him that none of this was his fault and that you didn’t blame him for anything.

You felt the tension leave his shoulders as he wrapped an around you and murmured a thank you. With Tooru occupying the spot beside you, Takahiro decided to take up the space on your other side- squishing you between himself and Tooru. Issei laid himself on your legs, resting hid head on your abdomen while Hajime sat on the chair beside the bed.

Let’s just the girls that beat you up started avoiding you when you came to school the next day.

You kept hearing random bits of murmurs in the hallway about how the boys’ volleyball club was scary.

Shrugging it off, you went to the gym to prepare the net and balls.

Entering, however, you see that all your chores were done. As you sat down on the coach’s bench, the coach told you that the entire team arrived early to start on your chores because they wanted you to rest- but they didn’t want you to go home early so that you can watch them play and also to make sure you’re fine.

They don’t say it aloud but they care for you. You’re their precious manager. And you care for them too.

ITACHIYAMA

Okay first of all, the only reason on why you’re their manager is because of your two cousins. You don’t bother hiding the fact that you’re cousins so you just assumed that everyone knew.

Turns out, more than half the school didn’t.

They always wondered why the germaphobe and his cousin hung out with you and sometimes babied you- feeding you, carrying your things for you, bringing you to and from classes whenever they could, and sometimes even carrying you whenever you felt tired.

Some assumed that you were dating both cousins, others assumed you dated one while the other tolerated you, and a few were convinced that you were forcing yourself on them.

Said few despised you and were obsessed with one or both of your cousins.

In reality, you were the innocent baby of your family and therefore your cousins were very protective of you.

One day while walking in between them on the way to the gym for volleyball practice - with Kiyoomi on your right, and Motoya on your left; both their heights towering over you - someone suddenly pulled your ponytail. Cutting off what you were recalling from your day and putting a stop to your skipping as you suddenly shrieked out in pain.

Omi immediately grabbed a hold of your wrist while Motoya (i was gonna type Oya icb) grabbed onto the wrist of whoever gripped onto your ponytail.

Motoya pulled on wrist that held you and tightened his hold until the girl winced and let go of your hair. At that point you were crying while shaking as the pain on your scalp continued throbbing. Kiyoomi held you in his arms; one hand around your waist and the other massaging your scalp all the while whispering comforting words in your ears.

Motoya looked at Kiyoomi who made eye contact with him and nodded. And so, Kiyoomi left leaving Motoya with the girl who was slowly paling and starting to shake as Motoya continued tightening his grip on her wrist and turned to glare at her.

The next day, rumors went around about how the girl was suddenly in the hospital because she tripped down the stairs when leaving the school. Her friends, who knew of her after school plan, were too terrified to refute the rumors and just agreed with them. Who knew Motoya was terrifying when angered.

Now you were sure that the entire school knew of your relations with both Kiyoomi and Motoya. Or well, you hoped so.

[britishassistant]

Supervillain AU! I formally request the special addition of Yuu’s first kidnapping please.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

“Yoo-hoo, Reporter-chan? Wakey-wakey, it’ll be bad for you if you don’t get up soon~”

Yuu shakes their head groggily, the sing-songy voice not helping the pounding in their temple.

“Did someone get the number of the truck that hit me?” They mumble, blinking to try and get their eyes to focus.

“Dammit Deuce, you gave them brain damage.” A familiar, much more annoyed sounding voice said. “Their head’s gonna be all screwy and useless now, dumbass.”

“It was just a lovetap though!” A third voice, also familiar, protested.

The floor finally stopped moving in front of their eyes and Yuu realized some very important things.

One, the floor they were staring at was not the floor of the library where they last remembered being.

Two: Their arms and legs seemed to be tied tight to the arms and legs of an iron garden chair.

Three: There are many odd-looking people standing near them, all in clothes that are too coordinated not to be a uniform but too outlandish to represent a government group of some kind.

Oh Great Seven, Yuu thinks with a rising sort of hysteria. It’s finally happened.

Clowns have come to take me away for not brushing my teeth enough like Mom said when I was little.

“...Are ya sure you didn’t break ‘em?”

“...”

“Deuce.”

Yuu wonders if they should feel offended at being talked around like this.

“Enough of this nonsense!” A hand seizes Yuu’s chin and pulls their head up to face the latest speaker. An imperious-looking young man stands and walks towards the reporter, clicking his fingers. “Three of Clovers.”

