#even if you already called you can do it again

[cheralith]

characters ; michael kaiser cw ; fem!reader, she/her pronouns, childhood best friends, implied fwb, fluff-ish?, some smut so explicit content/smut (18+ only, mdni) a/n ; sorryyy last blurb for the day and then ill head to bed, i couldn't help myself

kaiser only has only had sex with two people in his life. you, his long-term friend from childhood and some other girl he doesn't remember the name of.

you gave each other your virginities in your blooming adult years, given that you were the only person that kaiser entrusted with such a vulnerable moment of himself. it was heaven on earth when he reached his first orgasm from you that wasn't by his own means, and he ended up chasing that high over and over again with you, always ending up in bed together whenever you stayed at his apartment. something about you feels safe, feels fitting, as if you were made for solely him.

the only other time he's had sex with another person was during a post-game party where a bunch of models were invited over to the clubhouse to celebrate. you're not technically in a relationship with him (disregard the fact that he took you out on what would be interpreted to literally everybody as dates, gifted you expensive things, would kiss you in unexpected moments merely because he felt like it, and has a picture of you in his wallet to help calm him down in frustrating moments. that doesn't mean anything. you’re just best friends.) and kaiser thinks that he should at least try to venture out with other people while he was still able to. you were abroad overseas during the time, so kaiser, who usually stalked off and did his own thing with you in his apartment after games like these, chose to stay behind for once to see what the hubbub was about.

he has his eyes set on a rather attractive woman and they end up in a hotel together, with her kissing his neck in an attempt to wind him up. he has his hands on her waist, but something about this feels... off. sure, he's hard, but when he juts himself into her, it doesn't feel right. it doesn't feel good on his end. he pulls moan after moan from her, but the pleasure for him has yet to appear, just barely feathering his nerves but not enough to truly drive him up the wall in the way he's familiar with. this seems more like a chore to him.

he feels it sometimes, and he tries to take advantage of it whenever it came by, but when he attempts to do so in one particular moment where she's riding him, she suddenly gets off and throws a glare his way.

kaiser sits up, clearly irritated at the fact she just short-circuited his orgasm. "what the hell? why'd you stop?"

she gathers her things and shuffles herself back into her outfit, huffing. "moaning out another girl's name? god, you're a dick."

"what the fuck are you talking about?" he spats.

"i don't know who (y/n) is—" she says with an edge to her tone, the sound of your name making his dick twitch. "but if she's some sort of ex you have, i feel sorry for her. sort it out, but don't drag me into it."

kaiser's eye twitches at the mention of her smothering your name in regards to him. he didn’t even notice the fact that he was even making any sound, let alone grunting out your name when you weren’t the one he was with.

he grits his teeth. "shut the hell up and get out."

"i was already planning to," she spits and escorts herself out the room, leaving kaiser half blue-balled to his disdain.

he groans, feeling his hard-on still rigid underneath the sheets. he pulls out his phone and opens your contact, where your flight details that you sent over to him lay out on the screen. you’ll be back tomorrow morning, thank god, but kaiser isn’t sure if he can wait that long. agitated, he presses the call button.

you pick up a moment later to his relief.

“hi there,” you murmur softly from your end.

kaiser feels another twitch, your sweet voice echoing in his mind. “hey.”

“you’re calling rather late,” you say, a concern evident in your voice. “everything okay?”

he goes silent for a minute, trying to think of what to say.

“… yes.”

you hum lowly on the other end, clearly unconvinced. “don’t lie to me, micha,” you warn.

“i’m not,” he groans as he rubs his forehead, attempting to filter out his frustration. “i just… i don’t know. i just miss you, that’s all.”

you give a soft, sweet laugh, a melody kaiser finds himself enjoying over and over again. “the great michael kaiser… missing somebody? what a feat.”

“don’t test me, you dumb girl,” he hisses, thumb hovering over the red button, though it’s clear he doesn’t want to press it or go near it at all. “i’ll end this call right now.”

“i’m kidding, you idiot,” you singsong playfully. “but… i miss you too, micha. a lot, actually.”

it’s been nearly a week since you’ve gone abroad for the business trip. seven days too long without you. he wants you back here with him in germany, in his arms where only you belong.

“when you come back tomorrow,” kaiser begins lowly, “d’you wanna hang out at my place?”

he can sense your smile through the phone. “i’d like that.”

he sighs contently. he figures that there’s no one else in the world he can picture himself with as relief settles into his chest, the thought of you underneath him with a lustful haze on your face staining his mind and bringing ease back into his body.

[specialgradefckr]

Satoru Gojo who thinks you're only with him for the money.

He's pretty insufferable, after all. And a shitty boyfriend to boot - always bailing on dates, showing up at weird times, telling you vague stories about his work that don't make sense.

Honestly he's surprised you've stuck around this long.

That you still read every message he spams you when he's bored and lonely fighting special grade curses.

(after all, he always has to go on those missions alone. there's no one who can go with him.)

You still text him back. Open the door to let him in. Smile when you see him, like it's the very first time and he can tell you're just so star-struck by his eyes as he tugs down his blindfold with a grin, "Do I look blind to you?" "Blindingly handsome!"

He'd laughed at that. You're shocked by his appearance, but you're earnest, and so obviously smitten, and he loves a woman with a little humor.

Satoru Gojo who didn't expect you to text him back after the first night, but you did.

cutie pie: omg, those look so good! what flavor? satoru: my favorite, the edamame and cream~ cutie pie: bring some for me next time you visit <3 i'll feed them to you ;)

On a lesser man, that might have sounded presumptuous. To Satoru, it's the perfect come-on. Casual, flirty, and easy to do - all the makings of a great hookup.

He hadn't expected to spend half the night on his knees like a dog, licking at your fingers. Watering over a thumb pressed down against his tongue while you drooled your mochi-sweet saliva straight into his open mouth.

Unexpected, but amazing! Satoru knew then that you were going to be a treat worth savoring.

It was just a shame that he could only enjoy you for one night.

Not even that much, really. He'd been called away in bed; one arm wrapped around your darling naked form, holding you pressed against him.

Left while you were asleep without a word. He'd texted you on the way, a blase little "sowwyyyyy smth came up! u were gr8 last night." and no real expectations of a return.

If you were (reasonably) upset with him, he'd block you - his one act of kindness to a woman he couldn't treat right.

Instead he gets "thanks! you weren't so bad yourself haha" and your enthusiasm is obviously a bit defused, but he can work with this.

He lays it out to you, next chance he gets. Tries to text you often enough to make sure you don't think he's ghosted you.

"I know this might sound like the kind of thing married men say," He says with a big, sardonic smile, "But I have a very demanding job. I don't have time for a relationship. And for personal reasons, I can't agree to be exclusive, either."

There's a look you give him that makes him wonder what exactly you think of his job. Satoru vaguely wonders if you think he's a sex worker.

He hopes you try to find him on porn websites later. Maybe he should film himself jerking off real quick sometime so you can watch it.

"That makes sense," Is what you say, instead of any of the ridiculous thinks he'd imagined.

You don't seem thrilled about it, but you don't look immeasurably disappointed, either. You're a smart girl. You'd probably already figured he couldn't commit.

"But!" He chirps, "I am very very interested in seeing you again. Multiple agains. And I'd like to come to an arrangement that makes that easier for you, since my schedule is so tight..."

For a moment, you stay quiet, and Satoru wonders if he should just offer you cash upfront. But you're receptive, and things go well.

Worryingly well, to be honest. What type of girl are you, exactly? Naughty thing. Get money from a lot of men, do you?

You laugh when he tries to bring it up in bed, "You're one to talk, Mr. can't-promise-exclusivity," you tease, running a hand through his hair while you smile at him.

He likes it when you do that. He likes a lot of things you do.

The real wonder is - although he is absolutely spectacular in bed of course - how much do you like it?

The whole relationship has to happen on his shitty, inconsistent schedule. He can't commit to a relationship or tell you about his job - you're better off that way. Even if you don't know.

Satoru Gojo who pretends to go on dates with other girls sometimes just so that no one watching him thinks he's serious about you. He can't have the Higher Ups thinking of you as a tool to use against him.

He can't even offer you exclusivity. Even if he wants to. Even if he struggles to get it up with those girls - his heart just isn't it in - when he's making sure everyone who's watching him knows you're just one of several people he's having sex with.

After all, the only thing that could be worse than people thinking you were the strongest sorcerer's weakness, was if they thought you might be pregnant with the strongest sorcerer's child.

But if he's fucking around, if he's the whore his so-called superiors make him out to be - then you're safe. Just another girl.

And god, does he take advantage of it.

Texting you late at night. Early in the morning. Times don't mean a lot to him these days.

The most sleep he ever gets is the rare night he spends with you, maybe once or twice a month, five hours in your arms before he pulls himself away and slinks out of bed while you're still asleep like a guilty dog.

He doesn't deserve your warmth or your bed. But he'll take it while you're offering. Eat it all up and beg shamelessly for seconds.

He makes up for it with money, or tries to. Leaves you treats and sweets and other gifts. Spam texts you and facetimes you constantly - when he can.

To be perfectly honest, he's kind of expecting to be dumped any day. He'll take whatever he can get.

If paying your rent or buying you a house makes you feel guilty enough to stay a few days longer with him, that's a good use of his money.

He arranges for you to receive an offer for a remote job, something flexible that will let you meet him whenever he comes calling.

His gifts get more lavish. He's always generous in bed, makes sure you have a good time.

He has a reputation to uphold, after all.

Sometimes he just stares at you when you're asleep. It feels like a waste to spend his precious few hours with you sleeping.

Look at you. All peaceful in his arms. Cuddling up to him.

He can admit, in the dead of night, with no witnesses but himself; the sight makes his heart tug.

If he could, he'd stay. Wake up next to you in the morning. Make breakfast, flirt, joke, maybe even take a little ~morning shower~ and have some fun in there.

It's so clear in his head. How you'd joke back. Smile and giggle and playfully bump against him. Give him a little kiss, a little hug before he leaves for work.

You would kiss his forehead when he got migraines. Hug him when he talks about his difficulties at work.

Your soft smile, your warm lips, your tight hug. It's all so vivid in his head. How you'd look in the morning light, staring at him while you think he's asleep.

Would you stare? What would show on your face, then?

He tries, very hard, not to imagine what your face must look like when you wake up alone every time you sleep with him.

What you think about when he's not there.

Do you wonder if he's with other women? Do you see his flirty texts - "sorry kitten daddy's gotta work late" "babygirl you're not my dad, he goes to bed at 9." - and wonder if he's said that to a hundred other girls?

