#are these all the tags? am i doing this right?

[astonmartinii]

royally screwed | jack doohan social media au

pairing: jack doohan x fem royal!reader

head up king, your tiara is falling

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

f1

liked by jackdoohan, danielricciardo and 1,204,899 others

tagged: pierregasly & francocolapinto

f1: that’s something both franco and the alpine mechanics won’t want to see back… the argentine takes both himself and his teammate out of the race!

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user1: i’m so sorry all the karma got directed to you franco i was aiming for flávio i swear

user2: idk what kind of voodoo protection that old man has but even my etsy witch can’t defeat it

user3: what if we ALL paid etsy witches?

user4: not gonna lie guys there’s an easier way to deal with this… it’s called a dark alley and a charging car

user5: oh?!

user6: honestly? valid reaction at this point

alpinef1team: we’ll get them next time!

user7: but who is getting YOU?

user8: sorry social media admin but i’m sad so i fear you’re going to have to hear about it

user9: how DARE you make jack do all of those stupid ass tiktoks and let me get attached :(

user10: making him do all of this social media stuff and didn’t keep him around long enough to finish his soft launch

user11: do NOT remind me

user12: it was so carefully planned and everything

user13: really? that’s what you’re angry about?

user12: let me live? i’m in mourning and thinking about his actual career will make me crash out heavier than the alpines today

user14: okay you have a point

user15: rip alpine you would’ve love jack doohan … oh wait!

user15: @alpinef1team CHOKE

this comment was liked by oscarpiastri, daniel ricciardo, jackdoohan and yourusername

user15: oh WOW my comment collected some big likes

user15: oscar? yeah makes sense. daniel? cool aussie bromance. jack? obviously. y/n windsor? WHY THE FUCK IS THE PRINCESS OF ENGLAND IN MY LIKES?

user16: she has an account?

user17: it’s all her charity stuff mostly but she has been caught like sports stuff before lol

user18: y/n idk what kind of powers come with being a princess but i know you’re next in line so PLEASE GET JACK HIS SEAT BACK

user19: actually any seat will do we’re not fussy

user20: alpine… look at what you’ve made us

yourusername and jackdoohan

liked by oscarpiastri, kimiantonelli and 13,983,029 others

yourusername and jackdoohan: surprise! jack and i have finally decided to make our relationship public as we continue to prepare to settle down.

we first met many years ago when i was on duty at the british grand prix and met a very charming boy who was racing in formula 3 at the time, and i have been smitten ever since.

i have supported jack in his racing and wanted to make that support public in these particularly tough times.

while i’m sure this is a big shock for you all, we ask that you continue to respect our privacy.

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user21: i’m sorry

user21: WHAT THE FUCK

user21: i can’t tell if this is helping my alpine induced misery or not

isackhadjar: HUH?

jackdoohan: you knew i was in a relationship ?

isackhadjar: i’m sorry but how was i meant to deduce that “my girlfriend y/n” actually means the princess of england

jackdoohan: do i not seem princely to you?

isackhadjar: do not try and set me up

isackhadjar: unless there’s some eligible royals who can get down with a freaky lil guy like me

yourusername: probably not best to frame it that way?

isackhadjar: yes, your grace! (am i doing it right i’ve only ever watched game of thrones)

yourusername: you can just call me y/n, isack

isackhadjar: OMG COOL

user22: so i thought this would excite me more but now im just thinking we could’ve gotten these type of reactions on film and in the paddock

user23: how do we know they’re not being filmed

user24: i’m in their walls

oscarpiastri: what?

jackdoohan: can i have the aussie seat after you win the championship pretty please ?

oscarpiastri: i am not answering that until you tell me how the fuck you ended up in the british royal family?

jackdoohan: can you not read anymore? y/n explained it pretty well in the caption…

oscarpiastri: i’m gonna need some more detail

yourusername: you’re more than welcome to come for some tea at ours oscar

oscarpiastri: AT THE PALACE?

oscarpiastri: i mean - yeah that sounds good to me!

kimiantonelli: ME TOO IM COMING TOO

olliebearman: i can’t believe you’ve not invited the only british rookie jack :(

jackdoohan: idk if you guys missed it but im not a rookie any more, im not even a driver

yourusername: enough of that, you can all come for tea and we’ll do some visits to the london hospitals while we’re at it

gabrielbortoleto: yay count me in!!!

isackhadjar: today just keeps getting better and better

user25: dropping this news to distract from the fact that he got dropped for the far superior driver

user26: i wouldn’t be surprised if his woman drops him for franco as well

yourusername: first of all, i am no one’s “woman” get that right and second of all, jack is the kindest, funniest and most gentle man in the world and you’d have to move heaven and earth to take him away from me

jackdoohan: i love you <3

user27: oop - she told yall

kimiantonelli

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 1,023,488 others

tagged: olliebearman, jackdoohan & yourusername

kimiantonelli: yo this royal stuff is kinda crazy …

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user28: fomo has never fomo-ed this bad before

user29: the fact that she knew this would get a load of publicity so she used it for good >>

user30: and this is why she’s my fave royal !!!

yourusername: i hope you had a wonderful time kimi! thank you so much for joining us.

kimiantonelli: are you kidding? that was insane !!!!

kimiantonelli: and also it was very fun to meet all of the children

kimiantonelli: but can we please take the aston martin for a spin again ???

jackdoohan: kimi ???

kimiantonelli: like y/n didn’t tell us that you take her for drives in it all the time …

jackdoohan: y/n ???

yourusername: what? you’re an amazing driver and i love watching you do what you love!

user31: i wish alpine weren’t such FUCKHEADS i want this dynamic at silverstone so bad

user32: if they didn’t fumble this bad we could’ve gotten a monaco situ where she could’ve presented the trophies every year

user33: you could’ve shot me and it would’ve hurt less

maxverstappen1: hmm

charles_leclerc: hmmm

alexalbon: hmmmm

georgerussell63: hmmmmm

landonorris: hmmmmmm

carlossainz55: hmmmmmmm

lewishamilton: hmmmmmmmm

kimiantonelli: you guys good? sorry you weren’t cool enough to be invited

maxverstappen1: i’m literally an officer in the order of orange-nassau???

lewishamilton: IM A SIR?

lewishamilton: I WAS LITERALLY KNIGHTED BY Y/N?

yourusername: sorry gentlemen, you should’ve spoken up sooner. however, jack and i are hosting a charity ball between canada and the red bull ring?

alexalbon: IM SO THERE

alexalbon: i’m so there, security are telling me the ball is weeks away but im so there

charles_leclerc: YIPEE

georgerussell63: omg my first royal event… gasp!

user34: obsessed with how the grid get so excited about all of this

user35: max … asking to go to an event ???

user36: and to think we could’ve had it every weekend :(

yourusername

liked by jackdoohan, isackhadjar and 12,309, 788 others

tagged: jackdoohan

yourusername: it was such an honour to host this dinner to raise funds for the youth art network! so many children in our country are being pushed out of artistic fields because of the lack of funding, hopefully with these funds and the continued support from jack and i, we can help keep britain creative!

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user37: they’re actually so precious to me

user38: this is such a great initiative i’m so glad they do things like this with their money and time!

user39: i’ve honestly never seen jack happier

user40: good for him!!! making the best out of a bad situation - this probably also means he won’t be going back to f1, at least not with alpine

francocolapinto: jack might not be in this garage anymore, but i'd still love a visit from you

user41: ummmmmmmm… what?

user42: this is really not cool

pierregasly: let’s delete this while you can

francocolapinto: shooters shoot, isn’t that what you said?

pierregasly: yeah to a girl at the bar maybe, not a royal who is very clearly in a relationship

francocolapinto: i took his seat, i can take his girl too

yourusername: excuse me?

francocolapinto: you’re saying you can’t give me one chance to convince you of my worth?

yourusername: at this point you have one chance to convince me why i shouldn’t find the one legal loophole that means jack can kick your ass

francocolapinto: woah?

yourusername: there’s no charming your way out of this one, franco. jack has done nothing to you and yet you allow your fans to send him countless death threats and flirt with his fiancée openly. find some respect for yourself franco, you won’t be this young forever.

user43: HOLY SMOKES

user44: i can’t even get caught up on the way she snapped here because of the FIANCÉE mention

user45: no this bro must’ve been testing her patience because never in my life have i seen her snap at someone like that

user46: so valid from her though

user47: honestly i’d throw hands for less

jackdoohan: always an honour to just be at your side and help you achieve the wonderful things you do

yourusername: even when i accidentally reveal our engagement while having an argument on the internet

jackdoohan: especially then

yourusername: i love you!

yourusername: and i know doohan was a pretty cool name for merch before, but i feel like windsor could look pretty good on a car or a cap

jackdoohan: if it means i have a little piece of you wherever i go, sign me up

user48: aside from confirmation that he’s going to take her name - ON A CAR? doohan return confirmed ?

user49: they need to stop playing with my feelings so many times on one post

user50: so this might be a royal fuck up from franco right?

f1

liked by jackdoohan, yourusername and 2,309,472 others

f1: BREAKING: flávio briatore has been forced to resign from his position as team principal at alpine! princess y/n windsor and jack doohan attended the friday of the british grand prix where briatore was served by windsor’s legal team, who had found that the contracts given out by briatore were not legally binding. briatore left the paddock on the friday evening long before windsor and doohan, who were seen with a number of team personnel from across the paddock. Colapinto will complete this race weekend but his future with the team is now up in the air.

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user51: one moment of peace and quiet in f1, that's all i ask

user52: i can't even go to sleep without waking up to five breaking news graphics

user53: honestly? if they were all like this i wouldn't mind it...

user54: jack and y/n being in the likes is so funny to me

user55: babe they're not just in the likes, they were there in person to deliver the news

user56: i knew flavio should've been worried when the relationship was revealed... those royals WILL have the best lawyers

user57: i mean i only just found out that flavio is/was jack's manager?

user58: HE WAS JACK'S MANAGER?

user59: i know their lawyer was just as bamboozled as us

pierregasly: CAN I PLEASE GET A DRINK? PLEASE?

user60: bro it's only friday ...

pierregasly: I HAVE NO TP? I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT'S HAPPENING WITH MY TEAM?

jackdoohan: our bad!

pierregasly: no yall did what you had to do but i was hoping i could maybe get a bottle of something top shelf for my troubles

kikacgomes: and maybe a horse ride at the palace ???

charles_leclerc: can leo meet the corgis???

lewishamilton: u.k. met gala when?

jackdoohan: oh so i get engaged to a princess and suddenly you all want to be my friend?

pierregasly: WOAH ignore all of them, we're the victims here!

yourusername: at this point, if we can turn it into a charity event, we can do whatever you want

maxverstappen1: this is a dangerous precedent

maxverstappen1: and i'm willing to find the limits

user61: i'm having visions of the f1 grid at a royal wedding...

user62: does max know he can't wear skinny jeans to a royal wedding?

maxverstappen1: please refer to my last comment

user63: does he know that the secret service can shoot him on sight if he does wear them?

maxverstappen1: HUH?

jackdoohan: that's true... they told me themselves!

yourusername: jack...

jackdoohan: i am protecting the dress code of our future wedding!

kimiantonelli: i guess you could say he's royally screwed

kimiantonelli: ????

kimiantonelli: i thought it was funny :(

kimiantonelli: no worries guys y/n told me irl she thought it was funny

kimiantonelli: WAIT

kimiantonelli: I SAID NOTHING

jackdoohan

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 4,920,482 others

tagged: yourusername

jackdoohan: jack WINdsor at your duty! i've been given a second chance at my dream, but i wouldn't be here without my family and my amazing fiancee. i promise i'll make you proud.

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user64: i WILL not cry about this

user65: i tried not to but BABY JACK

user66: i think people forget how young he still is :(

yourusername: i'll forever be proud of you, my love. no matter what

yourusername: however, i think the palace would look extra dashing with some trophies ...

jackdoohan: for you? anything

yourusername: oh my charming boy, i'm not sure i want to share you with f1 again so soon

jackdoohan: but you will come with me won't you?

yourusername: to be without you is a thorn in my side

user67: FUCK ME THEY'RE SO CUTE

user68: i love them so much

user69: i don't think yall are ready for the level of paddock fashion we're going to get with a literal princess...

user70: wait - what happens when as inherits the throne?

user71: i think jack would have to retire

user72: WHAT?

user73: that's just how the royal life is

jackdoohan: and i'll do it

yourusername: i appreciate the concern everyone, but my mother is in good health and has many, many years left as queen

user74: jack doohan/windsor first kilf (king i would like to fuck)

user74: i've been blocked by y/n ????

user74: AND JACK?

oscarpiastri: you got MARRIED WITHOUT US ???

jackdoohan: once again, can you not read a caption?

oscarpiastri: oh lol.

oscarpiastri: i just saw windsor and started yelling at my phone

user75: obsessed with how jack having a f1 seat is actually great for the british government

user76: diplomatic relations are on the UP because government officials come to races to meet and talk with y/n

user77: and the fact that they both still find time to do charity work in each country they go to.. they’re so precious to me

yourusername: i never thought i'd be planning a royal wedding around the formula one calendar, but there's a first for everything

jackdoohan: but a summer wedding is so cute?

yourusername: i know, my love

yourusername: but flower picking via face time has been a struggle

jackdoohan: i know whatever you choose will be perfect

jackdoohan: just like you

yourusername: i love you, sweet talker

jackdoohan: i love you too sweetheart

fin.

note: as you can tell I AM NOT HAPPY. i like franco but justice for my queen jack. updates for you all, other side of the moon chap 7 is about 80% done so that's exciting !!!! hope you are all good despite the many many horrors lol xx

[delicatebarness]

Omg pleaseeee can we have a super soft buckyxreader are in bed together (after activities) and he is having doubts about the New Avengers and his role leading them, reader comforts and reassures him. Anyway she wakes up the next morning to find him getting dressed into his new suit and they have a super soft/fluffy moment? Thank you sm!

someone worth following | bucky barnes

Summary: ^^ Request

Warning: Possible Thunderbolts* Spoilers | Bucky's Anxiety and Self-Doubt | Implied Intimacy / Non-Explicit

Word Count: 678

A/N: I fear I will never stop thinking about Bucky in Thunderbolts*. Also, I hope I did your request and Bucky justice! <3

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

It was long past midnight, and the whispered praises and tangled limbs had settled into a peaceful quiet. The room was warm, the kind of sticky heat that lingered after Bucky opened himself up to you—something he never allowed until you. 

He lay beside you, one arm wrapped around you. His vibranium fingers traced a lazy pattern along your spine, leaving goosebumps to raise in their wake. The other arm was tucked under his head. Your body shifted closer to him, and you let out a content sigh. But you felt it—the tension under your weight. He wasn’t in the room with you, not really.

“Bucky?” you murmured, resting your chin against his chest to look up at him. “Is everything alright?” 

For a second, he paused his fingers. And you thought that maybe he might pretend to be asleep. Until a slow exhale released what seemed like years’ worth of weight. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. 

Your brows furrowed, suddenly feeling wide awake. “With what?”

“This—” The arm which was previously under his head, now gestured around the room. “This team. Being their ‘leader’. Being an Avenger.” The title sounded bitter falling from his tongue. “Steve made it seem so easy. Why me? They’re all looking at me for answers I don’t have. Shit, I’m still trying to figure out who the hell I am.” 

“Bucky…” you whispered, lifted from him slightly to look at him properly. His blue eyes were fixated onto the tall ceiling like it held the secret cure to all his problems. After brushing a stray strand of his hair back from his forehead, your hand rested on his cheek. “You don’t have to be Steve.” 

“I know,” he said, yet there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “I just—I don’t want to let them down. I can’t get anyone else hurt. Or killed.” 

Leaning in closer to him, your fingers traced over the letters of dog tags and kissed his shoulder. Then his jaw. “You care, James Bucky Barnes. And that already makes you a better leader than most.” 

He turned toward you then, his eyes searching yours and his vibranium grip on your hip tightened.

“You’re steady even when you’re unsure and it’s hard. You think before you act… mostly. You listen. And you’ve never taken this role lightly. They trust you to lead them because they see your worth. And so do I.” 

He blinked, not responding straight away, at least not verbally. Something unreadable passed through his eyes before his arm tensed around you. Bucky pulled you in until you were chest to chest, nose to nose. 

“I’m scared,” he admitted in a breathy whisper. 

“I know,” you nodded. “But you’re not alone.” 

The other side of the bed was cold when you woke a few hours later. With a frown, you blinked against the morning light spilling in through the curtains. “B-Bucky?”

You alerted your attention over toward the vanity mirror upon hearing a rustle from the direction. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze landed on him.

Bucky stood, adjusting the collar of a dark, sleek suit near the mirror. It was black and matte, a subtle, modern armored texture adorning his broad frame. Tailored to him, in every way possible. A red star lined his right arm, catching the light, while his left—gold-and-black vibranium arm—shimmered, bold and unmistakable. The new Avengers insignia sat high, proudly on his chest. 

He looked strong.

Commanding. 

Like a leader. 

His expression softened when he caught your eye in the mirror. 

“You look incredible,” you said, unable to hide your smile tugging at your lips. He turned, and you watched his cheeks pink just a little. “Like someone worth following.” 

He chuckled quietly, crossing the room and leaning down to kiss you. He was soft, lingering. Your fingers reached up to his hair, scraping your nails over his scalp gently.

Pulling back, he rested his forehead against yours. “Dinner tonight?” 

You smiled, nodding. “Don’t leave me waiting.”

___

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Thank god someone else sees the potential of remmick’s sub side bc 👀 that man has been looking for connection for centuries - if you were kind to him I think he’d be putty in your hands and it would be glorious. I’d love for you to explore this in your writing - I know you’d kill it and leave me screaming into a pillow haha

Let me be soft with you||Remmick x reader

Summary — remmick has never known an act of kindness in his life until he met you.

Warning smut dom!reader sub!remmick p in v reader rides remmick

Word count—1017

A/n— I LOVE SUB REMMICK AND I NEED MORE

Tagging @abriefnirvana @fuckoffbard

The wind outside howls, brushing dead leaves across the rotting windowsill. The cabin creaks around you—old wood, brittle bones, shadows so thick they feel alive. This place is half-forgotten, sunken into the ribs of the forest like a wound no one wants to reopen. No one comes here. Not anymore.

Not since he made it his own.

You shouldn’t be here.

And yet, Remmick can’t look away from you.

You’re warm. Real. Grounded in a way that mocks the rotting walls and the ghost-thick air. You stand there like you belong, unshaken by the stink of old blood or the teeth of the cold. All soft curves, steady breath, and those kind, quiet eyes that haven’t flinched once—not even when you stepped over the threshold and saw him bare-chested, blood-drenched, wild-eyed.

“You should’ve run,” he rasps, back pressed to the wall like he thinks you might burn him. “Should’ve screamed.”

You tilt your head, like you’re studying a puzzle rather than a predator. “Why would I scream? You haven’t hurt me.”

His jaw flexes. His fingers twitch. There’s blood dried like rust across his collarbone, a streak of it trailing down toward the edge of his sternum. The chain around his neck catches the firelight—dull gold, heavy. Worn not for style, but like penance. Like ownership.

“You don’t know what I am,” he growls. There’s something raw under it. Not menace—shame.

“I do.” You step closer, slow and sure. “And I think you’re tired.”

He flinches like you slapped him.

It’s the kind of answer he doesn’t know how to fight. Not judgment. Not fear. Just truth, laid bare between you. And you, offering it so gently he could scream.

“I’ve done terrible things,” he mutters, voice fraying.

“I know.”

You’re right in front of him now. He could reach you. He could snap your neck. Drain you. Feed on you until the blood runs down his chin. But he doesn’t move. His hands stay clenched at his sides, trembling with effort, nails biting into his palms.

You press your palm to his chest.

His dead heart stutters. Not a beat, not life—but something. Recognition. Longing. Ache.

“You don’t scare me, Remmick.”

And something inside him—something old and ruined—breaks.

He doesn’t remember his knees hitting the floor. Doesn’t feel the pain of it. Just the cotton-soft thump of surrender as he folds, head bowed, hands gripping the hem of your shirt like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His forehead presses into the warmth of your stomach, desperate, reverent.

“Please,” he breathes, voice so quiet it trembles. “Don’t be cruel.”

“I’m not,” you whisper. Your fingers find his hair, slow and soothing, and his whole body shudders like the simple touch is too much. “Let me be soft with you.”

