#and someone in my section DID pass out

[queerlycarter]

man ever since i became sicker and my heat intolerance skyrocketed im like. jealous of most other people for whom heat is merely uncomfortable and not actively dangerous. and because i have horrible emotional permanence i dont even remember what that's like.

i used to LIKE the heat. i used to work outside all summer in 90°F+ 90%+ humidity and i was FINE. what????? now i cant even be outside in 80°F for 2 mins without feeling two seconds from passing out

[seaofreverie]

GUUUYYUYSSSD !!!!!

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

KIMONO MY HOUSE VINYL!!!!!!

Also funny story which is that when my brother took these to the cashier he said something like "oh... Sparks... they were here one year ago"

[crossgartered]

I got a book!!!

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Spice Up Your Life

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: max verstappen x fem!beckham!model!reader

♥ synopsis: you’re the daughter of victoria and david beckham. ginger spice, aka geri halliwell and the wife of red bull principal was in a pop group with your mom, allowing you to visit the paddock frequently and meet the one and only max verstappen.

♥ smau - fc: isabelle mathers + girls on pinterest - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: ft. a few familiar footballers and no horner

-August 2024-

liked by victoriabeckham, davidbeckham, maxverstappen1, and 584,603 more

ynbeckham home sweet home

view comments

judebellingham i’ll let the united kit slide for now

ynbeckham 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

user7 i need more judeyn content

k.mbappe @/ynbeckham your dad played for madrid too you know

ynbeckham @/k.mbappe yea i know

vinijr damn 😐

ynbeckham i love you guys I swear 🫶

manchesterunited welcome back

ynbeckham let’s start the season strong 💪

user1 she is her

user6 let’s go man u girlies

user2 stop it why is @/maxverstappen in her likes?

user3 because he has good taste?

user5 i’ve seen yn at madrid games sitting next to carlos so maybe max has seen her 🤷‍♀️

user7 @/user5 it’s that versainz influence

liked by maxverstappen1, realmadrid, davidbeckham, and 483,549 more

ynbeckham madrid

tagged; @/judebellingham

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erling awh she even wore your kit

judebellingham i know 😍

user1 bet max wishes she was wearing his number lol

carlossainz55 @/ynbeckham i knew you’d come around eventually

ynbeckham peer pressure

realmadrid @/ynbeckham you love us

ynbeckham @/realmadrid i do 😔

user2 i LOVED seeing david & victoria there with yn

user3 right! it was so sweet

user4 the way they were cheering on jude too 🥹

user5 idk anything about the judeyn lore…

user4 @/user5 i gotchu! with davud being who he is yn had immediate connections to the world of football. madrid and united are the two teams most people know him from so yn quickly made friends with a lot of the players like jude!

maxverstappen1 feels like everyone was there except me 😅

ynbeckham you didn’t miss out on too much but you should totally come down to the pitch one day 🙃

maxverstappen1 @/ynbeckham maybe i can just invite you over to the paddock this weekend?

ynbeckham @/maxverstappen1 ill check my schedule

user7 SMOOTH

user8 stop it did max just pick up yn in her comment section 😭

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

You pulled an already opened white envelope from your counter and spoke directly to your phone, which was recording you.

"I'm sure we've all seen the Max comments, everyone was raving about it. What I want to know is... who told her?" you pointed at the camera, sunlight reflecting off of the charms on your nails.

"I got this letter from Geri with a Red Bull paddock pass inside," you stated, pulling the lanyard out of the envelope. You flipped the pass ID over to show the camera up close, "Valid for: All Days."

You stepped back from the camera with a knowing look on your face, putting your hands on your hips.

You tilted your head, "I guess I'll see you in Monza."

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

yns insta story

liked by landonorris, davidbeckham, judebellingham, and 249,785 more

view story replies

user1 she wasn’t joking 😭 she’s actually in monza

user2 whatever max wants max gets

davidbeckham i’ll be in the mercedes garage if you need me x

ynbeckham ok 🙂↕️

redbullracing @/davidbeckham you won’t be joining us?

davidbeckham @/redbullracing maybe i’d join you if i had a valid pass like yn

redbullracing 😬

user3 THEY DIDNT EVEN GIVE HIM PASSES HAHAHAHDJDJD

user5 no fucking wonder he’s hanging out at mclaren and mercedes 😭

user7 gonna need someone out there to record her and max's meeting tbh

gerihalliwell glad to see you put the paddock pass to use! can't wait to see @/victoriabeckham in Vegas <3

♡ by ynbeckham and victoriabeckham

user9 you couldn't get david passes too?

gerihalliwell I got 2 to give away... my hands are tied

user12 double it and give it to the next disgruntled dad

user8 lets go spice girls vegas reunion

user10 if they're gonna make vegas a whole thing we might as well have geri and victoria sing like they did in '97 for the mclaren car launch

user14 the f1 spice girls lore runs so deep

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Post Race Interview-

”Max how did you feel about your race today?”

“Uhm,” he scratched his head. “Definitely could have done better, the car could’ve been better, but you know congrats to Charles.”

“I saw the Beckhams in the paddock today. How do you feel about Y/n cheering you on in your garage today?”

“It felt great you know? I’ve always wanted to meet her and her family. I’ve talked to two of the spice girls now so we’re getting close to crossing that off the bucket list.” he laughed. 

”Alright, thank you Max,” the interviewer said and he walked off.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari, maxverstappen1, and 974,635 more

ynbeckham adorando il mio tempo qui in Italia 🇮🇹 @/charlesleclerc congrats on the win, i know tifosi is proud !! @/maxverstappen1 it was truly great to meet you, i hope we run into each other again soon <3

translation: adoring my time here in italy

view comments

redbullracing we were glad to have you in the paddock yn!

ynbeckham thank you so much for having me <3

judebellingham you better invite me next time

redbullracing @/judebellingham i’ll try my best to🫡

k.mbappe @/redbullracing if you invite him you have to invite the whole team otherwise it’s just unfair

redbullracing it’s just an inchident

user1 oh and you just know max is shaking right now

charles_leclerc he dropped his phone

maxverstappen1 @/charles_leclerc delete this

user2 seems like max won’t be following charles on insta any time soon

user3 i loved seeing her in the paddock today! i don’t think i’ve seen her at any events other than for modeling or footy

user5 hopefully she’ll keep coming back

scuderiaferrari tifosi is definitely proud of charles! i’m sure they’d be happy to see you one day in our garage @/ynbeckham 😉

ynbeckham admin 🤭

redbullracing @/scuderiaferrari stop trying to steal our new mascot you already have leo and now roscoe

liked by lewishamilton, bellahadid, gigihadid, and 1,230,583 more

ynbeckham getting ready for the versace runway

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bellahadid cant wait to see you walk ❤️

judebellingham still upset I wasnt invited but whatever

k.mbappe yeah get in line

user1 you are SO stunning

maxverstappen1 can't wait to see you

ynbeckham 🫶

user2 wait a damn minute max is gonna be there?

user3 or does he just mean see her again in general lmao 😭

user2 @/user3 why would he mean that?

user3 @/user2 I dunno he posts comments like they're private texts

user7 why are we not freaking out over the heart yn posted

user6 maxyn crumbs

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by donatella_versace, judebellingham, landonorris, and 2,842,473 more

versace a collection unapologetically positive and authentically Very Versace…

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ynbeckham it was an absolute honor <3

francisca.cgomes you looked stunning 😘

ynbeckham thank you kika 💋

user8 the three of them ate the runway up

landonorris hire me next

ynbeckham I think max would make the perfect model 😍

landonorris ...

user2 shes whipped for him

user3 is she wrong tho

gigihadid great to see you again Lewis <3 its been a long time

♡ by lewishamilton

user7 hang on let them cook

user12 yns dress >>

user5 lewis is completing his side quests rn

judebellingham our girl walked a runway 🥹

vinjir shes all grown up

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

yns insta story

liked by gigihadid, judebellingham, k.mbappe, and 563,493 more

view story replies

ynbeckham GUESS WHO HAS A DATE

judebellingham it was about time

user1 whoever it is wife her up

carlossainz55 if i’m the date does that mean we get to go to a madrid game

ynbeckham @/carlossainz55 wow using me for clout much

maxverstappen @/ynbeckham @/carlossainz55 couldn’t be me

user2 MAX 😭

user3 max is putting in the WORK

user5 wait a minute does this mean her date is not max?

user7 wdym?

user5 he didn’t like the post and sure he commented but certainly he wouldn’t still be trying to put moves on her is they were already going out…

user6 @/user5 you better be lying 😭

user10 NO please I need maxyn

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, oscarpiastri, and 1,539,094 more

maxverstappen1 a much needed vacation before vegas

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user1 max blink twice if you need help 😰

user2 i’m really starting to lose hope in maxyn

user3 why was he at versace then?

user4 i dunno having the seven time world champ and the two current champ contenders there is good for business maybe?

user5 yn is still going to vegas tho

user6 she could just be going there for her mom and geri

user7 guys..

user10 no please they were just flirting in comments like two days ago

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by redbullracing, brookylnpeltzbeckham, gerihalliwell, and 1,745,952 more

ynbeckham it’s race weekend! how are we feeling?

view comments

manchesterunited feeling like you abandoned us :/

user10 i can’t believe she’s missing united vs city for this 😔

ynbeckham i have to support my man this comment has been deleted

user1 yn we need a vegas vlog 😩

user2 spice girls reunion go crazy in the chat

gigihadid i’ll see you again soon <3

ynbeckham <3

judebellingham wish i could be there

ynbeckham call me when your season is over

user3 judeyn…

user7 guys what if she’s dating jude

judebellingham @/user7 i can confidently say she’s not

user7 @/judebellingham but what if that’s a cover up 🫣

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by redbullracing, ynbeckham, charles_leclerc, and 3,493,595 more

f1 for the second time in a row max vestappen has won the vegas grand prix

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ynbeckham @/maxverstappen1 i’m so proud of you. love you so much ❤️

♡ by maxverstappen1

user3 MAXYN IS REAL

user7 i just dropped my phone

user10 i fell to the ground

user4 this is what we’ve been waiting for

user7 congratulations max 🫶

ynbeckham DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

max’s insta story

liked by ynbeckham, charles_leclerc, judebellingham, and 1,843,950 more

view story replies

francisca.cgomes you two are so cute together 🥹

user1 stop it they’re so adorable

user2 david is being awfully calm right now lol

alexandrasaintmleux we should double date

ynbeckham we’re so there!

ynbeckham love you so much

maxverstappen1 i love you more

liked by bellahadid, haileybieber, victoriabecham, and 2,953,290 more

voguemagazine yn beckham to be on the cover of british vogue

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bellahadid congrats on your first cover i’m so proud 🥹

ynbeckham thank you bella 🫶

user1 she is SO beautiful

rhode come model for us 😍

ynbeckham just say when

user2 your favorite nepo baby’s favorite nepo baby

maxverstappen1 buying every printed issue right now ❤️

ynbeckham stop im blushing 🤭

[pathologicalreid]

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head.  “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

[reasoningdaily]

My former U.S. Track and Field teammate Tori Bowie, who was found dead in her home in Florida on May 2, of complications related to childbirth at 8 months pregnant, was a beautiful runner. She was effortless. At the Rio Olympics, I ran the second leg of the 4 x 100 relay. Tori was the anchor. When she got the baton, I remember thinking, “it’s over.” She just accelerated. When she crossed the finish line, I couldn’t wait to run over to her to celebrate. It was her first, and only, Olympic gold medal.

She also picked up a silver (in the 100-m) and bronze (200-m) in Brazil. The next year, at the 2017 World Championships in London, Tori won the 100-m title, earning the title of “world’s fastest woman.” Tori started out as a long jumper. So seeing her thrive as a sprinter was a huge deal. She was just such a bright light, and people were getting to see that.

Tori grew up in Mississippi and had this huge Southern accent. She didn’t take herself too seriously. You felt this sense of ease when you were around her. I last saw her in early 2021, in San Diego, where she was training. She gave me the biggest hug; something about her spirit was just very, very sweet. I felt her sweetness come over me that day.

Tori was 32 when she died. According to the autopsy, possible complications contributing to Bowie’s death included respiratory distress and eclampsia—seizures brought on by preeclampsia, a high blood pressure disorder that can occur during pregnancy. I developed preeclampsia during my pregnancy with my daughter Camryn, who was born in November 2018. The doctors sent me to the hospital, where I would deliver Camryn during an emergency C-section, at 32 weeks. I was unsure if I was going to make it. If I was ever going to hold my precious daughter.

Like so many Black women, I was unaware of the risks I faced while pregnant. According to the CDC, in 2021 the maternal mortality rate for Black women was 2.6 times the rate for white women. About five days before I gave birth to Camryn, I was having Thanksgiving dinner with my family. I mentioned that my feet were swollen. As we went around the table, the women shared their experiences during pregnancy. My cousin said she also had swollen feet. My mom didn’t. Not once did someone say, ‘oh, well, that’s one of the indicators of preeclampsia.’ None of us knew. When I became pregnant, my doctor didn’t sit me down and tell me, ‘these are things that you should look for in your pregnancy, because you are at a greater risk to experience these complications.’

That needs to change, now, especially in light of Tori’s tragic passing. Awareness is huge. Serena Williams had near-death complications during her pregnancy. Beyoncé developed preeclampsia. I hate that it takes Tori’s situation to put this back on the map and to get people to pay attention to it. But oftentimes, we need that wake-up call.

The medical community must do its part. There are so many stories of women dying who haven’t been heard. Doctors really need to hear the pain of Black women.

Luckily, there’s hope on several fronts. Congress has introduced the Momnibus Act, a package of 13 bills crafted to eliminate racial disparities in maternal health and improve outcomes across the board. California passed Momnibus legislation back in 2021. These laws make critical investments in areas like housing, nutrition, and transportation for underserved communities. Further, several pharmaceutical companies are making advances on early detection and treatment of preeclampsia.

Three gold medalists from that 4 x 100 relay team in Rio set out to become mothers. All three of us—all Black women—had serious complications. Tianna Madison has shared that she went into labor at 26 weeks and entered the hospital “with my medical advance directive AND my will.” Tori passed away. We’re dealing with a Black Maternal Health crisis. Here you have three Olympic champions, and we’re still at risk.

I would love to have another child. That’s something that I know for sure. But will I be here to raise that child? That’s a very real concern. And that’s a terrifying thing. This is America, in 2023, and Black women are dying while giving birth. It’s absurd.

I’m hopeful that things can get better. I’m hopeful that Tori, who stood on the podium at Rio, gold around her neck and sweetness in her soul, won’t die in vain.

—as told to Sean Gregory

[goldenstring6123]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTNXxJ8TM/

THIS IS SO CUTE PLS I CAN SO CLEARLY SEE THE LADS MEN DOING THIS 😭 and the comment section had me dying where is evb finding these MEN 😔🙏

Lnds: Sleepy time!

Warning: No warnings, afab!reader, fem!reader

Authors note: Fluff (not a lot of it) and a bit of domestic stuff.

Sylus:

It had been 30 minutes since you left the bedroom. Sylus was already well on his side of the mattress, reading the news while waiting for you to come back. He thought you were just up and about doing your normal routine of drinking herbal tea and doing skincare, but it was taking you far longer than usual.

He settled the tablet down on the nightstand and walked out of the bedroom. He searched for you in every room he passed by, and when he arrived at the guest bedroom at the end of the hall, there you were, perfectly tucked in under the unused duvet.

You were curled into a ball and too engrossed in the video you were watching; you didn't even notice the black fuzzy threads wrapping around your weird curled-up position. You lifted off from the bed, and when you came to, the view was of Sylus' back as you involuntarily made your way back to his bedroom.

"So you're not going to put me down?" you asked, paying attention to the video again. "Are manners not a thing anymore?"

The brooding man didn't spare you a glance. "I'm not open for discussion. You're supposed to sleep in my bedroom. Our bedroom."

"I just wanted a bed all to myself," you uttered. Here you were, planning what to watch and what to eat for the whole night, and this guy managed to foil it.

"I don't share the same sentiment, sweetie. You have the bed every time I'm overseas on a work trip. It's even infested with your colorful pillows," he opened the door to the bedroom and reeled you in, gesturing to your side of the bed which had vibrant pillows and bed 'pets,' as you like to refer to them.

"You really can't sleep without me, can you, Mr. Big guy? Afraid that someone's under the bed or something?"

"I'm more afraid that you're going to ravage my food pantry when you're not in my line of sight."

"The guest bedroom is nowhere near the pantry and I don't ravage it—I simply take a few snacks," you clarified. "Greg would be sad if the food spoils."

"Either way, you sleep in my bedroom or my couch, nowhere else, sweetie."

"Admit it: You like my company, don't you?" You gave him a cheeky grin.

"Yes, yes," Sylus agreed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You make a good meat shield when we get attacked in this bedroom."

"Oh wow. Reduced to a shield." You rolled your eyes in return and slipped under the covers. "That's Onychinus' leader for you."

"Right. Are you done now? I still have an early schedule for tomorrow."

"Alright, alright. I'm heading to bed now. You can sleep."

"Good. Now come here." Sylus opened his arms and you found yourself huddled right into it like it was the perfect mold. You shifted a bit and could feel his muscles relax against your back.

"Why did you feel the need to sleep in the guest room tonight?" Sylus asked under his breath.

"I was planning on reading comics all night. Tara recommended a new romance comic which I like, but knowing you, you'd probably take my phone away."

"Then it looks like I will be the bad guy tonight."

"Maybe. Until you fall asleep." You shrugged.

You hear the handcuffs being pulled out.

Shit.

Xavier:

3:02 AM, it says on the clock. You weren't on the bed. It was cold and it was proof that you never went on it, which was odd considering you told sleepy little Xavier that you were going to stay over. Poor little tired hunter was exhausted after a day's work and couldn't help but doze off while watching you do your little night ritual of moisturizing and doing a facemask.

Xavier sat on the side of the bed, letting out a big yawn. He didn't know where you were, but all he knew was that he didn't like being alone. From his palm, a faint whirlpool of light emanated, enough to guide him through his dark abode. His first thought was maybe you were watching in the living room. You weren't there. He then headed to the small bedroom right beside his, a spare one for guests, but it went unused when you both shared the same bed now.