Because he has. And that's what hurts, really. He could message a hundred girls and get a hundred vapid responses, all those notifications could build up in his phone and he wouldn't care.

But when it's you messaging him?

When you tell him about your day, or text him a picture, or pick up on the rare phone call he gets to make - Satoru's heart skips a beat.

What about you? He thinks about you checking your phone constantly to see anything from him, and it hurts.

You don't show any unhappiness about the arrangement. Every gift, every little arrangement or donation he makes, you accept it all with grace. Everything money can buy is yours, he makes that clear.

As long as you're with him, he'll spoil you rotten. And you were starstruck in the beginning, he could tell.

Expensive hotels, exclusive restaurants. First class flights everywhere, even a private jet if you want it. He brings you custom made jewelry worth more than people make in a year, pulls it out of his pocket and clasps it around your wrist like a passing trinket.

You get used to the constant spa days, the shopping trips. Ordering food for every meal. Living in a city center in a beautiful penthouse with brilliant fixtures. And you're happy like that. At least you look like you are.

But every time he sees you, you're with him. He can't tell if you miss him, if you're sad when he's not there.

He... he sort of doesn't want to know.

Satoru Gojo who loves you. And he hopes to god you don't love him back.

After all, if you did, then you'd want things from him he can't give. Shouldn't give.

But if all you love is his money? He's got tons of it. You can have as much as you want. He can make you happy. He can buy the love he can't afford to earn. He'll never run out of funds.

As long as it's only his money you love, he can have you forever.

[hetchdrive]

#I have several frustrations with the 'executive function theft' framework that I haven't been able to articulate#Like it's absolutely extremely a real phenomenon I think framing it that way points in the wrong direction #And I think 'outsourcing admin work to nowhere' actually gets a lot closer.

#Everyone has massively cut their support staff everwhere.#supposedly automation makes up for this gap except that it literally doesn't at all#You can fire 90% of your office staff and replace them with a phone tree#And all that happens is everyone hates it and it sucks and it makes your service completely unnavigable#But like. Who is going to stop you?

#Everyone has done this in every industry and field. There is no alternative you can turn to preferentially because they actually staff thei#phones. No one does!!#Let alone any means of communication outside of phone calling. Which remains the absolute bottom line of getting any info out of anywhere#You can cut your office hours because everything is on the website! Which you haven't updated in 5 years and the plugin broke and

#Basically the same principle we're seeing now in the rollout of AI has already been the status quo. The idea that you can just get rid of#all human support services. Replace them with some automated function.

#On the corporate side the logic is clear: once you have a monopoly (and who doesnt) the only way to increase profits is to cut costs#which means fire people. And if the quality of service tanks who cares because everyone's stuck with you anyway.

#on the government services side it's a bit more opaque.... I guess it probably mostly comes back to cost-cutting again.#Budget pressure. Reforms designed to strangle services.#Plus the longtime practice of throttling government support by making the logistical burden too onerous to handle#By way of wretched clauses about eligibility and the proving therof and etc

#And there's a very real and brutal class component also.#Everyone making these firing calls is totally insulated from the effects of their decisions because they have personal assistants.#Meanwhile the people dealing with the most of this shit are anyone trying to access social services of any sort#or even just do or get things cheaply.

via @screambirdscreaming

(reformatted into paragraphs for easier reading) these tags get to the root of the problem in a way I'd like to see more people acknowledging, honestly.

I saw a post the other day that was pointing out how people selling AI frame AI as some genius worksaving innovation or as a tool based on whether they want to cater to the ego of middle management types whose entire job is answering emails, because obviously the people whose jobs are most able to be replaced by AI are middle management email answering jobs.

I think what is missing from the understanding that "middle management types who answer emails can easily have their jobs replaced by AI" thought is that while they are being paid to answer emails, their jobs actually consist of a bunch of soft skills which they are not getting acknowledgment or payment for, in a lot of cases due to this work being done by women and other marginalized people for whom this work is the only thing allowing them to achieve middle class status. The DEI purge happening in the American federal government is happening on the devaluation of soft skills that communication based jobs need to be done well, because the job can be automated to be done badly by moving the actual work of that job to the "customer".

I think this is just a trend everywhere but I've been very frustrated this week by how much admin work is being outsourced to me as the patient/customer.

My orthodontist tells me I can make an appointment with the surgeon. I call the surgeon. They tell me I need a new referral. I call the orthodontist. They do a referral. I call the surgeon. Referral didn't come through. They tell me about their special unique system we have to use. I call the ortho again and walk them through the referral. I call the surgeon. They say the referral was missing some details so they have to do it again. I call the ortho.

The insurance company calls me about repair shops. I give them the name of the repair shop which I already gave them yesterday. They say they're not in their system but I can use them, but I have to call the repair shop to ask them to contact the insurance company. I call the repair shop and they say the insurance company is supposed to email them.

I feel like at a certain point these constant fetch quests become unreasonable?? Is it too much to expect these groups to communicate with each other instead of making me run back and forth between them???

[aduh0308]

Use Me Instead [Choi Beomgyu]

Summary: He can’t help it, bucking his hips into the pillow just feels so freaking good to him, the soft pressure enough to get him over the edge every night. But he hasn’t told you, and when you come home from work early one night, catching him in the act, it seems inevitable that you will find out. genre: smut Warnings: pillow humping, dacryphilia, dry humping, hair pulling (m receiving), unprotected sex, reader calls him ‘baby’, ‘good boy’, ‘Gyu’, and ‘my Gyu,’ it’s not mentioned but they’re both virgins, cockwarming, breeding kinda?, mentions of future voyeurism and exhibitionism, not proofread word count: 1.2k an: repost from my old acc for gyus bday <33

The pillow between his legs is familiar, comfortable, a calm, pleasured feeling rushing over his body as his hips slowly rut into it. 

He starts his pace slow, not bothering to muffle his moans with the pillow by his head. He knows you’re at work, and will be for at least another hour or so. Since you work the late shift, he’s managed to keep his secret, well, a secret.

It’s not like he thinks you’ll leave him if you discover what he does at night. No, that’s not it. But he’s not exactly sure what it is that makes him keep it secret. Maybe it’s just his ritual, a little dirty thing he does every night.

The thoughts leave his head as his hips continue. He’s on his stomach in the bed, the pressure between his legs is heavier this way. He has to do less when he’s in this position. Just a slow, rocking back-and-forth that stays steady right until the very end.

Soft little whimpers leave his lips, the silent night amplifying the sound. Tears wet the sheet beneath him as his pace quickens, almost frantic against the pillow. He can’t help but think of you, how you’d look on top of him, bouncing on him, how it would look to watch his dick disappear and you over and over again. He knows that he is so, so dirty for thinking these things. You two haven’t even done it yet, yet here he is, thinking of how it’d sound to hear his name falling from your lips, how it’d feel to be able to give you the pleasure that you need.

It’s these thoughts that tip him off the deep end, furiously thrusting his hips forward, the rub delicious and welcome.

He’s so, so close to cumming, when the door clicks open and he stops, caught like a deer in headlights. He freezes like pretending to be asleep will help just in case you already saw. The blanket is tucked over his legs so you can’t see how the pillow is pressed against him, and you lay yourself next to him, turning to face him.

You can tell he’s not asleep, his breathing a little too ragged, but admire how his lashes fan out against his cheeks. “Baby?” You whisper, lips a few inches from his, so close he can feel your words on his skin. “Are you awake?”

He nods slightly, eyes still shut, and you coo. “Awh, Gyu… you’re so cute.”

Beomgyu’s cheeks flush in the darkness, the sound of your voice coaxing a reaction from him that’s almost embarrassing, he risks a slight movement into the pillow. 

You notice the tiny jolt his hips do, innocently snuggling your head under the blanket to get a peek at what’s going on.

You’re met with a sight that makes you smirk, face hidden by the blanket, and Beomgyu lets out a gasp when you run a hand over the bulge in his sweats.

“I- I can't!…” he stutters your name out, too flustered by you both noticing his position and your hands on him. You hum in a question, and he shakes his head, eyes falling closed. “N-no, keep going, please…”

A smirk tugs at the edges of your lips again, you gently part his legs, the pillow hitting the ground before you’re in between his legs, thigh pressed against the imprint of his dick clear through his pants.

“Use me instead,” you instruct, voice a coo in his ear. Beomgyu’s heart is racing, but he doesn’t dare disobey, too lost in need for his own pleasure anyways.

He slowly rocks his hips against your thigh, the friction of his pants against his dick making him whimper slightly. 

The feeling of him pressed against you makes a throbbing sensation start in your pussy, and when his pace increases, you really can’t take it, your fingers trail to your clit, pressing circles, your body jolting in response.

Beomgyu’s cries of pleasure in your ear let you know he’s getting close, and you take your thigh away, a whine leaving his lips. “Please, don’t stop, ‘m so close…”

You don’t answer, fumbling to remove your pants, then his and his boxers. You don’t even bother taking off your panties, just sliding them to the side before kissing him fervently. “Gyu, need you inside,” you murmur against his lips, threading a hand through his hair.

A throaty noise of agreement is all you get in response, and you waste no time, pumping him in your fist twice before lowering yourself down. His tip grows your entrance, your thighs trembling in pleasure, and he can’t help but buck his hips up against yours, coaxing soft moans to bubble up from his lips.

You allow you both to adjust to this new position before slowly moving up and down, thighs burning from the effort. His name falls from your mouth repeatedly, your lips pressed to his neck, your grip tightening on his hair. Beomgyu’s body jolts in a response to your touch, tears pricking his eyes.

“Can you go a little faster for me, Gyu?” You request, your fingers moving to his arm, squeezing his bicep lightly.

His tall, slender frame trembles beneath you at your words, but his speed quickens, whimpers of pleasure leaving him.

You hum in approval, fingers tugging at his hair again. “Such a good boy, my Gyu…”

A small squeak escapes his lips at the name, incoherent whispers pressed to the side of your neck. They grow louder until you can hear him clearly, and within your own fog of pleasure, you smirk again.

“Say it again, please…” Beomgyu begs, eyes squeezed shut and his hands tight on your waist, quickening your speed.

“Say what?” You tease, threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “‘My Gyu’?”

He shakes his head quickly, his thrusts becoming sloppy, the tears brimming in his waterline slipping down his cheeks, his pleasure growing to an unbearable height. “Please, say again?”

You move your hands to his shoulders, gripping him tight as your own pleasure makes your legs practically go out, holding him for support as a rush of tingles spread to your legs. “My good boy, Gyu,” you moan out, lips pressed tight together.