He makes a sound—low, ragged, almost animal. A wounded thing trying not to bleed out in front of you. It tears out of him like a confession. Like a prayer.

You don’t stop. You hold him through it. You let him kneel. You let him need.

“I’m not good,” he says, mouth still pressed to your belly like he’s trying to hide in you. “Not clean. Not… worthy of this.”

“You don’t have to be good,” you say, gentler still. You tug on his hair, tilting his head up until his eyes meet yours—stormy, wide, afraid. “You just have to be mine.”

His breath catches.

God. He wants that.

He wants to belong. To be claimed, even if he doesn’t deserve it. Wants to forget every name he’s ever taken, every throat he’s ever torn open, every night he’s spent drowning in the dark and trying not to feel.

He surges forward, hands sliding up your waist like he’s starving for you—and you let him. You don’t flinch, don’t falter. You hold his face in your hands, and he leans into the touch like it’s holy.

Like you’re holy.

Like if he lets go, he might never find this again.

You guide him to the bed.

He goes willingly, crawling back on the creaking mattress while watching you with wide, desperate eyes. You undress without shame, your full body bathed in the flicker of firelight—and he stares like he’s witnessing a miracle. Not hunger. Worship.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes.

You smile. “You always look at me like that.”

“Because it never stops killing me.”

You climb over him slowly, pressing him down. His breath catches when your thigh settles between his legs, when your weight blankets him. He doesn’t feel crushed. He feels safe.

“Is this okay?” you ask, fingertips brushing his cheek.

He nods, too fast. “Please. I—I don’t want to think. Just tell me what to do.”

You kiss him. He sighs against your lips like he’s never been kissed soft before. Like the world always demanded he take, and you’re the first to give.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you murmur, grinding your hips just slightly. His head thumps back. “Just feel.”

He’s already hard beneath you, hips jerking helplessly, chain cold against your chest as you lean in. You drag your lips down his throat, over the metal links, to the spot above his unbeating heart.

When you rock your hips again, he moans.

“You’re so good for me, Remmick,” you whisper. “So sweet like this.”

His eyes flutter shut. “No one’s ever called me sweet.”

“Then they weren’t paying attention.”

You ride him slow, holding his wrists above his head, letting him tremble under you while his thighs shake and his whimpers fall like prayers. The praise is steady, like rain—washing him clean, softening him where he thought he was stone.

“You take me so well.”

“You’re doing so good.”

“You’re mine, baby.”

“Yours,” he gasps, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes as his orgasm builds. “Yours, yours, please don’t stop—”

You don’t. You stay with him through the high, through the cries and shudders and pleading. When he comes, he falls apart completely—back arching, mouth falling open in silent reverence, body shaking as you ride him through it, gently coaxing him to give more.

And afterward, when you lower yourself to lay on top of him, he wraps his arms around you like a lifeline.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

“You deserve everything,” you whisper back. “Especially this.”

You stroke his hair until he falls asleep.

For once in his long, dark life, Remmick dreams of peace.

[inbabylontheywept]

How is your life so interesting

Normally, I just kind of laugh this question off, but I've been asked enough times I'm gonna take an honest stab at it.

So, the first thing worth considering is whether the story itself is all that interesting, or whether I am just a good storyteller. My most popular story is about cutting a lot of worms and half, and crying, and then being comforted by my mom. That's not a terribly uncommon or hard to imagine event. A lot of my stories more about the telling than the substance.

There are also some stories that are weird, but they're weird in ways that I also find, like, relateably weird? It might just be that I knew a lot of athletes in college, but I don't think eating raw eggs is that weird. Eating 15 in one go is, but I was roommates with a guy that ate like, three for breakfast, three in his in-class protein shake, and another three at dinner. That guy was attending ASU on a gymnast scholarship, but also, he genuinely ate 5 dozen eggs a week. That seems much more normal than eating 15 in one day.

To say nothing of eating raw onion. Tons of people eat raw onions. It baffles the non-onion eaters, but it's a super common thing. Especially in Mexico.

Some of the stories happen because I am better at noticing story-worthy events than most people. I can't tell you how many times I've been in public, and seen someone do some weirdass thing, and then had to nudge my wife and to get her to watch it too.

If I had to point to the parts of my life that are truly, genuinely, bafflingly weird, they would be my dating stories, and. I dunno. My general thermonuclear dumbass event posts. And I can break down why those two are interesting pretty simply:

I was unbelievably bad at dating. The majority of the time, that just meant that there was a few minutes of stilted small talk and never get a call back. But the thing is, Mormon culture strongly encourages dating as like, a social-practice thing, and I was very motivated to get good at it, so I just kept trying and trying and I think I went on at least 200 first dates before meeting my wife. I genuinely believe that if anyone went on 200 first dates, they would get some pretty incredible bad date stories too. Especially if they had autism. I know I write well, and I can sound very charming here, but it took me a very, very long to get decent social skills. I am just a disturbingly persistent learner.

I am very convincing. This is helpful when I am interacting with other people, because it can do things like, convince them to let me into their secret facility, or convince them to not vote Republican again, or to save at least put the company match into their retirement accounts. But when I'm just debating something with myself, my convincingness works against me: I am very good at tricking myself into believing that bad ideas are, somehow, actually good. This is part of why I have so much sympathy for the right wing lunatics that I work with. Every time I meet a crazy person I go, ah, but for the grace of God, go I. Anyway, this does an unfortunate thing where my excellent verbal skills drive my poor decisions, which results in the very odd combination of welll written, articulate stories about someone being A Fucking Idiot. Like the condom bomber story. I think this is also why most of the lawyers that I meet are insane in their personal lives.

Anyway, those are my theories! I'm gonna tag @lizardho because we mostly had the same childhood, but she has a better grasp on what normal people look like than me, and perhaps she'll have her own theories on the weirdness of our lives.

[mallory524]

the thunderbolts when you’re sick

tags- fluff, you’re sick, medicine, comfort, implied teammates to lovers, everyone lives together post-thunderbolts

notes- i am sick and this is how I’m coping. i want to make more of these so gimme ideas!

Yelena

Yelena knows you’re sick before you do. She notices that you’re coughing and sneezing throughout the day, you’re burning up every time you touch, and you’re sleeping a lot more than usual. One afternoon, you wake up on the couch to see Yelena sitting next to you with a carton of orange juice and a bunch of medicine. “You’re taking some of this” “Yelena, I’m not-” “DO NOT give me that. I know you’re sick and I think you know it now, too”. You may not be the most cooperative patient in the world, but Yelena does not care. She will keep bugging you to take your medication, rest, and eat healthy until the day when you finally feel better.

Bucky

Bucky knows you. He is not going to listen to a second of the old “I’m fine / I’m not sick / I can still do whatever I always do” routine. Bucky uses those kinds of phrases for everything, so he knows exactly what you’re doing. (Super soldiers can’t get sick, but if he could, that’s just how he would act, too). He makes sure the Thunderbolts leave for missions while you’re still asleep so that you don’t have the chance to try to convince Bucky you’re fine. Everyone goes along with this plan because they all know you’re in no condition to get back out there yet. Every time, without fail, Bucky leaves a little note letting you know where he is, when he thinks they’ll be back, and that he loves you.

Ava

Ava isn’t too perceptive when it comes to this sort of thing. She doesn’t pay attention to the little indicators that you’re coming down with something... at first. The day you’re on a mission and she has to slow down so you can catch up, it’s like she finally sees. The weary look in your eyes, the messy hair, the old clothes, the overall drowsiness, it all adds up. She doesn’t know how she didn’t see it before. After that, Ava doesn’t want you going on any missions for a while, or even leaving the tower for that matter. She doesn’t want you to think it’s because she doesn’t believe in you or something. She’s just worried. She can’t stop imagining you trying to fight someone, and your opponent taking advantage of your weakened state and seriously injuring you. Plus: if you ever say you’re achy or sore, her heart will break, because she remembers what it’s like to be in constant pain.

John

You told John that you weren’t feeling good, and he told you to take some medicine and a nap. The next day, he walks into the living room and sees you curled up in a chair, fast asleep. He gently sets the back of his hand against your forehead, and he can feel that you're burning up. Now he feels awful because you’re clearly a lot worse off than he thought, and he had dismissed you. Careful to not wake you up, he carefully wraps a big, soft blanket around you, and walks out the door to buy some cold and flu medicine. For the rest of the time that you’re sick, he makes you soup, does your laundry, sits next to you on the couch and lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, anything you want. He can’t even pretend to be annoyed. You’ve been there for him time and time again, and he’s going to be there for you now.

Alexei

Alexei is caring to the point of being over the top. He will try to make you whatever food you want to eat. (The key word being "try"... some food is burnt). He will sit on the couch and watch whatever tv show or movie you want to watch. He will carry you to your room because, “I am strong! How can I, in good conscience, make you walk to your room on your own when you are so ill?” You want to remind him that you’re perfectly capable of walking from one room to another, but it’s so nice and you are feeling pretty weak right now so maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world… The rest of the Thunderbolts are starting to get annoyed, though. They think you’re being pampered too much, and that you’ll never even try to get better and rejoin the team. They’re probably just jealous that they still have to walk places.

Bob

Bob’s really worried about you. You tell him that he doesn’t have to fuss over you, that you’ll be fine, and that you’ll just stay in your room until you’re better. His heart breaks because you’re starting to sound like him every time he’s ever gotten sick. You deserve to be fussed over. He makes you tea, he regularly takes your temperature, and he proudly tells you one morning that he folded your laundry for you. Plus, the man is bulletproof and more powerful than all the Avengers combined; I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say he probably doesn’t get sick anymore. It’s so nice that you can just cuddle up and not worry about getting him sick, too.

[anisespice]

“ baby steps ” || tokyo rev. pt. 2

continuation of this post.

pairings: bonten x fem!reader [ kaku, rin, koko]

warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, mild angst w/ comfort (mostly comfort), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), more on the lighter side compared to the first parts, this one doesn’t feel as “:((“, mentions of misbehavior and it’s slightly glorified? vandalism? and i think that’s it :))

notes: IF YOU SAW THE FIRST DRAFT/ACCIDENTAL POST OF THIS NO YOU DIDNT 🫵🏾😀. God this took me so so long, I kept changing ideas, and then getting new ones on top of those changes and ugh, and the next thing I know it’s FREAKING MIDNIGHT AND I HAVE WORK IN SIX HOURS :D but it’s fine it’s fine b/c it is DONE. Thank you so so so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

notes ii: not proof read, probably loads of typos, but will edit accordingly.

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow , @captaincyberqueen , @cherryblossiren , @niragiswhore , @awkwardaardvarkforever , @valentsoup , @lovely212 , @miffysoo , @yandere-kouhai , @i-am-just-a-girl-ur-honor , @wisteriarose214 , @kindadolly , @yuwaimo , @sweetbella1221 , @simpingfor-wakasa , @sirachano0dles , @yutahg , @slowlikehonee , @blurpleuni-squid , @haruchiyoreen , @istanstraykidss , @loyard176 , @msluccapotato , @luv444lay , @backgroundcharactera , @jegelskeranime , @magalimachete

KAKUCHO felt a lot of things at the moment. It ranged from nausea, to anticipation, to straight up panic as if he were actively being hunted for sport. But, instead of imminent danger, he was standing in the middle of the parking lot outside of your apartment building, flowers in hand, dressed in his Sunday’s best.

Cliche? Yes. Over the top? Absolutely.

But he was willing to risk his pride if it meant showing you his devotion, his determination in making things right. With every step he took, growing closer and closer into your world, into the world he chose to leave in the first place, his heart harshly thudded in his ears, thankfully drowning out those doubtful thoughts that plagued him ever since he saw you beneath those cherry blossoms not too long ago.

Before he knew it, he was standing at your door.

His grip around the flowers was deathly, blood cold as ice, sweat forming at his hairline. Kakucho gulped, reaching up to tug at his collar. The suit was tailored, and yet it never felt more suffocating. He could faintly hear your son’s screams of joy just beyond the door, followed by your sweet voice. It was pretty late, and Kakucho assumed the little guy would’ve been in bed by now. This only added more stress to his full plate. It would be hard enough trying to face you again, but to face your child as well? His flesh and blood?

“Oh, god…” he muttered, the reality starting to cave in.

He couldn’t do this…he wasn’t ready. Maybe he could try again tomorrow…or the next day…or the next— The front door clicks.

Next thing he knew, it was wide open. And there you stood, son on your hip and all. Kakucho had never felt more unworthy of such a tender sight in all his life, wanting nothing more than for whatever god above to smite him down so that he may die a happy man. You looked so healthy, face fuller and curves to show how kind the years have been. Your son eyed Kakucho curiously, fist in his mouth as he suckled on his hand. His eyes nearly popped out of his head, feeling like a bug under a spotlight. His lips trembled, words lost with only chopped intakes of air in their place, and soon came the tears.

You didn’t look angry. You didn’t even look perturbed.

If anything you looked…expectant. As if you were awaiting his arrival.

“[_]-..[____]…” he eventually spoke, meekly. You offered him a small smile, adjusting the boy from one hip to the other. “I..I don’t.. how’d you…?”

You gestured to the flowers. “Ms. Toshinori called. Said an old ‘regular’ came by requesting a big order of my favorites. And that she was happy to hear that we were… working things out.”

Kakucho’s brows furrowed. Then, came realization. It didn’t even occur to him where he was purchasing the flowers from, it’d been so long, he didn’t think twice. He used to visit Ms. Toshinori’s little flower shop on his way home from work just to see your smile. He supposed old habits die hard. “At first, I thought she was mistaken, chalked it up to old age and… I didn’t really have the heart to correct her. But, then I saw you standing in the parking lot. For quite a while.”

Kakucho flushed, gaze shifting away. You chuckled, your son resting his head on your shoulder while he fiddled with your necklace. “By the time you decided to come up here, I had already made up my mind. Figured if you’re going through all this trouble, then…it couldn’t hurt to pretend just this once.”

“Pretend..?”

“…That we’re working things out.”

Kakucho felt a slight pang, a bitterness blooming from the pit of his stomach and into his throat, like bile after a long night of drinking. A weak smile grew on his face, “For how long.. would we pretend?”

He spared a glance at you both, soaking in as much of it as he could in case it would soon be the last. You hummed in thought, reaching up to take the necklace’s charm out of your son’s mouth. “Not sure. This little one can play pretend for hours, sometimes days.”

You gently bounced your son making him giggle, snuggling his face into your shoulder. Kakucho’s smile grew wobbly, catching on quick to what you were insinuating. “I see…well. Lucky for all of us, I’ve got plenty of time to play pretend…”

Gnawing on your lower lip, you gave him a look that was full of yearning, years worth of unspoken words and unanswered questions hidden in the storm that was your gaze. Kakucho probably didn’t look any different, the dark circles under his eyes could tell a thousand stories. All of them with one ending—You. Always you.

Looking down at your son, you looked back at Kakucho with a tender smile and gestured to the flowers once more, “Trade ya?”

Kakucho stiffened, eyes widening ever so slightly. “Won’t that…upset him?”

“Trust me.” You reassured, already in the process of handing him over. Kakucho stuttered in his steps, especially when your son was already reaching out to him, content. “He’s real cuddly. When you’re calm, he’s calm.”

You happily took the flowers from his hands, noticing the poor stems had been slightly crushed beneath his iron grip. Kakucho adjusted his hold on the boy, making sure he was comfortable, and not weirdly positioned. “Seems rather…dangerous, don’t you think? For him to be ok in a stranger’s arms so…easily?”

“Not if that stranger is his father.”

His breath hitched. Kakucho felt that lump in his throat grow, making it hard for him to swallow. Watery eyes gazed down at the small child as he reached up to trace his scar, curious eyes taking him in, no fear, no disgust…just pure. Kakucho allowed a few tears to fall, blessed to be in this moment when he felt in his soul that he didn’t deserve it.

“What’s…what’s his name?”

After inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers, a warmth spread through you that you hadn’t felt in a while. You knew this wouldn’t automatically make things ok again, it would take some time, some more healing to even scratch the surface. But with him right back where he belonged, safe and alive, and with you…you figured this was at least a start. You watched as father and son interacted for the first time, savoring the memory so that it’s deeply etched into you like a tattoo. And with a gentle hum, you replied.

“Izana.”

You wasted no time high tailing it out of the gym.

After the initial shock passed, RINDOU didn’t even have the chance to make awkward small talk with you before you’re giving him a half-assed “thanks”, turning heel and booking it for the nearest exit. The last thing he saw before you disappeared through the doors was the confused, but sad look on little Rintaro’s face as he waved goodbye.

He couldn’t even blame you for the abrupt exit. With how he ended things with you way back when…he wouldn’t want to speak to him either.

Rindou stood there, feeling a little…lost. Discombobulated? He couldn’t exactly pinpoint the word, but he knew he didn’t like it. Does he just go about his day? Continue his workout, then go home like none of this happened? Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. Not when he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, those little contextual clues given to him by the young boy, that he wouldn’t piece together until he was already laying in bed that night, wide awake.

Roughly four years…mom is his ex…no dad in the picture…

“Shit.” He cursed into the darkness.

—

With the street lights illuminating his path, guiding his muscle memory to surroundings he remembered all too well from many nights in the past, Rindou couldn’t sleep without knowing the truth, without having some sort of closure to the numerous thoughts that wouldn’t allow him a wink.

Wearing nothing but old sweats and hoodie, he practically raced through the night until he was standing outside of the diner you, hopefully, still worked at. It was one of those open late joints, a ‘ma and pop’ sorta spot where the atmosphere and food always made it seem like coming to a second home. Frantically, he looked through the store window, panting to the point where you could see his breath fogging the glass. He was begging, praying to catch a glimpse of your familiar frame, not knowing what else he would do to find answers if you weren’t there. Certainly you long blocked his number, no doubt moved out of the apartment you also shared many nights in together…

Knock, knock, knock.

Rindou jumps in his skin, not expecting the intruding sound to cut through his internal crisis. It wasn’t a harsh sound, if anything it barely held any weight behind it. He looked around, eyes wide with caution…had he cracked? Hearing things now?

Knock, knock, knock.

He blinked in mild annoyance, thinking someone was dicking with him until, in his peripheral, he saw little hands waving at him from below. Rindou looked down, and didn’t know whether to be relieved or unnerved. There, in all his excitement of seeing his new gym buddy again, Rintaro waved at Rindou with a big smile, cheers of his name muffled through the glass. His prayers were answered; you did still work there.

“Rintaro, are you being a good boy like mommy asked..?”

When you came back to the front to the sound of your child celebrating, imagine your absolute horror to see your ex not once, but twice in the same day, standing outside your work. It was a hex, someone was definitely out to get you, or maybe the universe was testing your resilience, throwing mistakes from your past directly in your face like salt in the wound. Years it’s been since he tore your heart into pieces, years since those double lines appeared on the pregnancy test, years goddammit—So why now?

All that work of actively avoiding him, wasted, just because you wanted to work off a little bit of the baby weight, and couldn’t find a sitter. For a split second, you had the crazy thought that if you stood perfectly still, maybe he would get creeped out and leave. But, haven’t you learned by now that the universe wasn’t on your side? Your son was just tall enough to reach up and unlock the front door to the shop before you had the chance to stop him, with just one push of his tiny, sticky little fingers and your past merges in with your present.

“Rin-Rin!” He chanted as Rindou hesitantly opened the door, the bells chiming like a bad omen as he crossed the threshold. Rintaro extended his arms up, wanting to be picked up.

The walking mullet looked as if he was being asked to perform surgery, wide eyes darting between you and your son, as if uncomfortable to deny and uncomfortable to comply. He doesn’t ponder for long, testing the waters by granting the little boy his wish, picking him up and holding him securely to his side. Rintaro squealed, excited giggles escaping him for being so high off the ground. You couldn’t help but find the scene endearing…but there was no overshadowing the fatass elephant in the room.

You crossed your arms, awaiting for him to break the awkward tension, if he dared to do so. And to your surprise, he does. Rindou cleared his throat, holding Rintaro with one arm while the other rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh…hey.”

You raised a brow. Hey?? You remained silent, not dignifying that wack attempt at conversation with an answer just yet. If he squirmed, then so be it. It was the least you deserved. Rindou winced slightly at the silence, taking it as a bad sign.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here, of all places...”

“And where’d you think I would be?”

He shrugged, “Dunno…not here.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, well, bills gotta be paid and mouths gotta be fed. Didn’t exactly have many options. Besides, I don’t want to go anywhere else. The Nakamura’s have always treated me well. The pay’s good, and Rintaro gets to eat for free.”