He tried his best to quietly open the door. There he saw a little bump on the mattress and it made his heart squeeze; you were adorable and looked so small. Xavier tiptoed and folded the blanket away from you. He took a deep breath and lifted you up bridal style, pressing you against his chest.

"hm?…Xavier?" you slurred, vision dark and blurry.

"I'm moving you to our bedroom," he kissed the top of your head and continued his journey to the other room.

"You were sleeping," you paused, looking for the word. The drowsiness didn't seem to go away. "didn't want to…disturb you."

Xavier wanted to say something, but he and you both arrived at the side of the bed. He gently laid you down and placed a pillow between your limbs, which you automatically hugged. Xavier crawled to his side of the bed and yanked the cover over the both of you. Though you both weren't exactly touching, the little hunter's heart eased at your presence.

Gladly, he went back to sleep, hoping to maybe see you in his dreams.

Zayne:

Zayne's house was far too quiet when he arrived. It was only 7 o'clock, and by then you'd usually be in the kitchen, peeking your head out with a ladle in hand. There was no "welcome back" nor a simple "hello," but what did he expect? You were mad at him.

It's a shallow fight, really. Zayne decided to put you on alcohol time-out and took your hidden beers that you were so ready to drink after a grueling day at work. Zayne's judgment was far better than yours because when you get drunk beyond mental capacity, you tend to make a mess of the house, and you turn into a rage-filled, feisty lady. Moreover, you'd been chain-drinking for the whole week, and Zayne was getting concerned because you kept having hangovers.

His hands twisted on the knob to the little library of his house, where he would always find you on nights like these. There you were, curled in the lazy boy sofa and turned away from him. You were awake, but you didn't want to look at your lover.

"I'm home," Zayne declared.

"Dinner's in the fridge. Heat it up," you responded and closed your eyes. Zayne's footsteps grew closer and closer to you, and you felt his palm land on your shoulder.

"Your back will hurt if you sleep in that position."

The sofa might look soft and admittedly it's pretty comfortable to sit on for a long period of time, but with the curled-up position you have, it was bound to hurt when you fall asleep.

"I'm perfectly fine," you replied.

"Don't be stubborn." Zayne decided to pick you up. You wanted to thrash and get out of his grasp, but then you would look childish.

"I don't want to be with you tonight."

Zayne kept his lips in a thin line. He's more than aware that you're saying that because you're mad, but still—It hurts to hear it from you.

Gently, Zayne settled you in the middle of the bed. "I'll sleep in the living room. Stay here," he whispered and tucked the blanket over your shoulders. It was dark in the bedroom, so you couldn't exactly see him. You rolled over to face away from your lover and patiently waited for him to leave.

1:34 AM. You couldn't sleep. A can of beer would do you some good, but your tongue wasn't craving the bitterness of it. Instead, your mind looped over to a few hours ago when you said something that you didn't mean. It was harsh now that you think about it.

Now Zayne is keeping his distance from you. The owner of the house is sleeping on the couch.

With two pillows and a blanket in hand, you made your way down the flight of mahogany stairs. The living room was in full view, and Zayne was fast asleep on the couch. You nudged the two ottomans to the space between the coffee table and the main sofa. Then you threw the pillows and spread the blanket wide, letting it flutter down while you made yourself fit on the ottoman chairs.

You left a few spaces between you and Zayne, one that was filled by the cold pillow.

2:46 AM. Zayne stirred awake and found a blanket draped over his body. Beside him was his supposedly angry lover, clutching the hem of his shirt. He stared up into the chandelier above and took the pillow that was bordering between them, used it as his own, and pulled you closer, nudging the blanket over both of you even more.

Rafayel:

He's standing by the doorway, tapping his foot while a plushie was tucked under his armpit. He was frowning, and you could even see it through the dark.

"What?" you asked, shining the phone his way.

"So you're going to leave me alone tonight? Is that how you're going to play?" He was mad-mad, but that's why you were confused.

"Hey, drama king—you were complaining earlier in the day about my bad sleeping habits—I'm giving you the bed now so you can be at ease, but now you're mad at me again. Do you want me to sleep on the floor of your bedroom or something?"

"Duh? Of course not. I'm just complaining because it's true, but I never said you should sleep in the guest room."

"Then are you going to be alright with my sleeping habits?"

"No."

"Then sleep alone."

An audible gasp could be seen on the expression of the Lemurian. He looked so offended with the end of the conversation, but you weren't having it, so you plopped back onto the bed and hid under the covers, hoping that he'd go away.

The moment you peeked back out, you were rapidly crushed under heavy weight, making you sink to the bottom of the bed. Rafayel lay spread out on top of you, keeping you in your position and crushing you underneath him.

"Get off me! You're heavy!" You struggled underneath the blanket, nudging him and kicking him, but he pretended to be a dead body floating in the water. Rafayel kept still; if verbal convincing won't work, then he'll have to make you change your mind.

"Fine! Fine! I'll sleep with you!" you screamed. He rolled to the side, propped his elbows up, and rested his head on his palm. You just wanted to rub that triumphant grin off his face. He happily scooted underneath the blankets and hogged your side of the bed, wrapping his hand around you and shutting his eyes.

You didn't want to make a big deal of it further and decided to head to bed as well.

You were stirred awake by a strain in your neck. The lids of your eyes lifted at the electrifying pain that traveled to your head. You squinted, barely able to process the faint blue outside the window. Your body was spread out again, and nearby you could see Rafayel making use of the awkward space he was left with.

Guilt washed over your tired body.

Without much thought left, you held onto two pillows and let your body slip down to the carpeted floor. You hugged the pillow and placed another one under your head, liking the furry texture that brushed the side of your bare arms and legs. You closed your eyes again and let the tiredness wash over you.

It was cold for a summer morning. A large yawn escaped your lips and you patiently waited for your eyes to focus, and when they did, your eyes widened immediately at the beautiful sight of a sleeping Lemurian. Rafayel, too, was now on the floor, using his own arm as a pillow.

You tapped on his shoulder, and he just pulled you down back to the floor. "Five more minutes," he groaned, burying his face in your collar. Luckily, it was a Saturday, and you didn't have to go to work. You could indulge him in the meantime.

Author's footnotes: lol the tiktok was very cute, something that you'd see in a rom-com enemies to lovers sort of romance story. It would be a pretty redundant snippet if every situation is the same for the love interest so I took the liberty of changing things a bit.

Layout by me, using Canva Premium | Do not repost

[livinggxd3adgirl]

boxer! geto with his cute little prima ballerina wife has been PLAGUING my mind!

warning! not proofread

Geto owns and lives in a busted down gym before he met you, but after he asked you to be his girl he made sure to build a small section for you in the gym to practice. You call it your at home studio!

Geto will absolutely go to every single one of your performances! He will sit front row and center just so you don’t struggle to find him. After the performance is over he will go backstage to hand you a bouquet of beautiful flowers the size of your torso!

When you finally convince Geto to move out of the gym and into your apartment he is shocked to say the least. Everywhere he walked there was some sort of equipment for ballet whether it was pointe shoes, a mini barre in your living room or the new leotards you’ve bought.

When you 2 started dating he would always be in such awe of how flexible you are (even in bed). Every morning he watches you do your daily stretches and it never fails to amaze him to see how easily you contorted your body. He also loves helping you stretch but that’s only because he gets to see your body in all new angles.

Getos favorite pass time for when your not around is watching videos of you dancing. He never would’ve thought that watching some of the same performances over and over again would be entertaining before he met you. But now he knows he’s sorely wrong.

Whenever you come home from a particularly hard day at rehearsals he will sit you down in his lap and give you kisses as you vent all bout it to him.

Geto loves seeing your beautiful face when he just finished beating the shit out of someone. He loves seeing the look of pride on your face when they lift his arm up to signify that he just won. He will run to you and he hugs you tightly. effortlessly lifting you up and spinning you around.

Geto loves putting boxing gloves on you and just telling you to hit him. The first time he did it he was surprisingly shocked how strong of a right hook you got on you. But he would be lying if he said that didn’t turn him on..

a/n just a few headcannons before I post their actual story! likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! let me know if you would like to be on the taglist in my dms or comments! sweet days my lovies <3

[nickfowlerrr]

with you

part one

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. established relationship from everybody talks - but can be read as a standalone! feelings of loneliness. some angst. unprotected sex. squirting. use of pet names (sweetheart, doll, baby). dirty talk. heaps and heaps of fluff. if something needs to be tagged, pls lmk!

words: just about 8.5k

notes: a huge thank you to @whatever-lmaoo for beta-ing for me yet again! i appreciate you so much!! and i know, i know, a little late for a halloween fic- but i guess it’s okay bc this isn’t really all that halloweeney lol. honestly a little more personal than usual but i hope you all enjoy it anyway. please let me know what you think and thank you in advance for taking the time to read! 🩵

You’re pushing the basket, weaving your way through the aisles full of other semi last minute shoppers in search of their own Halloween costumes. You can’t get past a family spread out in the middle of the aisle as they contemplate their options aloud, no concern for the other people around them trying to shop. You suppress your eye roll but not the sigh of slight annoyance as you back up and move to the next aisle over, thankfully empty.

There aren’t many options here, but maybe something will give you an idea of what to dress up as. A couple minutes pass as you peruse the random assortment of costume accessories. Your mind is fully in idea mode as you try to piece something wearable together in your mind… you have that black maxi dress hanging in your closet, that could probably work as a good base.

You’re not paying attention to your surroundings as you nudge the basket further down the aisle while you examine two different pairs of long black gloves in your hands and take a step down the aisle to see the witch hats.

But do you really wanna be a witch? You purse your lips in thought before tossing the sets of gloves back into the big green cauldron you got them from. Your eyes linger on the witch section as you grasp the handle of the cart and start to push.

Before you set your head straight, you’re stopped in your path as you find yourself crashing into something. Oh gosh…

Someone.

Your apology is sputtering out past your lips before you can even turn to see the injured party, but once you do, and your eyes meet with sparkling blues, you stop your fumbling and sigh heavily in your relief.

“Oh, thank god,” you breathe as your shoulders relax. “I thought I actually hit someone.”

“Am I not someone?” Bucky scoffs with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“No, you are,” you assure him as you leave the basket and walk toward him, “but you’re my someone, so it’s okay and you have to forgive me.”

“Oh, I see,” he nods, eyeing you in your approach. You double check the aisle is still clear before kissing him, soft and fleeting.

“Did you find it?”

“Out of stock,” he frowns.

“Damn. We’ve looked everywhere, what now?”

“I don’t think ghosts lining the grass are gonna do much more than the full out display you’ve already set up, sweetheart. I think we’ll be okay,” he laughs.

“Yeah,” you sigh, a soft pout still on your lips, “you’re right. I just…”, a tight, heavy sigh leaves you as you shake your head, trailing off.

Bucky steps closer, his hand coming to rest on your waist, squeezing lightly.

“I know,” he says, softly.

You force a smile, taking his hand to hold in yours. “Alright, well, we got the candy and the groceries and the toothpaste,” you list aloud, trying to think if you’re forgetting anything.

“Toilet paper,” Bucky supplies, pushing the cart backwards before turning it to push it himself.

“Toilet paper! Who needs a list when I have you,” you lean into him as you walk before heading to the aisle ahead of him.

—

“Sweetheart?” Bucky calls from the kitchen as you wipe at the stray tear falling down your cheek. You blow your nose gently and close out of the app.

Another post of fall fun your nieces are having, and right below it another post from another costume party you weren’t invited to.

Don't let it get to you, you chide yourself. It's just the fomo sinking in. Nothing more.

You wipe at your cheeks before grabbing the door handle, calling down the stairs, "I'm coming!"

You make your way down the steps and are met at the bottom with Bucky, smiling like a schoolboy.

In his hands he holds a singular Halloween decoration.

"It's not light up ghosts, but,"

"It's perfect," you cut him off, smiling softly as you take the familiar ghost cutout from his hands.

You can't help but grin at the memory of your first Halloween with Bucky. Your first date. First meeting! God, it's been a whirlwind of a year.

Your eyes flicker to his and you immediately meet his stunning gaze; his already set on you.

"Just like you," he simpers.

You groan in jest, setting the cutout to rest along the stairs before you wrap your arms around him, leaning into his warm, solid hold. You sigh as he rubs your back comfortingly.

"Hey," he calls gently, causing you to pick up your head to look at him. "Talk to me. Please," he adds as your pout grows. "You've been off all week, what's going on?"

Your gaze drops to his chest as your arms drop from around him. He doesn't let you slip away as he takes your hand in his and leads you to the couch, pushing you down before he follows suit, wasting no time in getting you back in his hold once you're both comfortable. You let your head rest on his chest as he holds you.

"I miss my family," you say simply with a shrug.

He waits for more, but when he realizes you're done talking, he speaks himself.

"You've been missing them since we moved here," he presses, "I know it's not just that."

You mindlessly play with the buttons on his shirt, not able to make eye contact right now.

You swallow hard.

You know the truth, and you know Bucky deserves to know what you're thinking. After all, he did uproot his entire life for you after only knowing you five months...

"I just...I don't know."

You glance up at him, his eyes soft and gaze patient.

"I... What if this was just a huge mistake?" You ask. "Moving here. Just another stupid, selfish idea that I'm gonna regret by next year."

"Living your life away from your family isn't stupid or selfish," he says, no judgement in his soothing voice. "And, you know what we talked about before we moved here. No regrets. And if you decide you want to go back,"

"We go back," you nod. "I know."

"Well," he starts, "do you?"

"No," you answer right away. It's the truth. You don't. But still, that fear. The unknown, it nips at you. What if? "I knew this wasn't gonna be easy, but," you sigh, "what if I just don't belong here?"

His brows furrow, "Why wouldn't you?"

"It's been, what, seven months? And what do I have to show for it? And it's not just work-" you stop yourself before you start to rambling, taking a deep breath. "I haven't even made a single friend yet. All those sets and events and all those people I've met, and I just. I haven't fit in anywhere. No one...likes me," you trail off so quietly, not really wanting him to hear.

"Sweetheart, that is not true."

"You don't know that, Buck,"

"Oh, and you do?"

"I do. That gig on Monday," you stammer, embarrassed, "it's stupid," you try to brush off, not wanting to have to explain the memory.

He doesn't have to say a word with the look on his face.

You sigh, but continue.

"We were in between takes and everyone was talking, like, to each other in a group. And I was there, but like, I wasn't there. I was standing with everyone else and trying to be...engaging. But," you purse your lips as the embarrassment burns you anew. "And, they were talking about their plans for Halloween, and this girl said she was throwing a party, and she invited everyone, asked for their numbers so she could send them the information, and she got everyone's number. Except for mine. And I was just standing there, like, probably looking so lame," you try to laugh as your eyes sting, "pretending like I didn't notice, nonchalant," you breathe tightly, pulling at a loose thread on the little V of his henley.

"I followed some of the other people online for like, 'connections', ya know, for future work, and one of them posted pictures from the party, and like, everybody from that set was there. And it looked like so much fun. And, you know I don't even like parties," you throw out, "but...why wasn't I invited? Why," you pause, biting your tongue, "why didn't they like me?"

"Baby," Bucky coos, his touch featherlight and yet so stabilizing, "those are just a few people,"

"That wasn't an isolated incident, Bucky. That has been my entire life. I try not to let it bother me, but I try. So hard, I try to be...normal. Likeable. Friendly. And no matter what I do, or how well I think I play the part, I'm just a mess of introversion and social anxiety."

You can see how badly he wants to interrupt you and reassure you of your so-called perfection, but he doesn't. He lets you talk; he wants to hear you.

"You know how many parties I was invited to in school?" you ask rhetorically. "Not a single one. And the people I thought were my friends wer-" you shake your head. "I'd always try to console myself with the thought that it would get better as I got older, but I think...I think it actually hurts more now than it ever did back then. The nerds were friends with the nerds, and the popular kids were friends with the popular kids, and everybody had their group. But even in my 'group', I was just kinda there. Not alone, but alone. Fading into the background. Into the gray."

You sit in quiet for a long moment before continuing.

"But then I'd get home. And I'd be with my sisters, and all of a sudden I wasn't alone. And I was, like, really me. For forever, they were the only people who ever really, truly saw me. Who I was comfortable enough with to be myself," you turn into Bucky further, your hand still on his chest.

"Then I met you," you smile. "And I don't know how or why, but you see me."

"In technicolor," he whispers as he lets his knuckles brush your cheek. You close your eyes at his soft touch, melting further into him.

"I've just been feeling excluded, and then I start missing my sisters even more, and you know I love you, so much, but this job is just constant rejection and it all just piles on and I keep trying to get by without having to dwell on it all, but I know I can't keep doing that. I know I want to be here. And I can do this. It just, gets hard sometimes. And I've been getting in my head. And I'm sorry I haven't talked about it sooner. I don't want it to seem like I regret moving here, and I really don't want it to seem like I'm not so grateful that you're here with me. That you came all this way for me. It means the world; you mean the world to me."

"The feeling is mutual," Bucky simpers, the corner of his lips turning up as he watches you, his hand aimlessly wandering up and down your side. "I'd go anywhere with you, sweetheart. I know it's not the same, but for what it's worth, I like you. I'd want you at every party."

You smile at him as he cuddles you and can't help the fit of laughter that erupts from you as he squeezes you, nuzzling into your neck and peppering kisses along your delicate skin.

You catch your breath as he finally lets up and pulls away, only to lean his face closer to yours, kissing you softly.

"I'm really proud of you, you know. You're a lot stronger, and a lot braver than you give yourself credit for. And anyone would be lucky to be able to have you in their life, let alone to call you their friend. As your best friend, I should know," he adds playfully.

"You're my best friend?"

"And you're mine," he nods, eyes gleaming with that look that sends butterflies a flight in your tummy. Your eyes flick down to his lips for less than a second before he's kissing you again; just as soft, and twice as sweet.

"I love you," he murmurs.