Another whimper comes as his thrusts suddenly stop, his hips up and you slid down, your name leaving him in gasps and pleas and his body shaking, twitching slightly as his high hits him, eyes rolled back and back arched.

He looks so fucking pretty like that, fucked-out and tired, buried deep inside you, the hot sensation of his cum leaking out of you and down both your thighs and his, you can’t help but peak at the sight, holding him by his hand, his name leaving you like a chant, a mantra.

You bury your face in his neck, both your breaths ragged, and you giggle slightly. “How come you didn’t tell me you liked to use your pillow?”

His voice is breathy and low, the tone you’ve grown to love so much, when he responds. “Did… didn’t wanna, cause, I don’t know, maybe you’d think I was gross?”

You laugh slightly, laying next to him, him still inside you, your back against his chest. “I’d never think you were gross… I think it’s cute, actually. 

“You should let me watch sometime.”

[ticifics]

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫

── james potter x f!reader

summary: "I need someone to help with him until I wrap up this case. To pick him up from school and stay with him until I get home" At your silence, James felt his shoulders tense slightly. "I know it’s a lot—" "I’ll do it." "And Henry can really be a handful— Wait, what did you say?" "The job. I’ll take it."

tags n warnings: dad!james, neighbors, fluff, nanny!reader, police!james, muggle!au, no use of y/n, implication that the reader cooks well, age gap (late 20s/early 30s), suggestive, sometime in the 90s wc: 4k

To be honest, James hadn’t thought about you more than necessary. He knew you lived in the apartment next door, a distant niece of Mrs. Jones, who had cared for her in her final moments—may she rest in peace. He knew you cooked well; sometimes, the aroma of whatever you were preparing spiraled through the air into his apartment, making his mouth water. He also knew you were kind, sweet, always offering smiles and waves to Henry, sometimes even treating the boy to small sweets.

And he knew you were beautiful. Very beautiful. Always dressed in delicate clothes—fluffy sweaters, long skirts, little things with pearl buttons and ruffles. You always left behind a sweet fragrance wherever you passed. If James had thought about it, just if, he might have wondered if, instead of sleeping in a bed, you spent the night resting in a field of flowers, like one of those nymphs from fairy tales. With the pale moonlight kissing your skin, covered by nothing but the finest petals, a serene expression on your face, lips slightly parted, dreaming of little wonders. But James didn’t think about that.

He also knew you were young. Not an absurd difference, no—he guessed you were in your mid-to-late twenties, maybe a little younger than when he had Henry.

You two occasionally exchanged small courtesies. Nods, closed-lip smiles, the occasional good morning. Once, in the building’s hallway, you called out for him to hold the elevator. Which James promptly did, watching you step into the metal box, nodding when you shyly thanked him. As you rode up together, he tried not to notice the stray lock of hair that had come loose, swaying lazily against your nape. He clenched his fists at his sides, exhaling only when he stepped into his own apartment, closing the door as if it were more than just something material—as if it were a shield keeping him safe from his own thoughts.

That was all he needed to know about you.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t have problems of his own. Being a single father took up most of his time, and work was always kicking his ass, especially when a new case came up. The hours were irregular, there was always something to investigate, always. He couldn’t afford another distraction, even if he couldn’t help but steal a glance or two. The poor man wasn’t made of iron.

Stolen moments—that was all James could have.

A new homicide had occurred. They had found the mutilated body of a woman discarded in a dumpster—again. There was a killer on the loose in the city. Which meant more hours at the precinct, or in other words: James was screwed. Very screwed.

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but it never stopped being stressful. A new case demanded time, attention—dedication. It meant less time with Henry. It meant always having to find a babysitter whenever he got stuck at work. It meant coming home to find his son already asleep, even though James had promised to tell him a bedtime story.

James hated disappointing his son.

So when a free afternoon appeared, he didn’t hesitate to take Henry to the park, determined to burn off every ounce of energy a seven-year-old could have. It was a pleasant afternoon, worry-free, filled only with their laughter and the sweet taste of ice cream in an attempt to cool down after running around.

“We should do this more often,” Henry commented, still holding his father’s hand while waiting for the elevator doors to open. They had arrived at the building a few minutes earlier. The boy’s hair—the same mess of unruly strands as his father’s—looked even wilder after an afternoon outdoors. “I like when we can be together,” he added, his voice low.

James felt a tightness in his chest. His jaw tensed as he looked at his son, still so small. He wanted to offer more—but more than anything, he wanted more time. James’s parents had passed away years ago, and now, Henry’s whole family was just him. With the addition of his uncles—Sirius, Remus, and Peter, though the first preferred to be called godfather.

“I know,” James replied, squeezing his son’s hand, ignoring the ache in his chest as he continued, “I like it too, but dad—”

“Has to work,” Henry finished for him, tilting his head up with a sad smile that didn’t reach his green eyes. “I know, I just… I just wish we could spend more time together.”

A bullet would have hurt less. James swallowed the lump forming in his throat, blinking a few times as he searched for an answer.

“I’m sorry, love,” James sighed. “I wish that too. But dad has to work—someone has to pay for these glasses since a certain someone keeps breaking them almost every month.”

Henry giggled, adjusting the frame on his nose. “We also need to pay for chocolate,” he reminded him.

“Oh, yes, all the chocolate this little monster has been eating.” James smiled, ruffling his son’s hair—somehow managing to mess it up even more. With relief, he noticed the boy’s smile was real this time. “When I solve this case, I promise we’ll have more time together. We could go on a trip, what do you think?”

“A trip?”

“Yeah. Interested?”

“Yes!” Henry’s grin widened at the thought, practically bouncing with excitement, but then he paused, looking at his father with a seriousness far too heavy for someone so young. “Promise?”

James crouched until he was at eye level with his son, looking at him with the same intensity before lifting his hand, pinky finger raised. “I promise, champ.”

Henry lifted his hand too, just as serious, as if he were about to sign the most important contract of his life. Pinky promises were serious business. “It’s promised—you can’t go back on it.”

“Not even in my dreams.”

When the elevator doors finally opened, something caught Henry’s attention, and he quickly slipped into the hallway. James sighed, rolling his eyes theatrically, mumbling, “Little traitor,” as he adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder before stepping out.

A few steps later, he saw what had caught his son’s attention.

You.

Standing in front of your apartment door, though it was impossible to tell whether you were coming or going. Slightly bent forward as you spoke with Henry, your back turned to James. He stopped mid-step, feeling his mouth go dry as he watched you. As always, you were wrapped in one of those pretty outfits that made you look like one of those fine pastries displayed in a shop window.

Henry liked you. It was hard to imagine a child who wouldn’t. He had mentioned you a few times before, a dreamy smile on his face as he told his father that you had given him some cookies or let him pet Mrs. Jones’s cat. Or—much to James’s eternal embarrassment—about the time Henry, in all his innocent curiosity, had asked if you were already somebody’s mom.

Since Mrs. Jones had passed away almost four months ago, you had become the only resident of the apartment next door. And you were desperate. Very desperate.

Your life had been turned upside down ever since you moved in, taking care of your aunt during the final years of her life. It had become a full-time job, and now that she was gone, you still hadn’t been able to find another one.

Apparently, your experience as a caregiver wasn’t enough to get hired. No one seemed willing to employ a young woman who hadn’t finished college. The money your aunt had left was running out, and the bills kept piling up. The electricity bill was overdue, and you hadn’t had a hot shower in weeks.

Desperate didn’t even begin to describe your situation.

You had been standing in front of your apartment for a few minutes, fingers gripping the doorknob as you tried to steady your breathing, counting to ten as you inhaled and exhaled, fighting against the sting in your eyes. It had been another afternoon of handing out résumés, receiving looks of false sympathy as you listened to the same explanations. The staff was full, the position had already been filled, you didn’t meet the qualifications.

It was always the same bullshit.

You didn’t even notice anyone approaching until Henry stopped in front of you, his doe eyes watching you carefully.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you forced your voice to come out, rubbing your eyes roughly with the back of your hands in an attempt to wipe away the tears. A weak smile curled the corners of your mouth as you asked, “Were you at the park? You have some grass in your hair.”

You reached out, a familiar gesture, removing the strand of grass tangled in his dark hair. He didn’t pull away, and although his cheeks turned slightly pink, his dark eyebrows were still furrowed.

“Were you crying?”

Your mouth fell open in surprise at the question. Sometimes, you forgot just how observant he could be.

You looked away for a moment, clearing your throat to push back the tremor in your voice. “No. No, it was just something in my eye.”

“Uncle Remy says people say that when they don’t want to admit they were crying,” he argued. “He also always makes me hot chocolate when I’m sad. Would that make you happy?”

Warmth spread through your chest at his words, easing some of the weight on your shoulders. When another smile curved your lips, this time it was genuine. But before you could respond, his father approached.

“Henry.” He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, gently pulling him closer to his side. “What have I told you about wandering away from me like that? And you can’t just go around approaching people.”

You looked up at James, breath catching in your throat. He was a few years older and lived next door. And you weren’t blind. Ever since you had moved in, you sometimes found yourself looking at him for a second or two longer than what was socially acceptable. But who could blame you?

He was kind, polite, an attentive father. And tall, and it wasn’t like those clothes hid the muscles underneath. It was a natural reaction, that’s what you told yourself sometimes. It was just a sign that you were alive.

Before you could stop yourself, the words floated out of your mouth. “You don’t have to worry about that, Mr. Potter. Henry is a sweetheart, he never bothers me.”

His gaze slowly shifted from his son to you. The way his brows furrowed was painfully similar to Henry’s. His eyes lingered on you as if searching for something. Your shoulders tensed involuntarily, wondering if that was the same look he had when he was investigating.

“That’s a very kind way of seeing things.”

You offered a small smile in response, watching as Henry squeezed his father’s hand. “Dad?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“She was crying.”

Your heart skipped a beat, embarrassment bubbling beneath your skin. “No, I wasn’t—”

“Dad, tell her she doesn’t have to cry.” James, surprised and speechless—possibly horrified—looked at his son, mouth slightly open. Henry, undeterred, simply continued, turning back to you. “My dad’s a police officer. He won’t let anything happen to you. So you don’t have to be sad. Right, Dad?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at James, your face burning. You wondered if it would be childish of you to wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Henry,” James began, his voice tense, maybe even embarrassed. “Why don’t you go inside? You need a bath.”

“But—”

“That wasn’t a request, kid.”

Henry let out an exaggerated sigh, but when James opened the apartment door, he walked inside without further complaints, though his lips were pursed in a pout and his steps were heavy against the floor.