A tall man in glasses hands the imperious young man what Yuu recognizes as their wallet. The shorter man glances at the contents disdainfully. “You. First and last name and age, now.”

“Y-Yuu Radcliffe, 23 years.” The reporter stutters, their initial hysteria morphing into a sinking feeling in their gut. If not the clowns, then... “Can I ask who I have the pleasure of talking to?”

“No.” The redhead holding their wallet snaps. “Current occupation and birthday?”

“Field reporter at TWST local news.” They force themselves to relax the fists their hands have balled into. “March 18th.”

Remember what Uncle Divvy always says. Stay calm, act cooperative, do or say whatever you need to to avoid injury. Any supervillains on this level trying to curry favor with or blackmail the dumb bird will have to go through Uncle Divvy first to contact him, and he’ll take care of the rest.

All Yuu needs to do is keep themselves alive until then.

They still can’t help but dread what they know is coming next.

The supervillain seems to notice their distress, and smirks cruelly. He takes his time walking forward and leaning down until he’s on the reporter’s eye level, hands resting on the back of the chair and eyes flicking over their face, almost as if he’s savoring the moment before he makes their life that much more painful.

Yuu braces themselves as he opens his mouth–!

“What is the best type of tea?”

Huh?

“Wait, what? I don’t—” Yuu asks, backpedalling as the supervillain’s face grows stormy at their lack of response. “Uuh...green tea? I guess? I mean, it’s the one I like the most, but I’m more of a coffee or hot cocoa person, so I’m not the best one to ask...”

The person holding their chin sucks in through their teeth and the annoyed familiar voice outside their periphary snickers “Oooh, busted~”

The supervillain is beginning to go as red as his hair, and the reporter can hear his teeth grinding. His hands are now gripping the back of the chair so tight Yuu would almost swear they hear the metal by their ears creak.

“Ri–Royal.” The man with glasses says.

The supervillain inhales and exhales almost violently, until what’s visible of his face under that mask is looking less flushed.

“The correct answer,” He says, voice trembling with emotion. “Was all teas at their due times. To drink green tea instead of rosehip at breakfast, or lemon tea at 8pm...the nerve of your arrogance is astounding!”

Yuu...genuinely isn’t sure how they’re supposed to respond to that. Instead they just go with, “I’m sorry, I’ve never had rosehip or lemon tea. Do you like them?”

“Do I—?!” The supervillain’s mouth works soundlessly, gradually going red again. He pushes off the chair sharply. “I—the ro—i-it’s not a matter of liking!! These are the Rules!! And the Rules must be obeyed!! Three of Clovers!”

“Yes, Royal Flush?” The glasses man asks.

“The reporter is forbidden from having any montblanc after dinner, and will take two cups of lemon tea at 8pm tonight and two cups of rosehip tomorrow at breakfast.” Royal Flush flashes them a cruel smirk. “Consider it a light punishment for your impertinence.”

Yuu blinks. Tries to make sense of what they’ve just heard.

Blinks again.

“You know if you just wanted to ask me out to dinner, I’d have taken a nice invitation or a bouquet. You didn’t need to knock me out and tie me up like this, I’m not that picky. I do have Tinder.”

Glasses guy makes a choking noise and erupts into a coughing fit.

The hand that’s been holding Yuu’s chin migrates to their shoulder for support as its owner lets out an undignified snort and gasps out something that sounds vaguely like “why wasn’t I recording, that was Magicam gold!” as he giggles. He’s a redhead too, but much more orange than his boss.

There’s a sputter of hysterical laughter that has Yuu twisting their head to see the two guys and the cat from the hydroelectric plant, both with these odd-looking metal collars around their necks, but otherwise unharmed. The talking cat is trussed up in so many ropes that it looks more like a bobblehead, also wearing a weird collar.

The third redheaded one is bracing his hands on his knees, wheezing out a litany of “holy shit, holy shit” between chortles. The dark haired one is holding the cat a confused expression, cutting off his friend’s laughter when he turns to ask, “Ace, what’s tinder?”

The momentary silence lets an odd squeaking noise be heard.

One that gradually grows in volume until it’s an outright screech coming from the supervillain in front of them. He’s so red Yuu is honestly worried about his blood pressure, pointing a shaking finger at them.

“I—YOU—YOU—OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!!”

Yuu chokes a little at the feeling of cold metal materializing around their neck, dragging their head down with its weight. The supervillain continues screeching, refusing to even look at the reporter. “YOU—! DUNGEON! RIGHT NOW!! NO DESSERTS!! GO!!”