"Iloveyou," you mumble back, just a little dumb from the depth of his kiss. You give yourselves a moment in your shared embrace before you speak again. "Okay," you sigh, "we gotta finish the yard so I can facetime the girls before they head out for trick or treating."

Bucky rolls off the couch before pulling you up after him as you extend your arm expectantly.

You’re surprised as Bucky’s hold doesn’t let up and he tugs you into him. You stare at him, eyes wide and curious.

“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling bad lately. Whatever you wanna do tonight, and tomorrow,” he emphasizes as you smile demurely, “you got it.”

“Because that wasn’t gonna happen anyway?” You tease, earning a smirk from him as you reach for his hand to drag him to the front of the house.

You pause in your path and spin to go grab your favorite little ghost decoration from the steps.

“I know exactly where this is going.”

—

The familiar ring of the Facetime call has you growing more and more giddy with anticipation as you wait your sister's answer.

But the longer you wait, the more fallen your smile becomes.

Your FaceTime isn't answered, but not too long after, your phone dings with a text.

The girls went trick or treating early, no connection. Sorry! Try to call you back later. But send pics of the yard whenever! We need to see!

You deflate at the news. You guys had planned this, they knew how excited you were to show the girls the house yourself - or as close as you could get. Stuff happens, and by now you've come to accept that when it comes to kids, plans rarely ever play out the way you'd like. But still.

You sigh as Bucky watches you intently, noticing your shift in mood instantly. You can already see how the rest of the night will go. They'll get back from trick or treating and try to call, but you'll inevitably miss it, and once you do get another moment to call back, the girls will already be asleep. Pics will be it.

And that's...okay. You're disappointed, of course, but really, it's okay. You’re sure had you not talked to Bucky about how you’d been feeling lately, you’d be in tears right about now. But having gotten some of your frustration and anxiety out has helped. Just being around him has helped. You didn’t realize before that you’d been in and out of the house all week with classes and work and now that you think about it, this is the first day you’ve been able to spend actual time with Bucky, too. No wonder you were feeling so isolated.

"Can't talk right now?" Bucky asks as he steps closer to you in the front yard.

"Nope," you pop the 'p'. "Trick or treating early. I'm just gonna send 'em some pictures I guess."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he tries to comfort you, pulling you into his side as you both look on at the Halloween decorations littering the yard. "I know you wanted to share it with them."

"'S'okay," you smile a small smile, leaning into him. "I still had fun doing this with you. Thank you for your assistance," you add, fluttering your gaze up to meet his.

"Anytime. Anything to see that smile,” he adds, leaning in to place a quick kiss on your cheek, sending warmth through you at the affection.

“Guess we should get the candy ready,” you muse.

“And your costume on.”

“I didn’t pick anything,” you frown. “I don’t really feel like dressing up anyway. Besides,” you turn into him, “all the kids, and moms, are coming to see you,” you nudge him with a smirk on your lips.

He shakes his head, trying to fight his blush as he rolls his eyes at you. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

You laugh at the memory of your first week here; everyday was a new woman coming over under the guise of welcoming the new neighbors to the neighborhood. You knew after the second platter of unexpected cookies that word was spreading fast about a certain super soldier taking up residence in their lovely - and expensive - neighborhood; you had sworn to Bucky you didn’t need to move into a place so big, and a part of you was worried you wouldn’t be able to pull your weight financially if you did, but he swore he would prefer it. You didn’t necessarily believe that was his only reason for wanting to spend more on a nicer place, but how could you argue? Especially after he made it clear that he wouldn’t be accepting any money from you for rent. He let you connect your card for the monthly water bill, but that has been it. And you’re absolutely not complaining! But you don’t know you ever imagined this kind of thing would happen.

Until the very day you moved in, you were constantly thinking you were dreaming. But when you noticed the watchful eyes of the neighbors as you brought your boxes in, you realized it couldn’t be.

This was real.

You couldn’t blame their curiosity, but you could blame their forwardness. The way they fawned over Bucky in front of you - all the while ignoring your eye when they’d come over to introduce themselves - was both irksome and, kind of funny.

You only really started to get annoyed when you noticed how uncomfortable it was making Bucky. At the first sign of his discomfort, you found yourself ushering the door shut with a new, outlandish lie every time. But always thanking them for their treats, of course, as you’d close the door.

It’s been almost seven months since you moved in, and the fascination with Bucky has waned slightly, but has yet to fade completely.

“Never,” you laugh. “But it’s not like it’s a bad thing. You, my love," you take his face in your hands, his stubble rough against your palms, "are very, very handsome,” you murmur. “And mysterious, and brooding to the outside eye. It’s hard to ignore you. You're like a magnet of intrigue. It's sexy.”

“Sexy?” He huffs. “I’m not brooding.”

You scoff, “Hah, I wish you could see your face right now,” you say disbelieving; the irony of his words obvious as the furrow of his brows and his frown cause your lips to twitch in a soft smirk.

He fixes his face at your laugh, eyeing you with that ever familiar glimmer of growing want. His hands cover yours as he walks you back, closer to the house.

"So, you think I'm sexy?" he speaks lowly, his grip on you firm as he slides your hands from his face to his chest, down his thick torso as you watch him - your eyes growing heavy as you watch him. It's like you're in a trance.

Your back suddenly hits the front door and you're snapped out of your state, surprised by the contact and even more by the distance you've walked in what felt like a second.

"Yes," you utter after a second, Bucky pressing closer. "I do." Your fingers flex against his abdomen as he leans into you. His nose brushes yours as he teases you with the prospect of his kiss until the door unexpectedly opens behind you; Bucky having turned the knob with his metal hand from around you.

You gasp at the loss of contact with the door, inching back despite yourself - worrying for a split second you were about to find yourself on your ass. But in the same instant, Bucky's hands are around you, keeping you in place.

"I got you," he reassures you; voice deeper now than it was a second ago.

You can only nod as you’re caught once again in his crystal blue gaze.

You really should expect it when he picks you up, but you gasp anyway at his easy display of strength when he takes you off your feet and carries you inside.

“It’s a good thing you don’t have a costume, actually,” he says as he walks past the couch toward the stairs. “No need for you to be dressed.”

You nearly scream as Bucky bounds up the steps, holding you securely with a grin plastered on his face as you cling to him. Not a second later he’s walking you into the bedroom and setting you down carefully to sit on the bed.

“If we’re handing out candy, I’m gonna need to be dressed,” you point out the obvious, trying your best to not look so flustered as he stands in front of you. Tall, strong, and imposing; his eyes darkened as he holds your gaze. You take in a nervous breath as you look up at him and he takes a step closer. You lean back on your arms and wait for his next move.

Bucky slows gets to his knees before you and just as he reaches for your hips to pull you closer to him - there’s a knock on the front door.

He squeezes his eyes shut in his temporary disappointment, grimacing before he shoots up. “I knew that was gonna happen,” he sighs, earning a breathy laugh from you.

“Already got a better turnout than last year,” you offer despite your own momentary disappointment.

He shakes his head with a soft smile as he takes you in. “Nothing could ever beat the turnout last year,” he says thoughtfully, “not by a long shot.”

You smile softly at his meaning as he turns to head back downstairs and get the door.

You hear him open the kitchen cabinet where the candy bars are and then hear his ‘Happy Halloween’ greeting. By the sounds of it, there must be a group or two of trick or treaters already out there.

You ponder your options for a quick second before deciding to go with your gut. You know he won’t mind having to get the door himself tonight for all the trick or treaters - especially if you’re not dressed to do so yourself.

You open the middle drawer of your dresser and spot the red lingerie set instantly. It is your anniversary after all…

You and Bucky agreed to call November 1st your anniversary, just for celebration sake, but you know the truth.

Your thoughts catch up with you as you quickly strip and mindlessly slide on the lacy underwear and bra.

Your anniversary. Duh! You wondered why you hadn’t seen much of Bucky this week! He’s usually so attentive and when he’s not working on his bike or car or catching up on the many items of his list to read/watch/listen to, he’s wrapped up in you. Retiree life has been good to him, and you’ve never had to vie for his attention or affection. This week though, he has clearly been preoccupied. And now you realize why. He’s up to something…

You drag the stockings up your legs and pray they stay up your thick thighs for long enough as you hear the door downstairs shut. You curse under your breath but are quickly saved by another knock at the door before Bucky even heads back up the steps. You forget looking for the straps that connect the faux garter to the underwear and head for the bathroom to make sure you don’t look insane.

You fix your hair a bit, but the worn look suits the occasion and the slightly smudged liner adds to the sex appeal. You adjust the bra strap on your shoulder and a flicker of a smile forms on your lips. You look good. A renewed sense of giddy finds you as you spin to the door and walk back into the room. You listen for Bucky downstairs and are satisfied as you hear the last “thank you!” from the kids at the door.

You walk out into the hall and stop at the top of the staircase. You can see Bucky from where you stand and he’s able to see you from downstairs, too. You put a hand on the banister, posing just a bit as you wait patiently for him to turn around. You watch as he sets the bowl on the entryway table and turns quickly to get back upstairs.

He stops dead in his tracks the second he spots you. His mouth parting as he stares at your chest, slowly letting his eyes rove over your scantily clad curves and down your legs before he looks back up and meets your wanton gaze. The look of faux innocence playing on your face only riling him up more.

It feels like a play of cat and mouse as you stand at the top of the stairs and he stands at the bottom. His gaze heated, eyes hungry.

“You coming back up or should I meet you down there?” you ask demurely.

He’s cut off from answering you with a new knock on the door. He nearly growls and you could laugh at how differently his experience with trick or treaters - or lack there of - was last year.

Bucky turns back to get the door, putting on a smile as he greets the new group of kids and lets them choose what candy bar they’d like. For his part, he really is happy the neighborhood kids aren’t scared of him here! But at the same time, it’s technically his anniversary; and the love of his life is dressed in nothing more than his favorite lingerie, waiting for him so fucking prettily right up those stairs.

He doesn’t think much before making his decision. The last kid makes their choice and the group is on their way as he shuts the door. He heads into the kitchen, feeling you watch him quizzically. He tears a piece of paper off of the notepad on the counter and gets a sharpie from the kitchen drawer.

PLEASE TAKE ONE

He writes it in all caps and heads back to the door.

You lean more onto the banister to see what he’s doing from where you stand. You raise a brow as he moves the entryway table closer to the door before he opens it and sets it outside with the candy bowl sitting on top of it. That’s one way to do it, you think with a smile tugging at your lips.

Bucky slips the piece of paper under the edge of the bowl so it’s visible and then comes right back inside. He’s coming up the stairs within seconds and heading right for you.

You laugh in surprise as Bucky grabs you by the waist, pulling you close to him. His eyes are heavy as his hands squeeze you, wandering your curves. You almost moan when he grabs your ass, pulling you into him fully as you brace against his solid chest.

You’ll never get over how good it feels to be felt by him. His strength evident in his every touch, and yet so soft as he caresses you. His lips ghost your cheek and your ear as he breathes you in and you arch into him, wanting - needing more.

His fingers begin to play with the lace of your bra band, tickling you as he does. “My favorite,” he husks lowly, kissing your neck and sending a shiver through you as you pull at his shirt. “Special occasion?” he asks with a smirk.

Your hands find the waist of his pants, “None that I can think of,” you pretend to ponder.

You moan into him as Bucky suddenly kisses you hard. What you expect to be hot and fervent slows to something deeper and more intimate as you melt into him.

You inevitably have to pull away for air after a bit and murmur against his lips as he holds you, “Oh, right,” you breathe, “we have our anniversary.”

“Thought you wanted to call it tomorrow,” he smiles.

You lick your lip lightly with a shrug, “Couldn’t wait.”

His answer is another searing kiss as he walks you back toward the room. You’re pushed onto the bed and find yourself in the same position you were earlier, leaning back on your hands as you watch Bucky watching you.

He reaches down with one hand and undoes his belt effortlessly, popping his button and sliding down the zipper before he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside, kicking off his boots right after. His pants are next before he closes in on you, crawling on top of you as you lay back on the bed, eyes still locked and dark with your mutual desire.

His hands trail from your hips, up the curve of your waist as he positions himself between your spread thighs.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you as he lets his eyes wander your body once more. He leans down and earns a breathy gasp from you as he starts placing soft kisses down your neck, your chest, over the tops of your breasts before he takes hold of the clasp of the bra sitting on your sternum.

He undoes it easy and pushes the cups to the side, revealing you to him. You sit up a bit to shimmy out of the garment and throw it off the bed. His large hands hold your breasts and he plays with you, squeezing and running his thumbs over your already peaked nipples - earning a pathetic mewl from you at the sensation it send through you. His lips wrap around your tit, tongue swirling around your sensitive nipple as he sucks at you, sending your eyes back and your hands grasping his grown out hair. Your lips parting in a silent gasp.

He licks and sucks at your tit, big hand playing with the other until he switches his attentions. All the while, your moans and tugs at his hair have him growing impossibly harder as his cock strains against his briefs.

He mindlessly grinds his hips against you and you whimper. “Please, Bucky,” you whine, trying to roll your hips against him in turn.

He sucks a little more on your tit before he moves down your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. You’re partly surprised he listened to your ambiguous plea without teasing you just a little longer, but as his fingers pull at the band of your underwear, you realize he’s just as desperate as you.

It has been a long week; the longest you’ve gone without each other in the year you’ve been together.

Bucky pulls away to rid himself of his briefs, his thick cock hard and angry. You can practically feel your mouth salivate as the slickness between your thighs grows. Fuck, he’s perfect.

“Need it, Buck. Need you,” you plead, spreading your thighs even further as he leans back into you.

“I know, sweetheart,” he teases his cock head along your slit, “gonna give it to you, baby. Gonna give you what you need,” he promises.

He lines himself up to your entrance, pushing his tip just inside of you as you moan on a heavy breath.

You hum your pleasure, a delighted smile gracing your lips as he slowly pushes further in; his deep, heady breaths turning you on even more as his hands grip your hips.

“Feel good, doll?” He husks. “You’re squeezin’ me so tight,” he grunts. “Perfect fuckin fit,” he grits through his clenched jaw as he fucks you, his thickness stretching you with every thrust of his cock. Your walls clench his length as you moan - the feeling of being full of him, of his heavy balls slapping against your skin, the way his dirty words always set you off more than you’d ever expect… This is pure fucking heaven. You can’t help yourself. It's not very long before you find yourself already feeling so dangerously close to your undoing.

“Like you were made for me,” he growls, “made to take my fat fuckin cock just. like. this.” He punctuates each of his last few words with a hard thrust, hitting so deep you swear you’re seeing stars. You can do nothing but babble your agreement as your hands wander his body, one wandering back into the dark strands of his hair.

As much as you love holding him, you know how much he likes the feeling of you tugging at his growing strands, too; so you do just that.

His lips brush along your jaw as you tilt your head for him. His stubble tickling you in the best way.

“Never gonna get over how fucking good you feel wrapped around me. How goddamn beautiful you look under me. Fucked out and cock drunk the minute I get my dick inside your tight little pussy. Always so fucking wet for me, desperate for it.”

You swear you’re on the verge of tears as the coil in your tummy tightens more and more with his every word. Your legs are around him as he rolls his hips into you, his cock brushing all the right spots as he finds your lips. You’re moaning into his hot mouth as he kisses you. In sharp contrast to his words, it’s soft and sweet, his nose rubbing against yours as he moves his tongue expertly. His teeth gently nip at your lips as he pulls his face away for a second before pressing his forehead to yours. His hands are tight on your hips as he tries to control himself from getting carried away. A week is just too long and you’re both already reaching closer and closer to your ends.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he groans, sounding almost pained as his eyes squeeze shut, his thrusts growing the slightest bit erratic as you feel him tense above you.

“Come inside me,” you beg on a whimper. “Please, please,” you mewl. “Wanna feel you. Need it.”

The growl of curses that leave him as he fucks you deeper have your muscles tensing, your velvety walls clenching down around his length as the hair on his pelvis stimulates your sensitive clit with every roll of his hips. You’re a mess of moans and heady gasps as you cling to him, your body tight in the impossibly building pleasure as your toes curl and that coil finally snaps; white hot heat and sparks of overwhelming pleasure taking over you as you cum.

“Fuck,” Bucky moans, “that’s it, baby. So fuckin’ good. Look at you, so pretty coming for me,” he kisses you sloppily as your skin burns and your pussy flutters.

Your orgasm seems never ending as Bucky works you through it. His hands grasp at you, feeling your softness and bringing him closer to his own orgasm as your walls squeeze his cock while you cum.

His lips press to yours as he swallows your wanton sounds, kissing you hotly before licking into your mouth sensually. He keeps one hand on your hip to hold you where he needs you and brings the other to hold your face. He can’t get enough of your lips, your kiss, your taste. All the while rocking his hips into yours, his cock moving in and out of your slick, tight hole.

The pulsing of your sensitive walls around his length finally have him cumming hard. His seed hot and thick, spurting along your walls as he fills you up. Your name is both a curse and a prayer as it falls from his lips amidst sweet praises and filthy words. You’re panting and smiling through the growing overstimulation as Bucky’s thrusts slow but don’t completely stop just yet. His thumb brushes your cheek as he presses his forehead to yours again, his brilliant blue eyes glued to you before he leans in to brush his lips against yours.

You kiss him back, holding him to you with a hand still in his hair. Your kiss grows deeper as he thrust just once or twice more before stilling; his lips so soft as he slowly pulls away, breathing heavily.

He hisses so quietly you almost don’t hear it while he slides out of you at last, leaving you a dripping mess in his wake.

You stare at him as he looks entranced by the sight of your orgasms smeared all over you. You take a sharp breath as he gingerly brings two fingers to your cunt, slipping inside you easily and fucking what he can of his excess back into you. You expect him to stop but he just doesn’t.

He works his thick digits in and out, his mouth parted open and his eyes set on the way you suck him in so easily. You whine at the building pressure as he finger fucks you, already too close to another orgasm. Your hand is holding his strong arm as your eyes threaten to roll back.

“Bucky,” you whimper, “fuck, I’m gonna come again.”