You bit your lip, still unable to meet James’s gaze. The silence between you stretched—thick, heavy, louder than the noise of a traffic jam. You wanted to crawl back into your apartment and pretend the last few minutes had been nothing but a delusion of your exhausted mind.

He was the first to speak.

“Sorry about that.” You hesitantly looked up, watching as he ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Henry… sometimes he can be really—”

You waved your hands dismissively, forcing a smile. “He’s just a kid. These things happen. No need to apologize.”

For a moment, you simply looked at each other. What was your next move? Your keys still dangled, forgotten, between your fingers. You should have gone inside by now. And yet, your eyes remained locked on his.

If you were a little closer, you would be able to see the edge of his contact lenses. His beard was unshaven, dark circles rested under his eyes, and his hair was in its usual state of perfect chaos. He looked tired, but no less handsome. Somehow, the evidence of sleepless nights only emphasized his features, making him more human—more approachable.

“I…” James started, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His eyes scanned your face, lingering on the way your lashes were still damp, as if you really had been crying. He knew it wasn’t his business, but the question slipped from his lips anyway.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked, surprise flooding your features. Your mouth opened, the lie at the tip of your tongue, but no words found their way out—not when he was looking at you so genuinely, almost as if he truly cared.

Which made no sense at all. In all the time you had been neighbors, you had exchanged no more than a few words.

And yet, there he was. Standing in front of you, as if he was willing to wait as long as needed for your answer.

And it had been so, so long since someone had shown any kind of concern. Your lower lip trembled, and you recognized the familiar burning in your throat. Your eyes lifted, blinking once, twice, countless times in an attempt to keep the tears at bay.

"I... I just—" you sniffled, your voice too fragile to take shape. A melancholic smile curved the corners of your lips as you wiped your eyes, feeling more miserable than ever for crying in front of your handsome neighbor. "S-sorry, this is so pathetic. I-I really—"

His hand landed on your shoulder, a comforting weight. The warmth of his palm seeped through the fabric of your blouse. You looked up at him in the same second, your heart tightening under the weight of the concern on his face.

"Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Did something happen?" he asked, his voice low, his eyes scanning over you as if searching for any injuries. "Did someone do something to you?"

You shook your head, still not trusting your voice enough to answer. James watched the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed. He had never seen you like this—so fragile, so vulnerable, like you were about to break at any moment.

He didn’t like seeing you like this.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked again, his fingers pressing gently into your shoulder, as if to emphasize his words. The feeling of touching you was still new, making his fingers tingle, even now, as he pulled back. When his gaze started to drift away, he called you again, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're not alone."

"T-thank you, Mr. Potter, but I don’t want to burden you with my problems."

"James."

"What?"

"Call me James, please. And you won’t be burdening me, I promise."

You sniffled again, still unsure how to deal with the weight in his eyes. It was easy to understand why he was a detective. It was easy to trust him.

Fighting the urge to wring your fingers, you exhaled, surprising yourself when you finally spoke. "I don’t think you can help me, Mr. Pott—James," you corrected, feeling your face heat up. "Unless you know of a place hiring someone without references."

James wondered if you could hear the gears turning in his head. It was an idea—a terrible idea. But it burned through his mind like the death of a star. It was the easiest solution to two problems. You raised an eyebrow at the expression on his face.

He wetted his lips, hesitating for only a second before speaking. "Actually, I... uh, I do."

"Really?"

James nodded in response, watching how your eyes lit up with hope. "Yeah, but..." He glanced down the empty hallway first, then back at the way your clothes were slightly rumpled after an afternoon at the park, as if carefully considering what to say next. "Can we meet in twenty minutes? To talk about it."

You nodded, hoping you didn’t seem too eager. If he really found you a job, it could be in the depths of hell, and you wouldn’t care.

James gave a short nod before stepping back through his door. You took a deep breath, sniffled one last time, then straightened your shoulders and stepped inside.

Gigi, the cat, barely waited for you to set foot inside before curling around your legs, nearly knocking you over in the process. She must be hungry.

You poured some food into her bowl before checking that everything was in order. James had never been inside, and that made you a little nervous. With nothing else to focus on, you put a kettle on the stove.

Twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at your door. Your heart skipped a beat. Forcing your legs to move, you crossed the living room, ignoring the slight tremor in your fingers as you opened the door.

"Hey," James greeted with a small smile.

His hair was still slightly damp, a strand falling over his forehead. He had changed clothes, now wearing a white shirt that stretched just a bit across his chest, his forearms exposed. He smelled like soap and clean skin. You quickly dismissed any thoughts your mind tried to entertain.

"Hi," you replied, stepping aside to let him in.

Once James entered, you shut the door. He watched as you took the lead, walking back into the living room with small steps. Unable to help himself, his eyes wandered around the space—light-colored walls, countless books stacked on a shelf, delicate curtains. It was a feminine place, well cared for.

"Would you like some tea?"

James blinked, processing your words. "Oh, sure. Please."

You disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, and when you returned, James was still standing in the same spot, as if his feet had grown roots into the floor. It felt strange having him here, as if the place was too small to contain him.

"Please, have a seat," you motioned toward the couch with your chin. James obeyed promptly, sinking into the plush cushions, watching you place a tray on the coffee table and expertly pour two cups of Earl Grey. His eyes followed the movements of your hands, the way your fingers looked so delicate.

"How do you take it?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Your tea, how do you like it?"

"With cream and two spoons of honey, please."

When you handed him the cup, your fingers brushed by accident, sending a shiver down his spine. James cleared his throat, taking a sip, the rich, sweet taste spreading across his tongue. It was perfect.

He sighed, a sound of pure satisfaction, as he took another sip. "Thank you, this is perfect." A small smile curved his lips in gratitude. "But I know you’re interested in what I came here to say."

You waited, feeling the warmth of the cup between your fingers. He wetted his lips. "I know this might be an unusual situation, but when I said I knew someone who was hiring... that someone was me."

James watched as surprise crossed your face, so he continued, "A new case came up, and it’s taking up most of my time. Finding a reliable babysitter isn’t exactly easy. I know we don’t know each other very well, but I saw how you cared for Mrs. Jones. I see how you treat Henry. He adores you."

"I need someone to help with him until I wrap up this case. To pick him up from school and stay with him until I get home. You’d have the mornings to yourself, unless something urgent came up at the station." At your silence, James felt his shoulders tense slightly. "I know it’s a lot—"

"I’ll do it."

"And Henry can really be a handful— Wait, what did you say?"

"The job. I’ll take it."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I mean, we're neighbors, I wouldn’t mind staying with Henry a little later. And I think I can handle it—he's really adorable."

James looked surprised, genuinely surprised. "I, uh… I didn’t expect you to accept so easily."

A nervous smile curled your lips as you remembered the growing pile of bills. "I'm kind of desperate right now."

"I'm really sorry about that."

You shook your head. "It’s not your fault."

"I still feel sorry."

"Thank you." To soothe your nerves, you took another sip of tea. "So, when do I start?"

"Tomorrow, is that okay for you? Great, this is really wonderful."

"You don’t, uh… want my résumé or something?"

"Actually, I’d be happy just with your number." Seeing the way your face heated up, he quickly added, "In case of an emergency, so I can call you."

Oh.

Oh.

Of course, that was the reason. You mentally cursed yourself for daring to think otherwise.

You leaned forward, reaching for the stack of papers on the coffee table. "My résumé has my number on it anyway."

James took the sheet, his eyes scanning over the printed details. Address, phone number, full name, date of birth—ten years, you were nearly ten years apart. But what really caught his attention was the photo. It was just a simple picture, but his eyes lingered on the way the camera had captured you. He resisted the urge to run his fingers over it.

You went over a few more details—schedules, salary, responsibilities. It was almost hard to believe this was real, that you had finally found a job. Even if it wasn’t permanent, at least it was something, and with free mornings, you could keep looking for something else. And you liked Henry—he was a truly sweet boy. Taking care of him wouldn’t be a burden at all.

You walked James to the door, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. "Thank you for this opportunity. I promise I’ll do my best."

"I know," he smiled, stretching out his hand toward you. You took it, feeling the way his fingers were slightly rough and firm around yours. You didn’t notice the way James looked at your joined hands, how he seemed to study the way they fit together. He exhaled, finally lifting his gaze to yours. "See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," you repeated with a broad smile, having no idea what was ahead of you.

[cherryvyxen]

"𝗥𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗹 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀"

Paige x f! reader - Wnba

Synopsis -

You're a rising star on a rival team, and the media LOVES pitting you two against each other. What they don’t know? You’re secretly hooking up off the court. But when real feelings start to bloom, things get complicated—and messy.

Word Count: 3.3k

The tension between you and Paige Bueckers could fill an entire arena.

Every time you step on the court, it’s the same dance—sharp words exchanged under your breath, shoves masked as "defense", and those lingering stares that make both crowds and commentators buzz with speculation.

They call it the rivalry of the season.

If only they knew the truth.

If only they knew that last night, Paige had you pinned against the wall of her hotel room, lips on your neck, hands tracing every inch of you like she couldn’t get close enough.

But today? Today, she’s smirking at you from across the court, blue eyes sparkling like she knows she got under your skin—because she did.

And now you’re standing at the free-throw line, trying to focus, trying to ignore the way her gaze lingers on you like a physical touch.

“You gonna make it, or choke like usual?” she taunts, just loud enough for you to hear.

You shoot her a glare, lips twitching despite yourself. “You wish, Bueckers.”

The ball hits the rim and swishes through the net.

Crowd erupts.

But your heart's thudding for a different reason.

Because later, when the final buzzer sounds and your team barely edges out the win, you can feel her burning gaze as you head toward the locker room.

And sure enough, as soon as you’re alone, still high off adrenaline and sweat, Paige appears like she owns the place—leaning casually against the door, arms crossed, that damn smirk still there.

“Congrats on the win,” she says, voice low, teasing. “Guess even you get lucky sometimes.”

You roll your eyes, tossing your jersey onto the bench. “Funny. Pretty sure I earned that win. Maybe you’re just slipping.”

She raises a brow, stepping closer, eyes scanning you in a way that makes your breath catch—because now it’s just the two of you, and no one can see how she looks at you like that.

"Slipping?" she echoes, now inches away. "You didn’t seem to think so last night."

Your heart stutters.

Because damn her. She always does this—taunts you until you snap, until you want her again, even though you know how complicated it is.

“You’re cocky for someone who just lost,” you mutter, but your voice is softer, weaker than you want it to be, because her hand is now resting on your hip, fingers curling into your skin like she belongs there.