Rintaro beamed, “I eat all my vegables!”

Rindou couldn’t help the small lift in the corner of his mouth. “That’s good. You’ll be big and strong in no time.”

The boy nodded eagerly, his enthusiasm infectious. Looking at him this closely, Rindou felt his chest tighten more and more as the truth he was looking for was staring him right in the face, babbling on about the heroes, or how many chicken nuggets he can eat in one sitting. It was like white noise in the moment, his eyes too busy taking in every eyelash, every freckle, every detail that so blatantly screamed Rindou Haitani.

“Rin.”

Both boys snapped from their stupor, turning their heads to look at you simultaneously. It was habitual to call him by his nickname, one that was also occasionally used for your son, and to have them both respond in that moment just felt like too much. You shakily inhaled, arms tightening around you like a hug, shielding from the unfortunate circumstances that you were gonna have to face head on. “Rinta. Will you be a sweetheart and help Mrs. Nakamura count the silverware? But only the spoons, ok?”

“But, mommyyy! Rin-Rin just got here! I wanna-!”

“Oi. Listen to your ma, little man.” He affirmed, setting him on the ground. Rintaro pouted up at him, but only received a playfully stern look. “We’ll talk again soon.”

Rintaro huffed, “Promise?”

Rindou hesitated, looking up at you. You served no aid as you avoided it, merely telling Rintaro once more to help in the back room. He sighed, “Yeah…maybe.”

The little boy deflated, but listened all the same as he ran to the kitchen through the swing-doors. You exhaled, pinching the bridge of your nose. The two of you stood in silence, neither one eager to speak on what’s obviously troubling you both. Rindou sighed once more, walking over to a nearby table, flipping one of the chairs that was stacked on top to set it back on the floor. He does the same for the one across from him, a silent invitation that doesn’t go unnoticed…but it is ignored.

“What are you doing here, Rin?”

He ran a hand through his hair, “Tsk. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” You hissed, making sure to be mindful of your volume. “The gym was mere coincidence, but you came looking for me here. Why?”

“...Thought that’d be obvious.”

“Jesus,” you dryly chuckled, looking at him incredulously. “All this time, and you’re still an avoidant asshole. Can you just, for once, speak directly.”

Rindou frowned, “You want direct? Fine. That’s my goddamn son in there, and I wanna know why you’ve kept him from me-”

“Shh!” You quickly shushed, looking over your shoulder. “Keep your voice down.”

“Now who’s being avoidant.” He leaned back in the chair, one arm hanging over the back. “Well?”

“You know what, you’ve got some nerve demanding anything from me, from us. You gave up any involvement in my life when you decided that you didn’t want me anymore. That you didn’t want more with me, remember that?”

He did. Remembered like it was yesterday.

It was textbook, what was suppose to be casual sex gets ruined when feelings get involved. But, you weren’t even the first to fall. He was. And at the time, that frightened him. So much to the point he was willing to lie to avoid his own feelings, willing to hurt you to save face…a coward. And he wore that label ever since.

“It doesn’t matter…you still…still could’ve told me. I was a piece of shit, but I…I wouldn’t have let you go through that alone. You never should’ve went through that alone…”

The way he looked at you, with such sorrow…you could feel a crack in your resolve. With a scoff, you eventually find yourself taking the seat across from him, but angled away from him. He visibly relaxed, taking this as some form of resignation; a truce.

You fiddled with your fingers, looking down. “You were all he could talk about.” You muttered. Rindou hummed in question, leaning forward. “Rintaro. He was non-stop with how much he learned from you today, how big and strong you were…how he couldn’t wait to see you again.”

Rindou sat in silence, listening intently. You continued. “I love that little boy. With all my heart. And I want nothing but the best for him…and for the longest time I believed that couldn’t be you. And I think that’s why…I never told you.”

He swallowed, nodding stiffly. It wasn’t easy to hear, but he understood. You could both hear the faint chatter and clanking of Rintaro and Mrs. Nakamura in the back, filling the silence with something other than the weight of your words. “I’m sorry…for everything. I wasn’t…you needed me and I wasn’t there for you. I still regret it to this day. And I’ll continue to regret it knowing what you’ve gone through-”

“But.”

He paused, then perked up like a hound. “..But?”

“But, I’ll reconsider this if you can show me you’re committed. Not just to me…but to Rintaro. He doesn’t need someone who will come and go from his life, if you don’t think you’ll be a constant-“

“I do. I-I want to be. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You nodded, slowly, considerably. “Promise?”

He nearly snorted, the childish request reminding him all to well of the little someone just mere feet away sorting through spoons. Rindou crossed his heart, and extended his pinky. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, yet your humored him anyway by linking yours together.

“Promise.”

“Good,” you grinned. Then turned towards the kitchen to call out to your son, “Rinta! Rin-Rin said he’s gonna help you sweep the floors for mommy!”

“Yayyy!”

Rindou choked, looking at you, puzzled. “What—You making me do free labor now? That wasn’t part of the deal…” he grumbled, though not too upset. Especially with how eager Rintaro was. You shrugged, standing up to go balance the register.

“Think of it as your first test. Whatever it takes, remember?” You handed him a broom right when Rintaro came rushing out, practically driving for Rindou’s leg to latch onto.

He looked down at the beaming ray of joy, his sourness melting away with every passing second as he reached down to ruffle his hair. “Yeah. I remember.”

It was like walking into an active crime scene.

There were multiple security guards. Knocked over furniture, exotic plants ripped from their oversized pots, muddy shoe and handprints, broken glass everywhere.

And at the root of all the chaos, wearing a proud grin whilst clutching a necklace worth more than a mortgage in one hand and a chunk of…white hair strands in the other, stood your little angel.

You felt your knees buckle, one officer quick to steady you as another scrutinized. “Ma’am, I presume this is your missing child?”

“Look, mommy! I got the shiny! I got it!”

With curled in lips, you inhaled deeply through your nose before giving a small, resigned nod. You’re then immediately bombarded by a disheveled-looking woman with a crooked name tag attached to her blazer, who you immediately concluded to be the manager based on her aura alone. She was more than happy to berate and condemn you for your poor parenting skills, going on and on about the damages done, the embarrassment she was subjected to—“In all my years, I have never experienced such a tyrant of a child, such disregard to her elders, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, allowing such behavior! Honestly, you call yourself a mother?! If she were my child, I would’ve-”

“My deepest apologies.” You cut her off with a deep bow, mainly to shut her up but also to shut her up. You were about two seconds away from causing another scene, and the last thing you needed was extra charges added to the tab.

Truthfully, you were holding back laughter more than tears. Sure, it was all quite devastating, you were already kissing her college fund goodbye in order to levitate this situation. But, to think that such a small thing could cause such a large upset, in such a short amount of time?

Inspirational.

Plus, it’s not like anyone got hurt.

“WHERE IS SHE? WHERE’S THE FUCKING BITCH?”

Everyone in the room stiffened to statues, aside from your daughter, whom glared at the figure approaching from somewhere in the store. She quickly scampered over to hide behind your legs, necklace and chunk of hair still in clutch. Soon, you no longer needed to guess who the hair belonged to.

KOKONOI came onto the scene like a raging bull, ready to tear a new one into the womb-holder that birthed such a vicious spawn who had the audacity to rip out some of his glorious hair follicles. He had excused himself briefly to assess how much damage had been done, only to return once he caught wind that the mother was found. Security was quick to stand on either side of you to make sure you nor your daughter tried to make a run for it. The manager tried to hide her schadenfreude, but it was poor attempt at worst.

However, it would be short lived the second Koko’s eyes landed on you, and in real time everyone witnessed all of that steam just…evaporate. Fury no longer adorned his face, but instead in its place held something more unreadable.

“Ah. [______]. W-What a.. lovely surprise. It’s been a while...”

You blanched, “H-Hajime..? This is…this is your store?”

You really would be kissing that college fund goodbye.

Kokonoi blinked, “Hm? Oh! Yes, yes I suppose it is.” He blinked again as if this fact was just realized, looking around and frowning at the state it was in. “Belinda, for Christ’s sake, what do I pay you for if you’re gonna allow the place to look like a goddamn back alley?”

Said manager spluttered, fixing Koko with a widened stare look. Did his brain just completely reset itself of the last 30 minutes?? She looked at the security, then back at him, approaching it cautiously in case he snapped on her again, “S-Sir…the child.”

Kokonoi’s eyes drifted over to said girl currently glaring at him from behind your leg, diamond necklace dangling from her small neck and strands of his hair still in her fist like some sort of forewarning. He grimaced, brow twitching, but waved it off, “Right. Well, kids will be kids. No harm done.”

“H A H H H H H ????”

Even you were caught off guard. When he first came barreling in, you half expected him to make you sign away your soul in order to cover the hair salon trip let alone the property damage. Now? You would think it were a minor inconvenience not worth the time, or energy. Belinda looked gobsmacked, security standing with question marks above their heads like corrupted NPCs. Your daughter peered up at you with curiosity, maybe even confusion herself, with her lower lip jutted out as she tugged on your jeans.

She whispered, “Mommy, that man’s weird…”

Kokonoi’s eyes practically lit up, “Oh, so this little one is yours?”

“Uh,” you flushed, hands beginning to sweat. “Yes…she’s mine.”

“Fascinating. What’s her name?”

“…Yumeko.”

He hummed, crouching down to her eye level, “Yumeko. Such a haunting name, for a haunting little girl. Your mother chose nicely. I’ve always adored the name...”

She stuck her tongue out at him before hiding her face in your leg. He grinned, amused, like he was when he first met her. Kokonoi wasn’t certain what caused his shift in approach…the nostalgia, perhaps. Seeing an old flame, the one that got away and took his heart with her…the one whose gift that was never opened, once a display item now in the possession of your child…sweet irony, he believed. Poetic, even.

“Sir, I really think we should revisit the more pressing issue here.” Belinda interjected, receiving agreements from security.

“Yes, tell us how you’d like to proceed, and we can have these two escorted off the property-”

The white-haired man fixed the guard with a ghastly scowl, hissing a low threat, “Touch either one of them, and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do in your pathetic waste of a life.”

Aside from you, everyone took a small step back. Used to these sort of threats, you lightly chastised him, “There’s no need for that.”

“Nonsense.” He looked at the manager, his gaze alone making her flinch. “Get this cleaned up. As of right now, none of this ever happened, understand?”

“B-But, sir-”

“I don’t like to repeat myself, Belinda. I’d advice you don’t make me.”

Belinda looked as if she were on the verge of combustion. But, she swallowed that feeling deep, deep down and gave a strained, “R-Right away, sir…”

Kokonoi nodded, then turned to the security, “You’re dismissed. And not a single report on this, or I’ll have the heads of your loved ones.”

“Hajime.”

He turned to you, and grasped your hand. “We’ve so much to catch up on. Come, we’ll discuss details somewhere private, you can tell me all about little Yumeko. I have many, many questions.”

“Haji-”

There was no room for protest. As he crouched to scoop up Yumeko in one arm and held your hand tightly in the other, borderline kidnapping, your daughter squirmed while you merely floundered, struggling to keep up with how fast things have escalated as he guided you both away from the mess he’d already forgotten.

“Hammy!” Yumeko screamed, of which made you backtrack for a split second to grab the piggy bank still sitting safe on top of the shattered display case.

Belinda and the security guards watched in disbelief. You parted with a stiff smile and nod, before skittering back to catch up with the white-haired gangster who was getting farther and farther with your child in tow.

Looking like a dysfunctional family already.

© 2025-2026 anisespice ッ all rights reserved.

likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Someone Precious II

Caleb x Non MC Reader

a/n: seeing all of you guys really like the first part defo made me feel all warm and giggly! so thank you for all of your lovely comments! also i am not well versed in the realm of medicine/hospitals and stuff so please bear with me as i write the scenes dealing with those, i most likely will briefly touch on those and not go into too much detail. also i finally got a desk and a monitor so now i can do all my writing in comfort rather than hunched over on my bed! Also this part doesn't really have much Caleb unless you include reader thinking about him. another side note, this part will be short but i will write more for the other parts, i just needed this one to be on its own focusing on the pregnancy a bit so that in the other parts i can focus on the relationships with MC, Caleb etc.

also i dont think i mentioned this in my previous part but ill make sure to add it to my masterlist description, the setting of this series will be taking place in a world where ever, evols and wanderers do not exist. some aspects of the characters and how they met have been tweaked to fit with the plot, so pls dont come at me if something isnt how you remember it in the game.

Divider creds @/cafekitsune

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is female and is AFAB, pregnancy,

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

series masterlist

taglist: @aneertawrites @eurydiceknowshesloved @angelichiaro @nommingonfood @ynovaes @animegamerfox @melonssoup @iamawkwardandshy @novthirty @rosevelt632 @sleepless-cloudy @justpassingdontworry @sleepykittyenergy @ijustwannabeyourmuse @iiyumii @eolivy @asakiyu

You sat there numb, your thoughts were a broken record.

'I'm pregnant.'

That's all your brain could handle at the moment. MC sat next to you in silence, rubbing a soothing hand on your back,

She knew that right now what you needed was comfort through gestures and not words, so she just waited patiently until you were ready to say something.

No matter what decision you made, she was ready to support you.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours had passed, you still hadn't spoken up but you had moved to lie in your bed.

MC had gone out to get some lunch, which left you alone with your thougthts.

If there was one thing you had come to a conclusion for, it was that you were going to keep the baby.

Call it a motherly instinct, but you didn't have the heart to abandon an innocent soul.

It wasn't long before MC came back, calling you to come to the dining room. She had gotten your favourite takeaway hoping that it would cheer you up a little bit, and it did.

You smiled as you helped her set the table. As you guys were unpacking the food you decided to finally tell her what was going through your head.

"I'm going to keep the baby. I don't want to abandon an innocent soul and I've always wanted a child, it just didn't happen the way I would have hoped."

You said with a sad smile as you placed a hand on your stomach.

You had dreamed of having a family, more specifically with Caleb. In a way you got your wish, but it felt like fate was cruel for granting it the way they did.

You're still young, you don't even know if you'll even be a good mother. But there's one thing for sure, you have the best possible support system you could ever ask for.

MC's smile mirrored your own.

Dinner was spent in silence, it was comfortable. MC didn't push you for a conversation and you were grateful for that.

●・○・●・○・●・

It had been a week since the news, and now you were here standing in front of Akso Hospital.

You were feeling nervous, a part of you felt like you would be judged for the reason of your visit, but you knew that was just the anxiety talking.

Taking a deep breath you walked in, it was now or never.

The nurse at the reception desk was sweet, her tone and gaze held no judgement as she guided me to the examination room.

You got settled and just laid there staring at the ceiling, you tried to keep your thoughts positive and light, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Caleb.

What it would be like to have him here with you. Would he reassure you? Would he be as nervous as you are?

All these 'what ifs' that'll never become a reality. You could only hope that you could be enough for your child.

●・○・●・○・●・

Your appointment confirmed exactly what those pregnancy tests said, you were six weeks pregnant.

You knew Caleb was the father. He was your first, and honestly your last.

At this moment in time your heart didn't have the ability to love another. He was everything you wanted in a man.

Maybe I should re-evaluate what a man is.

You thought bitterly, but you chided yourself just as quickly as that thought came.

You didn't want to think of him that way or think negatively at all, not wanting those feelings to affect your health and bring any complications for your child.

"It's ok my baby, mommy and Aunty MC will make sure you never feel insecure about not having a father."

Your words were not only to comfort your child, but also to comfort yourself.

●・○・●・○・●・

6 weeks later

You were back at Akso Hospital again, this time it was for a follow up appointment.

MC had taken time off work to come with you this time, saying how it's part of her aunty duties.

It was cute, and it never failed to put a smile on your face when she would talk excitedly about all the things she would do with her future niece or nephew.

You had assumed this check up would be the same as the first one, just a normal procedure to make sure that the baby and mum are doing ok.

Boy were you in for a treat.

As your doctor moved the wand around your growing belly you noticed something on the screen that you didn't see last time.

"Congratulations! It seems you'll be having twins."

MC let out the loudest squeal known to man at the news, you could practically feel her excitement radiating off of her.

You matched her energy with a smile on your face.

I guess my little family just grew by one.

You thought to yourself.

"Would you guys like to know the gender or do you want to keep it a surprise?"

Your doctor asked. You personally wanted to keep it as a surprise because you could already see the gears turning in MC's head.

You knew exactly what she was planning and in all honesty, you wanted to let her have her way.

She was your rock and sole supporter through all of this, you would feel bad if you didn't let her do what she wanted.

"I'd like for it to be kept a secret but by all means let her know, I can tell she's dying of curiosity."

You let out a soft laugh, your doctor cleaned up the gel and helped you up.

MC gave you a big hug before you made your way outside.

It didn't take long before MC came skipping out the room, her smile was so bright you thought you might go blind.

That night MC treated you to dinner and insane amount of sweets, which totally satiated the cravings you were having.

●・○・●・○・●・

6 months later

You were in your final trimester, it was a relatively easy going pregnancy, if you ignore the fact that you feel like a walking balloon.

Most of your days were spent in bed as the weight of your stomach made it hard to move around too much.

It was times like these that it made you think of Caleb. Even though you had promised yourself that you wouldn't, but at the end of the day you were still madly in love with a man who ghosted you after your first time.

Crazy isn't it? Your heart was a fool in love while your brain tried to be the rational one, but every now and then you would give in to the thoughts of what would have happened if he didn't run off.

Would he be here helping you through all of this? If he were to come back, how would you confront him?

You could only pray that he didn't show up in front of you any time soon, because the moment he did you would give him a beating of a lifetime.

Your due date was somewhat nearby but not close enough yet. You had your hospital bag packed and a baby carrier all ready to go right by the door. That way you and MC wouldn't be scrambling around last minute trying to find everything.

You were feeling nervous, you didn't know what the delivery would be like and you worried for your babies, wondering if you could make up for the lack of father figure they would have in their life.

You had taken a look at the time and had noticed it was quite late and MC had yet to come back from work. Just as you were about to give her a call, you heard the sound of the door being unlocked.

MC walked in holding a multitude of things, the most obvious one being balloons that read Boy or Girl?

"Surprise!"

MC exclaims, you don't know if it was just you or the hormones but you started bawling. The love that you felt was immense, no words could explain it.

You waddled over to MC to help her but she waved you off and told you to take a seat on the couch as she set things up.

You waddled back to the couch and settled in to the cushions as MC worked quick with her set up.

As soon as she was done she set up her phone so that it would capture the background and us.

"We're gonna do this trend I saw on social media, so just follow my lead."

MC gave a brief explanation and you nodded in understanding.

"Hi I'm your Aunt MC and I think you guys are gonna be two beautiful baby girls."

You giggled, you knew that she already knew the genders but thought it was cute that she wanted to at least pretend that she didn't know.

"Hi my babies, I'm your mommy and I think you guys will be beautiful boy and girl."

You always wanted a daughter and a son, but you also would be happy with either gender as long as they were healthy.

"Okay, now we're gonna do the gender reveal. Take this glass and close your eyes, on the count of three we'll push it into the cakes and see what the genders are."

MC pushed one cake towards you and placed the other one in front of her.

Following her instructions, you placed the glass over the cake and closed your eyes.

"One, two, three!"

You brought the glass down and prayed you actually got some cake in there and not just frosting.

"Ok open your eyes!"

You could hear the smile in her voice.

You opened your eyes and looked at your glass and then MC's, they were both blue.

You pulled MC into a hug, you don't know if it was the hormones or the situation but you started crying, they were happy tears.

You felt so happy that you had such an amazing friend by your side, you didn't even wanna think what life would've been like if she wasn't in it.

In the midst of all the emotions and excitement you didn't notice the seat under you getting wet until you started to feel like you may have peed your pants.

You pulled back from MC and said,

"I think my water just broke."

[godmadeaterribleerror]

How Do You Know

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, pre-established relationship, fluff, light angst, humor.

Summary/Warnings: There are different levels of Dean being drunk, and you've seen all of them. Or at least, you thought you'd seen all of them.

Author's Note: Request from an anon! I am incapable of not making it emotional, and for that I am sorry. Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.1k

“I bet I can beat you at pool.”

Dean’s voice is low in your ear, and you sigh, giving him a gentle smile as you shake your head.

“I know you can beat me at pool.” You say with a pointed look. “So do you. Just tell me what you want.”

“I don’t want anything-“

“Dean.”