Your words spur him on as he moves more precisely, hitting exactly where he knows you need him to. With his free hand, he brings his thumb to your clit and rubs in tight circles as your voice peaks and your legs shake. You’re nearly blinded by the orgasm as it hits you and the sound of Bucky cursing makes its way to your ears. You weren’t expecting it but as Bucky shakes his fingers inside you, prolonging your high like it’s the only thing in the world he’s concerned with - your pleasure, you - you realize you’re practically gushing as you squirt all over his fingers. You hear his voice but not his words as Bucky talks you through it.

It’s not the first time you’ve come so hard at his whim, but fuck, you’re exhausted as you slowly come down. You whimpered despite yourself as you open your eyes and Bucky gently slips out of you. He leans over you again as you gaze dizzily at him before he kisses you delicately.

“Did so good, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your skin, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek before he gets up off the bed completely.

You lie there, trying to recoup and catch your breath until he comes back not long after, a pair of his sweats low on his hips and a damp cloth in his hand, a glass of water in the other.

He sets the glass down on the bedside table before tending to you. He wipes gently at the mess between your legs, cleaning you up with the warm cloth before discarding it with the clothes and coming to sit next to where you lay.

“You okay?” He asks, that ever present concern evident in his voice as his hands gently start to wander your soft body.

You smile and nod at him, taking one of his hands in yours. “Better than okay,” you simper. “Was not expecting that,” you add, “but god.” You sit up and cling to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “That’s one way to celebrate a year.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he laughs, turning to stand and pull you off the bed with him, “that wasn’t even the celebration.”

You smile and walk slowly to the closet to grab a night shirt, slipping it on before grabbing a pair of panties from your drawer. “I knew you were planning something,” you eye him playfully, coming up to wrap your arms around him.

He smirks, hugging you back for a second before just deciding to lift you up. “You get so cuddly after sex,” he laughs.

“Me?!” you laugh out, hugging onto him as he walks toward the door of your bedroom, “take a look in the mirror, buddy.”

“Fine,” he agrees, starting down the steps, “you’re right, we both do.”

“That’s just good compatibility,” you muse as he walks you into the den.

“Great compatibility,” he one ups. “It’s almost like,” he pauses a second, setting you down on the oversized sleeper chaise before he leans down to you, “we were made for each other.”

You lean up to meet his lips in a quick, gentle kiss. “Yeah,” you agree softly, a smile beginning to form on your lips. You bite your lip as you watch him go back out toward the front living room. He peeks out the window to make sure no one’s out there before he opens the door.

There's a pause as he takes in the scene outside...or lack thereof. “The candy’s gone!” He yells to you in disbelief.

You can’t help your snicker as he turns to look at you across the way, empty bowl in hand. He waves it, still seeming in shock; like this possibility never crossed his mind.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” you laugh, “but good thing you have like twelve more cases,” you remind him. He licks his lips as he stares at the empty bowl, shaking his head slightly. A second later, you see his brow raise as he starts to straighten up, but you aren't sure what he's reacting to until you hear her voice.

“Trick or treat,” a sultry voice comes from behind Bucky as he still stands at the open door. His eyes widen before he sighs, slowly turning to face the most persistent of his neighborly admirers.

You quirk a brow at her lack of company and strain to hear better.

“Sorry to bother,” she smiles, eyes dragging down Bucky’s solid - still shirtless - chest before she manages to rein herself in and snap her gaze back up to his. “I’m in the middle of mixing up some cookie dough but I ran out of flour. Paul and Michael are busy running their fun house or I’d have them go grab me a bag. Do you think you’d be able to lend me a cup?” You are slightly irked at the change of tone in her last question. She sounds flirty and though Bucky is mostly blocking her from your view, from what you can see, it seems like she’s leaning in closer to him. “We just had a rush of trick or treaters but it’s so quiet around here now. Paul’s so preoccupied with that set up though, I don’t even think he’d notice if I went missing,” she laughs, her toothy grin rubbing you the wrong way as her lashes flutter.

“Uh,” Bucky clears his throat awkwardly, “yeah, we probably have some flour we can spare. Give me a minute.”

“Oh, yo-“ she takes a step forward with her words but is cut off by the closing of the door.

You get up with a tilt of your head and follow Bucky into the kitchen quickly. “Did she just hit on you?” you ask incredulously.

Bucky eyes you as he sets the empty bowl on the counter and walks to the cabinet. “I could see how you could think that,” he avoids a real answer through his embarrassment.

You huff a laugh, walking to the drawer you keep the measuring cups in, grabbing the cup, smirking. “She is somethin’ else.” You sidle up to Bucky as he opens the jar of flour. You lean into him, holding out the cup for him to take, “But, I guess, who can blame her? You know what they say, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”

Bucky chuckles with a roll of his eyes as he grabs it from you, scooping up the cup of flour. You’re confused as he tries to hand the cup back to you.

“What?”

“Go give it to her,” he nudges you.

“I’m not wearing pants,” you state the obvious.

“I don’t have a shirt on,” he argues.

“She already saw you,” you nudge him back with a titter.

“Please,” he breathes a light laugh, but you see the seriousness of his request in his eyes. His discomfort is evident, and you don’t know how you didn’t recognize it earlier.

You don’t know everything he went through, but you know enough to know how important Bucky’s privacy is to him - and that includes physically. He is the only one who should be able to decide who sees him, when, and how much of him they see. Of course, no one should be treated like an object, but you get the feeling it can feel a lot worse for Bucky than it can for the typical person.

You take the cup with a soft smile, “Okay, yeah,” you acquiesce. “You should open another box while you’re at it,” you nod toward the cabinet where the boxes of candy bars are before turning around to get the door.

You open it with a smile, trying to hide your bare legs with the door as you hold out the cup of flour. “There you go,” you offer.

“Oh! I didn’t, ha-“ she laughs lightly, “didn’t even realize you were home.” She looks down, moving some hair behind her ears before she reaches for the cup.

You smile brighter as you take a step from behind the door. “Yeah,” you say simply. What the hell does she mean she didn't think you were home?

“Well, thank you,” she smiles tightly, trying to not look at your bare legs. The implication of your and Bucky’s lack of clothing, his messed hair, and your smudged makeup all hanging in the air. “Happy Halloween,” she adds before turning around and heading back down the path.

“Mhm, Happy Halloween,” you return before shutting the door. Unbelievable. But you know you have less than nothing to worry about, so you let it go. Hopefully this interaction will finally be the one to get her off of Bucky's back.

You spin around and find Bucky behind you, eyes having been set on your ass as he holds the newly filled bowl of candy. His eyes shoot up to meet yours as you deprive him of the view. That heated gaze back in his ice blue eyes as he trails up and down your body again.

“See something you like?” You ask teasingly, popping a hip as you cross one leg in front of the other.

“Not something,” he swipes his tongue against his bottom lip unthinking, “everything.”

You go closer to him, a soft, flattered smile in place as you take the bowl of candy from him. “Why don’t you go pick a movie, and I’ll start on dinner in a minute.”

“I already ordered delivery, should be here in about half an hour.”

“Oh?” you raise a brow, reaching back to the door to put out the candy again.

“Mhm,” he hums, his hand in his pocket as he leans, watching you as you close the door shut and turn back to him.

“I thought you said we’d do whatever I wanna do tonight?”

“‘M sorry, doll,” he reaches a hand to you that you take, letting him tug you into him and walk you back into the den. “What do you wanna do?”

You try to bite down your smile as you get to the chaise, Bucky turning to look at you as he waits for your answer. You take the opportunity to slowly push him back, essentially guiding him down as your push had no real physical effect. He watches you with curious, patient eyes as he lets you lead until you bring yourself up to straddle him; his gaze darkening instantly as his hands find your waist, slowly feeling you down, fingers kneading your soft, plushy curves as he wanders down your hips, making his way to grabbing your ass.

You settle a little more comfortably on top of him, your hands on his chest before letting your fingers dance all over his thick torso. You smile, letting yourself answer simply and honestly.

“You.”

—

You’re cuddled up to Bucky as you lay on the chaise, bellies full and feeling satiated and satisfied - in every way. The blanket keeps you warm, but being this close to Bucky keeps you even warmer. You’ve run out of candy, and the porch lights are out as the Halloween classic plays on the screen before you - volume low as you and Bucky talk more than you watch the film.

“It’s kinda crazy when you think about it,” you say. “We’ve been together for essentially the entire time we’ve known each other. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten tired of me yet,” you laugh a little at yourself.

He looks you deep in the eye, a confused half smile on his lips as his brows furrow ever so slightly. “How could I ever get tired of you? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, doll.”

You are taken aback, despite the commonplace of his adamant affection and feelings, at the intense sincerity of his words, the way he’s looking at you. Like he sees you.

Really see you.

Because he does. And somehow, for whatever reason…

“I love you,” he whispers, completing your thought without knowing it as he leans in to kiss you. Your noses brush as he kisses you softly, slow and delicate before it grows just that much deeper. You slow again and with a few lighter kisses, finally part to breathe properly, though you never leave his embrace.

“I’ve had a year with you,” he speaks softly, running his fingers up and down your arm, “and it’s been one of the best years of my life,” he measures his words before finishing his thought as you gaze up at him, “because of you. And I think I’m gonna need a lifetime more,” he decides, “at least.”

You can’t help your smile at his words as you nuzzle into him. “A lifetime, huh? ...I think I could be okay with that,” you say lowly, a teasing tone edging in your words.

You know you’d be okay with that.

Bucky’s heart skips a beat at your agreement and he grows a bit more excited for what he has planned for tomorrow. It all starts with breakfast, and if things go right, it’ll end with one very important question.

“Happy anniversary, Bucky,” you mumble into him as your eyes grow heavy. “I love you. So much. This has been a really perfect night,” you smile softly.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he kisses your head, holding you closer as you slowly drift off in his loving embrace.

Your gentle breathing calms the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of tomorrow. Any nerves can wait until then.

It’s been a year, and now he can’t wait for the rest of his life.

With you.

—-

a/n that no one asked for: thank you so much for reading! getting ahead of this now - there will not be a part three. this took so long to get through and i just can’t commit to any more sequels of anything. 😭 you are, of course, free to head canon what comes next however you’d like! though if you’re curious, in my mind these two get engaged the next day and idk maybe sometime around Christmas they find out they’re pregnant? but babies or no babies, work works out for reader and everything is good and lovely and they make friends and are able to see family more often and blah blah blah they live happily ever after! lol again, thank you very much for reading!🥰 let me know if you enjoyed it, feel free to share your thoughts. <3

[demonicbaby666]

Dom Emily prentiss x intern fem reader is all i ask!! Smutty ofc, a lil bit of a humiliation kink if you’re comfortable!!! Thank yewww

Packing Heat

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 4.8k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-ons (r!receiving), semi-public sex (office sex, again…), praise, degradation, mommy kink, kind of dub-con at one point, top!Emily, bottom!reader

Summary: Interning at the BAU means you don’t interact with the person in charge a lot. Of course, this doesn’t mean you haven’t seen the section chief in passing or exchanged pleasantries; it's that they’re simple, short-lived and often anti-climatic. However one evening, you find yourself in the desolate office with no chance of going home, work to be done, but no one to sit with you through the process. With only one other soul residing on the sixth floor, it seems Emily may be your best bet for company.

A/n: Listen, could she be more dom? Yes. Is there any humiliation? Not really... But I got lost while writing, so please don't be mad at me... Hope you still enjoy!

When you'd first started at the BAU, it was safe to say you hadn't seen much of the woman calling the shots. There were always updates about when the team were taken out of state, what their cases would entail, the steady progress being made, and the brief comical encounters Garcia spewed around the office. When they were back, everyone made an effort to small talk. They welcomed you well and continued to appreciate the little things you did for them daily. Emily, however, was constantly on the go, meaning every encounter you'd had with her consisted of one-way glances and hopeful smiles in the event she decided to notice her surroundings and the human lifeform less than two metres away. 

She never did, though, until one uneventful evening. 

Almost everyone had vacated the building. The only remaining souls left on the sixth floor were you, Emily, and a one-person cleaning crew—whom you watched exit through glass doors before approaching the brunette's office with shaky knees. Peeking through the window, you saw her attention dart to and from the bright computer screen to the mountains of bureaucratic paperwork lying atop her desk. It was easy to get lost in the little creases between her eyebrows, brought out by the deep scowl she wore, the delicate way her fingers were woven together, and the pads of her thumbs skirting against one another as she pondered in deep thought. 

It was nearing eight, and you were struggling to understand how someone could appear so put together at this late hour, given that their day was most certainly jam-packed with non-stop slog. 

Emily's eyes suddenly flashed up. She squinted toward her door, trying to figure out who'd be here this late other than herself. When she appeared to have worked it out, she leaned back victoriously in her chair, a smug smile on her face, when she called out, "Are you going to stand out there all night?" 

You could have done two things: scurried off like a teenager caught peeping or held your chin up high and walked into the older woman's office with little to no shame. Somehow, you managed to do a mix of both, scurrying in with sagging shoulders, a guilty smile plastered on your face and trembling hands clasping your laptop over your chest.

"Well, it's eerily quiet out there, and I would go home to write this paper. It's just that my roommate and her boyfriend have an awful tendency to forget about volume control when they're—" You cut yourself off, realising it probably wasn't appropriate to talk to your boss about your roommate's over-the-top borderline pornographic soundscape. "I was wondering if I could, you know."

Emily, satirising as ever, waited with a raised eyebrow and a relaxed smile for you to continue your purposefully unfinished question. 

"Sorry, I should let you work." You surrendered to your weak resolve with flushed cheeks and began to turn around.

"Sit," she ordered before you had fully turned back around to the door, nodding to the available chair on the other side of her desk. Her eyes followed your journey to the seat, watching as you placed your laptop down and opened it with shaky fingers. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to her work. "I could do with some company." 

The following silence, starting as unsettling and stagnant, blossomed into something warm and comfortable. There were occasional glances thrown your way and vice versa. Their acknowledgement and appreciation were shown in the form of timid smiles on your end and double takes followed by teasing smirks on Emily's. 

When half an hour had passed, your shoulders had finally relaxed, your fingers had stopped their infernal twitching, and your paper neared its completion. There was a proud smile cresting, and you were trying to prevent it from forming, knowing how dorkish it made you look. But you knew there was no hope when your cheeks ached and your jaw locked. You granted yourself the freedom to display your gloating smile. 

Just as expected, Emily had a questioning look on her face when you dared to look up from the document. There was a playfulness to the upward quirk of her lips - the superiority of a predator knowing the power they have over their prey, ready to prove it at any given moment. 

"I've almost finished," you timidly admitted, feeling obligated to explain as heat infiltrated your jutted-out cheeks. 

Without a second thought, the ravenette stood up and made her way around the desk. She could have easily chosen to turn the laptop around. Instead, she took the far more intimate route. 

Soft curves grazed your shoulder blades, causing you to shiver. The weight finally settled, soft padding pressed flat against your back as Emily read your paper, and suddenly, your stomach had worked itself into looping knots, and your heart was racing. 

The struggle continued as you fought not to fidget, if only to alleviate the growing tension mounting between your thighs. This was only made worse when Emily's right hand left the back of your chair to drop down over your shoulder and land comfortably on your thigh. 

"Such a smart girl," she whispered sultrily into the shell of your ear, squeezing generous flesh between her fingers. 

With a scrambled brain, there was little fight to be put up against the meek whimper that crackled against the constricted lining of your throat. Subconsciously, your thighs tensed, and your pussy fluttered as you were reminded how close Emily's hand was to where you could only dream she'd touch. 

You'd thought you imagined it—the subtle shift in the room from breezy and light to torrid and all-consuming, but with Emily's fingers veering off course, inching higher and higher, reality came crashing down. 

"Thank you," you struggled to get the words out, and when they did come out, they were tremulous and feeble. 

Turning to look at her may have, in hindsight, been a mistake because where her gaze should have been fixed on the laptop screen, it was glued to your lips. Unexpectedly, your stomach flipped, and you felt dizzy. She was still superbly perfect up close, skin smooth like silk, cheekbones sharp as a razor, and lips cut from velvet. It was too close, dangerously so, you had to look away. Outside the window, you spotted a swarm of birds barely visible against the night sky. You ignored the clanking of your heart as you focussed on their synchronicity, watching them circle each other until they became one big blur of messy movements. 

The hand resting on the leather backing of your chair rose, skirting up and over your neck, until a firm grip was established around your dangling ponytail. She was gentle when she tugged, aware that though she wanted to educate you in the art of being owned, you were delicate.

"I think a pretty thing like you deserves a reward," she baited. "Don't you?" 

Her grip on you may have been physical. However, a stronger pull was coming from deep within you, an unimportant piece of scrap metal drawn in by a powerful magnet. It was useless to deny her. The mesmerising glow of her chocolate eyes and the promise of being made to feel special was too powerful. So, you nodded slowly but eagerly, desire painting your eyes dark shades of lust. 

"That's a good girl." 

Emily didn't miss how you preened at the praise and safely stored that information away for further use. She shifted to your side, hands migrating to the small of your waist, guiding you to your feet. The act of it was far gentler than you'd expected, like a gentleman asking a maiden to dance, sweeping her off her feet to whisk her away into a fairytale land filled with magic and romance. 

Certain the benign treatment would be short-lived, you granted yourself the leniency to enjoy it whilst it lasted, refusing to get too caught up in the dull ache between your legs that craved the form of savagery Emily displayed in the field. 

There was nothing short of passion in how she worked. It drove you crazy. As wrong as it felt, you couldn't help but envy the dirtbag the team was working to catch because you saw how badly the brunette wanted them. The look in her eyes, gratification and disgust all at once, when she'd achieved what she set out to do and was staring the devil right in the face - it made your heart race, your palms sweat and your cunt throb. 

The memory kickstarted what could only be described as a brutal attack upon the older woman's lips. To her credit, Emily indulged the outburst for a lot longer than you'd have thought. As if she'd expected it, she quickly responded, pulling you into her body and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. The lead was stolen promptly from your grasp when Emily wedged a leg between your thighs, backed you up against her desk and tactically slid her tongue into your gaped mouth. You would have gasped if not for the fact you were immediately indulged in the minty taste of your boss's tongue skirting over the roof of your mouth. So much so that you scarcely noticed the pressure coming from your core was no longer just a phantom need manifested but taut clothed muscle pressing you further and further into the sharp wooden edge of the desk. 