“I don’t mind losing to you,” she murmurs, leaning in, lips grazing your ear. “But I’m not leaving here without getting what I want.”

“And what’s that?” you whisper, though you already know.

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “You.”

The word hits you hard—because you don’t know if she means just for tonight, or if she’s finally admitting to more.

Because you feel more. And that’s what makes this dangerous.

Still, your hands find her waist before you can stop yourself, pulling her close. “You’re a mess, Bueckers.”

“And you love it.”

You hate how right she is.

Her lips are on yours before you can reply, hot and desperate, tasting like the energy of the game still lingering in both of you. She kisses like she plays—aggressive, relentless, like she’s fighting for control.

But tonight, you fight back—pushing her against the locker, nails dragging lightly over her arms, making her shiver.

"Thought you were tired after all that losing," you tease against her lips, smirking when she groans softly.

“You talk too much,” she breathes, tilting her head to kiss you harder, deeper, like she wants to drown out every word.

But when you pull back, breathless, there’s something raw in her eyes—something that makes your chest tighten.

“Why do we do this?” you whisper, fingers still tangled in her jersey. “Act like we hate each other when…”

When I’m scared I might actually love you.

Her hand lifts to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin in a rare gentle touch. “Because it’s easier than admitting what this is,” she says quietly.

You swallow hard, leaning into her touch without meaning to. “And what is this?”

Her eyes search yours, vulnerable in a way that knocks the air out of you. “I don’t know," she whispers. "But I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you every second of the day.”

You feel like you can’t breathe. Because for the first time, the mask is gone—no smirks, no snarky comebacks. Just Paige.

“Paige…”

Her name feels strange on your tongue when it’s not said with an edge.

She leans her forehead against yours, closing her eyes. “I know we’re supposed to be rivals. I know everyone’s watching. But when I’m with you… I don’t care about any of that.”

Your heart aches. Because you know exactly what she means.

“I don’t wanna hide anymore,” you admit quietly.

She lets out a soft, shaky laugh, pulling you closer, her arms around your waist now. “Good. Because I don’t think I can.”

There’s a knock on the locker room door, a voice calling her name, and reality comes crashing back—but she doesn’t let you go.

"Come over later?" she whispers, hopeful, vulnerable.

You nod, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah.”

She smiles—soft and real—and presses one last kiss to your lips, like a promise.

As she walks away, you realize the rivalry might still play out in public, but behind closed doors?

She’s yours.

And maybe, just maybe, this could be more than a game.

[alex51324]

Today (Wednesday, March 12), the Senate Minority leader says that they are prepared to reject the Republicans' 6-month funding bill.

The bill was prepared without input from the Democrats, and passed in the House with a near party-line vote, with one member from each party crossing the line.

They are making the modest* demand that the Republicans instead offer a 1-month extension to avoid a shutdown, and that Democrats have a role in developing the next bill--work that would pretty much need to start immediately, with a 1-month extension.

To pass the bill in the Senate would require 60 Senators--all 53 Republicans, and 7 Democrats/independents-who-caucus-with-the-Democrats.

So, keep calling and otherwise reaching out to your Senators if you are lucky enough to have a Democrat***, and telling them that you will stand behind them in rejecting this bill, even if doing so leads to a government shutdown. (If you like, say that you would also support them going bigger than that, but this compromise is probably the best we're going to do.)

(*Overly modest, in my view. As usual they are preoccupied with attempting to avert bad-faith accusations** of incivility, partisanship and unwillingness to compromise. But at least it's something more than nothing.)

(**Which are absolutely going to happen regardless of how far the Democrats bend over backwards. If they agreed to shine their Republican colleagues' shoes on the Senate floor, the right-wing talking heads would complain that they missed a spot.

It's weird that they haven't figured this out yet, but I guess when you work in the same building and on the same committees with people all the time, it's normal to try really hard to see them as reasonable people who have normal reasons for doing what they do, and that you can have a conversation with.)

(***If you have a Republican senator, you probably aren't going to change their mind, but you could let them know that you strongly object to any budget which includes cuts to Medicare/Medicaid, Social Security, the VA, and the Department of Education--these may not be your actual highest priorities, but they are the softest targets you'll find in terms of what Republican lawmakers might conceivably be persuaded to disagree with Trump about.

The strategy here is to get them thinking about how there's a point where not breaking with Trump could be as politically dangerous as breaking with him, and therefore they might want to look for places where they can put their constituents' interests ahead of Trump's, and blame the Democrats for backing them into a corner. But don't say out loud that that's what you're trying to do; just talk about how important these programs are and how the Republican party has traditionally recognized that importance.)

Friends, Americans, Tumblrs, lend me your ears

I know a lot of us are hoping to observe the Ides in fine style this year, so let's all do our part to give that red dodgeball a mighty kick.

If you have a Democratic Senator or Representative (or both, you lucky devil) call them--or email, fax, messenger pigeon, whatever you've got--and say that you would support a government shutdown, if that's what it takes to put some brakes on Trump's reckless disregard for the Constitution.

If you aren't already doing the 5 calls, you can Find your legislators here.

For those who haven't been following along, the current US federal budget* runs out on March 14, which means that a government shutdown will happen on the 15th unless both chambers can pass either a new budget or at least a new extension.

Usually, when this happens, Democrats are the ones making concessions to a Republican minority in order to keep the government limping along.

But this year, there's been some talk of the Democrats forcing a shutdown--and, according to this Politico article, it's starting to take shape as a serious possibility, largely due to lawmakers feeling the pressure from their constituents.

This is a process where the minority party has a significant amount of leverage--particularly in the Senate, where they need to pass their bill by a 60-vote margin**.

So far, Democratic lawmakers have been leaning heavily on the narrative that, as the minority party, they can't do much more than they're doing. And that does have some truth to it, but this budget process is one where the minority party has a significant amount of leverage.

So let's keep that pressure up, and make sure that they know that we know that they have some cards to play next week.

(*It's actually a temporary extension of the previous budget, but we don't need to get bogged down in the details.)

(**If you don't have a scorecard in front of you, there are 53 Republican Senators.)

[mandoalorian]

after hours [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: As Congressman Bucky Barnes' personal assistant, you've always maintained professionalism. But when a late-night work session turns intimate, boundaries blur, and hidden desires come to light.

Word Count: 2000

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content. employer x employee, hint of voyeurism, f recieving oral, fingering, just general filth, smidge of plot. there's enough here for a part 2 if it's what the people wanted.

Masterlist

READ PART TWO HERE.

The glow of the city skyline filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Congressman Bucky Barnes’ office, casting long shadows over mahogany and leather. The soft hum of your laptop was the only sound filling the room, save for the occasional rustle of paper as you flipped through his notes.

It was well past midnight. The congressional building was deserted. Just you and him, working late—again.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension there. “You still with me, Congressman?” you teased, not looking up from your screen. The blue light was starting to hurt your eyes. 

“I’d be a damn fool to fall asleep while you’re talking.” His voice was low, rough with exhaustion. Or was it something else?

You finally glanced up—and nearly lost your train of thought.

Bucky had discarded his suit jacket hours ago, leaving him in just his crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His tie was loosened, the top button undone, and his hair was slightly disheveled—probably from him running a hand through it out of frustration.

God, he looked good.

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to focus. “Sir, we need to go over your talking points for tomorrow’s press conference.”

Bucky sighed and leaned back in his chair, arms stretching behind his head. The movement made his shirt pull taut across his chest. “Can’t we take a break? And you know you can call me Bucky when we’re in private.”

“We’ve already taken three,” you pointed out, biting your lip, noting how all feelings of professionalism were lost on him right now. “At this rate, you’re going to wing it in front of the entire nation.”

He smirked. “Haven’t I charmed my way out of worse?”

You gave him a pointed look. “You’re not just a charming face, Barnes. You actually have to do your job.”

His smirk faltered, and something unreadable flickered across his face. “You always do that.”

Bucky’s gaze didn’t leave yours. His legs spread wide as he leaned forward in his chair, pressing his elbows into his dress pants and linking his fingers together. He displayed his usual stoic expression, the one that you struggled so much to read. 

You frowned. “Do what?”

His eyes searched yours, intense and unwavering. “You see me. Not just the congressman. Not the soldier. Just… me.”

Your breath hitched. You had no idea where this was coming from, but you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

“Bucky…”

“C’mere,” he murmured, his voice softer now.

You hesitated. The air between you felt heavier than before, thick with something unspoken. You’d spent so many nights like this—late hours, stolen glances, brushing fingers when he handed you a file. But neither of you had ever crossed that line.

This felt like the edge of it.

Still, you moved toward him, stopping just short of his desk. “What is it?”

He reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist before trailing up your arm in a slow, deliberate touch. “You work too damn hard,” he murmured, thumb brushing the inside of your wrist. “Always taking care of me. Who takes care of you?”

You let out a shaky breath. “You pay me to take care of you.”

“Hmph, s'pose I do.” His voice had dropped to something even lower, more dangerous.

You should pull away. You should remind him that this was not professional. But the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing grounding him—made your resolve crumble.

“Bucky…” Your voice was barely above a whisper now.

He stood slowly, stepping around the desk until he was right in front of you. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“If I cross this line,” he murmured, “I’m not going back.”

His words bit at your skin. Your pulse pounded in your ears. “Maybe I don’t want you to. Maybe I want you.”

His eyes darkened. That was all the permission he needed.

His lips were on yours before you could think, before you could breathe. The kiss was slow at first, almost hesitant—like he was waiting for you to push him away. But when you fisted your hands in his shirt and pulled him closer, he groaned and deepened the kiss, his hands landing on your waist, gripping like he’d been waiting years for this.

Heat coiled low in your stomach as he backed you against the edge of his desk, his thigh slotting between yours.

“This okay?” he rasped against your lips.

You nodded, breathless. “More than okay.”

His lips curled into a smirk before he kissed you again—this time with no hesitation, no restraint.

His movements were slow and controlled, like he had all the time in the world. He pulled you into his lap, hands palming at your waist before running up your chest and stopping at your face. He gazed into your eyes and for a moment, you felt your heart stop. 

“You drive me crazy,” Bucky breathes into admittance. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, and on impulse, you press a chaste kiss to the digit. Something primal ignites in Bucky, and he kisses you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging enough just to make him groan into your mouth. The sound sent a shockwave into you, heat pooling low into your stomach. Bucky’s lips left yours, only temporarily, as he trailed down your jaw, your throat, his breath warm as he took his time.