He rolls his eyes, dropping his chin onto the top of your head, and you don’t have to smell the beer to know he’s drunk. He doesn’t drape himself all over you and make incredibly obvious attempts to smell your hair unless he’s at least level one Drunk Dean. Overly and openly affectionate.

And it’s not as if he’s never affectionate. He’ll hold your hand and kiss your brow every day, but if he wants more it’s not for anyone else to see. Let alone the entirety of a fucking bar. You’ll get pulled into corners and alleys and empty rooms, kissed stupid then fucked until you need to hold onto Dean’s arm to walk, but it’s not for others to see.

Unless he’s drunk. Drunk Dean has all the possessiveness of Sober Dean, and none of the reservations. Sober Dean whispers promises in your ear, but won’t be soft where it can be seen.

Drunk Dean is going to fucking kill you, because he’s grabbing your chin and tilting your head back, and there’s a bright, cocky grin on his face that makes you feel a little gooey in your stomach.

“You’re pretty.” He mumbles, and your own smile grows. “C’mon, let’s go play-“

“Dean.” You reach a hand back to trace over his jaw, and his body stills. “Say what you want.”

“Doesn’t matter-“

“It matters to me.”

He blinks at you. “You’re my dream girl.”

He’s more drunk than you thought. Level two Drunk Dean, where he’s losing his filter. It’s celebratory drunk—hunt done in a day, no casualties, he got a burger and found a cool new gun—but he’s still hammered.

He’s lucky he’s the cutest person on the planet. Lucky you love him, and that wins are so rare you couldn’t deny him celebration if you tried.

“If I tell you what I want.” Dean’s fingers start to comb through your hair, and you try not to moan. He’s not even doing it on purpose. “Do I get it?”

“We‘ll see.” You hum, and his grin widens.

“Wanna see your boobs, when you lean down to do that shot you’re good at.” Dean grabs you by the hips, turning you on your stool until you’re pressed right to his chest, and he’s standing between your legs. “Then I wanna kick your fuckin’ ass at pool, and win a kiss.”

You raise your brows. “Kisses are free, you know.”

He shakes his head, dropping his brow down to yours. “Wanna earn ‘em. Earn you.”

“You’ve earned me, Dean.” You smile up at him, and his eyes widen like he can’t believe you. “You’ve got me. That’s how the dating thing works. I’m yours.”

“Huh.” He mutters, turning your hair between his fingers. “Can we have sex, too?”

You giggle, dropping your brow to his shoulder. “When you’re sober, cowboy.”

“You think I’m a cowboy?”

There’s something soft and hopeful, in his voice. And you love him too much to tease him right now. Not when he’s being so sweet, and touching you like you’re truly his. 

And you are.

But it still doesn’t feel real.

It’s not anything Dean’s done. You understand the mostly private thing. It’s safer, and means that you can keep working together without giving Sam an aneurism or compromising the cases. And Dean’s perfect, when you’re behind those doors. He’ll pull you onto his lap in the Dean Cave, and make you breakfast in the morning, and sit with you all night if you can’t sleep. Your head on his thigh while you watch cartoons, him ignoring your suggestions that he go to sleep. Grumbling that while you’re up, so he’s up, and holding you until you pass out.

But you’ve known him for a long time. You’ve had long years that no one’s at fault for, where you watched him hit on women at bars and never look at you like you might be more.

Dean’s said that you were always more, he just didn’t think you wanted him. And you believe him. You do. Dean wouldn’t lie about something like that to preserve your feelings. He wouldn’t know that you love him, and then sleep with you just to do it. If he wants sex, he could get it anywhere.

He’s choosing it with you. That’s what you cling to, in the dead of night when he’s—for whatever reason—somewhere else. If Dean just wanted sex, he’d tell you. He’d wince when you tell him you love him, and he wouldn’t call you his dream girl, and he wouldn’t act like a puppy just under your attention. He wouldn’t be looking at you with big eyes and holding you like you’re something priceless. 

But he’s never said it back. 

“You can be a cowboy if you want to be a cowboy.” You give him another sweet smile, and he stands up a little straighter. 

“Can I be your cowboy?”

God, he must have been made in a factory. But he’s so fucking real. Dean’s warm and real around you, and under the booze you can smell his cheap cologne, and his eyes are shining on yours. 

He’s yours, too. Dean had given you the right to call him yours.

“Do you want to be my cowboy?”

The shift is immediate. Dean’s lips curve into a teasing grin, his features fall into something a little darker, and his weight shifts so he’s no longer clinging to you, but shielding you. Pulling you into him, until every bit of space between your bodies is still far too much. 

This is what he wanted. And you’re not nearly strong enough to shove him off with a laugh. To not indulge it a little, when his fingers trace over your cheekbones and he tugs on your hair slightly. Just enough for your head to tip back, and your eyes to be forced onto his. 

“I’ll be your anything, babygirl.” He mutters, his thumb moving down to pull at your lip. “Let’s get out of here and see if you wanna take me for a ride?”

“I think I’m supposed to save a horse, first.” You whisper, and he chuckles.

“I can be the horse, too.”

Jesus Christ.

And that’s how you know. How you think you know. 

That Dean loves you. 

You shake your head and shove lightly at his chest—not because you don’t want it, you can feel how much you want it between your legs—and he doesn’t move away. He just laughs like he expected it, pulls you into a heavy and sloppy kiss, and goes back to hanging around you as he moves on. Talking about work he wants to do on the Impala—he’s starting to forget car terms, which means you’re hitting a level three Drunk Dean—and muttering in your ear about how he still wants to bend you over the bar table one second, before asking you about something stupid and watching you with big eyes the next.

He’s here for you. He’s not at the bar for anything but you. And he hasn’t said that he loves you, but whenever you say it, he kisses you like he’s trying to eat you alive.

Then you hit level four Drunk Dean.

Level four Drunk Dean is your favorite.

He’ll gather you into his arms and kiss your neck, all while muttering praise you don’t think he understands. His words are all over the place and impossible to follow, but he’s grinning the whole time, and he seems to throw in a your pretty every few minutes. He stumbles over the jukebox, herding you into front of him—like the idea of you being gone from his sight is worse than the end of the world—and picks a song you know sober Dean would hate.

Sober Dean would call pop music not his thing. Say he’s freakin’ hates that bubblegum shit, sweetheart, so stop tryin’ to swap my mixtapes or I’m gonna tie your hands up.

You’ve pushed him right to the edge of that. It had been a fun afternoon.

But nothing is better than Drunk Dean very much knowing pop music. And feeling no type of shame about it, because level two Drunk Dean loses all the weight and pain that Sober Dean carries. And you love Sober Dean, and his brooding and stoic face and big arms around you like he’s worried you’re going to fly away.

But you love all of Dean. And it’s another way to know.  

Dean lets you see all of him.

The fact that you get to see all of him. Not many people get to see all of Dean, but you’re allowed to be spun in his arms as his eyes get more and glazed and blown out. You love him like this just as much as you love him scowling in his room and burying his face between your breasts after a nightmare, because it makes him feel better. 

It might not.

You don’t care. 

It’s another way you to know Dean might love you, even half as much as you love him. 

He just doesn’t say it. And that’s Dean. He barely even tells Sam he loves him. So you’ll take whatever he’ll give you, and hope it’s enough to destroy the little devil in your ear, telling you soon he’ll get bored. You’re just a convenient, consistent, safer lay, and one day you’ll have to face that.

Dean wouldn’t do that to you. You know Dean wouldn’t do that to you.

No matter how you wish it would, it doesn’t stop the fear. 

You’re starting to hit a level five Drunk Dean. That’s when it’s time to call it a night. His inhibitions are too far gone, and he’s starting to try and do things he cannot do. Objectively. He’s strong, but he’s not going to be run through the wall like the Kool-Aid man. He’s agile for a guy of his size, but he’s not going to be able to climb onto the ceiling like Spider-Man. He eats a lot, but no one is going to be able to swallow a dart. 

Sam’s been busy all night. He took one drink and shuffled off to a booth to call Eileen. They haven’t had a lot of time to call in the past few weeks, and you don’t need Sam to handle a level five Drunk Dean. It might be easier without Sam, because you can keep all of Dean’s attention on your tits while you sneak the keys out of his pocket, and Sam won’t have to deal with Dean asking you to fuck in the bathroom before you go home. 

You’ll text him, when you get back to the motel. Tell him to walk back if he can’t wait, or hang out until you get Dean into bed.

“C’mon,” you mumble in Dean’s ear, looping an arm around his back. “Let’s get you to bed, big guy.”

He glares at you, not budging an inch. “Stop touchin’ me.”

Your hands fly off of him, your eyes widening slightly. “I- I’m sorry, baby-“

“Don’t call me baby either.” He grumbles, turning back to the jukebox. “‘M not your baby.”

You don’t know how to deal with that. You can’t start crying in the middle of the bar, but you also feel like your heart was just put through a shredder. He doesn’t want you to touch him. He’s not your baby. And that fear is rearing it’s head and howling, because maybe the drinks are freeing Dean of being a gentleman, and he’s saying what he’s always thought. You’re just a body. You shouldn’t be calling him sweet things or touching him like that, because that makes you something that—to Dean—you’re simply not.

“I-“ You take a long breath, and you’re going to need Sam. He can handle Dean, and you can go try to stitch your heart back up in the bathroom. Just enough to face him in the morning. To not completely shatter when you tell him that you know, and you’ll leave to save him the trouble. “I- I’m gonna go get Sam-“

“Don’t want Sam.” He glares at you again, and the world is starting to blur a little bit. 

“Dean, I don’t-“

He cuts you off with your own name, and he says it the same as when he’s had a nightmare. Like he’s a little lost. “I want her. Not you.”

You stare at him, and the heart-breaking stutters to a stop. “What?”

“M’ girl.” He grumbles. “She’ll kick your ass, if you try’n grab me again. She’s hot. She’s gotta gun.” He frowns at the air. “But ‘m not ‘possed to tell people that. Don’t tell ‘er I told you.”

You can feel a soft smile pulling at your cheeks. “I won’t.”

He nods slowly, and he’s still watching you with a slight apprehension. Your heart is still caught in the slight stasis, but before you can let it bloom back, you just need to check.

“Can we go home, Dean?”

His nose wrinkles like he smelled something bad. “I don’t wanna go home with you. You’re not m’ girl.” He says your name again, a big, goofy smile spreading over his face. “I miss ‘er.”

He misses you.

And he really doesn’t seem to have a clue that you’re right in front of him. 

You take a careful step forward. “Dean-“

“Look, lady.” He snaps, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest. “You seem fine, but I love my girl. So no touchin’.”

There’s no fighting your smile now. “You love her?”

He gives a firm nod, eyeing you wearily. “She’s perfect. She smells really good, and she’s got a big n’ pretty mouth, and one time she stabbed me, and it was freakin’ hot. I love her. Never loved nothin’ like her.” His scowl deepens. “And I’m her’s. Not yours. So no funny business.”

You’re still fighting tears. But now they’re made of Dean loves you.

He does. His filter is gone, and he’s affectionate, and he can’t remember enough to recognize you, but he knows he love you, and that he’s yours. 

He’s doing things Sober Dean wouldn’t do. Like trying to eat olives and cherries with his nose, and saying he loves you. 

He loves you.

“No funny business.” You raise your hands for him to see, and your smile is probably manic. You don’t really care. “Can you stay here for a second?”

“You’re not my freakin’ boss-“

You say your own name, and try not to melt when Dean’s whole face lights up. “I’m gonna go get her and Sam. You just have to stay here. Does that sound good?”

He nods cautiously, and you give him one last smile before moving over to Sam’s booth. 

“Hey,” he frowns around you, obviously looking for Dean. “Eileen just went to bed, where’s-“

“Back there.” You nod over your shoulder. “He doesn’t know who I am, Sam.”

You don’t know what you expected, but Sam laughing definitely wasn’t it. “Holy shit. How many beers did he have?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t counting them-”

“Well, you know our Dean drunkenness scale?”

You frown. “Yeah?”

“This is a level six.” Sam says, starting to move out of the booth. “His brain is scrambled. One time he left me in a parking lot because he thought I was a random girl following him around.”

“Sam.” You mutter, narrowing your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about level six.”

“Cause it’s rare.” He shrugs. “It only happens when he’s really depressed, or really happy.” He gives you a small smile. “I’m guessing this is the happy one, which is nice. Only other time I saw the happy one was after we got Michael out of him, and that was also half depressed.”

You try not to flush too much at that. Or how, when Sam grabs Dean’s shoulder, nods to you, and explains he found you looking for Dean,

Dean’s whole face lights up and he barrels towards you with an openly adoring expression. 

“I missed you, sweetheart.” He drops his face into your hair, the hug almost bone-crushing. “I wanna go home.”

“I think we can make that happen.” Your words are muffled in Dean’s chest as you snake your hand into his pocket, but he seems to understand them all the same. His grip tightens as he pulls back, and if he had a tail, he might have been wagging it. 

“Can you shower with me?”

“Sure, baby.” You get a good grip on the keys, a toss them to Sam behind his back. “Ready?”

Dean nods, and never once pulls himself away as you guide him back to the car. 

“I don’t wanna ride in that car.” He grumbles in your ear. “I want my car. I’d never park Baby this shitty.”

You snort, and Sam scowls. Dean was already one level of drunk when you showed up to the bar, and he’d been clinging to you like an octopus for the whole drive.

“It is a shitty parking job.” You hum, and Sam flips you off.

“You couldn’t have done better-“

“Hey!” Dean snaps, and you squeak as he folds over you like a human shield. “Don’t talk ‘bout my girl like that, buddy. I’ll fuckin’ shoot you, and then- Then my brother will make you freakin’ disappear-“

“I know, Dean.” Sam sighs, and you muffle your giggle in Dean’s side. “Let’s go.”

Dean passes out only two seconds into the ride. Snoring all around you, his grip tightening whenever you so much as wiggle.

“I’m gonna kick his ass in the morning.” Sam mutters. “That was not a bad parking job. There was a truck half in the space, and I made it work.”

“I know.” You hum, playing with the flannel of Dean’s cuff. “Don’t blame him, Sam. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“Yeah, he does.” He glares at Dean in the mirror. “Jerk.”

You let out a soft laugh, but you really hope Dean knows what he’s saying.

He does know what he’s saying. 

He just doesn’t know that he’s saying it.

And you can take that. You can take Dean loving you and not knowing how to say it. And you know that in the morning Sam will mock him for reaching a level six drunk, and Dean will look at you with a slight fear, and you’ll just kiss the scruff on his jaw. Tell him that you understand with hands in his hair and sweet smiles, and make sure he knows that he doesn’t have to say it.

You’ll love him all the same.

And Dean does love you. Drunk or sober, he knows he loves you. 

And now you know it too. 

End Note: Dean if I had you I'd never let you get sad drunk.

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[wordsofwhimsy]

Unhinged Tech Support

Pairing: No Goggles!Mark Grayson x Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Hurt/comfort, fluff & comedy

Word Count: 565

Synopsis: Your laptop breaks, and your heart goes along with it. Who better to comfort you than your psychotic boyfriend?

a/n: really needed to write this for a little bit of comfort amidst this tragedy i’m facing 😭

You didn’t even notice the broken sound that came out of your throat until it echoed off the walls. Your laptop screen was black, the keys unresponsive, and everything—everything—was gone.

Your writing. Your stories. Your worlds. Just… deleted from existence.

You sat frozen in place, shaking. Then—click—you heard the sound of your bedroom window sliding open.

You didn’t turn around. You already knew.

Mark slipped inside with the kind of casual stealth that should’ve been illegal. No knocking, no warning. Just a dark blur and the creak of floorboards as he stalked into the living room like he owned the place—or like he was casing it for fun.

“Baaabe,” Mark drawled, voice casual and lilting with mock concern. “You look like someone just ran over your cat. Twice.”

You didn’t look at him. Didn’t need to. The heat of him was enough—simmering chaos wrapped in bloodstained knuckles and a half-cocked smile.

“It’s gone,” you said numbly.

Mark tilted his head, slowly. “Define ‘it.’”

“My writing. My laptop crashed. All of it. Everything I’ve written for years is just… erased.”

Silence.

Then: "Damn."

He whistled low. “That’s cold. Multiverse gets shredded like paper mâché every other Tuesday, but God forbid your Word doc doesn't survive a power surge.”

You glared at him through the blur of tears. “Glad you think this is funny.”

He plopped down beside you, legs splayed out like he owned the floor, picking up your dead laptop with a look of exaggerated reverence. “Oh no, baby, I’m devastated. Really. This... this is your magnum opus, gone up in smoke. It’s like watching Rome burn. Except if Rome was about hot vampire detectives and gay pirates.”

You threw a pillow at him. He let it hit him square in the face.

“I’m serious, Mark!”

And suddenly, so was he.

In a blink, he was closer—leaning in, grin gone, replaced by something sharp and steady.

“Yeah. You are. And I get it.”

You blinked. That caught you off-guard.

“I know what it’s like to build something that matters. Something that feels like you. And then one day, it’s just… gone. Like it never existed. Except it did. And now you’re stuck in the wreckage, looking around like, ‘What the hell am I supposed to do now?’”

Your breath caught.

“But here’s the thing,” he went on, tapping your temple with two fingers. “It didn’t come from there—” he jiggled the dead machine in his other hand, “—it came from here. You can do it again. Better. Weirder. With more violence and unnecessary smut.”

You laughed, watery and surprised.

Then he held the laptop out. “Want me to kill it?”

You blinked. “What?”

“This little traitor. Let me rip it in half. I’ll do it. Right here. Therapeutic destruction.”

You snorted. “You’re such a drama queen.”

He grinned.

And then—CRACK.

The sound was horrifying. Metal bent like taffy. Plastic split. Wires sparked. One half of your laptop flopped to the floor like a dying fish.

“MARK!”

“What? You said it was dead!”

“I didn’t mean literally destroy it!”

He shrugged, unbothered. “Too late. Can’t go back. Welcome to the healing process.”

You stared at the wreckage, stunned. Then, slowly, you started laughing. Really laughing.

And Mark just leaned back with that smug, unhinged smirk like he’d just solved grief itself with raw strength and poor impulse control.

[iamthatonefangirl]

Obsessive Bucky taking you in a mating press, with slight praise kink

(lovelovelove your work)

🐇~

obsessive - nsfw bucky barnes

love u anon sm here u go

~~~

"that's right, doll, this is where you belong. say it," he hisses into your ear.

he's got your knees folded up so close to your torso, arms wrapped around your thighs, and he leans his body weight against you to hold you in place. you can feel the strain in your lower back, and you know everything is going to hurt tomorrow.

but for now, it feels glorious.

his voice is in your ear, whispering dirty things over and over again.

"you belong right here. say it," he orders, his words biting as you hear them so close to your ear, it's almost like he's saying them from inside your head.

"belong here, belong under you," you whisper, trying to grab at his neck to pull him in to kiss you. he evades your attempts, not letting you grab him.

"keep your hands where I told you, babygirl. gotta keep you all spread and on display for me, isn't that right?" he says.

you feel him so deeply inside you, your stomach is about to start cramping, but it's worth it. it's always worth it.

"yeah, little thing belongs on my cock. should tie you up here, on display for me to look at and to fuck whenever I want," he threatens, and you let out a small groan.

"think I should do that, make sure no man ever looks at you again. your body is for my eyes only. your whines are for my ears only. should never let another man see you ever again," he says, speeding up and shutting his eyes as he gets lost in the idea of it.

he seems to tire himself out quickly, harnessing all his energy and pent-up frustration into the way he's fucking you. he moves to trail his tongue over the side of your neck, whispering in your ear, "my girl, my girl, mine," over and over again, as though he's trying to convince himself of it.

"I'm all yours, Bucky, I swear to you," you gasp out, and he gropes at the flesh of your ass when you do. he loves grabbing you, holding you close, making sure he can protect you from anyone who comes within a five-foot radius.

"that's my sweet girl," he tells you, before taking your hands in his and telling you, "want your marks on me. want to know I'm yours."

you reach around to his back, scratching him up and down relentlessly. you're afraid you might hurt him, but he always lets out his most authentic, loudest moans when you finally claw at him how he asks.

"always listen to me so well. such a good doll, knows that I'm what's good for her."

"you're all I need," you affirm him, both of you getting closer and closer while he continues to rile you up with his words.

"I am all you need. and I'm gonna fuck you so full I'm the only thing you'll be able to think about for days."