"Emily," you breathily moaned, pulling back and separating your kiss-swollen lips from the brunette's. Ordinarily, you wouldn't have allowed what happened next to occur, but this was Emily, after all, the BAU section chief, and if you were to let anyone order you about, it would be her. 

She backed away from you with a final nip to your bottom lip, letting it go with a pop, and you fought the urge to reach out and pull her back to you. You knew you'd already tried to take things into your own hands once, and doing so again may undermine any chances you had of keeping the ball rolling on tonight's affairs. 

You could feel the tight pull of your ponytail and all the places where hair had been lead array from the confines of your hairband, and it truly dawned on you how out of sorts you must have appeared. Tracing your fingers over your lips, you could make out how swollen they were - puffy and hot, yet desperate and pouted, begging for more. Your breathing was laboured, filling the room's silence, and your shirt suddenly felt too tight as your chest expanded with each intake of oxygen. It almost came as a relief when Emily opened her mouth to finally speak until you heard what she'd said.

"Take your clothes off," she mindlessly ordered, walking around to her chair and sitting back in it. Her eager eyes trained over your body with the faintest shimmer of mirth. 

Initially, it was a shock. Of course, it was. You were in an official government building, personnel still sparsely spread throughout, and a goddess of a woman was asking you to bare yourself to her. 

For the longest time, revealing your body to someone always felt like giving up something. Perhaps some kind of purity. The moment you gave it up, it bred only guilt and shame that twisted and pulled at the pit of your stomach until you felt sick. You stood there, waiting for that feeling to come. It never did. 

Remaining still, your body pulsed not with nerves but with exhilaration and anticipation. It took a few seconds to realise this was precisely what you wanted. You wanted to give this false sense of purity away. There was not a sudden influx of courage soaring through every living cell of your body. However, there was enough for you to put on a front and do as you were told. 

"Slowly." Emily sat further back and placed her elbows neatly over the arms of her chair. She laced her fingers together, offered you an encouraging nod, and then was back to watching you raptly.

Feeling like a glutton, you followed a path of desire and heeded Emily's request, fingers increasingly fumbling over each button of your shirt. 

"So obedient." And in no way was it said negatively; the adulatory smile she gave you only sought to prove that further. 

The way she looked at you made you feel as though you were already naked. Maybe that was why it was so easy to get lost in the subtlety of undressing. It was art, and you were a performer. That's what you told yourself. And for the most part, it worked. 

With closed eyes, you trailed your fingers over your shoulders, letting your shirt drop to the floor. The AC raised goosebumps over your chest, pebbled your nipples under your plain bra, and you smiled. You smiled because this was the most alive you had felt in months. The thrill of moving on to your slacks and deftly unclasping your belt felt like being on a rollercoaster, like missing a step and laughing fear in the face afterwards. You felt utterly fearless. 

In the back of your mind, you could sense Emily's eyes still on you. You could hear her moving around but didn't think to check her reaction. You were in your element, and far be it for a look of appraisal, or lack of, to stop you. That was until your trousers hit the carpet with a soft thud, and a sharp breath was heard from across you. 

Your eyes snapped open, and you found Emily's smile was absent. The brunette now had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked you up and down, knuckles white from her deadly grip over the armrests. 

She lifted a hand, palm facing the ceiling as her index and middle finger crooked. "Come here so I can get a proper look at you," she said, slightly breathless. 

The desk had conveniently covered the lower half of Emily's body, which meant that when you circled around and came to stand next to her, you could see exactly what the earlier ruffling had been about. 

"Is that?" You froze, both shocked and utterly intrigued by the thick black dildo jutting out from the older woman's opened slacks. 

She didn't need you to finish the question, already nodding as she followed your line of sight. Leaning forward with an outstretched arm, Emily coiled her fingers around your wrist and pulled you forward, causing you to almost stumble over your own feet. At this closer distance, you could tell the faux cock would give you a run for your money. It was thicker than anything you had taken before, though that was not a hard trophy to earn, given that the most you had let anyone put inside you was three fingers. 

"Do you want to come sit on mommy's lap?" Emily asked with a tilt of her head. 

She didn't miss how your breath caught in your throat, how you seemed to stop blinking, stop moving, stop existing.

"Are you scared?" the lioness asked, sights set on her prized fawn. 

You shook your head and placed one foot in front of the other, eyes downcast as you took in the size of Emily's additional appendage. The shake of your jaw gave you away. 

"I don't like being lied to," she snapped, eyes dimming to an even darker shade of brown. 

She pulled you in by your waist and sat you on her lap, cock brushing over the thin material of your underwear. Instinctively, you wedged your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself. But Emily wasn't having any of it. Her thumb came to your captive lip, where she helped release it with a soft flick. 

The smooth texture of Emily's cock through your sodden panties was a needed relief. Its head purposefully pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves evoked a flurry of shivers to run down your spine. And with nothing holding you back, you moaned in gratitude. 

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Emily smirked, watching you rut against her. 

"Yes," you uttered, breath caught in your throat. 

Happy to watch, Emily relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, enjoying the show you were putting on for her. Only when she recognised the tell-tell signs of frustration wash over your features, from your creased brow to the bite of your lip between your teeth, did a sick smirk lick the edges of her lips. With a mischievous glint shining in her eyes, the older woman shifted her position, pointedly ignoring the sound it pulled from you. 

"Something wrong?" she asked with a hitch of one eyebrow, adamant to appear oblivious. 

You gave no reply, only held tight to her shoulders in defiance and continually ground down on her, trying so hard to pleasure yourself to no avail that your eyes began to sting with the emergence of tears. 

With sweat threatening to spill down the side of your face, the tension between your legs starting to ache, and your release nowhere near in sight, you threw your head back with a sigh and whispered a quiet 'please' to the ceiling.

"Please what?" Came the dull reply, tone bored, unamused, unimpressed.  

You tried to impale yourself, failing as strong hands held you down. It was driving you crazy—pleasure being so close yet so far. 

With one hand removed from your hip, Emily gripped your jaw and turned your attention solely to her stern gaze, "Are you going to stop being a brat and tell me what you want?" 

When no answer came, she let go, jerking your head back as if disgusted with the lack of compliance. 

"Get up." 

Ice, you were made of ice. Sat still, shocked, speechless and slightly mortified. 

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Emily's voice was no longer flat; it was not roaring either. Instead, it was layered, resembling the same barbed tone a teacher might use with a disobedient student. It was enough of a motivator to get you to rise to your feet. 

Following you closely, the older woman, too, rose to her full height, hands meticulously reaching behind your back to expertly relieve you of your bra. Never once did she look you in the eye. 

With the same callous approach, you were turned and pressed against the desk, papers sticking to your heated chest. Emily was quick to loop her fingers through the hem of your underwear and slip them down your thighs, allowing gravity to do the rest. 

The full-bodied presence behind you lessened, and you took it as the opportune moment to glance back. 

The brunette had let her trousers drop to the floor, allowing you to see how her porcelain skin was directly contrasted by the black leather of her strap-on. Unlike yourself, she did not appear nervous or afraid. As she kicked the tailored pants aside and met your gaze, you realised how in control she was. 

Her gaze moved down your body, hands running down your back, until finally, she pressed herself against you and lowered her body atop yours. 

"I can feel how wet you are," she teased, running two fingers through the mess between your legs. "Are you always this wet?" 

"Emily, please," you begged. 

"I asked before, please what?" She raked five fingers down your side, moving them back up till they wound tightly in your hair and gripped your neck to an uncomfortable arch. Two fingers pushed inside you but did no more than that, remaining still as stone. "If you're going to be a baby and refuse to tell me what you want, you'll get nothing." 

"Fuck me!" You no longer had the sound of mind to acknowledge shouting something vulgar could attract attention. Logic had evaded you, allowing you to play right into your boss's hands. "Please just fuck me."

Sliding her slick fingers out of you, she proudly stated, "That wasn't hard, was it?"

If the older woman wanted an answer, she did not allow for one. In one fluid motion, she rose from over you and snapped her hips forward, sheathing the entire length of her cock into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, resulting in a strained groan tumbling out of your open mouth. The pit of your stomach dropped, and try as you might have not to clench around the toy inside you, you did precisely that. 

It was new, the foreign feeling of being filled so fully that one slight move would summon pleasure that sent shivers through your whole body. It wasn't unwelcome, especially when Emily started to move, and heat engulfed your entire body. Her pace was languid, allowing you to feel each slide of her cock along your slick walls, how each push of her hips ended in the tip hitting the spot within you to cause the furling in your stomach to expand tenfold. It was all you could do not to scream when the push and pull and Emily's hips moved with more purpose, jerking your body into the edge of her desk. 

"I've barely started, and you're already dripping down your thighs." Her voice was laced with mirth, finger smearing your mess as if to prove an unnecessary point that had your cheeks burning up. "How long have you been thinking about this?" Emily finished her question with an arduous thrust. "How many times have you sunk your fingers into your pussy and thought of me?" 

The questions continued, each hitting the nail right on the head. Your cheeks were scorched with the embarrassment that comes with having your desires known and exposed, but it did not take hold of your conscience as the event of falling in front of a large crowd might have. It was comparable to how a blushing maiden may feel when caught by a suitor in only their undergarments. It excited that small part of you that gave in to demoralisation and encouraged you enough to meet Emily halfway as she thrust into you. 

As your pleasure mounted, the need for more grew. Your clit, swollen and needy, begged for relief, and you beckoned to its call, sliding one hand from above your head to the juncture between your legs. It was when the tips of your fingers brushed against your sensitive pearl and you gained the briefest taste of the euphoria that Emily removed her hand from your thigh and snatched your hand away, halting all movement. 

You could have cried, having everything, then nothing, so quickly. 

"Did I say you could do that?" 

Abruptly pulling out, Emily stood tall and proud, staring down at you with curiosity and disappointment lining the brown of her eyes. She heard you whimper and acknowledged your sniffle. 

"There's no need to cry," she tutted, flipping you onto your back and lifting you by your shoulders. "You're going to listen to me from now on." 

You nodded, and she once again lined her cock to your opening, only now she waited, taunting you with possibilities. 

"Beg," she instructed. 

And you heeded. 

"Please. I need you." 

"You can do better." She sounded bored, and this struck a nerve within you, one that begged you to impress her, show her you could be a good little girl, and beg as though your life depended on it. 

You took a heaving breath and looked into Emily's eyes, sporting your best puppy eyes. "I need you. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your big cock, mommy. Make me scream out your name. I need it." 

"There's a good pet," she cooed, mesmerising you with the bating of her lashes as she looked down to where your bodies were so close to touching. 

It all happened in a blur. The next thing you knew, your nails were digging into muscled shoulders, legs wrapping around a slim waist as the brunette filled you, wasting no time in picking up a brutal tempo. You barely recognised the sound of your voice as high-pitched obscenities spilt past your lips. You felt your whole body light up, heard blood pulse in your ears, and saw in real-time just how easy it was to aid Emily in calling upon your impending orgasm. 

Your vulgar mouth, luckily, seemed to amuse Emily enough for her to let you continue rutting your hips against her. The corners of her lips curled, and her smirk lasted only so long for you to see before she inched forward and kissed you with passion and hunger. It was easy, so easy, to melt into the brief moment of intimacy. The butterflies felt tangible, and the sparks crackled in your ears; it felt so fucking good you'd almost forgotten just where you were. Of course, bubbles eventually popped, and this one was demolished by rustling outside Emily's office. 

What little movement Emily allowed, her hands holding you firmly against the desk by your waist, was not enough to wriggle free and glance behind to see what was happening. Instead, the possibility of being caught weighed heavier with each drawled-out second. 

"Emily," You tried but were cut off by a tongue sliding into your mouth. "Emily, stop."

With a bite to your lip, the older woman backed off, confusion marking her features, "What is it?" she punctuated her question with a hard thrust. 

"Someone's o-" another hard thrust. "Someone's outside."

Emily smiled, picking up her pace, forcing you to breathe so deep you felt your lungs expand. 

"You'd better be quiet then." 

Whatever protest you were about to give died in your throat when nails skirted up to your chest and dug painfully into your breast, and Emily pushed herself so deep within you that you felt her hitting your cervix. A strangled cry was briefly heard before you managed to clasp your hand over your lips and silence your own mewls. She was fucking you as if her life depended on getting a reaction out of you that would draw attention. Nevertheless, you held firm and stayed as quiet as your muffled sobs would allow you to be. 

"Emily, please," you were pleading for release and for the brutal fucking stop because you knew there would be no chance you could keep a lid on your volume; there would also be no chance you would survive not cumming. 

Taking note of this, the older woman took the route of giving you your release, dragging a thumb down over your clit and applying the right amount of pressure to have your tense legs turn into a shaky mess of tremors. She didn't stop there; with a brief slide, she ran your slick over your bundle of nerves and started to circle steadily. 

"Fuck!" You screamed out, missing the way the ruffling outside suddenly stopped. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming." 

"That's it," the brunette encouraged, her fingers coming up to crook and tangle through the mussed mess of your hair, nails slowly working against your scalp. "Let everyone hear what a slut you are, letting me fuck you over my desk." 

She didn't stop, though, not when your clit felt raw and your pussy tender, not when you begged and not even when you reached out and tried to grab her wrist. Emily only yanked you down by your hair, relishing the thud the brutal move made. She fucked you harder till stationary fell to the floor from your thrashing arms, and by then, her lips were already wrapped around a nipple, sucking firm whilst you cried through a second orgasm. 

When you finally felt empty, you didn't even try to open your eyes. You knew your vision would be blurred if not blacked out. Instead, you focussed on coming back down to earth, steading your breath and not thinking about how you strangely missed being filled by Emily despite being so fucking sore. 

"Are you still alive?" a smug voice asked from above, and you pried your bleary eyes open to weakly smile. 

"I think so," you whispered, peeling your sweat-slick back from the desk. That was when you remembered the unknown personnel outside and shot a look at the door. 

"They're gone," Emily said, cupping your chin and turning you back to her. Again, you were greeted by that conniving smirk. "After your commentary, I think they understood we didn't want to be disturbed." 

"But-" 

"Uh-uh." she silenced you with a finger to your lips, the smell of yourself still narrowly fragrant. You took the digit into your mouth, patting yourself on the back as you watched Emily's eyes turn dark. "You want to make Mommy feel good now, don't you?" She knew the answer, but oh, how she loved to watch you sink to your knees and eagerly nod anyway. You helped unclasp the straps of her harness, then set to pealing the last barrier keeping you from her heat down her legs. 

"My good little pet," she said, smiling down at you and happily watching you beam. Her hand cupped your jaw before moving to the back of your neck, where she pulled you to her core and began singing a melody of moans. 

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[heavyhitterheaux]

Wife and Mother To Be

Synopsis: While you and Joe are shopping for a friend's baby shower, he has a realization about his future with you.

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Girlfriend!Reader

Requested by @hoodharlow 😘💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Standing in the baby section of Target and holding up two different onesies to compare them, your phone started to vibrate in the back pocket of your jeans. Placing one of them across your arm, you pulled your phone out to answer it and was greeted by a frantic boyfriend.

“Baby! Where did you run off to this time? You said we were coming in here for toothpaste and face masks. Next thing I know, I turn around and my girlfriend is missing! Are you at Starbucks again?! You ALWAYS do this when we come in here.” You heard your boyfriend say as you picked up and didn't wait for a proper greeting.

��You were literally standing there for fifteen minutes comparing different ones so I walked away. I'm in the baby section looking at clothes. And no, I already went to Starbucks and my drink is gone so I'll need to make another stop before we leave.”

“No, no, and no. I am literally taking you to lunch so no more stops and wait a minute, why are you in the baby section? Is there something you need to tell me?” Joe asked and you immediately rolled your eyes.

“For Gabby! Her baby shower is tomorrow, remember? Just come over here and help me pick things out for her.”

“Oh, right. Be right there, I'm walking over now.”

It was another two minutes when you saw Joe coming towards you and he greeted you by placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Wait a minute, why do you have a cart? We got a basket when we came in here. What did you plan on buying her? The entire section? Am I paying for this?”

“Joseph, will you relax!? I'm just getting her a few things and then we can go eat. Now what do you think about these?” You asked as you held up the same two onesies to show him.

“Hmm, what is she having again?” Joe asked as he was looking at both of them.

“A girl, Joe. Both of these are pink.”

“So? What's your point? I wear pink too.”

“But not something that says princess on it!” You responded to him as you laughed.

“At least not yet anyway and I like both of them.”

“Okay good. Both it is and I’m ignoring you.”

“I should ignore you for leaving me by myself.”

“Oh, that's right. I forgot that you need supervision all the time.”

“No, that's you. I'm a responsible adult. You're the one who comes in here for one thing when you tell me you'll be back in twenty minutes but an hour goes by and you're nowhere to be found.”

“And you use whatever I bring back home so you benefit from it so I don’t want to hear it.” You told him with a smirk and now it was Joe’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Come on and help me. Sooner we finish, the sooner we get food and go home.” You told him and he quickly agreed as he started browsing the baby toys.

Before you knew it, another thirty minutes had passed by and the two of you had a cart full of different things for Gabby. You were satisfied with how much you had gotten, but Joe was still browsing.

“Babe, come on. This should be enough.” You told him as you came up behind and wrapped your arms around him as he was now comparing two different diaper brands and you suddenly got a flashback to the toothpaste situation.

“You can never have enough diapers though, right?”

“Sweetheart, we got her four packs already.”

“Yeah, but are those really the best ones? I think that these might be better in case she has a blow out. My nephew did that to me and I still have PTSD. Therapy was needed after that.” Joe told you as he put the other diapers back and you couldn't help but to laugh.

“Not funny, babe. I didn't realize how much shit could come out of someone so little.”

“It is funny, Joseph and I wish I was there to be able to see your face when it happened.”