You gasped as his mouth found that one spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out ton taste your skin before he pressed a slow, open mouthed kiss there. 

“You’re always so put together,” he murmured, lips burshing against your pulse point. “So professional.”

His hands slid down your sides, slow and deliberate.

“Tell me to stop.” He whispered, coaxing you.

You couldn’t.

You’re only response was to pull him closer, tilting your head to give him more access. He groaned against your skin, his hands gripping your hips and pushing you up onto his desk, slotting himself between your legs.

Bucky ran his hand up your leg, stopping when he got to your upper thigh, when he started to feel the heat omit from your womanhood. You let out a gasp that you didn’t know you were holding when he suddenly removed his hand and pulled back just enough to look at you — really look at you. 

“Been wanting you like this for so damn long,” he admitted, voice rough with restraint. “Look at you, all spread out on my desk.”

You feel your face flush with heat as his gaze racks your body. 

“Take me.” You sigh, and Bucky smirks, wasting no time and pushing up your pencil skirt so it bunches at your waist. He pulls your panties down, revealing your glistening folds to him.

“All this… for me?” Bucky asks, his voice dark, but the exasperation isn’t lost on you. He makes you feel small, at his mercy, as his broadness towers over you. 

Licking his lip, Bucky hums as he starts working his tongue at you, lapping at your clit and relishing your taste. Your fingernails scratch at the expensive wood table beneath you as your stomach coils with pleasure. The brassiness of his beard scratches at your skin, but it just turns you on even more. He’s good —no doubt had more experience than the average non-Super Soldier guy. His teeth teasingly graze at you, and just as you’re about to finish, he stops, pressing a kiss to your mound.

He brings his calloused fingers to your cunt and your body twitches at just the slighest of his touch. “Wait—“ you call out, and Bucky immediately freezes, stops what he is doing and looks at you with concern in his ocean eyes.

You reach out and grab his other arm, his Vibranium arm, and replace his flesh hand with that one. Bucky almost looks hesitant. “Are— are you sure?” His cheeks turn pink, and your heart wants to burst. 

God, he’s perfect.

“When I said I want you, I meant all of you.” You smile and press a kiss to his forehead.

Bucky slips his finger into your core, and you let out a moan, arching your back as it hits the spot. Bucky reacts to the moan and hums with contentment. “That’s my girl.”

The coldness of the metal sends shivers down your body, and you feel yourself clamp down on him. As he curled his finger inside of you, you catch a glimpse of his cock pressing against his light grey dress pants. You moan apologetically as you imagine it inside of you, and just then, Bucky pushes a second digit into you.

“Please— more— that’s so good—“ you breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Hear that?” Bucky murmured, returning his tongue back to your clit. “You beg so pretty for me.”

Your breath hitched as Bucky suddenly removed his fingers, and his metal hand ghosted over your hip, pinning you into the desk, exactly where he wanted you. 

“You keep— you tease,” you groan, chastising him almost. Bucky’s ice blue eyes seem to darken as his pupils blow. 

“Oh doll,” Bucky sighs. “Tell me what you want.”

This time, his flesh hand returns to your core and without warning, he pushes his three fingers inside of you as his thumb strategically circles your clit. “I like to feel you.” He mumbled, licking a white hot stripe down your neck. 

“I can’t— I’m close—“

Before you could finish your sentence, his finger closed around your most sensitive spot.

And then, a knock at the door. “Congressman? Your private jet is here.” 

Your entire body went rigid as you glanced over to see the silhouette of a man behind the frosted doors to Bucky’s office. Somehow, you'd totally forgotten that Bucky had plans to fly out tonight if he was going to make it to Tokyo for the conference in the morning. The man was only meters away from you both, and had no idea your boss was busy fucking you beyond belief. 

“Ah shit!” You cried, feeling yourself near the edge just as Bucky’s driver interrupted. But Bucky paid no attention.

“Be there in a minute.” He called back, his voice perfectly calm. 

And when he said a minute, he meant a minute. As if on cue, you fell apart, white-hot pleasure crashing over you and his hand muffling the desperate moan that threatened to escape your body as your body rifed and shook beneath him. 

Bucky groaned as he felt you unravel, his hands gripping your thighs as he licked you through, taking everything you gave him. By the time he pulled back, his lips were swollen, and his smirk was wicked.

“Think he heard you, sweetheart?” Bucky teased, pressing a lingering kiss to your inner thigh. 

You were too dazed to even glare at him.

But when he stood, smoothing his tie, his expression softened. He cupped your face, thumb brushing over your lips before kissing you slow and deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. When he finally pulled away, he smirked.

“Looks like we got a plane to catch,” he announced. You dizzily pushed yourself up and hopped off his desk. “Better fix your skirt. Don’t want anyone knowing what I just did to you, do we?”

You swore you were going to kill him.

But first?

You were going to let him do it again.

[fevers-and-emeto-oh-my]

Throwing my hat in the ring here bc I've honestly weighed in on far more volatile discourse and i also feel like yammering about this.

Coming into 9-1-1, almost everyone I spoke to and everything I saw told me I would NOT like Tommy. He was rude, he was terrible to Buck, he called Buck "Evan," he walked out on a date, he made mean comments, etc.

I did take this with a grain of salt, because I rarely conform to fandom consensus on characters, pairings, plot lines, etc. (Destiel was my NOTP in SPN and I do not like Ada at all in RE, for example). I'm perfectly happy to have opinions that don't line up with everyone else's because I'm here to have fun for myself, not for anyone else. (Putting this under a cut because it got LONGGGG)

Then I get to 7x03 and see Tommy again for the first time since s2. and he is a BLAST. He's grown, he's not posturing or repressing himself. He oozes confidence off the bat and is INCREDIBLY fun (the MOUTH STATIC??? HELLO???). He has this dry wit that I fall in love with immediately ("well, unless you feel like swimming back, that's all we've got." "because we're flying into a hurricane. probably all gonna die anyway.") i am EXCITED. i am also reallyyyy confused, because THIS Tommy would have to do a complete 180 in personality or how he treats Buck for me to suddenly have the vitriol for him that's so common across the fandom.

7x04. I am smitten with how Tommy acts through the tour of Harbor--leaning reallyyyyyy close to Buck, the charming teasing lilt to his voice, his little smile. Eddie shows up and Eddie and Tommy become besties. I love this too--they would absolutely get along like a house on fire, and there's INSANE chemistry between Tommy and Eddie immediately. I don't personally like them taking a chopper to Vegas (my Eddie would never set foot in a helicopter willingly unless it was for someone he loved, like Bobby and Athena the episode prior) BUT they 110% fucked on that trip and I will not hear any arguments otherwise.

We're skipping over the buddie of it all bc this post is about Tommy. The kiss???? The fingers under Buck's chin???? (THANKS LOU) The SOFT look on his face the entire time???? I'm immediately sold. Bucktommy is immediately a new fave and I'm excited to see if I like Tommy more than or just as much as I liked Taylor.

7x05! The date. AKA instant desire to douse myself in bleach from second-hand embarrassment. I know this is where a lot of people soured on Tommy, but when I reached the end of the episode I honestly couldn't understand WHY it soured people so intensely and immediately. That date was a DISASTER for multiple reasons, but I don't think Tommy was WRONG for leaving. Buck was nervous the entire way through (implied by Tommy's line assuring him nobody was looking at them) and it's his first date with a guy, so who can blame him? His line about being an ally was uh. Yikes. But they had already eaten and were getting the check, so obviously dinner as a whole went pretty well considering the scene opens with them both content and joking around a little bit. Obviously Buck couldn't have foreseen Eddie showing up. And I don't BLAME Buck for losing his head and overcompensating--he's not even out to Eddie yet, not even sure what his sexuality means for him himself yet, it's totally in character for him to panic and stick his foot in his mouth.

I don't blame Buck, really, I have empathy for him. BUT I also don't blame Tommy. Tommy is comfortably out, we don't know what his last relationship was like, and no matter how much he UNDERSTANDS what Buck did, it still had to hurt to be there and basically be outright friendzoned in an effort to be hidden. I don't care how you spin it, the situation absolutely sucked for both of them. People get really really mad about the closet comment, and it's not a moment I particularly enjoy from Tommy, but I understand why he said it. That kind of dry poking is in character, and I truly don't think he MEANS to OUT Buck, I think he's just hurt and lashing out a little bit (which, for what it's worth, we have seen EVERY character lash out WORSE than that). If I was Tommy, I would have left after dinner instead of going to the movies too.

People get really mad about Tommy leaving Buck alone on the street. When I first heard that he did that and how MAD people were about it, I was picturing Tommy pulling over in the middle of nowhere somewhere and leaving Buck stranded. That would have also made ME mad, so it was what made sense to me as what had to have happened.

And then.....Tommy just.....got his own Uber? And left Buck on the well-lit, populated street literally in front of the doors to the restaurant? After being really honest with Buck that he likes him, but he's not sure Buck's ready to be out with a guy yet. People also didn't like that but I thought it was fair? It wasn't Tommy telling Buck Buck's feelings. It came across more to me as Tommy looking out for Buck and speaking from a place of experience as a gay man much further along into his own journey. He doesn't say it but from what he said about being under Gerrard and coming out when he went to Harbor, I'm sure TOMMY had his own growing pains just like that.

Honestly, I think a lot of the anger about leaving Buck on the street comes from the fanbase having a lot of women. If Buck was a woman and Tommy left him there, then yes, I would not trust Tommy as a love interest at all because it would mean he wasn't at all concerned for fem!Buck's safety. But if I take me being a woman out of how I look at it, it's not really an issue? Buck is a cis white male, he's broad, he's 6'2". It's not impossible for him to get attacked, of course, but it's significantly less likely, and he's standing on the sidewalk directly in front of the restaurant doors. Buck's also a perfectly capable adult; it was their first date. Tommy had truthfully no obligation to take care of Buck, and Buck has a phone and his own agency. He can get himself his own Uber.

At this point, I'm more intrigued than anything by fandom's gung-ho hatred of him, because Tommy hasn't done anything black-and-white undeniably egregious. I watch the rest of season 7 and I love him the whole time. He genuinely cares for Buck and while I had anticipated hating that he called Buck "Evan," I actually loved it. Lou gave it such an affectionate inflection that it's very endearing, and his use of "Evan" feels natural and sweet, not the forced-intimacy awkward that I was expecting considering that's how it felt with Ana calling Eddie "Edmundo."

I get to 7x09/7x10. People don't like the "enjoy it while it lasts" comment at the awards ceremony. I get to the dinner scene where they talk about fathers and the 118 as a family and Tommy says "god, I hope so" to the idea of Buck having daddy issues. Both of these things have been pointed out to me as horrible moments.