~~~

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[delicatebarness]

Extremely cracky but I am cackling at the thought of Thunderbolts endcredits(/Doomsday?) Bucky and pregnant reader hanging out with other heroes and the topic falls on everyone's hero suits and someone asks reader what she thinks of Bucky's new suit and she goes "Well, does this answer your question?" and points at her belly because he absolutey knocked her up when Bucky fucked her still wearing the fit.

If you want to make it smutty it can always include a flashback. 🤷‍♀️

in the suit?! | bucky barnes

Summary: ^^ Request

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI | Possible Thunderbolts* Spoilers | Smut | Detailed Open Door | Dirty Talk | Innuendos | Are we still saying John Walker as a warning? | Choking | Pregnant Reader | Mild Language | Alcohol Use | Suit Kink

Word Count: 965

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this. And getting to stare at clips of Bucky in the suit as references. Thank you. Ps-Gif has nothing to do with the one shot, but fuck.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

Present:

Your post-mission debrief had somehow turned into a party—beers around a bonfire, with s’mores. Yes, someone had brought s’mores. It was Bob. You half suspected that he’d googled ‘what do friends do for fun?’ on the way back to the tower.

You were sitting on a lawn chair, mocktail one hand, the other absently rested on your stomach—the baby bump very much obvious at this point. Behind you, Bucky stood with one hand on your shoulder and his vibranium hand wrapped around a beer while he looked like he wanted to re-enter the void any time anyone got too loud.

And naturally, Yelena got loud.

“Okay, here’s the real question,” she called out, waving her beer bottle around the team like a sword. “Which one of the ‘new’ Avengers has the best suit?” 

“That’s so subjective.” Ava groaned.

“Exactly my point,” Yelena replied. “Subjectively, it’s me.”

Puffing out his chest, Alexei snapped. “I will ignore this insult and remind you of this iconic design!” 

“You literally squeak when you move,” Walker said. 

“You squeak emotionally.” Ava scoffed, taking a swig of her own beer bottle.

Walker pointed toward Bob. “What about him? Dude’s got like, three different fits.”

Bob smiled politely, yet his hand visibly trembled. “Thanks… I’m molecularly unstable.” 

Then suddenly, all eyes turned to Bucky.

Including yours. 

How could they not? The matte black suit. The red star. The arms. 

After a beat of silence, someone—you think it was Ava—looked at you and said: “What do you think of Barnes’ new suit?” 

Bucky froze. His hand tightened against your shoulder. Slowly you lowered your mocktail, raising your brows toward Ava.

“Well, Miss Starr,” you gave your swollen stomach a gentle double tap. “Does this answer your question?” 

In surprise, Yelena dropped her beer into the grass. Alexei smiled, until the realisation flashed over his eyes and he clutched his chest like he’d been shot. Bob blinked rapidly in your direction, as though he was running a diagnostics. Walker let out a bark-laugh, quickly turning it into a full wheeze. 

“No. Nooo,” He shook his head, the laughter still ringing through your ears. “Are you saying—Wait—in the suit?!” 

You smirked, and shrugged your shoulders slightly. “Didn’t even take the glove off.” 

Bucky’s eyes widened. 

Three Months Ago:

The safe house door slammed behind you. You barely crossed the entryway before Bucky had you pressed against the wall. His breath was hot, his body humming with some leftover tension from the mission.

He was still in his New Avengers suit—matte black kevlar clinging to his body like a sin, his dog tags swung with every move, and his arm plates clicked together.

You barely had time to catch a breath before his mouth crashed into yours. 

“Are you going to keep the suit on?” you murmured between kisses, fingers tracing the lining of the red star embroidered into his right arm. 

His teeth pulled at your bottom lip. “Are you complaining?” 

You weren’t.

Instead, you desperately tugged on his belt.

He growled.

And before you knew it, your legs were around his waist, his arm braced under your thighs. His vibranium hand reached up to cup your cheek, trailing his lips over your jaw with a ragged breath.

“You’ve been staring at me in this thing all damn day,” he hissed against the shell of your ear. “Did you think I didn’t notice, babygirl?” 

“Maybe–Maybe I wanted you to.”

In response, he ground his hips against you—still dressed, but the feel of him had you clenching around nothing. Bucky didn’t rush. He never did. He made you feel it. He made you feel him. And every ridge of his suit, the inches of him still layered between you.

Finally, he freed himself, and you let out a sharp gasp at your underwear being shoved aside. “Don’t hold back, sergeant.” you breathed, fingers entwining in his hair, pulling the strands. 

And he didn’t.

With one hard thrust, he was buried to the hilt—dragging out a broken moan from the back of your throat. He was rough, relentless. His hips snapped into you, driving you like he was proving a point.

He let your name fall from his lips. 

The suit creaked with every movement, and his gloved right hand tightened around your thigh. His grip was bruising. His left hand found your throat—firm, grounding. Just enough to make your vision blur—not enough to lose control.

“You take me so good, baby,” he panted. “Fuck—you’re so tight, can feel you everywhere.”

Unable to form words, you gasped. High-pitched, wrecked whines of: ‘Harder—’. Pushing your chest out, you felt his dog tags swing between your breasts with every thrust.

Bucky’s fingers found your clit—still gloved, the textured leather moved over your skin toward the sensitive nub—rubbing tight, delicious circles. 

You screamed his name.

Your body shuddered against him, vision turning white at the edges as your orgasm washed over you. Bucky’s hips stuttered, groaning deep from his chest as he spilled into you. His forehead pressed to yours. 

He didn’t let you go.

Breathing hard, you clung to him.

Present:

“So, just to confirm,” Walker continued to laugh. “Bucky Barnes, the Winter freaking Soldier, turned into a thirst trap and you said ‘yes’ without any hesitation?”

“I said ‘harder’, actually,” you corrected, taking your mocktail straw between your lips.

Bucky muttered under his breath, looking up to the sky, up to the stars. “You tried to, at least.” 

Yelena collapsed into Ava’s shoulder. “I never want to see that suit again.” 

“I’ll be seeing it again, tonight,” you said sweetly, standing up to make your way toward the bathroom. Patting Bucky’s chest as you pass. “Pizza first, though. I’ll need the carbs.” 

Bob blinked. “Should–Should I get more s’mores?”

“Yes, Bob,” the New Avengers said in unison.

___

[sknyuz]

Hiii pookie!!♡♡ Do a Park Humin (Baku) ff where the reader wass playing shooting game on her phone and loses, throwing tantrums or curses over it and blaming it to Baku who is just minding his own business next to you. Like they ended up bickering.......... After that, the reader got upset and ignored Baku, him ended up comforting and making up for it even if it's wasn't his fault. I feel like it'll be a chaotic scene 💀💀✌

pairing — park humin (baku) x gn!reader genre — fluff, comedy, established relationship warnings — mild language, excessive boyfriend whining, baku being baku word count — ~400

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

note: finally some good guys™ on here !! i am such a lovey dovey baku truther he would be so whipped and be super lovely to his partner. i love doing shorter reqs like this to fill in the gap between my longer fics.

you were sprawled across the couch, laser-focused on your phone screen, muttering threats under your breath as your in-game ammo count dropped lower and lower.

“die, die, die—” defeat. the bright red letters flashed mockingly.

“NOOOOO!” you shrieked, smacking the couch cushion and flailing your legs. “i had that! i had that!”

baku, sitting beside you eating chips and watching a basketball highlight video, turned to you with wide eyes. “yo, what happened??”

“your fault!” you groaned, flopping sideways and lightly punching his shoulder.

“HUH?!” he yelped, holding the chip bag protectively as it shook in his grasp. “what’d i do?! i was just sitting here breathing, peacefully!”

“exactly,” you grumbled. “you jinxed me with your stupid happy breathing.”

he blinked. “what’s wrong with my breathing?! it’s normal human breathing!!”

“normal and cursed,” you muttered, pouting as you hugged your phone to your chest like a child whose toy was just taken away. “i swear that last headshot didn’t even count.”

baku opened his mouth to argue but paused when he saw the full-blown pout forming on your lips. he immediately softened. “...wait. you’re mad mad?”

you sniffed dramatically and turned away. “go breathe over there. traitor.”

he panicked. “hey—wait, don’t ignore me. babe. baby. i love you. please.”

you didn’t answer, which made him whine louder.

“noooo, don’t do this to me. don’t ice me out,” he said, scooting closer and wrapping his arms around you like an octopus. “i’ll uninstall the game for you. i’ll email the devs and tell them to apologize. i’ll 1v1 whoever killed you. right now.” baku pouts, brows furrowing.

you resisted laughing. “you don’t even play this game.”

“i will now. out of spite.”

he tucked his chin over your shoulder and started swaying you gently, like he was trying to soothe a toddler mid-meltdown. “aigoo... my baby’s upset. i can feel the sadness radiating from your pores. it’s okay. blame me, hit me, kick me—just don’t ignore me. please!” he whines, all in theatrics.

you tried to hold back a smile, but it slipped.

“there it is,” he coos with a grin. “my cute, scary little sharpshooter.”

“you’re so annoying,” you muttered, leaning into his chest despite everything.

he kissed the top of your head. “but you absolutely love it.”

you sighed. “…if i lose again, it’s still your fault.”

“fair.”

“and you owe me boba.”

“make it two,” he grinned, already grabbing his hoodie. “let’s go right now. no game defeat can hold us down when we got boba and love.”

“...you’re such a dork.”

“but i’m your dork,” he quips again, flashing you a peace sign and poking his cheek with it, showing off his dumb little smile.

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[cuppajoel]

the next seven dates| the contractor

PAIRING: modern au/ no cordyceps/younger (late 30s)!Joel Miller x plus size!reader

SYNOPSIS: Dating apps have convinced you that love isn’t real and that all men are pigs. Turning to your bffs for a Hail Mary, you ask them to set you up on a blind date each to restore your faith. Your first date is with a contractor called Joel.

wc: 8.7k (oops)

TAGS: 18+MDNI, NSFW, Modern AU, smut, developing relationships, reader is plus-sized, able bodied and afab, no other description is given. Heavy flirting, first date vibes, Joel is a gentleman at heart, dirty talk, heavy petting in a taxi, alcohol consumption, sex while under the influence, pnv protected (the crowd boos) sex, v fingering, oral sex (f receiving). Both characters are in their 30s.

A/N: I started writing this in September and fell away so many times bc writing for Joel Miller scares me. If you’re looking for a sign to write the thing that you want to read, this is it. Not beta’d.

For context of the fic. This shot is called a blowjob. It’ll all make sense, I promise.

Reblogs, comments and likes are all appreciated <3

Jingling your keys in your right hand, you watch as the numbers climb on the digital display, showing what floor you’re on. You’re exhausted. You let your head fall back against the mirrored surface behind you, your back resting on the metal bar and your eyes fluttering shut for a moment of respite. Although it wasn’t the worst date you’d ever been on, it was a close second or third. You take a deep breath.

From the moment you stepped foot into that bar, the guy was a red flag that turned into a 5-alarm fire.

“Oh wow you look good… A lot like my sister… DING Not that I think my sister looks good, but you look hot, d’you work out? DING Yeah, you can tell… how much do you squat? DING oh, well, I could probably bench you…DING We should try that sometime, if you know what I mean? DING. He laughs, a mix of a frat bro and that lizard meme comes to mind.

The elevator doors open with another ding, making your right eye twitch slightly as you cross the carpeted hall to your apartment. You turn the key in the lock and give your door the customary shoulder barge before the locking mechanism is released. Hooking your jacket and purse on the wall and locking the door behind you, you kick off your shoes and head straight for your giant corner couch, collapsing onto it with a huff.

This wasn’t just a bad date. It was a bad date after a series of bad dates, one after another. The only takeaway from each is that people seriously hyperbolise themselves online.

You were relatively new to the world of online dating after catching your fiancé of three years, Jake, doing the downward dog with your shared yoga teacher only eight months ago.

Jake was everything you thought you wanted. A nice guy with a secure 9-5 and a handsome face. But everything about him was just nice. Your dates, your apartment, your sex- all nice. And at the end of it all, he was cheating on you- real fucking nice.

Unlocking your phone, it opens to the group chat thread between you and your two best friends. You hold down the voice note button.

“So you may be wondering ‘Why is she home already?’ Well, my sweet summer children, not only did my date admit that he found his sister attractive and wanted to ‘bench me’ all before we ordered our first drink…” You pause for dramatic effect, knowing they can’t hear you, but it makes you feel better. You huff out an empty chuckle. “I am just so over it. How can a man say that his favourite film is “Little Women”, have pictures of his rescue cats on his profile, and still be that much of a stereotypical douche?” You fling your head back, resting it on the top of your couch.

“I’m going to do something dramatic and soooo not me… I am deleting the apps… the two of you are tasked with finding me a date each. I don’t wanna know anything about them before I see them- just their name, age, and one picture. You decide who is going first and the winner gets to be maid of honour at the inevitable wedding… Anyway, I’m going to go read one of my fairy porn books and contemplate my life… Night, loves!”

Somehow, you muster the energy to shift yourself from the couch to your room. You bunch up your tainted date clothes, toss them in the general direction of your hamper and pull on an oversized T-shirt. The wasted makeup is double-cleansed off your face, and you shove your hair up into an extremely unflattering bun. Grabbing your Kindle from under your pillow, you flop back onto your bed; your dates with the beautiful high-fairy king never disappoint.

Almost a week later, your best friends pull through. Having found a guy each, who they swear is the one you’ve been looking for, they arrange your dating schedule between themselves. Tonight was the first. In the Uber ride over to the restaurant, you send your location to your friend who set up the date.

Any last-minute words of wisdom?

He’s kinda that strong, silent type.

Also southern

A gentleman for sure!

Hopefully not all of the time 😮‍💨

You shove the car door closed, adjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder, and tuck your phone inside. You feel good tonight. Blue jeans, a red lip, oversized, white-button down, black, pointed-toe, heeled boots-damn they hurt, but they look so good. You slide your index fingers into the belt loops either side of your hips, hiking them up slightly to allow the denim to stretch around your ass just right.

Rounding the corner, you find yourself on the strip of bars and restaurants on the main street. You weave in and out of the patrons, everyone being washed with the rich blues and reds of the neon lights beaming down on them. As you push the door with your hip and descend the two steps to the bar, you lick your teeth, making sure they’re free from any red stains.

Inside is quite the contrast from the bustle of the streets a few feet away. The place is busy, for sure, but it’s as if everyone is collectively trying to keep the atmosphere calm and easy. A massive mahogany coloured bar is the feature of the room, with hanging, warm, filament bulbs creating small spotlights all along it.

You walk further into the room, parallel with the bar, coming to a stop at its corner, facing the bartender. You squint your eyes slightly, trying to pull out familiar shapes from the hundreds of glass bottles behind the bar. The bartender gives you a small smile; it’s your turn.

“Can I have a Tanqueray Savillia gin and tonic, please?” You ask with a soft smile, reaching for your purse to pull out your wallet. “Oh, and a shot of tequila…” You wouldn’t normally mix drinks on the first round, but you also wouldn’t normally go on a blind date.

“Sure. Do you wanna start a tab?” is the return. You look up to answer their question, having retrieved your card and holding it firm between your index and middle fingers.

“Yeah, plea-“

“I got the this one.” A warm, sturdy presence flanks you on your right shoulder. Their strong right hand is placed gently on the bar next to you. Your eyes flick up to the mirrors behind the bar, meeting his in the reflection. He’s looking right back at you through the glass, and a small, closed-mouth smile creeps across your face as you turn to face him in real life.

“Joel?” He nods slowly in response, the smile not faltering as he looks down at you, a glitter in his espresso-coloured eyes. His eyes trail down your form and then back up; you allow yourself to do the same to him. Although not the tallest man you’ve seen, he’s built big.

He’s wearing a charcoal grey, brushed-cotton button down and dark-wash denim jeans that fit him perfectly. Both sleeves of his shirt are folded in on themselves and stop just below his elbow. His hair must be naturally wavy or curly, but it’s been pushed back and tamed slightly, a few curls going rogue.

“Hey, it’s good to meet ya,” he tips his head down slightly as you raise yours, meeting each other in the middle as you press a kiss on the other person's cheek. He smells warm and masculine, a mix of cedarwood and something earthy, like basil. “I’ll take a Glenlivet 15 and a shot of tequila- the tab is under Miller. Thank you.” He smiles firmly at the bartender. Your eyes follow the line of his thick neck, up through his jaw, which is peppered with trimmed salt and pepper stubble.

“Shit, I’m sorry…” your hand comes up to his jaw, remnants of your merlot coloured lipstick on his cheek. He turns back to you and creases his eyes slightly, not following your apology but also not flinching an inch as you place your hands on him.

Your thumb moves in a slow and firm window-wiper motion to try and remove the stain. “I got lipstick on you…” Your left hand now comes up to the other side of his face, pushing ever so slightly to get him to turn to face you more. He preens into your touch, malleable to where you want him. The trimmed stubble pricks lightly at your fingertips.

“Is it my colour at least?” He teases, he looks down at you from the corner of his eye as you woman-handle his face. Damn, his voice is deep. It rumbles through your chest, signifying how close you are to this broad, thick, stranger.

“Yes. Very pretty.” You return with the same level of flirt. Your eyes shift from the red mark you’ve placed on him to his as you give him a lazy smile. The bartender sets up your drinks on the bar in front of you, making you both finally pop from whatever bubble you found yourself in. Three minutes in and you’re already cradling his face? Nice one, babe. You hear your friend's voice in your head.

“Well…” Joel picks up both shot glasses of tequila and hands you one, raising his own, and an eyebrow in your direction. “Cheers-“

“Hold it!” You cut in, your glass also raised to the same level as his. “Gotta look me in the eyes as we drink… otherwise it’s seven years bad sex.” You say, dipping your voice ever so slightly as you remember the above dive-bar standard of the room you find yourself in.

“Shit- well…” Joel smirks, he clinks his glass against yours. “Can’t be havin’ that now darlin’” That southern accent clings to every word as he throws the liquid back, his eyes not faltering for a second. You mirror his actions entirely, trying your best not to screw up your face as the liquid heats your insides.

He gives a silent chuckle before leaning into you again, hand on the small of your back and his mouth hovering just over your ear. “I snagged a table in the corner over there…” He points over your shoulder and you follow with your eyes. “Means you can keep telling me how pretty I am…” he teases and resumes his stance- one giant hand supporting himself on the bar.

Your mouth raises slightly at the sides. That first shot of alcohol hits you nicely as the smell of his cologne makes you breathe harder. “Sure.” You grab your drink from the bar and walk ahead of him to the vacant table, hoping that ‘ol’ faithful’ jeans are doing their job.

You stop just before the chair that isn’t covered by his leather jacket, waiting for confirmation. It comes in the form of Joel pulling out the seat for you. “Pretty and a gentleman… so many sides to you, Joel.” You say, not putting your full weight on the chair so that he can tuck it in under you.

He quickly joins you at the table, his large presence not diminished by his seated position. “Well, what can I say? I’ve got many talents.” He shrugs as he takes a sip of his amber liquid, the ice clinking softly as he places it back down.

In the ease of the past forty minutes, you both had forgotten that this was a first date. A charged silence falls upon you both as you simply take each other in, smiling widely when you catch eyes.

Joel watches as you unconsciously play with your necklace. He’s actively trying to stay in the room rather than let his mind wander about your full, rounded lips that flash red with danger.

“So, I gotta say, I thought you’d be a little more bossy given your demand for a blind date… You do that often?” He sips the whisky, hoping it will bring him back to earth. He so desperately didn’t want to be the guy not paying attention to what you were saying, given that he had asked the question.

“No,” you started, your eyes crinkling at the sides as you smile, “I don’t usually demand that they set me up on blind dates, but the last guy I went on a date that I organised admitted his attraction towards his sister and then tried to organise sex… all within the same sentence, so I’m starting to doubt my abilities to pick for myself.”

Joel splutters on his drink slightly, the fiery liquid catching the back of his throat as he coughs. “You got any siblings?” you cock your head, chuckling that you caught him off guard.

“My brother has a bit too much moustache for my taste,” he says, taking another quick sip to hopefully soothe the burning in his throat. “And I don’t tend to ‘schedule in’ sex.” He murmurs, the words coming out a bit laboured due to the whisky in his throat.

“Noted.” You return, “I’ll make sure to keep mine at bay.” You rub your upper lip before finishing off the last mouthful of your drink. “You want another drink?” You ask in a way that sounds hopeful. Not wanting to run after 10 minutes? Double nice one babe.