There’s an awkward moment as Royal Flush turns away from them, as if expecting them to get up and walk out of their own accord while his back is to them.

“...So, does that mean you want them to untie me or something, or...?” Yuu wiggles their firmly bound hands and feet for emphasis.

The supervillian makes a sound like a kettle whistling, before he barks out. “Two of Spades! Ace of Hearts! GET them OUT OF MY SIGHT until they’re WILLING to COOPERATE!!”

The dark haired young man quickly shuffles forward, grabs the back of the chair, and drags it and the poor reporter attached to it out of the room and into the corridor. The metal screeches as it moves from carpet to concrete.

“Wh—Two, no, untie them first.” The man with glasses says, despairing, appearing in the doorway. “You’ll mark up the floor otherwise.”

“Ah! Sorry, senpai!” Two looks between the cat in his arms and the knots on the chair, before shoving the cat into the arms of the redhead who answers to “Ace”. Neither of them look happy with this development.

“Fgnah! Quit squeezing, ya jerk!” The cat protests, wriggling as best it can.

“Oh? What’s that? I’m sorry, I just need to make sure that greatest, lamest supervillain in the city doesn’t escape to go setting random crap in the lair on fire again.” Ace says sweetly, grip tightening.

“Tha’s your fault, an’ you know it!” The cat wheezes out, thrashing harder.

Yuu winces. “Hey, quit hurting him. Whatever he did, he doesn’t deserve this.”

The dark haired minion barks out a laugh as he tugs the ropes away from their right wrist while his redheaded counterpart sneers at them.

“Oh really? Bet you’ll change your tune real quick once you learn it’s thanks to him you’re here in the first place.” Ace of Hearts mocks. “Dumb monster sang like a damn canary when Royal pressured him a tiiiny bit, saying it was all your fault his precious ingredient is now in the sewers.”

“Tha’s a lie!” The monster? cat blurts out too quickly for comfort. “It’s all these two morons, I swear!”

“Why you little—“

“I don’t care.” Yuu cuts in before Two of Spades can hit the animal. “I didn’t destroy that thing, but even if none of you said anything, your boss would’ve found out I was involved anyway from watching my report on it on the news. So I don’t care, just-just quit hurting him.”

There’s a tense moment as the two minions stare down at the reporter. They do their best to meet the gazes without flinching.

Then the Ace of Hearts tosses the cat into their lap as the Two of Spades sinks back down to keep working on their ankle. “Fine. Since you like it so much, you can take care of it. Just don’t expect me to cover for your ass—you still owe me for the power plant.”

“I’m sorry?” Yuu curls their free arm around the bundle of rope, fur, and yowling insults and pulls it closer to them. “Shouldn’t that be the other way round?”

“You locked me in a closet with him!” Ace hisses. “Do you know how hard it was to get out before the cops came with him freaking out and messing stuff up?!”

“Oi.” Two shoots him a dark look from where he’s finished untying the reporter’s left hand. “Like you weren’t whining about us being digested until you knocked a broom over!”

“Sh-shut up!”

“Well excuse me for trying to save your lives.” Yuu bites back, rubbing the rope marks on their wrists. “Next time I’ll just run and let the sludge monster eat your unconscious bodies.”

“It’d save us all the trouble of this shit if you did!” Ace spits, jabbing a finger at his collar. “At least then we wouldn’t be on Royal’s shit list!”

Yuu lets the piece of information they were just given marinate in their brain as they glare at him. Well, now what exactly was that supposed to mean?

“Ngh...this knot won’t come loose.” Two says from by the reporter’s left foot.

“How about now?” Replies an unfamiliar voice, as a disembodied hand pulls deftly at a loop in the rope.

“Ah!” Two of Spades brightens up as the rest of the rope falls away. “Thanks a lot—”

The disembodied hand punches him in the face.

Yuu cries out in alarm at the sight of the minion falling backwards into the Ace of Hearts, knocking him down like a bowling pin.

A pair of clawed hands are then scooping them up, extra cat and all, and the reporter finds themself looking at the unsettlingly wide smile and purple cat ears of one of the city’s top heroes, running at full speed while sharpened playing cards whizz past his face and Ace calls out behind them “Senpai! It’s him again!!”

There’s a percussive boom somewhere in the distance, and screams of how the flamingos are loose as the hero winks down at Yuu. “Seems you’re a popular one today, kitten! But let’s get you back to where you where before you were so rudely catnapped, yes?”