Neither line makes me hate Tommy. The daddy issues one I find exceptionally fun. At this point, and as I watch s8, I am more or less convinced that fandom hates Tommy for three different reasons: he's not Eddie, they don't understand his sense of humor, and they don't trust Buck to look out for himself.

I will be the first to say i ADORE buddie. AND bucktommy. And buddietommy is the FIRST OT3 that has INSANE chemistry and subtextual backing in canon. Every scene where the three of them are together, the three-way chemistry is off the charts and they fall naturally into what really feels like a poly dynamic, PARTICULARLY in Masks where they're two boyfriends tag-teaming teasing and taking care of their third boyfriend, Buck.

But like I said, I think fandom's hatred of Tommy comes from the fact that he's NOT Eddie. Buck is bi in canon, hooray! Except....they give him a boyfriend that's not Eddie, disappointing buddie shippers. Buck has romantic scenes with someone that's not Eddie. Buck kisses someone that's not Eddie. Etc. To me, people hate Tommy so much the exact same that they hate Taylor and Ana (every love interest tbh, but Taylor, Ana, and Tommy get the most hate and bashing), because none of them are EDDIE.

I also think the fandom doesn't understand Tommy's sense of humor or how he shows affection. It's fanon that Tommy is Italian. I totally adopt that headcanon, because in MY Italian-American family (AND on my Irish/Scottish/French-Canadian/Portuguese family on my mom's side) do you know how we show love? We break each other's balls. We tease the shit out of each other. I tell my dad he's so full of shit his eyes are brown. There's a written list on the inside of the cabinet of the words I have pronounced horrifically wrong. My dad's cousins have the SAME dry, deadpan delivery that Tommy does.

My friends and I ALSO have this kind of humor. It's ALSO how we show love to one another. I have never read a single line of Tommy's as being malicious or rude or as him not liking Buck, because to me it's CLEAR that he's joking and being affectionate. (And also, the fandom puts words in his mouth....Tommy did NOT call Buck gross in Masks. Buck SAID he knew Tommy THOUGHT he was gross, and Tommy DENIED that and tried to explain himself. Also Buck's line "my own boyfriend won't even kiss me" is followed immediately by Tommy saying "that's not true.")

The dinner scene after Bobby's heart attack made sense to me. Tommy gave Buck space to say how he felt (and i think the "your dad is alive" line came more from a place of Tommy NOT having a parental figure in a captain. I don't think that was meant to be dismissive, I think that was a misunderstanding) and honestly, if MY boyfriend made a joke about daddy issues during that conversation I would have loved it. Sometimes humor is the best medicine.

That also rolls into my last point--people don't trust Buck to look out for himself. The fandom loves Buck, for good reason, but they also baby him. Buck is a grown man. Yes, he has abandonment issues and PTSD. He probably has anxiety and he definitely has ADHD. But...none of those things mean he can't speak up when people do things he doesn't like? People get so annoyed with the daddy issues line and with Tommy telling Buck to put the screen away like it's dismissive or infantilizing.

First of all, I have (undiagnosed) ADHD. Sometimes having someone outright tell you "okay that's enough of that, go [do a task or transition to something else]" is HELPFUL. Tommy was literally sleeping on that stupid most-uncomfortable-looking couch just to be downstairs with Buck, he clearly cares about him. When you care about people, sometimes it means a little tough love. It wasn't infantilizing when MY irl friends would be like "you've had enough to drink" or "i'm making you dinner." Sometimes we ALL need some of that decision-making taken away from us. And also? Buck doesn't listen to Tommy. In the morning they talk about Buck staying up too late. It's not like Tommy got mad and took the laptop and FORCED Buck to bed.

Second of all, with the daddy issues joke. I love Buck. I do. He's one of my favorites. And yes, Buck can successfully hide SOME of what he feels. But that man is an open book 90% of the time. His heart is on both sleeves and his pants legs. If you say or do something he doesn't like, he's NOT shy about showing it (which we just had confirmed AGAIN in 8x09). If the daddy issues joke BOTHERED BUCK, his face would have fallen. He would have gone quiet. He would have left the table. Even if he didn't say it to Tommy in the moment, there would have been some indication that HE PERSONALLY had an issue with what was said. Instead he's giving Tommy a little smirk and intense heart eyes the whole time.

Not to mention, BUCK BRINGS UP DADDY ISSUES. He STARTS IT by saying "So maybe we both have daddy issues," while one of his eyebrows quirks and he gives this little almost shit-eating grin. If you're going to be MAD at the daddy issues joke, you should be mad at BUCK if you're gonna be mad at anyone, because he STARTED IT.

I won't get into how I feel about the breakup bc it's not relevant to this post really, but yea. I personally love Tommy, Bucktommy was Buck's strongest relationship imo (only a touch stronger than Bucktaylor), and my personal belief is that Tommy gets far more hatred than he deserves. (Talking about his growth from the Begins episodes is also a different post, but he grows DURING those episodes and also is clearly a better person from what we see in s7/8)

[natsredbra]

First

summary: Your girlfriend's first time with you

warnings: tfem!Lottie, smut, literally nothing else, so soft it's practically fluff, afab!r

a/n: im so incredibly sorry to the anon that waited so long cause this is lowkey shit; also i made it high school but both characters are 18!!

You were splayed across Lottie's bed along with her, the sunlight beaming through the blinds. She was still in her slumber, yet she looked beautiful as ever. Her olive skin and dark hair were a contrast to the baby pink pajamas she was wearing, with her comforter lazily draped over her hip as she laid facing you.

Lottie had to be the most beautiful girl you'd ever seen. She was all tall and had those eyes and god, the legs and- yeah. You always thought it was a miracle for her to be into you, even though she claimed every one of those things for you as well. Maybe that is what love is.

She did eventually stir, giving you a tired smile when she caught you eyeing her. Her gaze was a bit teasing, but equally loving and nurturing.

"Kinda creepy, babe." She mumbled, though it was plastered across her face just how content she was.

"What can I say? You're a beautiful girl." You replied sitting up and leaning your back against the headboard

She gawked from under you, now it being her turn. Lottie always looked at you with such an expression you could drown in, as if she was taking note of every single one of your features. It was her thing- being cheesy and romantic. And god help you, you loved it.

"I had the most wonderful dream." She hushed.

"Yeah? What about?" You probed, going down to lay next to her again.

"It was...it was us. We- we uh-"

Oh.

Oh.

"And you liked this dream?" You asked softly, trying to gauge her reaction

"I did. I already told you." Lottie said matter of factly, rolling her eyes playfully. She was trying to play it cool, but the poor thing was red as a tomato. You'd never call her out on it though, she was quite adorable like this.

You let out a soft chuckle before she spoke again, "I was hoping we could recreate it." Lottie said, a tinge of hope and nervousness in her tone.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lottie whispered, leaning in to brush her lips over yours.

You returned the soft kiss, pulling her atop of you. She seemed to get the hint, pulling your shirt up as she went. Your hips jolted up towards hers, making the girl let out a surprised gasp

“You’re getting hard for me already.” You whispered against her lips, not as a question, but more of a statement.

“Yeah, you do that to me.” Lottie replied before toying with your waistband.

God, this girl was impatient.

“I wanna go down on you. Can I?” She said again, and the request itself knocked the air out of your lungs

“Uh huh”

You managed to drawl out, while she took her sweet time moving down your body, removing your underwear and pajamas in one swift motion.

The girl looked almost blissed out by the sight in front of her, you swore you saw her mouth watering. She finally went in, connecting her mouth to your wet heat.

Her movements weren’t practiced and were quite sloppy, but she was trying - and she was a fast learner, that’s for sure.

Lottie seemed to love the taste of you. Her tongue explored your folds eagerly, mapping them out as if to savor the taste. As if to savor the feeling.

Only two minutes in, she already ate you like you were her last meal. And like she'd actually done this before - many times.

Looking down at her, you could see the poor thing rutting against the floral bedsheets.

“Lottie-“

The girl looked up at you through her eyelashes, stilling her movements for a moment.

“Are you ready- we can- fuck, Lot, I need you.” You said in a voice soft with affection, making her climb back up to face you immediately.

What you could feel, was her crotch against yours, making you mewl under her. The bulge didn’t help either.

“I just wanna make you feel good.” She said huskily, rubbing her clothed shaft against your clit.

“I bet you will…take it off.” You said, tangling your fingers in her hair.

She nodded slowly before reaching down free her straining erection.

“I thought about this so many times. I thought about you while-“ She didn’t have to finish that sentance for you to know what she meant.

It was a dizzying thought, knowing she thought about you that way. Knowing she likely imagined you in god knows what state to get off. That she must’ve chanted your name when she came down.

“Lottie, just fuck me.” You told her, lining her tip up with your entrance yourself.

It seemed to work wonders as she let out a low groan, your simple action making her see stars.

Still, she decided to be a tease and drag it all across your entrance in order to spread your wetness around, gathering it on her dick as if she wasn't gonna shove it right back inside you.

To her, it was a sight for sore fucking eyes.

Finally pushing the generous length inside you, Lottie whined into your ear. It was quite obvious she tried to hold herself back, god bless her, but you didn't want that.

Apparently, she was feeling desperate either, with her cock twitching against your sensitive skin.

The stretch was immense, yet so welcome. Finally she moved, snapping her hips back against yours as she slammed into your sopping hole. This girl had no shame making you take all of it, not that she even realized, she was too enormed in the feeling of your pussy all around her.

”Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make you feel good.” She mumbled into your neck, pressing rough kisses into it.

“Uh- rub my clit baby. And go a little slower.” You instructed, leave it to her to do exactly what you asked for.

One of her hands cupped your face, holding it up to gauge your reaction while her other one toyed with the bud.

The new pace seemed to work for her as well, since her face was contorted in pleasure as she leaned down to your ear.

Her forehead rested against your temple in an attempt to ground Lottie, though it didn’t seem to work. She was completely lost in the feeling and god, she was so fucking loud. Especially with the fact that she was right by your ear.

It was almost enough to push you over the edge. In fact, it would’ve been if you hadn’t fixed your gaze on the windowsill instead of her. You wanted your orgasm to be long and strong, but if you caught her flustered, lustful gaze, it would’ve been anything but.

“Baby you’re a goddess. You feel so good.” Lottie whispered in your ear, followed by a low moan that could only mean one thing.