“Yeah.” He savours the last sip of his drink, licking across his bottom lip. “What can I get you?”

“Oh no, this one’s on me, pretty.” You wink at him. Joel opens his mouth in protest but wavers, a slight flush coming over him at his new nickname. “Same again?” You ask.

Joel notices how the lights strung around the place bounced off your eyes, making it harder to see their colour but even more difficult to look away. You pick up his empty glass as you stand. Joel nods in response, giving an earnest “Thank you, darlin’.” As he watches you make the small walk from your table to the bar, he gives himself full permission to check you out.

Your jeans look like they were painted on by the devil, caressing every curve of your waist and thighs. The back pocket of your pants stretches and pulls as you slide one of your hands in, waiting on a popped hip to be served at the bar. The denim leaves little to the imagination but, boy, was Joel imagining? He never wanted to be in a wrestling match more than with this pair of pants. He takes a deep breath, trying not to think about how difficult it would be to peel them off your body.

You move, shifting your weight to your other hip; your heels must be hurting you, he thinks. He lets his eyes wander up over your silhouette, up to your profile, as he does, he sees your eyes waiting for his. “Busted.” you mouth to him, your lips forming a wicked smile.

Joel smirks too, not letting up his gaze and nodding. ”So busted.” he says under his breath.

It’s not long before you join him back at your table, setting his down in front of him with a tip of your head before sitting back and enjoying a long sip from your own.

From the corner of your eye, the bartender comes over, placing two shot glasses in front of you. “Ah, thank you!” You say to them as they return to their bar. “Here ya go, I didn’t have enough hands for everything.” You hold out the shot to Joel with a devious look that wasn’t there before you’d left.

It wasn’t a shot Joel had ever seen before, a mix of different browns and beiges topped off with whipped cream. Joel takes the small glass between his fingers and crinkles his eyes at you. “Should I be scared?” He says, turning the glass to see the different liquors marbling together.

“That depends…” You move your shot glass to your other hand and lick some whipped cream off your thumb before switching it back to your dominant hand. “Do you like blowjobs, Joel?” You flutter your lashes and smile sweetly at the man across from you, whose jaw had just gone slack and eyes darker from the last time you’d looked at them.

Joel, not wanting to interrupt whatever mood you’d returned with from that bar, makes a deep “mmm mmm mmm” sound that started somewhere in his chest as he shakes his head and purses his lips. “You are trouble, ain’t you?” With that, you clink the glass against his and smile again.

“You have no idea.” You tip the glass back along with your head, just slightly so as not to break eye contact. Joel mirrors your motions, trying not to tempt fate given that he had a demon in front of him. Quickly, his gaze falters as the contrast in taste between the shot and his whisky has him shivering.

“Is that the best blow job you’ve ever had?” There you were again, licking the sweetness of the liquor from where it’d spilled on your fingers. A carnal image of you doing that after having his cock in your mouth flashes before his eyes. He shifts in his seat, having to tug at the denim at his crotch.

“Probably not.” Joel starts, taking a drink to rid his mouth of the overly sweet shot. “But, I believe in second chances-can always try again.” The liquor was starting to talk for him as he felt it climb his neck and up his ears.

“Okay, so I have this game that I play on dates…” You start, somehow your chair had drifted closer and closer throughout the night, as you both take turns getting the next round from the bar. As you sit elbow to elbow with Joel, close enough to smell the whisky that mixes with his earthy cologne.

“I like where this is headed already.” His accent has gotten stronger over the hour that has passed.

You shove his shoulder, “Shut upp. The game is that you have to imagine that your memory is wiped, so you get to experience things for the first time again… I then give you a category and you can only pick one thing, okay? So, if I were to say movie: what movie would you want to experience watching for the first time again?”

“Blade Runner”, he says, without hesitation. His eyes were starting to have that warm, glazed look that comes with drinking. “You?”

“Probably Scream or Fight Club- I like a twist. Vacation?”

“Ireland.”

“Australia.” you respond, picking up the pendant on your necklace out of habit, dragging it back and forth along the chain. Joel follows the movement of your fingers with his eyes, letting it soothe him too. “Food?”

“Mmmm, that’s a hard one…probably something that my Mom makes, like chilli or barbecue.”

“You’re easy to please, hm?”

“Give me a plate of good food and I’m yours.” He picks up his glass, trying to savour the liquid as you’d both agreed ‘just one more’ two drinks ago.

“I also love chilli.” You start, watching the way his lips wrap around the glass and how his tongue flicks across his lips when he sets it back down. “But I think I’d go with a dessert like chocolate fudge sundae… or, have you ever had one of those French pastries… What are they called? Pain au chocolat? That would be mine.”

He hums again, enjoying watching you ask and answer your own questions. The fidget that you started with the pendant of your necklace holding steady. In a moment of no thought, Joel slowly reaches out and stills your movement to look at the gold medal. “This is pretty.” He says to himself more than anything.

His big hand covers yours and flips the coin-shaped jewellery over with his fingers, the only response you can muster, “mmm”. He surveys the jewellery as best he can in the dim light of the bar, noticing the engraving on the back.

“It’s my initials.” You say. Your hand, and his, staying exactly where they are.

“Oh, you have a middle name.” More an accusation than a question. He sounds as if he’s uncovering some hidden gem about you. “What is it?”

“Nuh uh, you’re not getting it that easy. That’s for date five at least.” You tease, your gaze becoming heavier, the devious glimmer in Joel’s eyes becoming stronger.

“Anything else special happen on date five?”

”You might get another blowjob… but you were so ungrateful for the first one.” Your eyes drop to his mouth and then back up to his.

Joel can feel himself aching to be closer to you. His hand that holds the pendant now drifts to your jaw, his thumb feathering over your cheek, mirroring the window-wiper hold you had him in the first moments that you’d met each other.

He had a craving to explore every part of you, to taste, smell, and hear you. The need shoots through every nerve ending, spurring him on to take everything he can. But he has to slow down, or else take you to the bathroom and make you fill up all of his senses.

The Texan gentleman within him holds strong, as much as he could feel all of his reasoning heading south. He brings his face closer to yours, that slanted smile quickly becoming your favourite sight. “Can I take you home?” He rumbles, his voice low and soft so only you both could hear it.

The whisky on his breath makes your eyes flutter as you draw a sharp breath at his question. Your mouth turns up at the sides, you can tell your eyes have the same shimmer as his. Tipsy. Ready.

This wasn’t something you’d planned on. You had so many rules about first dates: No kissing (hence the red lipstick), no sharing a car, and no sex until you felt safe. With this man’s hand cradling the back of your neck and his calloused thumb tracing down your jaw and back again, you feel like syrup dripping over hot pancakes.

You’ve lost all sense of what time it is, or how long you’d been sitting there, inches from his face as your body screams at you to kiss him.

His face is so close to yours that his features become fuzzy. Your eyes are having a hard time focusing in this light. Joel’s eyes move over your features, waiting, restraining, teasing, not daring to push further until you say so.

You reach out to the corded forearm that is tensed and attached to the hand that was holding you gently. Your manicured nails rake up and down his arm in a feathered tickle. You feel his breathing deepen as you press your top teeth into your bottom lip.

“You’re gonna need to,” The pressure from your scratches is getting slightly harder, causing a hum to vibrate in Joel’s throat. “or else everyone will see how pretty you are with this shade of lipstick on your mouth.”

Joel takes the weight of your head and neck in his hands. He holds you both in that position; thick fingers cradling your nape. His tongue traces along his lips and pulls back slightly just so he can take in the heavy-lidded, slack-jawed sight before him.

“Let’em see.” he brings his lips, achingly close to yours, his eyes open, waiting for that last confirmation before he hands over his soul.

In an instant, his lips find yours, setting a slow, strong pace. The trimmed stubble on his upper lip chafes against your soft skin, creating the sweetest friction.

His cologne, mixing with the whisky and the warmth of his skin, takes over your senses as the broad backed man envelops you in his big arms.

Raking your hands through the soft curls at the back of his head, you can help but kitten lick at his bottom lip, craving a taste of that whisky you’ve seen him sip at all evening.

It only takes an instant for Joel’s breathing to deepen and for his tongue to meet yours, you both stifling a moan as you slide deeper and deeper into each other’s mouths.

Your wills, hanging by a thread, allow you a moment of clarity to softly pull away. A noise rumbles within Joel’s chest as you do, his resolve slipping like sand in an hourglass. With heavy eyes he lingers on your messy mouth, his brain unable to think of anything else than what state you’d end up in after his cock passes through your full lips.

With a chuckle, you bring your thumb to his mouth, wiping away the remnants of your lipstick that have transferred to him. “Messy boy.” You mumble, assuming your pupils must be the same size as his. He mirrors the movements on your mouth. The lipstick, blurry and smeared into a faded, pastel red that he hopes stays on him for days.

Joel swipes gently at your hot, swollen lips and chin, trying to clean you up and calm himself down before you leave the table. At one of the passes of his over your mouth, you lick softly at the pad of his finger. Matching your mood, he sinks his teeth into the fleshy part at the base of your thumb and tugs slightly.

“If we don’t leave in the next minute this whole goddamn bar is gonna see how messy I get when I turn your sweet ass the same colour as your mouth.” He licks then kisses where he had bitten you, making your eyes flutter and thighs press together.

The next half an hour was a blur. You both had the mission to get to your apartment as soon as possible, causing you to move with the most efficiency that four drinks would allow you to.

The Uber ride was the longest of your life.

Joel opened the car door and then slid right in behind you. His large, powerful hands placing you into the middle seat and wrapping the seatbelt around you, clicking it into place. He places his warm hand in the inside of your thigh, unable to keep his hands from you, you did the same, your forearm laying across the top of his thigh, nails scratching softly at the denim.

The alcohol has well and truly gone to your head, making every touch and graze feel heady and dreamlike. Joel was struggling. All night he was craving to be closer to you, holding and restraining himself but now that he’d had a taste it was impossible not to touch you. Trying to maintain his stoicism was less like stopping a yawn or sneeze and more like trying to stop a freight train on a windy day.

In the front, your driver is murmuring along to the radio, but all you can hear is the heavy, warm breathing of the man behind you as you allow him to explore your jean-clad thighs.

Pulling, pushing, kneading, it felt like Joel couldn’t get close enough. The roughness of his touch was full of nothing but need and desire.

You can’t make out everything he’s saying, his whisper is strained and raspy. You can make out the words goddamn and jeans; the lucky fabric achieving their purpose once again.

Your hand covers Joel’s, squeezing and pushing at him, encouraging him to keep going. Whatever devil was inside you wanted to push him to his limits in the back of this cab.

Feeling bold, you allow your palm to push at Joel’s high, travelling further and further up his lap before you stop dangerously close to the giant bulge you can see in the low light of the cab. This wasn’t typical behaviour from you, but the solid warmth of the man under you called to your most primitive nerves.

Dropping your head to Joel’s shoulder, you lean into his neck, leaving sloppy, wet kisses, tinged with light pink, in your wake. Trying your damnedest to hold strong until you get to the apartment.

The walk through the main doors of your apartment building was full of sideways glances and lip bitten chuckles. To have such desire within hours of meeting someone had never happened to you before. It made your skin tingle, all of your senses heightened.

By the time you reach the elevator, you can hardly recognise the darkness in the eyes peering into yours. Fingers interlaced, firm squeezes shoot straight to your clit; Joel’s rough hands somehow able to be strong but reverent at the same time.

Waiting until the doors close, Joel guides you against the brushed steel bar, which reaches the small of your back, and closes you in. His hands hold onto the bar on either side of your hips.

That nagging, rational part of Joel’s brain was screaming at him. He didn’t want any wires crossed or doubts about his intentions about tonight. Sure, he’d had his fair share of one night stands but not for years and certainly not with someone who he’d felt this level of attraction to.

With his knuckle, he ensures your eyes are on him as he hovers his mouth too close to yours. “I need you to know that I didn’t come on this date expectin’ anythin’and I still don’t…” he bows slightly, his forehead rests against yours, and he exhales with a self-fuffacing chuckle.

“I should be a gentleman. I should walk you to your front door, kiss you, and say goodnight.”

But I don’t know if I can, his brain screams at him.

Unmoving, you both share breath in close proximity. The alcohol in your system is dulled by the rush of adrenaline and hormones that are buzzing around your body.

Your teeth latch on to your bottom lip, Joel immediately catches on to the action but squeezes his lids shut, keeping his caveman brain at bay just barely.

The hotness of Joel’s breath fanning over your face has you fantasising about how it’d feel to have it between your legs. You shuffle slightly, squeezing your thighs together and feeling how wet this evening has made you already.

Staying in the electric silence, your chuckle echoes his own. You mimic his actions, moving your forehead, pressing the knuckle of your forefinger under his chin, encouraging him to lift it so that you can look him in the eyes.

“Joel, I’ve got some good news for ya…” The elevator dings, opening its metal doors at your floor. You let your grasp of his chin fall so you can wriggle free of his hold and lead the way to your apartment. “You might be a gentleman, but I’m not.”

Exiting the elevator slowly, you emphasise the movement of your hips as you lead the way through the carpeted hallway to your door. Joel follows closely, admiring the view with hearts in his eyes. Pausing for the briefest of moments, he exhales fully, palming himself, squeezing to elevate the ache at the base of his cock before catching up to you.

Twisting the key in the lock, you ram the door with your hips once, twice. “C’mon cockblocker” you ram it again, somehow the combination works, gaining you access to your apartment and a sideways glance from Joel which reads ‘we’ll deal with this later’.

With unfathomable accuracy, you throw your keys into the dish by your door and shrug off Joel’s leather jacket, which he kindly lent you, hanging it by the door.

At your back, you feel the Texan man push his hips into your ass. His fingers slide through your belt loops, giving him more purchase and momentum as you lead the way down the hall to your bedroom. His lips kiss softly at your neck, inhaling your scent before exhaling with a rumble. “Can you feel that, darlin’? Feel how fuckin’ hard you make me?” He punctuates with another pump of his hips.

A playful chuckle passes your lips as you turn on your heel so that you are facing him. Bravely, you press your palm firmly against the thickness under his jeans.

A flush starts at the base of your spire and carries up to the tips of your ears, as you feel how hard he is. His eyes flutter close, a deep groan reverberating from his throat as your breathing gets heavier. “Oh fuck, you’re big.” You rush out, that brain-to-mouth filter experiencing technical difficulties.

Joel threads his fingers through your hair, his palm cradling your head, the other grabbing at your full hip. His big brown eyes glimmer in the low light of the room as he scans your full face, stopping at your lips before flicking back up to match your gaze. “I believe in you, sweetheart. I think you can take it.” A sideways smirk, gifted to him by horny demon, swipes across his full lips.

Bringing your lips to his once again, the kiss is feverish, missing all of the earnestness of your first. Joel licks into your mouth deeply, his tongue gliding along yours, your breaths mixing together, making the air balmy.

Almost simultaneously you reach for his belt buckle and he your top button, the soft clink of metal on metal making your pussy clench.

He coaxes you backwards, prodding you to lay down on the bed as you begin working the buttons of your shirt.

Reaching behind himself, he tugs on the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swoop. His body is a wall of soft muscle- not created at a gym but through honest hard work. Freckles speckled down his arms and across his chest- you want to trail a path with your tongue.

“These jeans laced with black magic or somethin? Had me hallucinatin’ from the minute I saw you at that bar.” He peels them down in a see-saw motion. Joel kisses down the roundness of your hips and thighs as they are revealed little by little as he goes one on one with the denim.

Before long, jeans, shirts, and shoes are cast to the outskirts of the room. You lay before him in a blue matching set- the heft of your tits barely confined. Giving them a squeeze, your smaller hands barely cover them, the pillowy flesh spilling over the spaces in between your fingers.

Joel’s eyes go directly to them, a slanted smile sweeping across his face before he lowers his lips to the roundness of your stomach.

Licking, kissing, inhaling the scent that he assumed was your perfume lingers heavy on the plumpness of your soft skin. Travelling lower and lower, Joel settles himself, kneeling on the floor before you, eyes settled on the damp patch spreading on the gusset of your panties.

With forearms hooked under your thighs and hands resting on top Joel yanks you towards him, his beautiful hooked nose laying on the wet fabric as he inhales. “Fuck me.” He whispers into your mound.

Hooking his fingers around the fabric, his eyes flick up to yours for permission. Bumping up onto your forearms for a better view, you smile wickedly, crooking your neck to the side. “Let’s see how messy you can get, pretty.”

Joel all but rips the lace garment, whisking it downwards, past your knees before he hovers his mouth just above your pussy, close enough that his breath tickles against the soft hairs. Tongue first, he places wet kisses on just north of where you want him the most.

Instinctively, your hips raise, eliciting a dark chuckle from him. “Goddamn you’ve got a pretty pussy.” He shifts you so that your legs lay over his shoulders and freeing up his hands to push apart your folds, allowing him to see your swollen clit.

With a flat tongue, Joel licks almost too tenderly at the soft, dewy skin before swooping languidly over and over your bud. “Oh my god.” You moan, willing your hips to stay still and stop being so greedy, allow this man to cook.

“Never been called that before.” he mumbles, bringing the sides of his cheeks together, gathering his saliva in his mouth and then letting it fall to your clit. You were already soaked but Joel needed to see you dripping, messy. You moan, the lewd act making your eyes roll back.

Although being caught up in the desperation you had for each other, Joel needed to take inventory of every twitch, roll, and moan passing through your sweet, soft form. There was no way that he was taking tonight as a solitary event, already craving how you’d moan and whimper for him when you allowed him to fuck you bare.

Gently, he pulled at the apex of your pussy with one hand, pulling at the hood of your clit to unsheath it fully, before circling it with deep, even pressure with his opposite thumb. “You are fucking soaked, sweeheart.” Your breathing gets heavier, you’re unable to open your eyes fully, but you’re not willing to miss a second of this guy at work.

Joel incorporates his mouth, slurping and swallowing as if you were ice cream threatening melt right under him. Threading your fingers through his messy hair you push and pull at his fluffy curls, your heels digging in just at his shoulder blades to encourage him, more.

Feeling him chuckle,he presses into you deeper, his lips and tongue now licking into your pussy which flutters and pulses around his tongue. With each movement of his jaw you feel his beautiful nose bump and swipe across your clit, that familiar buzz at the base of your spine growing stronger and stronger. “Fuck, Joel keep going, it feels so fucking good…”

Hearing his name as a moan on your lips, strokes the most primitive part of him. He needs to be closer, deeper, before he comes in his pants like a teenager.

Somehow finding the strength to peel himself from you, he stands, his cock aching and hard as stone. There’s a clear, darkened patch on his boxers which steals your attention for a second before it moves slowly to his hand squeezing at himself. “I gotta get you ready sweetheart. Gotta be inside you.” He shucks his boxers off himself and pumps his cock in his hand.

Resuming his earlier position, Joel gathers your slick with his middle and ring finger before pushing them in slowly to your weeping pussy.

“Shit”

“Mmmmmfuck”

Groaning in unison, you swear you see Joel’s eyes flutter in the way yours are as you squeeze against his fingers. Joel flexes his digits, sweeping the pad of his thumb across your beautifully swollen clit to tandem with his fingers.

Shifting your hips, you rock yourself on his fingers, allowing your big tits to bounce and ripple in harmony. Opening your eyes, you can see him jerk his heavy, weeping cock at the same pace as he pumps into you, the strong expanse of his forearm tensed with chorded muscle. The view getting you closer and closer by the second.

“Think you can take more? I know your sweet pussy is gonna milk me dry.” Joel stretches his fingers inside of you, licking his lips, his eyes glued to your own.

Never have you had a man talk to you like this during sex. Often, your background music to get off was either the squeak of the bed frame or the buzz of your pocket bff after you were laying, disappointed, in a wet patch in your bed.

“Oh, you like me talking to you, don’t ya? You like it when I tell you how tight your cunt is, hm?” Joel’s upper body is covered in a small sheen of sweat, his fingers somehow able to quicken and maintain the even pressure.

“I’m gonna come, fuck.” Your hips grind harder, movements in tandem with Joel’s allowing your big tits to jiggle and ripple.

A familiar warmth spreads through your pelvis and hips, growing higher and higher flushing to the tips of your ears.

Joel, praying so hard that he doesn’t come, stops jerking himself, instead lowering his body so that he can drink your sweetness from the source. “That’s it. Good girl. Come all over me.” He speaks into your sopping wet pussy. Through thick lashes, he peers over the soft valleys of your stomach and hips, his tongue and fingers not stopping but calming to a slow, steady motion.