“Keep going and I'm not feeding you.” Joe told you as he put the diapers you had gotten in the cart back and replaced them with the brand that he wanted.

“But, I need energy in order to ride you later.” You replied and Joe immediately turned a bright shade of red as you began to laugh.

“BABE!”

“What? What'd I say?”

“You know what you said. Come on so we can go.”

Later on that night you were sitting on the middle of the floor in your shared bedroom with Joe when he walked in to see what you were doing.

“You run away from me in Target and at home. Did I do something?” Joe playfully asked as he sat across from you and began to help you wrap the gifts for Gabby.

“Nothing at all, Joey. Doing this so I can spend the rest of the night cuddling my amazing boyfriend whom I love to the moon and back.”

“Just the moon, not further?”

“Well we aren't going to the sun unless we want to burn to a crisp so yeah the moon.”

“I'll take it.”

You were folding the onesies when Joe was simply admiring you. Before he could stop himself, he blurted it out.

“When are we going to have one?” He asked and your mouth instantly hit the floor, but you tried to compose yourself.

“Um, have a what?” You asked clearly flustered and Joe simply laughed.

“You know what I mean.” Joe responded as he pulled you to sit in his lap as he kissed the top of your head while his arms wrapped around you.

“You want a baby? With me?” You asked with your voice dripping with uncertainty.

“I want everything with you. I thought that much was obvious. And not just one baby, multiple.” He answered and you turned around to look at him.

“You're serious?”

“I love you and I'm as serious as a heart attack.”

“Well you low key just gave me one.” You muttered against his chest and he laughed.

“Don't you want that with me?”

“Of course I do. I want nothing more than to make it a reality. I just didn't really know how to tell you or if you were ready. I mean you are literally at the peak of your career.”

“Baby, you can tell me anything and everything. You know that. And so what? If this is something that we both want, we're going to make it work.”

“You're not messing with me?”

“Now, why would I do that? I want to make you my wife too whenever that time comes. Mrs. Sheisty has a nice ring to it, don't you think?”

Now it was your turn to shy away and hide in his chest and all he did was laugh.

“In that case, I can't wait for you and our daughter to have matching pink outfits.”

“Oh, so you want a girl first?”

“Of course, girls run the world and she is going to have you wrapped around her little finger just like I do now.” You told him as you poked his nose.

“If that's the case, you want to get started? I heard that making the baby is the fun part.”

[taintandviolent]

Master ; Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: [PART ONE HERE!] It's been a few days since Eddie Munson and reader had their little hookup in the back of his van, and she's jonesing for more. After a D&D campaign, Eddie invites her back to his trailer.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 4.8K | female reader, smut, use of pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), light bondage, no use of y/n, fucking to music (because he would), eating out, p in v, slight cockwarming at the end.

a/n: i am so overwhelmed by the response to my first eddie fic!!! you guys are CRAZY! thank you though, from the bottom of my heart. i hope this part lives up to the last part! ps: i've never played d&d, so just ignore how bland that section is. thanks. ps #2: the album that eddie puts on is Ride the Lightning, so if you wanna' listen to that while you read.... please do. not beta-read, yada yada yada yada. divider by @/strangergraphics!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

For the most part, everything had returned to normal with the very welcomed exceptions of a few heated glances, some knowing smiles, and the occasional touch when he passed by you. All of which had you reeling, viciously fanning the embers of your desire for him. Many times throughout the week, you’d considered approaching him for one reason or another, but you were holding out for reasons unbeknownst to you.

In other news, Jason had requested a new lab partner - or tried - but Mrs. Cowan didn’t bother entertaining his request, much to your dismay. So the last period was spent with him, trying to remain cordial, but silently cursing everything he did. 

That morning, you’d woken up with a fiery craving for Eddie. It couldn’t be sated by merely thinking of him, or watching him from afar. You need to feel him again. Out front of Hawkins High, you bend down to retrieve your backpack, nestling your patterned Trapper Keeper in the crook of your arm. 

And as if on cue… 

“I’m your turbo lover! Better run for cover!” 

You freeze and straighten up, a chill shuddering up your spine. There’s no way someone is just playing that song. Your thighs press together tightly, as if doing so is inhibiting anything. You spin around, searching for the source of the music. And boy, do you find it. Eddie’s van screeches around the corner, just in front of you. 

You watch as Eddie then pulls into a parking spot, his arm hanging out the window of the van. He lifts it, giving you a casual wave, even though that gesture is anything but casual. For a moment, you’re almost mad. He’s all but ruined that song for you, because now all you can think about is him fingerbanging you in the back of his van. You let out a frustrated huff as the music dies off and the door creaks open.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He says as he passes, his voice dripping with nonchalance. Your mouth gapes open, appalled that he didn’t tackle you in kisses right then and there. You watch, wordlessly, as he takes the steps two at a time and march after him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. He wasn’t getting away from you that quickly. Thankfully, this semester, you had two classes with him; English in the morning and History after lunch. The little game he was playing was vicious and mean, and you hated it. 

“Eddie, wait!” You call, trotting down the hallways. He slows his pace and gradually turns, a sly expression on his face. 

“Yeees?” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Uh.. y’know… just going to class.” He answers coolly, nodding his head towards Miss Tipton’s door. You steal a glance at his body; he’s wearing a Metallica shirt with his go-to black jeans, and he’s got a black backpack slung over his right shoulder. His hand is clamped around the handle of that lunchbox he always carries, his rings clanking together as he adjusts his grip. You remember what those rings felt like, entangled in your own fingers. At the lewd thought, you have to withhold a sigh. He’s so… you dig your nails into the plastic of your binder, growling slightly.

“You can’t just…” You stutter, looking at him with big, pleading eyes. “I’m going crazy over here.”

“Yeah? So what do you want me to do about it?” Suddenly walking you backwards, he urges you against someone’s locker, his belt buckle pressing hard into your stomach. Your breath comes out in a rush. “You want me to do it right here?” 

He brushes the backs of his fingers along your jawline, teasingly. Your eyes drift behind him, watching people’s eyes flit to you and widen as they pass. A few people snigger and make some comments, likely disparaging in nature. Of course, they must be thinking, who would want to be that close to the Freak of Hawkins? You groan inwardly and lean your head back against the slotted metal. 

“No… we can’t.”

“Then you’re gonna’ have to be patient, aren’t you, sweetheart?” His voice is husky and low, his breaths washing over your face. You frown slightly, but nod. You’d gotten something… the warmed, lingering sensation of his hips pressed against yours was enough to get you through the rest of the day, at least. He backs off, smirking, and reaches for the door, pulling it open. With eyebrows raised, he holds the door for you, letting you duck underneath his arm. 

Once in the classroom, you pick a seat and settle in. After a few moments, Miss Tipton turns to the chalkboard to write something and in doing so, turns her back away from the class. A few seconds later, something hits your shoulder, bouncing off of it. You look down at your feet and spot a folded up piece of notebook paper. Making sure that the teacher is still occupied, you bend down and scrape your fingers against the floor, scooping it into your grasp. You quickly unfold it, your eyes scanning over the scrawled letters. 

Today after last period. Meet me in the theatre. 

EDDIE 

PS: I miss the way you taste.

Your stomach tightens. Tucking your face into your shoulder, you sneakily peer back behind you. To your right, a few seats down, Eddie meets your gaze and feigns innocence, widening his eyes at you before casually scratching the side of his face with a capped pen. You withhold a smile and turn back around, tucking the note into your binder. Class continues without a hitch. In fact, it goes by surprisingly quickly. 

After class, you hurry to the payphone outside, dial home and bring the receiver to your ear. It rings twice before you hear your mother’s voice.

“Hello?” 

“Mom, it’s me.” 

“Honey, is everything okay?” You can hear the worry in her voice.

You smile, leaning against the nearby brick wall. “Yes, I’m fine. I just wanted to call you and let you know that I’m going to be home later today. I’m uh… thinking about joining a club.” 

“A club? At school? Honey, that’s great. Just be careful, okay?” 

You straighten up, hunching over the payphone again. “I will, I promise. Love you.” 

“Love you too. Bye-bye.” 

Every class speeds by, having been spent fantasizing. You’re in deep, too deep maybe. Short of drawing hearts around his name, you’ve allowed yourself to become completely wound around his guitar-calloused fingers, you’ve imagined every scenario possible and succeeded in riling yourself up throughout the day. Prepwork, you’d call it. 

So, later that afternoon, when you make it to the theatre, quietly opening one of the double doors, you’re almost disappointed that it’s a room full of boys. Sure, Eddie’s there, sitting at the head of the table, but it’s a room full of boys all the same. Foolishly, Hellfire Club wasn’t a frontrunner in your thoughts, you hadn’t even considered it or the fact that he had invited you to one of the sessions, and you’d agreed. You grimace and take a few steps forward, bringing yourself out of the shadows.

“Ah, she arrives.” Eddie’s voice booms, echoing in the acoustics of the theatre. He’s oozing confidence, and you bite your lip, silently talking your own arousal down. 

“Hey guys,” you say, trying to mask your nerves with a casual wave. “Eddie invited me.”

“Indeed I did.” He’s perched on an ornately carved chair, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together. Eddie then jumps over the arm of the chair and bends down, retrieving something from his backpack. Casually, but almost theatrically, he strolls over. Once he’s in front of you, he reaches for your hand, pulling it up and carefully lays the item in your hands, his fingertips grazing the edge of your palm. It’s a Hellfire Club shirt, just like the one he wears. A smirk crawls across your lips; you were now technically in possession of two of his shirts.

After changing behind the heavy velvet curtains, you get situated in one of the empty seats, and Eddie explains the campaign, setting the scene with all of his elaborate, fantastic descriptions. This guy was a natural born storyteller, and you could tell he had a passion for this silly little game. Too quickly, it came to be your turn. You had no idea what you were doing, and you realize that you haven’t been paying attention at all. Your attention was… elsewhere the entire time. Panic grips your throat as everyone’s eyes are on you, waiting for your roll. 

“Uhhh,” You look apprehensively at the dice in your palm. Unlike regular dice, they have way too many sides and you don’t know what you need to achieve. Eddie assured you that you’d get the hang of it, but so far… you haven’t. “I have no idea but roll a one-hundred to charm the DM?” 

“One-hundre— WHAT! That doesn’t even make sense. She’s not even playing!” The kid with the curly hair – Dusty? Dustin? – sounded frustrated. He took this very seriously. They’d all briefly introduced themselves as you’d sat down, but your attention had been on and still was on Eddie the entire time, so you hardly retained any of their names. You are enchanted with his energy tonight; the way he masterfully navigates the campaign, engaging with each of the rolls and weaving an intricate story that none of the other players can predict, but adore all the same. 

You two make eye contact. Eddie withholds a smile. You can see it — the middle of his plush lips start to spread across his teeth but he reels it back in. It takes an immense amount of self control, but you don’t make finger guns at him. Instead, you toss the dice back onto the table, not bothering to watch what you’d rolled. With a groan, you lean back in the chair, which creaks in protest. “Fine,” you lamented, lacing your fingers behind your head. “I’ll just watch. I don’t understand this anyway.” 

“Lady Terowyn,” he starts, saying the name that he’d given you at the start. He holds your gaze strongly, leaning forward in his chair and gripping the sides of the table, his rings clanking against the wood. “You seem to have acquired a ferocious malady. You can roll again in hopes that Blossom Tealeaf will assist you with a cure…”

“Who was Blossom Tealeaf again?” You ask, almost exasperated and look around at the other players. Dustin rolls his eyes, slumping down in his chair. “Alright, alright. Sheesh. I’ll accept this… illness and just watch this time.”

“Alright, then. Lady Terowyn succumbs to the vicious curse and perishes. What shall you do?” 

The boys fall into a heated discussion and Eddie’s eyes find yours again. Without saying anything, he’s saying a lot. He’s smiling like he did before he kissed you, and the thought drives you insane. You have half a mind to climb across the table and go sit in his lap, sweeping your hips back and forth until his cock hardens underneath you, but you wouldn’t dare interrupt his campaign; it means too much to him and the others.

So, you sat. You sat, commenting, cheering the boys on when they figured something out, and gasped when their fearless dungeon master bested them yet again. Eventually, they warmed up to you, the coldness gone from their responses, even going so far as to involve you in some of the discussions. This went on for a few hours, until finally, they lost against the merciless beast that they’d been fighting. After the group dispersed outside, Eddie towed you to his van, promising he’d take you home. 

He pulls you into a kiss, his tongue dancing along your lower lip and slipping inside to wrestle with yours. You moan into his mouth, and slide your hands into the warmth inside his leather jacket. Never breaking the kiss, he gently pushes you against the side of his van, the metal cool behind your back. One of his hands moves to your leg, hitching it up around his waist to bring you even closer to him. He bucks his hips into you once, and your breath hitches. 

“It really is fun,” he starts, brushing his lips against your neck, trailing delicate kisses down the length of it. “Y’know… if you’d actually try playing it.” 

You whine, tilting your head to the side and allowing more space for him to kiss. “Listen, I was distracted, okay?” 

“Oh, by what?” 

“Like you don’t know.” 

Eddie chuckles, a breathy sound just underneath your earlobe. His lips ghost down your neck, stopping at a place between it and your shoulder, and he sucks the skin into his mouth. You wince at the sudden pressure, but don’t protest. It’ll inevitably leave a mark, and it seems he knows it. Smiling at the reddened skin, he leans back to look at you, to gaze into your half-lidded eyes. 

“You wanna’ go back to my place? Wayne’s outta’ town…” 

You aren’t sure who Wayne is… but the implications of that hang heavy between you two. For a moment, you say nothing, letting your gaze drift back and forth between his eyes and his lips, but finally, you nod. Eddie grins and is dragging you around to the passenger side before you have a chance to change your mind. He throws open the door and circles his hand in front of it, beckoning you inside. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.” 

You can’t help but smile – the theatrics of his campaign are clearly still lingering. Once you’re in, Eddie shuts the door and hurries back around to the other side, retrieving his keys from his pocket. Tossing a confident smile your way, he stabs them into the ignition, turns them and the engine of the van roars to life.

The drive from the high school to the trailer park takes about ten minutes, but feels like twenty. Every time he pulls up on a stop sign, his hand drifts over to your thigh. He kneads it, his rings bumping together. Just when it starts to get good, just when his hand starts to drift up your skirt, he pulls it away, and accelerates. 

Once you’re inside, Eddie flips on the lights and turns to you, expectantly. He knows what’s coming. He’s been riling you up the entire ride. The second the door is shut, your lips are on him, smearing hot, wet kisses all over his neck and jawline. Eddie’s laughing breathily, his hands roaming around your waist and ass. “So needy,” he says. 

“I’ve been thinking about this since we….” Your voice trailed off, meeting his mouth in a sloppy kiss. Eddie keeps you there, holding your face tightly. He walks you backwards past the kitchen towards his bedroom until the back of your calves hit the mattress, and you wrap your arms around his neck. His hands trail up your waist, winding around the front of your body. It’s warm to the touch, and Eddie smiles as his large hands cup your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze.  

“Fuck, Eddie, oh my god…”

You claw at his leather jacket, trying to push it off his shoulders. You can’t get enough of him, and want him naked on top of you immediately. Enough teasing, enough foreplay. You’re desperate for him. 

“Someone’s grabby. We’ll fix that.” He pushes you lightly backwards onto the bed, your ass bouncing against the mattress, the springs squeaking in protest. 

He reaches around, pulling the black bandana from his back pocket, and shakes it out from its folded state. The heat that blossoms between your thighs is only worsening, becoming unbearable. One knee pressed into the bed, his body tilted slightly forward towards you. “Hands together, m’lady.”

At first, you stare, dumbfounded, up at him. He was… so cute. The dim, yellow lighting of the table lamp behind him creates a halo around his fluffy hair, akin to a renaissance painting. Some artist had to have painted an angel from this point of view… but there was nothing angelic about what was taking place. Nothing, because you were about to —

“Hello?” You blink once, twice. Had he been speaking the entire time? He quirks a brow, very obviously waiting for your response. His warm, chocolatey eyes hold yours in a death grip as he wraps the bandana around your wrists, tying it tightly in a knot. He hadn’t told you to look at him, at least not verbally. Deep down, you knew that you couldn’t look away if you tried. He knew that too. “Hands to yourself until I say so.”

“Yes, master.” He freezes, with his fingers still on the buckle of his belt and raises his head back up to look at you.

You try to speak, to undo what you’ve said, but only squeaks and a nervous string of ‘Uhhh’s come out. You drop your bound wrists into your lap with a dramatic huff, and roll your head back, staring embarrassed at the ceiling of his trailer. Truthfully, you hadn’t even known where that came from; you’d never called anyone ‘master’ in your entire life, and even mocked the concept. Master and Servant was a Depeche Mode song, not something you practiced in the bedroom.  

“I don’t knoow — dungeon master? I don’t know where that came from, I’m — Eddie, please — PLEASE!” Your head snapped back up.

“Hey,” He cooed, brushing your bangs from your eyes. “It’s okay. I liked that. I just couldn’t tell if you were being serious or not.”

Eddie brings his face close to yours, nuzzling his nose against your cheeks. “Lay back for me, sweetheart.” 

You do, bound hands resting on your stomach. Eddie shrugs out of his jacket, and pulls his shirt up from behind his back, tossing it onto the floor to join the rest of the clothes. You haven’t seen him shirtless before; the visual has your cunt clenching as your eyes dance over his tattoos, memorizing them. 

You watch him with hearts in your eyes as he strolls half-naked over to his stereo, pops in a tape, shuts the door and hits play; the heavy sound of Metallica fills the small room. You smirk. He would. As the song builds, Eddie returns to the edge of the bed, creeping closer, walking his hands on the mattress until he’s close enough to press a kiss to each of your kneecaps. Just like before, he unzips your skirt and peels down your tights, taking his time with the action. Your breath catches in your chest when you feel his calloused fingers ghosting along the outside of your thighs, sweeping along the flesh as it prickles with goosebumps. It’s not cold by any means, but the sensation of his fingers has your skin reacting.