“Not so fast, hero!” The orange haired guy choruses from the entrance to the staircase, and—from behind them as well?

The reporter’s heart sinks as more and more versions of the minion keep popping up around them, to the point where the hero is forced to stand on the bannister of the balcony they’re on.

And based on the fact that the hero hasn’t used his invisibility? Intangibility? powers, it’s likely that he can’t use them while holding Yuu and the cat.

They’re surrounded.

“You really can’t keep your paws out of anything that’s mine, can you?” Royal Flush’s tone is clipped as he glares up at the hero.

“Hey R-kun, Three-kun!” The hero pouts, hugging Yuu closer to his chest. “I come a~ll this way to play, only to find you’ve got a nyew toy you’re already playing with without me! How mean! You guys really are cruel!!”

“We’re sorry about that.” Three of Clovers says, edging closer. “If you just hand the reporter over to Four, they’ll be put away and we can all “play” together, no distractions. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

The hero makes a deliberating noise, holding Yuu out and away from him over the drop, tilting his head this way and that.

His grin grows unsettlingly wider.

“Look, R-kun, Three-kun!” The hero calls out. “Nyo hands!”

Wait, what—

The hero’s body vanishes.

Yuu and the monster cat plummet screaming past the illogically winding staircases of the evil lair.

Yuu tries to angle their body so that the frantically crying cat will be shielded from the brunt of the fall—!

“NO!!”

There’s a sound like glass shattering, and a feeling of being enveloped in something soft, cold and buoyant. The two of them bounce a few times and land back on it more gently each time.

Yuu cracks open their eyes to see that they’re seated on a strange, red, jelly-like mass. The cat in their arms tentatively sniffs, and then lunges to take a bite out of their cushion before the reporter can stop him.

“Shtrawberry?” He says through a full mouth. “Tashtes good!”

The reporter grabs him before he can go for another bite, a little thrown by his speed now that collar isn’t weighing him down. But where did this thing come from–?

Yuu looks up.

Royal Flush is leaning dangerously far over the balcony countless flights of stairs above them, one arm outstretched down towards them.

They stare at each other for a moment.

Then clawed hands fasten around Yuu’s waist again with a cheery “Nyow wasn’t that fun?” and Royal Flush visibly tenses and begins screaming things after the escaping hero that are barely legible through his rage.

The hero deposits them both outside the TWST news station with their wallet and phone back in their pockets. He at least helps them untie the monster cat, who promptly declares he just let them protect him, and scarpers.

Of course the hero is gone too when Yuu turns back around, before they can ask him what the hell he was playing at, dropping them like that, was he insane?! If Royal Flush hadn’t interfered...

The reporter has to fight the urge to lose their lunch.

Their boss rushes out and envelopes them in a surprisingly powerful hug, the woman almost lifting the reporter off their feet as she babbles about whether or not Yuu needs a hospital after getting kidnapped by one of the seven major supervillains.

Yuuken is quick to join the embrace with a bear hug of his own. He pulls back, fingers prodding gently at Yuu’s bruised temple and declaring he’ll drive them to hospital to make sure they don’t have a concussion.

He graciously waits until they’re in the car to ask why Yuu smells so much of strawberries.

The reporter can only give a half answer, partly because they don’t want to worry him, and partly because they have another question of their own buzzing incessantly around their brain.

Why was Yuu kidnapped in the first place?

Royal Flush never even mentioned Crowley, despite all the chances he had to do so. Not even an oblique or confusing metaphor or code. Does that mean he’s ignorant of the connection between Yuu and the League?

But if that’s the case, it circles back around to the first question: why kidnap Yuu to begin with?

Somehow the reporter doubts it was to just ask their tea preferences or invite them to dinner.

Those minions referred to that monster as Royal Flush’s “precious ingredient”. Ingredient for what? Is there something that Royal Flush thinks they witnessed that’s integral to a scheme? Did they witness something and just not realize it’s significance?

Yuu’s reporter senses are screaming that there’s a deeper story to uncover here. Yuu’s common sense is screaming that investigating the dangerous plans of the supervillain they’ve just escaped from is a terrible idea.

Though he could have just...let them fall. But he didn’t. And won’t he just kidnap them again regardless?

...

This is a terrible idea.

But if Yuu’s common sense was stronger than their reporter senses, then they wouldn’t be in this city in the first place, would they?