Ears still ringing, you prop yourself back on your elbows once more, enjoying the view of the southern man, eyes closed kitten licking at your pulsing hole.

In feeling your muscles flex in movement, his eyes pop open. He pulls his fingers from you, holding them in front of his face and scissoring his first two fingers, examining the silky wetness of your come. Without show or performance he places them in his mouth, past his knuckle in order to finish his meal.

Not wanting to waste another minute without him inside of you, you extend yourself, reaching to the top drawer of your night stand, grabbing a box of condoms and rattling them in his direction.

“I think twelve times might be ambitious but I’ll sure give it a go.” The flirty twinkle in his eye makes you cock your head to the side, giving him an over exaggerated eyeroll. He grabs the package from you, using his teeth to perforate the cellophane and pry open the untouched box.

Pumping his length a few times, Joel scans your entire body; toes, knees, thighs all the way to the undoubtably frizzy fucked curls framing your face. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” It’s not until he finishes the sentence that you look up at his face, meeting his gaze that was waiting for your eyes. He slides the lubed condom over his shaft before joining you, kneeling between your parted thighs on the bed.

Biting your lip, you watch his actions in earnest, allowing his words to settle on your skin. Although never the best at taking compliments, this was not one you wanted to deflect. This beautiful, strong, southern man was looking at you with reverence and you were determined to believe it, if only for tonight.

Lowering himself on one elbow, he reaches your leg with his other arm, hooking it over the sturdy angle of his hips, his eyes never leaving yours.

Sweetly, his lips find yours, having that gentle quality that you shared in the bar. Pulling back only slightly, his eyes peer south, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing it up and down the wetness of your slick, tap tap tapping it on your now engorged clit.

On your gasp, his eyes dilate further, unable to keep that goddamn slanted smile off his face.

Only in this moment have you noticed that when he smiles, he does with his whole face. Yes, his lips move but also his cheeks, creating a domino effect on his eyes, crinkled at the side, and the soft raising of his ears. Fuck, he was handsome.

It was your turn to peer down, looking at the way his cock was teasing you. Cheekily, you manoeuvre your hips, making the tip of his cock, notch against your cunt, causing Joel to swallow a moan and for you to smirk. “C’mon pretty, I wanna feel you stretch me with that big dick of yours.” You circle your hips, trying to make him do it again.

Leveraging your leg on his hip to raise your hips higher, he sinks into you, slowly, inch by inch until he is seated fully. Eyes cemented on yours as your smirk turns into a moan.

“Jesus Christ”

“Fuck, Joel”

Joel held still for a moment, the hand that secured your leg over your hip sweeping up and down the expanse of your thigh. “Damn you’re fucking tight.” His lips lower, licking and kissing over your collarbone and neck, the sweetness of your perfume now musky, mixing with your sweat.

As he pumps his hips with long, deep strokes, you thanked the sex gods that he had a pretty face and a pretty dick. His cock was big and thick, stretching you and making you feel beautifully full, fuller than you ever had been.

Working your hips, you moved in parallel with Joel. Pulling your hips back into the mattress when he pushed his pulsing length deep inside, bridging your hips upwards when he retreated. You didn’t want there to be a moment when he wasn’t inside you, moulding your pussy to fit his perfect size.

Joel slants his lips against yours, not waiting to push his tongue deep and long against your own. It wasn’t controlled, it was sloppy and wet, your hand threading through his hair and pulling at the disheveled strands.

The taste of him, mixed with your come and the faint memory of whisky had you rolling your eyes. It was desperate, reckless, kissing someone you barely know like this, like your life depended on it.

Pulling back, he arranges you, one leg still wrapped around his hip and the other raised up, ankle on his broad, freckled shoulders. “This okay?” His eyes, somehow wider, looking for any change in your expression, ensuring you’re comfortable.

You answer with your heels digging into his shoulder and the small of his back, pulling him into you. He feels bigger this way, his cock able to get deeper, on some strokes kissing that detonate button buried deep inside you.

It’s almost as if you forget how to breathe as he gets faster, the hair on his thighs and lower stomach now glistening with your slick as they rub against you.

Joel lifts you higher, allowing him access to grab at your ass, spreading it slightly, making your head spin and pussy flutter. “That’s it. Cmon, baby. I need to feel you come over my cock.”

This feels primal, biological; as if this night, this moment was written in the fabric of your DNA. Meant to happen.

With your eyes rolling back, you give over your body, surrendering to the will and strength of this man. Joel, feeling that he could combust at any moment looks skyward, willing his body to endure this sweetness for longer.

Bringing his thumb to your poor, swollen clit, Joel rubs in quick, deep circles, his pelvis and hips stuttering as he feels his impending orgasm.

“Fuck yes.” You come, eyes rolling, toes curling and pussy squeezing against the heavy cock inside of you. Your eyes snap shut, your jaw clenches as Joel continues to pump in and out of your spent pussy.

“Mmmmmmfuck” you peel yourself from ecstasy long enough to see Joel come. Each beautiful angle and muscle on his body tensing, his eyes scanning over your flushed face, that smile of his appearing again.

Inching towards you, he kisses you sweetly, the curls at the nape of his neck getting curlier by the second. His giant palm rests on your cheek, deepening the kiss slightly, running his thumb over your jaw.

It doesn’t take long for you both to get cleaned up. You grabbing the oversized T-shirt that lay dormant under your pillow and him finding his boxers in the far corner of the room.

A conversation isn’t had about whether Joel should sleepover or not, instead you fall into each other again; kissing, biting, licking, unable to stop but too tired and a little drunk to take it further.

An ungodly vibration on wood wakes you from the best sleep you’ve had in months. Shooting up in bed, you immediately regret your pace, your head tender from the night before.

Scanning your surroundings for a minute, a little seed of disappointment plants itself when you realise you’re alone, no Texan man in sight.

You swipe across the screen, putting your phone on loud speaker before you faceplant back into your pillow.

“Hello?”

”Good morning, princess.” You can hear the sarcasm dripping from your best friend’s voice. “I was gonna call you last night to see how your date went with the contractor but I’m guessing due to my 5 unread texts that it went quite well, hm?”

Stretching your body like a cat in the sun, you grab your phone and lay it on the pillow next to you, feeling like you’re at a sleepover.

“It went well, yeah.” You hear the smile through your voice before you realise it’s there. “He is so fucking hot, got that Mr Darcy stoic thing about him but he is definitely a dark horse.” You turn to lay on your tummy. “Honestly, it got to just about closing time at the bar and I didn’t want it to end. We got back to my place and he went full fucking caveman. And his dick is fucking gian-“

Your soul leaves your body as you hear a hoarse throat clear. Flipping around you see a fully clothed Joel with two cups of coffee hovering at the threshold of your bedroom door. With no notice you hang up the phone, shoving it somewhere in the bed before sitting upright.

“I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t want to subject you to the uncaffeinated version of me too early.” His movements are slow, shy almost as he hands over the cup and perches himself on the side of your bed.

“I thought you pulled an Irish goodbye on me.” You take a long sip, peering over the ceramic as you drink, the sarcasm shield firmly intact.

“And miss seeing your Cookie Monster T-shirt in the daylight? I don’t think so.” He teases, reaching for the hem of your shirt which grazes your mid thigh.

“I had a lot of fun last night.” He rests his giant warm palm on your leg, his brown eyes almost doe like.

“Me too. Think you finally broke my curse of bad dates, pretty.” You set the mug on your nightstand.

Joel flushes at the nickname, immediately taking him back to last night's events. Placing his mug next to yours, he scoots forward, cradling your jaw and placing a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips.

Unable to resist, he deepens the kiss. His big fingers thread through the mess of tangled curls as his breathing becomes heavier.

Pulling away, he keeps your faces close together as he scans your sleepy features. A goofy looking grin works its way across his face as he chuckles softly.

“What?”

He shakes his head softly, the smirk not letting up. “Can I have your number?”

Your head bows slightly, falling to rest on his broad chest as a silent laugh works its way through your shoulders. The sex last night was incredible, not the typical first time timidness so the thought of this man not having your number seems so ridiculous.

Joel presses a kiss into your hair, inhaling that scent that now makes something stir at the base of his spine.

Sunday afternoon rolled in slowly. Joel stayed for a hearty breakfast of cocoa puffs before heading back home, the impression of him lasting through the sweet ache in between your thighs.

Your current boyfriend, the high fairy king, had just slayed the mortal who spoke ill of his mate as a notification pops up on your phone from the Texan himself.

[image attached]

damn, that looks so good

I’m jealous

Last night work you up an appetite?

certainly did

it is good

but it’s got nothing on what I ate last night

The smile on your face had your cheeks hurting. Last night was not a normal first date. The level of attraction and passion you’d felt was nothing you’d ever experienced.

Rolling your head to rest on the top of your couch, you can’t imagine any date going better than your one with Joel. It makes you anxious but in a way where it feels like butterflies in your stomach.

Before you can reply to Joel your phone pings again, but this time the message from your best friend.

Okay gentleman Joel might’ve been good but just wait for first date number two before you make up your mind.

This is Javier. 🙂‍↕️😮‍💨😚😋🫠

Clearing your throat you look at the image of date number two.

Think I should give him a shot.

For science. 🙂‍↕️🤓

npt/ tag list 🏷️ @gothcsz @chasingthepoguelife @mandaloriankait @probablyreadinsmut @half-moon16 @brittmb115 @noisynightmarepoetry @maried01 @witchy-and-persnickity @drunk-and-capable @angiewatson @toshatoshalopez @qutequeersstuff @indiegirlunited @jolalibrary @sheepdogchick @regularjoel @iknowisoundcrazy

[futbolfatale]

Wanna Watch a Scary Movie: Stab

Paige Buckers/Reader, Azzi Fudd/Read, Paige Bueckers/Azzi Fudd

Tags: Throuple, Gore, Murder, Underage Drinking, Makeout sesh in the back of Azzi's car,

Masterlist, Series Masterlist(Coming Soon)

Summary: You and your girlfriends are viciously attacked and attempt to find the killers. But maybe you knew who attacked you from the very beginning.

Author's Note: This will be a series of oneshots featuring each of the WBB players I write for. To be added to the taglist, comment any emoji.

Playlist

Your parents were out of town, and your girlfriends were coming over. It isn't exactly out of the ordinary that your parents both traveled for work, which often left you home alone for long periods of time. Over the years, you had a revolving door of babysitters before you turned thirteen, and they decided you were old enough to watch after yourself. It was around this point that you started dating Paige and Azzi as much as a thirteen-year-old could date. This mostly involved going on “Dates” around town and inviting them over to watch scary movies when your parents were out of town. This evolved into three or four-day-long sleepovers, which led you to now. You are setting up your bedroom for the Stab movie marathon you had planned. Paige and Azzi were supposed to be picking up a pizza before coming over, though, knowing them, they were probably fooling around with some of their basketball teammates.

The ringing of your mother’s ancient landline pulls you from your doom scrolling. You have no idea why your mother insists on keeping the thing connected. The only calls you ever get are scams or wrong numbers. You pick up the phone rather aggressively, bringing it to your ear. “What do you want?” The words are almost a growl. “I just wanna know… What's your favorite scary movie?” The voice asked whoever it was to use the Ghostface voice modulator. “Nice try Page, you're really fucknig funny. Trying to give me nightmares so I cling to you in my sleep. Real Mature” You can’t help but feel frustrated. Paige does this at least once a year, and she thinks it is the funniest thing ever. “This isn’t Paige. Now answer the question.” The voice hosts more hostility now. “Azzi, you know my favorite movie. Did Paige put you up to this? C’mon, you know how much I hate it.”. “This isn’t Azzi. I am only going to ask you one for time know answer the fucking question”. You hang up the landline. You turn to walk away when it rings again. You let it go to voicemail and listen to the sound of your mother's voice asking the caller to leave a message.

“I know youre there pick up the fucking Phone before I gut your pretty little girlfriends” They have to be lying Paige and Azzi are on their way here now. You pick up the phone, bringing it to your ear. “You're lying.” You spit the words out.”I’m not. I can see them right now, and if you don’t answer the question. I can have them gutted in the next ten seconds. I’ll even leave you a little surprise on your bed. Now answer the fucking question.”. “My favorite scary movie is Stab the original with Billy Loomis and Stu Mocker. Everybody knows this asshole. I talk about it all the time”. “Your girlfriends will live another day. The next time I call, you better pick up the phone.” With that, they hang up. You drop the phone and turn to find Paige right behind you. “Oh, you scared me, Paige.” You throw your arms around her, and she follows through, slightly delayed. “Who was that?” She asks curiously, resting her cheek on the top of your head. “Some stupid prank call from a dumb kid. Where is Azzi? “She is bringing the pizza in. Why don't you go get in bed, and I will grab us a drink.” Paige offers, and you nod, heading upstairs to your room.

It takes all of five minutes for Paige and Azzi to join you in bed. Neither of them says anything, only cuddling up while you start the movie. With each of them beside you, safety should be felt, but you can only feel fearful. What if it wasn’t a prank call? What if someone is really going to kill you in your girlfriend's? “Stop thinking so hard and enjoy the movie, babe,” Azzi whispers, running her hand down your exposed chest. “Don’t be sorry, just relax. Paige made you a drink. I am sure that will help.” At that, Paige hands you your drink. It looks just like a Shirley Temple, but when you take a sip, the acrid taste of acholahe overtakes your senses. You take one sip after another until you're sure you will be able to feel the effects. “Just lie back, Azzi and I will keep you safe. You know that, baby,” Paige takes your glass and sets it on the nightstand. “Everything is going to be alright.” You lay your head down on Azzi’s chest and watch as the movie progresses. The situation is all too similar to your own.

When you wake up, it is also an empty bed, and the TV is still on. You creep down the stairs and into the kitchen to see Paige and Azzi making breakfast. “Did you sleep okay?” Azzi asks as you sit at the kitchen table and turn on the TV. “Seventeen-year-old Ayanna Patterson was attacked and murdered in their home last night.”The image shown is blurred, but it’s clear her whole stomach has been cut open. “Holy shit” You mutter. “They’ve been showing it all morning. It’s really unfortunate.” Paige speaks up. “Wasn’t she on your team?” you ask, turning to face the two of them. “Ya but we didn’t know her that well,” Paige explains, rolling up your guy's breakfast burritos. “She kind of kept to herself,” Azzi adds, pouring herself a cup of juice. “Cmon, we gotta go.” Paige slings her backpack over her shoulder. The three of you head outside and load into Azzi’s car.

When you get to school, there are police cars on every corner. News reports attempt to interview several students to no avail. “Oh god, why do they have to be here?” You complain, finishing your burrito. “They need to latch onto the most relevant story, babe, you know that.”Azzi opens your door, and you trail after her. “ Did you three know Ayanna Patterson? “An interviewer questions as the three of you attempt to go inside. “ No Comment.” Paige pushes the woman out of the way so you can continue on to class. “ We heard that she was on the basketball team with the two of you.” Paige ignores her and ushers you inside. “I need to tell you something.” You stop in the middle of the hall, waiting for them to give you their attention. “Not here.” Azzi grabs your hand, pulling you into the bathroom. The three of you crowd into a stall. “Couldn’t we have had this conversation in the car?” Paige asks, slightly annoyed. “I was flustered. Stop being a jerk,” You whisper, shout. “Someone called the house last night, they were using that stupid ghost face voice.” “Why didn’t you tell us last night?” Paige looks terrified. “They said they were going to kill you. I thought it was a prank until the news this morning. I think we’re next.”. You're silenced when someone enters the bathroom. “Well, they better pray 'cause I have a gun.” Azzi Whispers. “We’ll be fine,” Paige adds, opening the stall door and slipping out. “You guys are too calm they is a fucking killer on the loose.” You whisper following the two of them out into the hall. “We are the best prepared. We’ve watched every scary movie.” Paige holds your shoulders as she speaks. “ When you finish class, come to the gym, we have practice, then we can go to your house.”. You nod, as scared as you are, they are pretty good at calming you down. “Okay, but we have to go home right after practice.”

“Did you hear that the killer wore one of those Ghostface masks?” A girl in your chemistry class whispers not so quietly to her friends. This is getting out of hand. Sure, there are copycat killers every decade, that’s why there are six stab movies, but you didn’t want to end up smack dab in the center of Stab Seven. Sure, some of these girls would die to get famous, but not you. “Do you think they’ll kill again?”. “They always do, just like they always work in pairs,” Another girl answers. “They kill until they get caught or they die,” Someone else adds, and you try to space out. The last thing you need is to induce a panic attack right now.

As soon as you get out of class, you make your way to the gym. The lights are on, and the whole team is inside. You sit on the bleachers and watch as they take a moment of silence for their teammate. You look over the girls for anyone not taking it seriously. That might help you locate any suspects, but everyone seems to be genuinely upset. You’re back at square one. You watch as the girls start their warmups. After a while, it gets boring, and you start on your homework.

Once Paige and Azzi have showered, the three of you head out to Azzi’s car. Your nerves seem to be getting the best of you. You jump at every little sound and move away from anyone walking too closely to the three of you. “You need to relax. Everything is going to be fine. We are going to go home, watch a movie, make some dinner, and go to bed. No killer is going to get you with us around.”Azzi slings her arm around you, pulling you close. “Paige will get you all relaxed by the time we get home.” Azzi opens the door, pushing you onto your back in the backseat of her car. Paige crawls onto you, and Azzi slams the door shut. The car rolls out of the parking lot, as Paige leans down to connect your lips. She pulled back slightly, out of breath. “Paige, I’m scared,” you whisper as she moves to kiss your neck. “Don’t be scared, baby.” Paige’s voice can barely be heard as she whispers against your skin.

“You can’t tell me not to be scared when there is a masked killer in our town.” You roll your hips against her. Paige pulls your shirt up so she can press soft kisses against your breast. “I can when I know the killer won’t kill you.” Paige mumbles. “You can’t know that.”You groan as she bites hard enough to indent your skin. “Can you wanna know why?” Paige asks, moving up to kiss your lips again. “Why?” You roll your eyes as she kisses you again. “Because I killed her, and I would never kill you.”She whispers, her hand holding your body in place. “You’re not serious.” You are asking more than telling her. “I was not, I was joking, ”She laughs, letting her head hit your breast. “That was not funny,” you say, smacking her lightly. “Inside you two,” Azzi’s shouts, apparently not hearing Paige’s cruel joke.

Once you eat dinner, the three of you settle on the couch. “So if not Stab, what should we watch?” Paige asks, laying her head down in your lap. “We could watch the new Hunger Games. It is supposed to be good,” you offer, running your fingers through Paige's hair. “ Sounds good, babe,” Azzi answers, tucking herself into your side. “Are you guys okay? You’re being weirdly clingy?” You ask, turning the movie on. “We just missed you. With everything going on we just wanna enjoy our time together.” Azzi grabs your hand, intertwining your guy's fingers. “You say that someone is going to die.” You try to keep your panic down, but it's hard with them acting like this. “I didn’t mean it like that, just watch the movie.”Azzi quits after that, forcing you to actually watch the movie.

You’re half asleep by the time the movie finishes. Paige carries you upstairs and lays you in bed. You try to get her to stay, but she walks to the door. “I’ll only be a minute. I’ve gotta help Azzi clean up,” Paige promises, blowing you a kiss before shutting your bedroom door. You must have fallen asleep because when you wake up, the bed is still empty,y but you can hear the two of them talking. You exit your bedroom and walk across the wall to the bathroom. Paige sits in the shower in a blood-soaked top and boxers while Azzi sits on the counter cleaning a set of blood-covered knives. “What are you doing?”

You seemed to have scared them because both their heads twist at an odd angle, and their eyes seem wild as they take you in. Azzi is the first to react, trying to pull you close, but you push away and stumble slightly on the doorframe. “Babe did have a nightmare, let's get you back to bed.” Azzi steps into the hall, and you dart downstairs. “Babe, come back. It’s not what it looks like. Please come back.” Azzi corners you into the kitchen, the knife still in her hand. “ You know what you are so afraid of?”Azzi smiles, but it seems more threatening than sweet. “I am scared because my girlfriends are the fucking ghostface killers” You shout throwing a Vase at her. It makes contact with the ground and shatters just short of her feet. “Now, that wasn’t very nice, babe.” Azzi steps over the glass, trapping you between her body and the sink.