“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes…” he says, admiring the way you look, pantsless but still wearing the Hellfire Club shirt. “God damn… you should be on the cover of an album or something.” He tilts his head, staring for a moment longer before he’s pulling the shirt over your head, and yanking your panties over the wide curve of your hips. 

The rest of your clothes join his on the floor of his bedroom, and you’re naked, lying on his stained sheets, writhing in anticipation. Eddie pulls your thighs apart carefully but forcefully, like he’s opening the jaws of a lion. He slots himself underneath your legs, hoisting your thighs onto the curve of his shoulders. As soon as you realize what’s about to transpire, he feels the sudden tension in your body and slides his hands up your waist tenderly.

“Just relax. I know what I’m doing.” His voice is commanding and heavy with desire. 

Your eyes roll back in your head, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip; you feel your cunt clench at his lusty tone. You can feel your face flush with heat. Something about him makes you trust him, turn to putty in his grip – in fact, you’ve never trusted a man more in your life. You nod, inhaling a deep breath as he presses a kiss to your cunt. Some of your pathetic, shuddering whines are lost in the heavy guitar and drums of Metallica, which you’re grateful for. The feeling of his lips against her makes your whole body jerk violently, and Eddie’s hands are suddenly pressing down on your hips, holding them tight to the mattress. 

“Easy, baby…” 

You clench your jaws and shut your eyes, trying to slow your breathing, but that does little to pacify the feelings and how deeply he’s turning you on. His lips hover, his breath washing over her in small, warm gusts before he kisses her again, nuzzling his nose against the soft mound before his tongue slips in between the folds, flicking upwards. Still tied together, all you can do is lift your hands and wad them into tight fists. You could reach forward and push his head further into you, but he’d specifically ordered no touching. You whimper and writhe against the mattress, to which Eddie softly shakes his head against your cunt, muttering a ‘Mm-mm’, and again grips your hips tightly again, holding them in place. 

“You like that?” 

He swallows hard, before his tongue juts out again, toying with your clit, mercilessly flicking it back and forth and up and down. He encircles the swollen bundle of nerves and hums into your cunt, pleased at the visceral reaction from your body. Even over the music, you can hear the slick, suckling and slurping sounds he’s making, and above all, how wet you are, which is slightly mortifying, considering he’s only just started. Your juices leak onto his mattress, leaving yet another stain on his sheets.

“Words, sweetheart…” He pauses to say. One hand drifts between his legs, where he palms himself over his dark jeans. Eating you out has his cock achingly hard, and he wants nothing more than to sink it into you. 

Words? You don’t even know what those are. You can barely form a single word, let alone an entire sentence as his tongue laps at you again, flattening out against your sensitive flesh. It takes you a few tries, but you finally manage to squeak out: “Huhhh- mmm-yeah. Gonna’... gonna’...” 

Eddie pulls back slightly, pressing a single slick kiss against your inner thigh. “Yeah? So soon?” 

You whimper, nodding. “Mmmh…. So…. so good…” 

Bringing his hands underneath your ass, Eddie hoists your hips up, giving him a better angle to suck on your puffy clit. That does it – you’re unable to stop the floodgates. You cry out, bringing your bound hands to your face and pressing the balls of your palms against your mouth, pinching your bottom lip between them. Eddie swallows down your orgasm, bringing the tip of his tongue to your entrance as it squeezes.

As Eddie stands up and wipes the slick from his chin, the song changes, a single reverberating bell rings throughout the room. It brings a smirk to his lips. “For whom the bell tolls…” He says, running a single finger along the length of your quivering thigh. “The bell tolls for you, sweetheart.” 

Completely spent, you lift your head weakly, brows peaked together in question. “Wh…what…” 

Eddie palms himself again, stroking the swollen shaft through the fabric. His gaze is heavy, sweeping over your naked body as your chest heaves with laboured breaths. His long fingers move quickly, working to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. The jeans fall loose at his hips, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of a lewd outline and a spot where the blue plaid fabric has darkened with pre-cum. He kicks them off and steps out of the circle, smiling at you.  

“Nothin’, baby. C’mere.” 

Eddie gets onto the bed with one knee first, and walks his way over to you. You turn your head to look at him and heave a shaky sigh as he reaches underneath your torso, twisting you so you’re laying rightways on the bed, your head on a pillow. 

“You ready?” 

“R-ready for what?” You breathe. 

“To have your world rocked, sweetheart.” 

“Again?” You coo, looking up at him with big, dreamy eyes. 

Eddie hooks his finger around the bandana and twists it around his index finger, tightening the fabric around your wrists. He yanks your hands up over your head, pressing them against the wall above. With his other hand still free, he pulls the waistband of his boxers down over the curve of his ass, allowing his heavy cock free. It slaps against his tummy, bobbing dangerously in front of your core. It occurs to you then how turned on he is over eating your pussy… his cock is leaking and twitching in front of you, begging for release. 

Fuck. 

At first, Eddie leans down, pressing his cock against your tummy as he kisses you. The kisses are sweet, tender, but passionate with a lingering hint of animalistic demand. He’s being gentle now, but you can feel the unbridled want behind his actions. 

“Do it,” you say. “Fuck me.” 

Eddie runs his tongue along his bottom lip and grins, taking hold of his cock with his free hand and giving it a few long strokes. A bead of precum oozes from the tip, stringing down to your stomach. He lines the tip up, and a warning pressure builds at your waiting entrance. You clench around the velvet soft head, and Eddie lets out a deep groan. 

“Holy shit…” he says. 

He tries to be gentle, but as soon as the tip breaches your slick hole and he feels how wet, how warm you are, he can’t help but sink every inch deep into you. He bucks his hips once, forcing his cock deep inside, and halts, allowing you a moment to adjust to the feeling of fullness. You gasp and tighten around him again, pulling a throaty sound from him. 

He begins rocking his hips back and forth, his shaft sliding wetly out of you. It doesn’t take him more than a few seconds to find a mind-shattering rhythm that has you gasping and clawing the wall above you. He holds onto your bound wrists still, pinning them tightly against the wall. The power in his thrusts come from his core, bucking relentlessly up into you. 

You lift your legs slightly, scooting up and pressing the roundness of your ass against his torso. As he thrusts, his palm presses low into your stomach, rings denting the flesh. 

Over the drums and guitar, the slick, hollow slop slop of his cock hammering into you fills the room, and your vision goes blurry as your lids drift shut. 

“F-fuck, Eddie… fuck!” 

His wanton, concentrating gaze drifts between your legs, watching as he impales you over and over again. You moan loud, much louder than James Hetfield was singing. Eddie shudders and groans, making a deep, almost pained sound. 

“You’re gonna kill me, you know that? Those moans are gonna’... Jesus Christ.”

You smile devilishly and meet his thrusts, rutting your hips against his. You see him clench his jaw, the muscles fluttering on the side of his face. The feelings are tantalizing him, and each jerk of his hips brings him closer to an orgasm. 

“Jesus Christ,” he repeats, looking down at your sweat-glistened body, watching as your breasts rock back and forth with each movement of his hips. You strain against his grip, wanting so desperately to touch him. 

“Master,” you whimper. “Let me touch your body… please….” 

The singular word makes his cock twitch inside you. His other hand joins the right, and quickly undoes the knot of his bandana, tossing it behind him. Your greedy fingers immediately snap to his torso, clawing their way up his toned abdomen. Your digits trail over his tattoos, tracing them absentmindedly as Eddie keeps fucking into you, his jaw hanging slack, expression completely blissed out.

“Harder, Eddie,” you moan, pressing your head back into the pillow. 

He obeys. Happily. He takes hold of your thighs, pressing them back against your body, exposing more of your cunt to him. His cock leaves you for a moment before he’s slamming back into you, heated and heavily.

It doesn’t take him long to reach a climax at this angle, or for you to reach your second one. You scream out, clawing at his abs as you clench around his dick, squeezing it in a vice-tight grip.

“Shit-shit-shit—” Eddie curses, looking down at your pussy. You feel the swelling throb of Eddie’s cock inside you as he paints you insides white. Your own orgasm has you shuddering against him, crying out his name. 

Eddie collapses atop of you, his cock still inside, and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck.

“That was…” 

“Yeah,” you echo. “Yeah. It was.”

After a few minutes, you turn your head, and press a single kiss against his plump lips. “Soooo, can I sit at your table now? I’m tired of sitting at Jason’s preppy table.” 

“Absolutely.” 

[violetarks]

third year! bakugou katsuki thinks it's pathetic how everyone tries to ask you to be their valentine while you stand absolutely awkwardly and oblivious to their advances.

he rolls his eyes, scoffing at how you tilt your head and ask 'what do you mean?' when a new second-year tries to confess through a heartfelt letter a week before valentines day. he's sitting in the cafeteria, a few tables away from you where you stand with your tray. his friends catch his line of sight and begin to watch too as you awkwardly take the letter and mention how it's your favourite colour, what a coincidence.

"man, poor y/n." kaminari sighs, "been getting bombarded with valentine's day proposals."

"acting like you werent one last year." sero snickers, elbowing the blonde, who replies with 'shut up!'.

"y/n, todoroki and momo have to be the most popular third years. i saw todoroki carrying a fruit arrangement yesterday with 'be my valentine' on some flags." mina states, drinking her orange juice.

jirou retorts, poking her food, "did you see y/n's shoe locker when they opened it? they were basically drowning in all those letters. and their desk was full of teddy bears and hearts and flowers."

"yaoyorozu told me that she felt so bad because she rejected someone who choreographed a flash mob for her." kirishima inputs, "but seriously, so many people have tried getting with y/n, it's insane."

katsuki only rolls his eyes again as you thank the person, who runs away giddily. you're so uninterested in the person that you just pocket it in your blazer for later. katsuki chuckles at the action before returning to his food.

he thinks it's so funny that everyone is fawning over you. he understood todoroki and yaoyorozu, they've been popular since day one. but you? what did anyone see in you?

"hey, bakugou, are you alright?" you ask, standing in front of him on the porch of the dormitory. it's now five days later and he blinks himself back to reality and swallows the lump in his throat. "you were kinda' just staring at me and that girl just then..."

it's true, he was. a first year, some lovesick teen girl, came to confess to you just then. you hold some chocolates in your hand and a bouquet of roses in another. your third this week, he tallies.

"i—i wasn't." he stammers, looking away. he was leaning against the pillar, watching you as he took in some fresh air. it was pure coincidence, he says. "what... did you tell 'em?"

"i felt a bit sorry, she cried a little when i said i'm not a fan of this kind of chocolate." you express, showing him the box. katsuki smirks. you were so blunt. "i still accepted it though, to make her feel better. i don't even know her, though."

"strange." he responds, staring at you, "so what now then?"

"do you want it?"

"i don't want your fucking confession candy." he scoffs, furrowed brows. he's irritated at the offer and you just tuck the chocolates underneath your arm. "why'd you say 'no'?"

"i... don't know her." you state as if it was obvious. he blinks and looks away. "i dunno', i've been getting asked a lot recently."

"that so?" it's so pathetic, how anyone would trip and fall at your feet at the slight chance to share valentine's day with you. he could think of a thousand things better to do tomorrow than spend it with you—

"how come you haven't asked me yet?" you inquire, pursing your lips, "to be your valentine?"

"hah?" he huffs out, making the most outraged expression on his face, "what the hell did you just say to me?"

you sigh, opening the entrance door with your new gifts, "nevermind."

he stares at you as you leave him alone on the porch. questions swirl in his mind, making him think about you even more. is this how you made so many admirers? you just... made them think about you? you were absolutely crazy.

that's got to me the most pathetic thing about valentine's day, right?

wrong.

katsuki annoyedly drops the chocolates that he knows for sure you love. and as he passes the flower section, oh god, the amount of time he spent trying to figure out which ones were the perfect ones. the cashier looks at him knowingly, wishing him 'goof luck' on his endeavour. katsuki scoffs and tells them to shut his mouth.

what's pathetic is that katsuki readies himself for asking you. now that he's got confirmation that you were expecting him to, he would do it. he is standing in front of your dorm door, holding the flowers and chocolates and teddy bear in his arms. he knows you have hundreds in your room right now, but... he's pathetic.

when his hand goes up to knock on your door, the elevator reaches the floor and opens to reveal you in the sports uniform.

you walk up, typing on your phone when you look up to your dorm to see him. "oh, hey."

"hey." he mumbles, trying his best to hide the presents behind his back, "went on a run?"

"no, quirk training, actually." you respond, unlockong your dorm. you walk in and turn your head. "did you need to talk to me?"

"well... i—"

"are those for valentine's day?" you point to the flowers that are badly hiden behind him.

katsuki grunts, finally revealing them, "y—yeah... i don't know how to do this."

"come in." you say, inviting him into your dorm. he nervously enters and closes the door behind him. you sit at our desk, leg over your knee, almost like you're inspecting him thoroughly. "so, who is it for?"

he stops. "huh?"

"i mean, who are you asking?" you mumble out. he doesn't know what to say. do you not remember asking him to ask you yesterday? "you're looking for advice, aren't you?"

suddenly, he's on the fire. he's in the position that he made fun of those other people for being in. and it fucking sucks.

it takes all his courage to sigh out, "no... no, you idiot. i'm asking you."

"wha—? me?" you point at yourself.

"yes! here!" he practically shoves them into your hands and steps away away. "i... want you to be my valentine tomorrow. please."

his harsh tone makes you rethink his statement. but katsuki sees a smile dawn on your face regardless, something the others who have asked you haven't seen.

"thank you, bakugou. i love them."

he knows damn well you do.

"i'd be happy to be your valentine." you confirm, standing up and placing the flowers on your desk. you put the chocolates and teddy on your bed, smiling the whole time. he gulps in anticipation, despite you already saying 'yes'. "thank you, truly. it's perfect."

katsuki clears his throat, hands in his pockets and he looks away, "'s nothin'."

you chuckle and step towards him, hand on his shoulder as you give him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"whatever you say. where did you wann' go tomorrow?"

he thinks it's pathetic how on valentine's day, you drag him to all the couple stalls and events, and even do a hand-reading (katsuki lets out a sigh of relief when they said that you two are quite the perfect match), but when it's with you, it's a lot less embarrassing to do it. in fact, he'd relive this whole day again if he could.

what's pathetic is how all those people thought they could have this time with you, when all you ever wanted was bakugou katsuki himself.

[wandaslittlebird]

Alright, another professor Wanda drabble because I’m utterly whipped for her.

“I think spoken Russian is going to send me to an early grave,” You complained. “I’m good on the written and comprehension sections but the oral pronunciations…” You groaned dramatically, tossing your ‘Russian 101’ book out in front of you and dropping your arms so you were laying prone on bed.

Wanda picked up the book, reading through the dog-eared page you had been studying. “Is this the one you’re struggling with?” She pointed to one of the longer words at the top of the page. It had been twisting your tongue for hours.

You nodded. Wanda placed the book back in your hands and sat down next to you. “You know all the syllables. Just say it slowly, don’t try to cram the sounds together, just say them one at a time.”

You propped yourself back up on your elbows, squinting and bending forward to study the page. You sounded out the word slowly. Each syllable felt like an entire word of its own. It was by no means an elegant attempt, but it was technically correct.

Wanda slide down on the bed so she could press a kiss onto your lower back. “See?” She said, nuzzling the downward curve of her spine. “You’re getting it. Keep going. Try this one here.” She reached around you to point out a sentence at the top of the next page.

You spoke the words awkwardly and slowly, mentally trying to translate the foreign lettering into sounds. Wanda started tracing her way back up your spine, placing gentle kisses along each ridge.

“You’re a lot better at this than you think you are,” Wanda assured. “I could’ve never guessed this was your first semester taking Russian if I wasn’t the one teaching it to you.”

“Thank you, professor,” you teased. “I believe you’re to blame for my accelerated studies.” You could feel Wanda’s smile curl against your back.

“I suppose that is my job,” She teased, “making sure you excel.”

“Well then you’ll be devastated to know I have someone who’s serving as a terrible distraction to my studies.” You smirked, arching your back against her mouth.

“Mmm,” Wanda hummed. “I’m sure whoever it is knows that you work too hard. And I’d bet she knows that you’re brilliant and you could’ve passed with flying colors without even opening the book.”

“As if she herself isn’t known for working herself to the bone,” you retorted.

“All the more reason to provide her with a wonderful distraction.” Wanda bit gently at the spot your neck met your shoulder. You rolled your head back, mouth falling open in a silent groan. “We can continue your studies, if you wish. Repeat after me: YA ves' tvoy.” (I am yours.)

You reached one hand back behind you, burying it in Wanda’s thick brown hair. You drew her ruby red lips back to your neck, encouraging more kisses and nips from the older woman. “YA ves' tvoy,” you repeated with easy confidence. These words came far easier to you than the long and complicated ones you were pulling from your books.

“You speak beautifully, sweet girl.” Wanda sucked at the skin behind your ear.

Your eyes fluttered at sensation.“devochka milaya,” you said. “Sweet girl.”

“Mhm.” Wanda did not pull her mouth away from the soft skin of your neck. Your words weren’t entirely accurate, as the adjective came after the noun in Russian, but she was in no mood to be pedantic at the moment.

She adjusted her position on the bed, moving to straddle your hips rather than lying beside you. You whined when she pulled away, already missing the warm breath against your neck. The whines turned into moans when Wanda ground against her hips your ass. “I want to hear you say it again. Tell me you are mine,” she demanded.

You obeyed. “YA ves' tvoy,” you said again. The words came even more natural the second time around. “I am yours. I am all yours, my love.”

“YA ves' tvoy, moya lyubov,” She translated, adding in the ‘my love’.

You giggled. “Do you plan to fuck me until I can recite the entirety of the Russian language?”

Wanda chuckled mischievously, bending so her mouth was mere inches from your ear. “My love, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember English.”

[musaslullaby]

Streaming night

Lando Norris x fem reader

Summary: Yn and Lando make a bet

Warning: only fluff, au instagram

Face: random people on Pinterest and Lando.

Masterlist

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪

Yn_gamelife

Description: Soon live, we’re waiting for you.❤️❤️❤️

liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri and other 293932892

Landonorris: My baby girl❤️❤️❤️

Landonorris: You are so beautiful.

yn_lando: Lando flooding the comment section of Yn.