“You’ve known us forever, you know we wouldn’t kill someone unless they deserved it.”Azzi uses her free hand to wipe your face. “You killed a girl on your team, not to mention whoever you killed tonight. “You try to pull away but can’t due to the lack of space. “She deserved it, you didn’t have to listen to the way she talked about you.”Azzi, let her head fall into the crook of your neck. “She talked about me.” You questioned, looking down at her, panicked. “She talked about you alot about how much she wanted to fuck you. About how since you already had the two of us you wouldn’t mind letting her fuck you too.” Azzi growls, lifting her head to hold eye contact with you. You lean forward, capturing her lips with your own. While kissing, you slip your hand into the sink behind you, searching for anything. Your hand closes around a frying pan. You bring the pan around, smacking it into the side of Azzi’s head. She stumbles back, leaving you with room to run for the back door.

You sprint through the hall and throw yourself against the door, pushing it open from sheer force alone. You run barefoot through the backyard trying to get as far as you can. What you may have forgotten is that your girlfriends, or were they your killers, were now great athletes. You're surprised when Paige snatches you around the waist, picking you up and throwing you over her shoulder. She carries you inside while you kick and scream, trying to get away. She drops you on your bed upstairs, and you sit up quickly. Azzi stands at the door, keeping you trapped. Paige sits at the edge of your bed.

“You have to understand, baby,” Paige starts, her voice soft. “Understand that you killed people.”You shout. “We killed them for you. To protect you, Paige sets her hand on your thigh, and you fight the urge to pull away. “Then why call me, why say those nasty things?” Paige sighs, rubbing her free hand over her face. “To keep you from being a suspect. You are the only thing connecting all the victims.” Paige states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. “I still don’t get why you had to kill her. “If we just beat her up, she would talk, that's why. There can’t be any witnesses,”Azzi explains.

The three of you startle as the garage door opens. “They must be back early. Probably watched the new” Paige explains. “We need to know if you're in or out. If you're out, just know we will have to kill you and them. We don’t want to, but we will if you force us to.” Azzi leaves the door open to sit at your side. You take a breath, considering your options. “I'm in, but the killing stops tonight.”

[pez3639]

Rockstar's Boyfriend

Luke Hughes x guitarist! reader

A/N: agh this took forever to put together yall. pls don't be a flop. this will be a fun series, but will probably have suuuuper slow updates (im so sorry 😭) the band poster was made by me with the three girls being from The Warning. all pictures are from pinterest as well. lmk if this is even readable or if there are any suggestions for future formats MWAH 😽

Lysistrata.Official: Crowd was straight up insane. Be on the lookout for our next surprise show. Love yall forever.

Liked by y/n_riffs, lhughes_06, penny.bangs, and others

penny.bangs: Who are those Divas??

↳Fan1: Literal Icon

↳iris_siri: My pretty pretty girl

↳y/n_riffs: why am i always third wheeling in my own band.

Fan2: that crowd diver was the coolest

Fan3: Need another show ASAP pls

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y/n_riffs: Pablo's the only one keeping me sane, the basement reeks of cheap wine, and we definitely DIDNT partake in illicit substances... also i got dragged into a hockey sidequest???

y/n_riffs tagged penny.bangs, iris_siri, and njdevils

Liked by penny.bangs, iris_siri, njdevils, lhughes_06, and others.

iris_siri: Give Pablo a kiss for me. AND YOU KNOW YOU LOVED THE BOY AQUARIUM!

↳y/n_riffs: boy aquarium lowkey went hard (need that man)

↳penny.bangs: that man needs YOU

lhughes_06: banger after banger

↳jackhughes: 🤨 📸

↳lhughes_06: am i not allowed to listen to good music

↳trevorzegras: bros down bad

♥️liked by y/n_riffs

njdevils: Rock on! National Anthem happening soon...?

♥️liked by y/n_riffs

↳fan1: crossover episode

↳fan2: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

penny.bangs: smoke circle went crazy.

↳fan3: i love this all female, gay, stoner, loser band

↳y/n_riffs: @/Lysistrata.official new bio?

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penny.bangs: playing drums, kissing girls, blah blah blah, im so cool.

penny.bangs tagged iris_siri and y/n_riffs

liked by iris_siri, y/n_riffs, fayewebster, and others

iris_siri: I LOVE YOU!

↳penny.bangs: i lobe you more

↳y/n_riffs: i hate happy couples.

↳iris_siri: And we love you

↳penny.bangs: need snoopy to hurry tf up and bag you so youre not miserable anymore.

↳y/n_riffs: i hate you even more now

fan1: cutest couple to exist

fan2: I just KNOW she was sweating trying to beat y/n in guitar hero

♥️liked by penny.bangs

fayewebster: dream openers

↳y/n_riffs: excuse me, WHAT?

↳iris_siri: 👀

↳penny.bangs: on my knees

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iris_siri: time of my life with my friends and my love <3

iris_siri tagged penny.bangs, y/n_riffs, and nyrangers

liked by y/n_riffs, nyrangers, and others

y/n_riffs: i keep seeing pics from the party that i do NOT remember being in...

↳iris_siri: the pictures dont lie

fan1: She is the moment

nyrangers: this is why the lead singer is always the fave #letsgorangers

↳y/n_riffs: didnt yall lose to the devs that game...

↳iris_siri: dont be a hater miss ma'am

fan2: i dont know if i want to be her or be with her

♥️liked by iris_siri

↳fan3: she has a gf already 😔

↳fan4: she liked it...tea

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lhughes_06: Celly worthy times right here

lhughes_06 tagged _quinnhughes, jackhughes, lysistrata.official, and y/n_riffs.

liked by _quinnhughes, jackhughes, y/n_riffs, and others

_quinnhughes: looking good bro

↳jackhughes: wonder who he got it from

↳trevorzegras: Definitely Mrs. Hughes 😁

↳lhughes_06: blocked.

fan1: wait a minute...the concert...the tags...

↳fan2: why is this not being talked about more.

↳fan3: Maybe he just likes the music?

↳fan1: he is an avid country listener...someones cooking here

↳fan4: AND he only tagged y/n

njdevils: we ♥️ #43

iris_siri: @/y/n_riffs girl...

↳penny.bangs: hold on shes hyperventilating rn

↳y/n_riffs: im actually dead rn 🧍‍♀️

♥️ liked by lhughes_06

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[grain-of-sando]

i don't believe this (i'm in love again!)

cm punk x reader

You don't watch wrestling. You don't know why you even agreed to go to this wrestling show. However, you DO know that whoever the cutie that's in the ring right now seems to be looking directly at you.

OR

CM Punk sees you in the crowd and falls in love.

WORD COUNT: 3007 TAGS: gender neutral reader, meet-cute, ecw/roh punk, punk is in luvvvv TITLE INSPO: hit by the sugarcubes

(cross-posted to ao3, read here !!)

You don’t really watch wrestling. Like, at all.

On a Saturday night, you normally would be staying inside and watching a crappy movie while barely awake, but instead, you’re sitting inside of a venue watching a match all because your friend begged you to go with her. She promised she’d pay for a meal afterwards, and it’s not like you have anything to do, so you begrudgingly went.

Despite your hesitance, you were having a good time watching, even though you didn’t have a clue what was happening. Maybe the Ancient Greeks were onto something with Gladiators, because every single move that happened in the ring made the whole crowd erupt like animals.

As you asked something to your friend about how much longer this is gonna be on for, the entrance music of a new wrestler suddenly filled the room, making some of the more dedicated wrestling fans start cheering. You looked around to see who was entering until you saw him.

Oh my god, he’s cute.

While you watched this wrestler you had no clue about sauntering out into the ring, you shamelessly ogled at him. He came out in a black zip-up jacket with a white stripe across the chest, along with some red shorts and some generic black boots. As he combed his taped-up hands through his bleached hair, you could make out a piercing on his lip with the silvery metal glimmering from the light upstage. Despite his more alternative look, his face looked full of energy, which says a lot considering you weren’t sitting close to him in the slightest.

Not to mention he had a great build… You probably had no chance, but it doesn’t hurt to stare.

“Who is that?” you yelled while leaning over to your friend. The room was so loud that your yell was equivalent to a whisper. Your friend looked over at you and shouted back, “CM Punk!”

You were about to ask her what the hell CM meant, but as you were glancing back at this CM Punk guy, you noticed it felt like he was looking at you.

Okay, don’t be delusional.

You blinked a couple of times to make sure you weren’t being crazy, but the more you looked at him, the more it felt like he was truly staring at you. You gave a smile in case he truly was looking, and maybe you’re truly insane, but you could’ve sworn he smiled back.

-

“Okay, okay, maybe you were right,” you started, walking out of the arena with your friend. “Wrestling is fun to watch. I was wrong. Happy now?”

“Now I am!” your friend replied, snickering. You were about to ask her where she parked, but suddenly your friend stopped walking and said, “Oh, shoot, would you mind if I run to the bathroom really quickly before we go?”

“Go do your thing, I’ll wait here,” you assured, waving her off. She gave you a little “I’ll be quick” before she scurried back into the arena, leaving you standing in the cold outside. The parking lot was full of people shuffling into their cars and talking amongst themselves about the different matches.

As you looked around and fiddled with the hem of your shirt, you heard a voice behind you.

“Uhm, hi, hey,” the voice started. You turned around, shocked when you realized the voice was CM Punk. He looked tired and less… well, half naked, with him sporting a grey shirt under his jacket and some regular blue jeans.

Was he really looking at you during the match after all?

“I, um.. I saw you in the audience,” CM Punk started, fidgeting with his hands as he spoke. “I knew I'd be mad at myself if I didn’t try and talk to you.”

He seemed to be nervous, but his eyes remained fixed on you, which gave you the opportunity to admire their hazel-green color. God, he looked even cuter when face-to-face with you. You must’ve been a saint in a past life because karma had to be the only reason he would even notice you.

As you guys exchanged your hellos and formalities, he asked, “Do you, umm… have any plans right now?” You might’ve accidentally given him a funny look at his question, because he immediately started to backtrack and say, “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a creep, I just… would you maybe wanna go grab a bite with me?”

You were about to say yes in a heartbeat before you remembered your friend. Crap, she was your ride home…

“Um.. I’d love to, can I just call my friend super quickly?” you say, trying to smoothly pull your phone out from your pocket. CM Punk nodded and said, “Sure, sure, take your time.” If you didn’t end up going out to eat with him, at least you know he’s nice.

You stepped away and quickly sped through your contacts to find your friend, silently pleading for her to pick up for every ring. The second you heard her voice, you immediately started speaking.

“Hey, sorry this is sudden, but you know that CM Punk guy that just wrestled, like, 20 minutes ago?” you said quietly, trying to seem casual about how excited you are over this.

Your friend said on the other line, “Uhm, yeah, duh, what about him?”

You paused. “Okay, so… He may have just asked me out.”

“…Lying is a sin, you know that, righ-”

“I’m not lying!” you argue. “He just asked me if I wanna go get food with him, but I didn’t want to abandon you since that’s kind of a crappy move-”

“If you’re telling the truth and he seriously just asked you out, I’d be pissed if you didn’t go!” your friend interrupted you. “Go get that man!” You gave a sigh of relief and said, “Okay, okay, see you tomorrow then!”

With that, you hung up and turned back to CM Punk. “Well, where to?”

“I know there’s a diner nearby,” he said, seeming way more relieved at you officially accepting his offer. “My car’s somewhere in this area, except I can't see shit in the dark…” He muttered that last part, but you still caught it and giggled at his annoyance.

The two of you walked around the parking lot until he pointed to a grey car in the distance, picking up his pace. When the two of you reached the car, he quickly unlocked the car and hopped into the driver’s seat while you opened the passenger side door. His car wasn’t anything fancy, and honestly, the inside was pretty cluttered, but you didn’t care in the slightest. He could’ve had Fred Flintstone’s car, and you would still be gushing.

“Sorry for the mess,” he said, picking up some of the random receipts and junk lying on the passenger seat.

“Don’t worry, my car’s not any better,” you assured knowing damn well you clean your car regularly, sitting down and closing the car door. He grabbed the steering wheel, tapping on it with his fingers before saying, “Um… I don’t do this often. I don’t, y’know, normally ask out people after matches.”

He looked over at you. “..and I wasn’t even expecting you to not reject me from the get-go. You’re really gorgeous. Out of my league by a mile,” he said earnestly, gazing at you in a way that made you know he wasn’t just trying to flatter you.

You gave him a bashful smile and said, “You’re not giving yourself nearly enough credit.” You couldn’t see his face very clearly in the dark, but you could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks turn ever-so-slightly redder.

Punk turned his key on the ignition and started slowly pulling out of the parking space, scanning around for the exit in the dark lot.

-

You and Punk arrived at a small diner near the area that seemed to be aiming for a 50s vibe, but then again, all diners have that “sort-of-vintage-sort-of-given-up” decor. He pulled into the parking lot and rummaged through his center console until he pulled a beat-up leather wallet.

Taking the key out of the ignition, he turned to look at you again and said, “Okay, ready to go?” You nodded and opened the door, moving over to his side and walking into the diner together.

After sitting down and ordering your meals from the waitress, you turned your attention back to your date. In the diner’s artificial light, you could see him way clearer compared to in the dark outside. His eyes looked more visibly tired, probably because he just got pummelled by a grown man not even an hour ago. As he shrugged off his jacket, you noticed his tattoos more clearly. Sure, you saw he was tattooed when he was out in the ring, but it’s hard to pick up detail when you aren’t face-to-face with the guy. As his hand pulled on the sleeves of his jacket while taking it off, you noticed the tattoo on his hand that said ‘NO GIMMICKS NEEDED’, not to mention his knuckle tattoos that spelled out ‘DRUG FREE’… You barely had a conversation with him so far, but his tattoos seemed to tell a story in themselves.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Punk jokes, grinning at your obvious staring. You yanked your gaze back to his eyes, slightly embarrassed, saying, “Sorry! I just – I really like your tattoos.” “Oh? Thank you,” Punk looked down at his arms as if he forgot he had ink on him. “You got any yourself?”

You shook your head. “I wish. I just don’t have any good ideas for what I’d wanna put on my body, like, permanently.” As you spoke, you aimlessly admired the heart tattoo he had near the inside of his arm. “Trust me, if I had a good idea, it’d be on me already.”

“If it makes you feel any better…” Punk lifted the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing to reveal his large Pepsi tattoo resting atop his shoulder. “I don’t have the most meaningful tattoos ever.” As he let go of his sleeve, he rested his elbows on the table and leaned closer to you. “I think you’d look great both with and without tattoos, though.”

Just as you were about to compliment him back, the waiter came strolling over with your guys' drinks and plates of food. After taking a bite from your surprisingly good burger, you looked back up at Punk, who must have been starving after his match because a good third of his burger had already been scarfed down.

“So, how’s it like being a wrestler?” you asked, making him perk up. “Sorry, that’s probably a lame question,” you backtracked, taking a sip of whatever soda you ordered. Punk shook his head and replied, “No, no, it’s not lame, wrestling’s… a very weird career, to say the least.”

“Weird?”

“Well, for starters, I get paid to get beat up and beat up other guys,” Punk jokes, making you stifle a laugh. “It’s definitely fun, though. Not for everybody, but I’m not everybody,” Punk quipped while stuffing his face with the fries he ordered.

“Do you only do wrestling?” you followed up. “Like, for work, I mean.” Punk nodded, swallowing before continuing, “I used to work at a comic book store, but once my wrestling career took off, I just stuck to this.”

“That’s enough about me, though… what do you do for work?” Punk asked, sipping his drink. You still feel like you don’t know nearly enough about this guy, but if he’s asking you questions, who are you to not like the attention?

“I’m in school right now,” you say, “I’m getting my bachelor’s, but I work as a receptionist part-time.” You pause, trying to get through your words without seeming like such a bore. “It is not as cool as wrestling, that’s for sure.”

Punk chuckled at your own self-deprecation before adding, “–way less injuries, though.”

“If injuries are your dealbreaker, I think you might be in the wrong line of work,” you jokingly counter.

Punk laughed at that, sipping his drink before saying, “You think?”

“Wait, wait, wait.. now I need to ask,” you start, “What is the worst injury you’ve ever gotten?”

Punk thought to himself for a moment – okay, if he’s thinking, then at least he didn’t get something crazy – before answering, “I once fractured my skull.”

Wow, nevermind.

“Okay, I was gonna explain, you can pick up your jaw,” Punk chastised, smiling at your shock. “It was… I wanna say it was near the beginning of my career. I tried to do a neckbreaker move, and I thought I broke my neck while the match was going on, which, y’know, that’s still–” Punk furrowed his brow and winced, “– but whatever. Anyways, once the match was over, it felt like the biggest challenge just walking from the ring to backstage.”

“Other than that… maybe a broken nose,” Punk finished, acting like he just told you a mildly infuriating anecdote, meanwhile you were still trying to envision how the hell a fractured skull probably feels like. You shook your head and commented, “I don’t know if I’ve ever even gotten, like, a fraction of that level of pain.”

“Trust me, you’re not missing out,” Punk noted, stuffing his face with some of his fries.

The two of you talked casually about your guys’ lives and interests as you ate ��� or, in the case of Punk, inhaled – your meals. When the waiter came back to ask about dessert, Punk raised an eyebrow at you as if to silently ask if you were still hungry, but it was getting late, and you unfortunately had work the next morning. Once Punk – who insisted on paying for your food despite you telling him you were definitely capable enough to pay for your own $8 meal – covered the bill, the two of you walked back out into the cold and into his car.

While Punk turned the car on and adjusted the heating, you looked over at him. A nearby light pole was casting a halo around his silhouette, making him look otherworldly despite his unassuming look. The light against his jet-black hair made him look like a solar eclipse you can’t seem to look away from.

“What?” Punk asked you, noticing you staring. “Do I got somethin’ on me?” He brought his hands up to half-hazardly wipe whatever he assumed was the reason for your gawking. Instead, you just shook your head and said, “You just look really good right now.”

“You know, it’s unfair how nervous you make me,” Punk teased while starting his attempt to pull out of the parking lot.

As Punk merged onto the nearby road, he glanced over at you and asked, “Where do I turn?”

“Keep going down this road,” you signaled, all while digging in your pocket for your phone. All your most recent messages have been your friend begging for details on your date, so you sent a quick ‘on my way home’ text to hopefully satisfy at least her craving for how long the date was.

As Punk drove, the two of you mostly sat in silence, only broken up by your directions. The lack of conversation wasn’t awkward; if anything, it felt comforting being able to sit in each other's presence without feeling an obligation to keep speaking. As the two of you reached closer and closer to your house, you told him to make a turn at the Circle K nearby.

“Just drop me off here,” you said, pointing to the convenience store’s neon sign. Punk turned into the lot, but he furrowed his brow and asked, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I wanted to pick up a few things anyway.” Punk parked at the front of the lot before proceeding to rummage through the center console of his car for a pen and an old receipt for CVS.

“I have another show here tomorrow,” he started, flipping the receipt over to the back while scrawling something on it, “but in case you can’t make it…”

After he finished writing, he held out the receipt with his phone number on the back. “Give me a call sometime. I really enjoyed hanging out with you.”

You grabbed the receipt from his hands, giving him a bashful smile. “I enjoyed it too.”

You held the receipt, but your hand didn’t move away from his. Instead, the two of you just held onto it while staring at each other. He had a soft expression, but the fiery glint he always seemed to have in his eyes made you feel like you were all he was focused on right now. You noticed his eyes seemed to be bouncing from your eyes to your lips.

“Can.. can I ki–”

You cut him off by answering his question before he could even get all the words out, closing the distance between you two with a soft kiss. His lips felt soft against yours, and although you could’ve stayed in his car and kissed him senseless for eternity, your body was aching to go back home as fast as possible.

You pulled away and looked at his astonished expression. His hazel eyes looked so blown out you would’ve assumed they were black if you didn’t know their true tone, slightly widened just looking at you like you’re an angel descended from the heavens. You tried not to giggle at his expression, instead moving some of the stray hairs out of his face before grabbing the receipt.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” you say. Punk nodded, seemingly still starstruck and saying “yeah, yeah” while you opened the door and stepped out. You waved goodbye at him before closing the door and scurried over to the front of the Circle K. You watched him reverse out of the lot and drive off as the wind blew against you.

You just met him, but somehow it felt like you’ve been wanting to know him your whole life.

(let me know if you enjoyed reading!!! im new to posting on tumblr so lord knows i need all the interaction i can get LOL)