Landonorris: I don’t know how I’ll keep my hands to myself tonight.

Yn_gamelife: Lando, stop, you won’t dissuade me from playing The Sims.

Landonorris: Oh my god baby plssss

Ynmyword: The third photo is completely random.

Landono_rris: He's so cute

N4: Lando without a shirt????

L_y: Shh, let me enjoy the scene.

Yn_lifegame

Description: I left Lando alone for two seconds asking him to create me on The Sims (I shouldn't have done that)."

liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri and other 293932892

Ynqueen: Yn's face says it all

❤️ Like to author

Yn_Lando: Ok now I want to see what Lando has created

utente67:You should have come live.

Landonorris: It was beautiful, the best Sim ever.

Yn_lifegame: No no absolutely no

Yn_Lando: O my God they replied

Landonorris: Okok but it was so difficult

Yn_lifegame: No it wasn't

Landonorris: If you think you can create one better than mine, go ahead, but if you can’t, you owe me a date—just you, me, and clothes on the floor. ❤️ Like to author

Yn_lifegame: If I win, you’ll have to do everything I say for a day.

Landonorris: Get ready to lose

Ynmyword: What did we just witness?

Ln4_81: I’m scared.

Landonorris

Description: Her super professional setup, and then there's mine that just exists

liked by Yn:gamelife, charles_leclerc and other 293932892

Yn_lifegame: Please don't embarrass me

❤️ Like to author

charles_leclerc: I didn't know you knew how to play Minecraft.

Yn_gamelife: I was playing

Landonorris: I was busy making her blush.

Yn_lifegame: LANDO PLSSS

Landonorris: What?

Landonorris: Mate I didn't know u even knew Minecraft

charles_leclerc: I’m not that ignorant.

Yn_lifegame: Really Charli? ❤️ Like to author

F1lover: Lando's face is resigned

Lan_:Yes, he's the rich one in the couple, and yet she has the more expensive setup.

Yn_norris: Bro she is also very famous

Game.yn: She probably earns as much as Lando.

Yn.lifegame

Description: Ok guys this is my beautiful creation. Did I win the challenge?

liked by Yn:gamelife, charles_leclerc and other 293932892

Ynnnnn.; O my God is Lando?

Yn_norris: Yn, you beat him

charles_leclerc: Someone call Lando and tell him he owes a full day under Yn’s command

❤️ Like to author

Landonorris: shut up mate

Oscarpiastri: Yn, can you create me too, please?

❤️ Like to author

Yn_lifegame: Immediately teddy bear

Ln4_81: YN???

georgerussell63: Don’t worry, it’s all normal (Could you create me too?) ❤️ Like to author

Landonorris: Don’t load up work on my poor girl

Yn_gamelife: The only one getting stressed today is you.

Landonorris; You know I love you so much?

Yn_gamelife: You know flattering me won’t work

Yn_gamelife

Description: Him before, him during, him after (he thinks he’s super sexy).

liked by Yn:gamelife, charles_leclerc and other 293932892

F1lover: He looks like a model in the last photo

❤️ Like to author

Lando4norris_: The Spider-Man suit boosted his self-esteem ❤️ Like to author

Yn_gamelife: He was so happy and incredibly stunning.

Landonorris: I should dress as Spider-Man every day ❤️ Like to author

N4: Wait, why are they dressed like that?

Yn_Norris: Because Lando lost a bet to Yn, and she made him go around Monaco dressed as Spider-Man.

charles_leclerc: Alex and I saw you, you looked ridiculous

Landonorris: Did you guys passed out?

charles_leclerc: No? and I'm honestly scared to ask why

Landonorris: Because we were freaking awesome ❤️ Like to author

Yn_gamelife: Guys, Lando has officially gone crazy

[moonpascal]

VOODOO DOLL II T.N

summary: theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him. or loosely based on a song

warnings: mean theo, language, hurt/comfort l WC 3.4k

authors note: fourth time trying to post this so let’s see how that goes

“She’s not going to magically appear if you keep staring at her table,” Mattheo muttered, irritation clear in his tone. Theo scoffed but kept his gaze fixed on the empty spot at the Gryffindor table.

Theo couldn’t stand you. That’s what he told anyone who would listen—you were too nice, too annoying, and every little thing you did got on his nerves.

The way you helped anyone in need, no matter if they treated you unfairly in the past. How you smiled at everyone and everything. Always in a good mood, when Theo couldn’t fathom why.

“Good morning, guys! Did you finish the Arithmancy homework from yesterday?” Your cheerful voice cut through his thoughts, nearly making him jump. Speak of the devil, he thought bitterly.

Theo rolled his eyes at your question. “Forgot again, or just getting lazier?” he sneered.

But your smile didn’t waver; if anything, it grew brighter. “Actually, I just need help with sections 6 and 8. I stayed up all night and still couldn’t figure them out!”

He couldn’t understand why you always talked to them—why you always acted so friendly with the rivals of your house. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t stand you; it felt like you were deliberately trying to get under their skin.

“Sucks to be—” Mattheo began, but Theo jabbed his elbow into his side, cutting him off with a sharp look.

“Just here, take my paper,” he grumbled, pulling out his parchment and thrusting it toward you. Your fingers brushed his briefly, and Theo jerked his hand back as a tingling sensation shot through him.

“Thanks, Theodore!” you beamed, practically skipping back to your table, which only irritated Theo more.

“What the hell was that?” Mattheo demanded.

“Fuck if I know. I couldn’t stop myself,” Theo muttered. “I wanted to tell her to piss off and figure it out on her own.” He scowled, shoving his food away, his appetite suddenly gone.

“Maybe she’s got you under some spell, Nott,” Draco chuckled. “Drink anything suspicious lately?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Theo snapped, the idea unsettling him. The thought of you having that kind of influence over him was ridiculous.

He could still feel the ghost of your touch, as if you were still caressing his hand, even though you were now back at your table, tongue out in concentration as you scribbled down the answers.

“Don’t get why she didn’t just ask Granger for help,” Lorenzo chimed in, mouth full of food.

“Because Hermione wouldn’t just give her the answers. She’d explain it step by step—which she doesn’t have time for—since it’s her next class,” Theo replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The boys exchanged knowing smirks. “And how exactly do you know that?” Blaise teased.

Theo realized how that sounded, but before he could defend himself, you reappeared to hand him his paper back.

“You’re a lifesaver, Theodore! I owe you one,” you said, squeezing his bicep in appreciation before heading off to class early as ever.

“Yeah, whatever,” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of your touch, the burning sensation in his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart whenever you were near.

Once you were out of sight, his heart began to slow, but a different ache settled in. It was almost like he missed you—which was ridiculous. He shook the thought from his mind immediately.

Maybe someone did slip him something; whether it was a prank or an accidental slip-up, he had to get rid of it, and fast.

———

Days passed, and Theo only felt worse. He constantly thought you were nearby, even when he knew you were in a different class on the other side of the school. Your touch was ingrained in his mind, as if he could still feel you. Some days, it felt like you were right next to him, invading his personal space, only for him to see you across the field, chatting with your friends.

His friends were no help when he mentioned it. They just teased him endlessly on having a crush on a Gryffindor, which he quickly shot down.

You were an annoyance. Someone who bugged the hell out of him, and that was it—nothing more.

To make matters worse, you both got paired up in Muggle Studies. A class he took just to piss off his dad was now backfiring spectacularly.

The assignment was to write an essay about what Muggles believed to be ‘witchcraft,’ which seemed simple enough—if only he didn’t have to work with you.

“Okay so I was thinking of voodoo dolls, because I think others are gonna pick psychics or magicians,” you started, flipping through some pages of your textbook, “and I think we could get extra points if we somehow have a physical doll!”

He could feel your excitement radiating off of you and it was nauseating but he nodded and agreed. You went on and said you would send an owl to your mother to see if she could buy one from the shops in your hometown.

Theo barely paid attention as you rambled on about your plans for the essay. The way you spoke with so much enthusiasm, your eyes bright with excitement—it was almost unbearable. Not because it annoyed him, but because it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.

“Do you even care about this project?” you asked suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. You were watching him with a hint of concern in your eyes, which only made him feel more unsettled.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about passing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “But I don’t see why you’re so invested in it.”

You shrugged, the usual brightness in your expression dimming a little. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. And maybe…” You hesitated, then added, “I thought it’d be nice to work with you.”

Theo blinked, caught off guard by your honesty. His initial reaction was to snap back with a sarcastic comment, to push you away as he always did. But something stopped him.

“Why?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

You looked down, fiddling with your quill. “I don’t know. You’re different from most people, Theodore. You’re not afraid to be yourself, even if that means being a little rough around the edges.”

He stared at you, stunned into silence. Was that how you saw him? And why did it make his heart skip a beat? He could feel his defenses cracking, the walls he’d built so carefully starting to crumble.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, as if embarrassed by your admission, “I’ll let you know if my mom finds a voodoo doll. We can meet up later to go over the details?”

“Yeah… sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away. He watched as you gathered your things, flashing him another bright smile before leaving the classroom.

Once you were gone, Theo let out a frustrated groan, slumping back in his chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never let anyone get under his skin like this before. Yet, with you, it was like he had no control over his own emotions. There was something wrong with him.

The thought of you saying he was “different” kept replaying in his mind. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either. He hated the idea that you could have this effect on him.

As the days went on, he found himself increasingly distracted by you. The way you laughed with your friends, the way you focused on your studies, the way you went out of your way to be kind to everyone—even to him, despite how he treated you.

The next time you met to work on the project, Theo couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to your hands as you gestured animatedly, explaining some new idea you had. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have those hands touch him again—whether by accident or design.

When you handed him a book, he purposely brushed his fingers against yours and once more, he felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. But this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let the contact linger for just a moment longer, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

But as soon as the moment passed, he cursed himself silently. He couldn’t let this happen. You were a Gryffindor, and you represented everything he claimed to hate—yet, here he was, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, noticing his distant expression.

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smirk. “Just thinking about how ridiculous this project is. Muggles and their superstitions.”

You laughed, and the sound sent another pang through his chest. “It is pretty silly, isn’t it? But it’s kind of fascinating too, don’t you think?”

Theo shrugged, playing it cool. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am,” you said with a grin. “But maybe by the end of this, you will be too.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice behind it. “Don’t count on it.”

As you continued working, Theo found himself glancing at you more often, watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about something.

After the study session, Theo left with an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips, lost in thoughts of you. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Mattheo approaching from behind in the hallway.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mattheo said, his voice laced with curiosity. “What’s with the grin? Did you win a fight?”

Theo scoffed, quickly wiping the smile from his face and replacing it with his usual scowl. “Salazar’s sake, no, I wasn’t in a fight.”

“Then why are you so happy? Snog someone? Wait—don’t tell me, did you snog Bug?” Mattheo teased, his tone dripping with mockery, fully aware of how much Theo loathed that nickname recently.

“Stop calling her that,” Theo snapped, shaking Mattheo’s arm off and feeling his good mood souring by the second.

“Oh, since when do you come to her defense? Especially when you’re the one who started calling her that,” Mattheo retorted, raising an eyebrow. The nickname had been an impulsive jab, something Theo came up with in a moment of annoyance. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

Ignoring Mattheo, Theo continued down the hallway toward the Slytherin dorms, determined to work on his portion of the essay. But Mattheo wasn’t ready to let it go.

Once they reached the Slytherin common room, Mattheo seized the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, guys, doesn’t Theo seem a little… different lately?” he announced, adopting an exaggerated infomercial voice. “We barely see him, and when we do, he’s actually smiling.”

Theo halted in his tracks, irritation bubbling up inside him.

“I noticed that too,” Pansy chimed in, her tone dripping with curiosity. “He’s been sneaking off a lot.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal, Nott?” Blaise added, his voice teasing. “Too good for us now?”

Theo rolled his eyes, adjusting the stack of books you had recommended in his arms. “I’ve just been busy, you know—actually doing schoolwork.”

“Sure, and by ‘schoolwork,’ you mean hanging out with Bug,” Draco chimed in, his grin widening. “I thought you couldn’t stand her?”

“You lot are a bunch of tossers,” Theo shot back, his patience wearing thin. “Yes, I’ve been working with her because we got paired up for a project. That’s all.”

They exchanged skeptical glances, sensing there was more to the story.

“What’s the project about?” Pansy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Theo let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s an essay on Voodoo dolls for Muggle Studies.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mattheo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Voodoo dolls? Are you serious, Theo? You’re supposed to be the smart one here!”

Theo frowned, confused by Mattheo’s sudden outburst. “What the hell are you on about now?”

“Voodoo dolls, you daft git!” Mattheo exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat. “They’re Muggles’ way of trying to control people! Haven’t you been paying attention? She might have one of you—that’s probably why you’ve been acting so strange!”

Theo stared at Mattheo, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in. The idea was absurd—yet the possibility gnawed at him. Was that really what was happening? It would make a lot of sense.

Theo dropped everything and bolted out of the common room, his mind racing as he stormed through the castle. The further he went, the angrier he became. How could you do this to him? He thought he was finally feeling something other than disdain toward you—only to find out you were messing with his head.

As he rounded the final corner near the Gryffindor common room, he spotted you. But you weren’t alone. You were talking to another Gryffindor, laughing that same laugh you shared with him. The sight made his blood boil, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Was messing with my head not enough for you?” Theo shouted, his voice filled with fury. “Did you need more attention, so you found another tosser to add to your list?”

You flinched at his sudden outburst but didn’t immediately turn to face him. You quietly excused yourself from the conversation with your housemate before turning to glare at Theo.

The look you gave him was like nothing he’d ever seen on your face before—cold, angry, and so unlike the usual warmth you radiated. It unnerved him to be on the receiving end of such a glare.

“Can I help you, Nott?” you asked, your voice eerily calm. If Theo had been less blinded by his own anger, he might have noticed the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clenched at your sides.

“Yes, you can start by telling me what the hell you did to me!” Theo took a step closer, looming over you in an attempt to intimidate, but you stood your ground, unfazed.

“I haven’t done anything—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Theo interrupted, his hands gripping your shoulders as if shaking you might jog your memory. “You came up with that stupid voodoo doll project, and ever since then, you’ve been in my head day in and day out! So don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on!”

You shoved him off you, your scoff laced with disbelief and hurt. “You’re so full of yourself, Nott. Do you really think I’d waste my time controlling you? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you honestly believe I’m that desperate for attention?”

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his accusation hurt. “Fuck you, Nott. Maybe you should take a hard look at yourself instead of blaming me for the fact that you’re finally feeling something—anything—other than that cold, emotionless shell you’ve built around yourself.”

Theo stood there, speechless, as you turned and disappeared behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. Every word you said hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew you were right—he’d been pushing people away for so long that he didn’t know how to deal with real emotions. But hearing it from you, someone he had started to care about, hurt more than he could admit. He knew he owed you an apology, but he had no idea where to start.

The walk back to the Slytherin common room was humiliating. When he entered, his friends were in the same spots, waiting with anticipation.

“Well?” Mattheo asked impatiently, a smug grin on his face like he knew he was right all along.

“You lot are absolute wankers,” Theo muttered, snatching up the books he had dropped earlier without sparing them a second glance. He stormed up to his dorm room, ignoring their confused looks.

He had to find a way to make things right with you. The ache in his chest wasn’t just the usual discomfort he felt around you—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore.

———

Theo spent the entire night poring over the books you had lent him. As he read, he realized Mattheo’s theory was complete nonsense. None of the feelings he had for you had anything to do with “voodoo” or any other magical influence. They were real, and they terrified him.

Determined to fix the mess he had made, Theo stayed up to finish the entire essay by himself, lightening your workload. He even turned it in first thing in the morning, two days before the assignment was due.

He spent the rest of the day trying to find you to let you know you didn’t have to worry about the project and to apologize, but you were nowhere to be found. He searched the Great Hall, the library, and even, with great reluctance, asked Potter if he had seen you. No luck.

By the time dinner rolled around, Theo was too distracted to eat. His fork aimlessly pushed food around his plate while his head rested on his palm. Enzo jabbed him in the side, snapping him out of his daze. Theo shot him a glare but followed Enzo’s gaze to see you walking past their table without so much as a glance in their direction. When you sat down at your table, your eyes instinctively met Theo’s, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something softer. He offered a small smile, but you rolled your eyes and turned back to your friends.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her anything but cheerful. She must be pissed that we figured her out, huh?” Enzo commented, eliciting a few laughs from the group.

Theo’s fork clattered onto his plate, the loud noise silencing them immediately. They had seen Theo angry before, but never like this, never directed at them.

“Do you ever think about anyone other than yourselves?” Theo snapped. “She didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong is that I listened to you lot and screwed everything up.”

He abruptly stood and made his way over to you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, aware that Slytherins didn’t usually venture to the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. The hushed whispers that followed Theo didn’t faze him; he only cared about setting things right.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, asking you to follow him. Despite your better judgment, curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself following him out of the Great Hall.

Theo led you to a secluded hallway, casting a quick Muffliato charm to ensure privacy. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice heavy with regret. “I was an absolute tosser. You were right—I’ve never felt anything like this before, and it scared me. I tried to find every excuse to deny it, and in the process, I lashed out at you. I shouldn’t have accused you of something so ridiculous.”

You stared at him, your silence unnerving him. He continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know there’s no excuse for what I said, and I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. But if there’s any chance, I’d like to start over. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Maybe it was because you had started liking Theo too, or maybe it was the sincerity in his apology, but it wasn’t hard to forgive him.

“Although getting accused wasn’t ideal and did hurt, I accept your apology, Theodore,” you said, offering him a small smile—the smile he didn’t realize how much he’d missed until now.

Theo’s heart lifted at your words. “If I’m not pushing my luck… could I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Theo held his breath, anxiously awaiting your response. You hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before finally stepping closer. With a gentle smile, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. As you pulled back, your eyes met his, filled with a warmth that made his heart race.

“I’d like that,” you whispered, your voice tender and genuine.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo felt the tight knot in his chest begin to loosen.

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