Once she felt your gummy walls flutter, she knew you were right there with her. It all felt so intimate, in this moment. The early Saturday morning bliss with your girlfriend, just with a bit of an unexpected turn. It was all so perfect - the solidarity, the sunny day and her. Just anything to do with her, her smell, her body, her soul - mingling with yours.

With a final snap of her hips, Lottie dumped her release inside you, soaking your slit with her essence. The act alone pushed you over the edge with her, your eyes searching hers. And oh, how they found them. The look of pure pleasure and the balter of releasing or building more tension was matched with your own.

Finally coming down, she plopped onto your chest, pressing a chaste, wet kiss against it.

“You were incredible.” She murmured softly, taking ahold of your hand

“You did not fuck like a virgin.” You replied with a chuckle, earning one from her as well

“I may have done some research.” Lottie chimed with faux embarassment

“You studied how to bang?!” You laughed out, making her feel the vibration from your chest against her cheek

“Only how to eat you out! Plus, better safe then sorry.”

[metalheadsagainstfascism]

We already don't have enough teachers and our schools are underfunded and... you know what?

My patience is a thin wire dancing on razor blades. I was visiting my family (in the southern states) and one of them was talking about visiting Brazil for work and another family member that had also traveled a lot for work was like "Ah yes... South America..." And a teenager was like "Wait... aren't we South America?" (As in south of the United States of America). And I tried to explain there's an entire continent south of us called South America, and we live on a continent called North America.

And the teenager was like "Oh... do they have states too?" And I again explained they have countries just like North America had countries and named a few (and was honestly really proud I got like... 5).

And the teenager was like "Ah... so that's where Portugal is?" And I just face-palmed and they were like "You know Geography is the class I'm doing best in.

And another person was like "that doesn't even get into Central America"

To which I was like "I'm still trying to convince this child an entire continent exists south of us. Don't make it any more complicated."

And the person that originally mentioned South America threw them like "I can see why you'd say Portugal, some of them speak Portuguese."

And I was like "THAT'S ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD! DON'T ENCOURAGE THEM!"

And I just thought you should know where the American Education System was at as Trump is gutting it.

I was REALLY PROUD I could name 5 South American countries and I really thought that was sad, but it's clearly gone downhill from there because some kids don't even know South America exists.

What's worse is I'm saw her friend a few days later and I was trying to tease her like "Lol, your friend doesn't know where South America is." AND HER FRIEND HIT ME WITH THE SAME DAMN LINE.

"Wait... aren't we South America?"

And this was supposed to be in a well funded school district too.

I'm dead. THAT was so cringe

-fae

Source

Source

This day in oligarchy

[rabotimagines]

I come here to offer an idea

Imagine being an older con, and you call one of them a good boy with a caress of some kind(e.i their lower back, their cheek, etc) and watch their souls ascend and become one with the allspark.

Now you have a duckling following you cause the hot dilf hit on them

ANON IVE ALREADY HAD THAT EXACT THOUGHT PROCESS!! I just hadn't written it. But I will because others have had the same idea as me. Literally whenever there's some type of "How did you accidentally discover you had a kink?" thread the most common one is always people saying a friend or coworker called them "Good boy/Girl" and they got light headed immediately.

I did let it slip in a little bit with Skywarps petname part. But let's do some others for fun/lean into it a bit more.

"Praise" Older! GN BOT Reader x Bumblebee, Bluestreak, Perceptor, Skywarp, Astrotrain, Blitzwing

Summary: You call him "Good boy" after he'd done something for you.

G1 characters: Bumblebee, Bluestreak, Perceptor, Skywarp, Astrotrain, Blitzwing

Warnings: G1 Blitzwing being G1 Blitzwing (a menace.)

Genre/Theme: The bots get flustered and mildly horny

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Bumblebee probably should have expected it considering- well, all of you. But he's woefully unprepared when you praise him with a "Good boy." You smiled at him, and your em field brushed lightly against his helm right next to where your servo was petting his helm. Bumblebee stops, and his optics widen. Thankfully, you just moved on to other things, so you didn't see Bumblebee stopping where he was to process what just happened.

Bumblebees spark is suddenly humming so loud in his chassis he's worried it's audible. His optics are burning so bright he has to reboot them fully. Finally, Bumblebee can't help laughing light at the fuzzy feeling in his chassis before clearing his vocalizor roughly. He even slams his fist into his own chassis to make sure his engine doesn't stall.

Bumblebee knew exactly what the feeling in his frame was. And he's trying not to get even more embarrassed when he realizes exactly how horny he just got from the very short exchange with you. Yeah- okay. New thing to be aware of when interacting with you. You teasing him like that gets his engine purring. Cool. Bumblebee can do this. He's totally not gonna be thinking about that the next time he self services. Nooooo absolutely not....

Bumblebee can't help thinking what else he could be doing for you to call him. "Good boy."

-

You smile at Bluestreak and nod in acknowledgment. "Baby blue." Bluestreaks wings flutter when you address him with your nickname for him, and he hands you the datapad you wanted. Bluestreaks talking about what he had to do to get it to work, and in the middle of it, you just start moving to leave. Bluestreaks worried for a moment before the back of your servo is brushing up against his cheek.

It's very light but it's accompanied by your hot em field. "Good boy." And then you're leaving- thank Primus because that means you don't see Bluestreaks wings practically shoot upwards. Blustreaks mouth audibly clicks shut, and his glossia feels like It suddenly weighs way too much, and he can't say anything- His optics are burning so bright he can feel them tinting the color on his faceplate cobalt.

Bluestreak pushes his servos over the lower half of his face in mortification when he realizes he's feeling very hot and bothered by the exchange. Oh, Primus, no! You were his superior officer! Bluestreak couldn't think about you like that! But you were so nice to him- and charming and your em field was so touchy- oh, Bluestreaks not gonna be able to be normal about this!

Bluestreak tries to be normal, but every time he sees your faceplate now all he can think about is if you'd call him a "good boy" again...

-

Perceptor offered to do something quick for you, so you didn't have to find someone else to do it. He had the time after all. He's standing next to you when he jolts lightly when he feels your servo on the small of his back. Perceptor glances to your faceplate to see a smile on your derma. "Good boy." Your servo slides away from his back when you move to leave, and Perceptor is stuck staring at the direction you walked off in.

Oh, that's... oh no. Perceptor has to cycle his optics twice before what happened actually, registers and his optics brighten near immediately. Perceptor has to clear his vocalizor since it suddenly feels as if he's got a mild obstruction in his intake. Perceptor then rapidly soothes down his own puffed up plating sheepishly. He's now very glad it was only you and him in the room. Well, his emotional response made sense to a degree. Positive reinforcement was known to have its benefits...

Perceptor then registers the interest in his array and his optics snap wide. Oh, there's something wrong with him! Well, he knows it's not that far out there- it would be a dichotomy when considering common interface interests after all but Primus- Perceptor could not have gotten this worked up over one phrase and one little, albeit very nice, touch- Perceptor can feel the ghost of your servo still on his lower back. The plating felt warm still- Perceptor finally just sighed and scrubbed a servo over his faceplate.

Perceptors processor is now just occasionally wondering the chances of if you'd call him "good boy" again for another favor. And he has to scold his apparently rather perverted processor more than once.

-

Skywarp already knows that he can get you to call him "Good boy" and he already knows he needs to do everything he can to get that rush and phrase one more time! Skywarp wants every little brush of affection you'd give him. The words, your expressions, your em field, and sometimes rarely physical attention when he got lucky. So he's waiting for it to slip out of your mouth again. But he's not really ready for it, though, after you all get your afts kicked by the slagging Autobots.

Skywarp does not want to get his medical attention from Hook- he does not! It's gonna suck! He's fighting Hook until you come outta nowhere and physically force him to lay flat on the medical slab. "Skywarp- behave." Skywarp looks up at you and debates fighting you before slacking against the medical slab. "Good boy." The phrase makes his plating fluff. And you just climb off of him and leave him with Hook. Skywarps too busy thinking about what just happened to even really care too much about Hook.

It's not till after Hook kicks him out that Skywarp realizes he got horny about it. Skywarp did think you were hot. He also liked you flirting with him. You were easy self-service material, really. But now? Yeah, your frame hunched over his own while you call him "good boy." That was gonna be his go too self service fantasy for a hot klick.

Skywarp could totally let himself want some more of you, right?

-

Astrotrains just glad he got stuck with you for the day. He'd take you over any of the other high command since you were the most mellow. Astrotrain would take your dumb little names over worrying about injury from his other bosses. So he's not exactly prepared when your servo is on his arm after he'd done his job like he was supposed to. Astrotrains helm snaps to the side only to be met with you smiling. "Good boy." Your warm em field brushes along the side of his frame before you just up and leave.

Astrotrain's spark does something- glitches? Frag- he didn't know, but he's staring at where you'd walked off like you hadn't just done that slag. His chassis hot and the plating on his arm feeling warm due to the lingering touch of your em field. Astrotrain clamps his plating back down on himself tight when he realizes it slightly fluffed up. Astrotrain then forces his wings to flick back down since they'd flicked upwards due to his shock.

His wings shoot right back up when Astrotrain comprehends the heat in his array. Slag okay no- no no no. Astrotrain was not- he will not have sexual thoughts about one of his bosses. He's not going to. No. Apparently, his sparkdamned frame did not care if he indulged it because he still was very horny over his little exchange with you. And now occasionally just remembering it when he sees you- slag it all.

Astrotrain at least accepts the fact that he's slightly attracted to you. In the end, he's just glad it's you and not any of the other decepticon high command.

-

Blitzwing had his stupid task, and you had pointed out how he was totally smarter than it, and how he could definitely handle it easy. And yeah! He could, and he did. Then you're near him, and you smile, and Blitzwing kinda just thinks you'll use your crummy names. Blitzwing thinks he might be able to actually land a hit on you for it this time if he just- Then your servo is on his pauldron but you're smiling- "Good boy" Blitzwing stopped thinking when the phrase rolled out. You then turned and went off to go make sure the dumbaft coneheads were on task.

Blitzwings wings are twitching, and he's doesn't know what the slag that was- but he sure as frag knows he liked it. He liked it a lot, actually. A rush he usually only gets on the battlefield settles down in his chassis, and the point of entry was his pauldron where you'd touched him. Both Blitzwings jet engines and even his tank engine rev and the sound is loud and rough. A wide grin that shows his denta curls on his derma.

Blitzwing knew sparkdamn well what else he was feeling and he's not about to pretend he doesn't just now wanna grab you and use you like a toy- Blitzwing bites his top denta down on his own fist when he remembers he hasn't even managed to land a hit on you for your stupid little name game you played with all of them. You were a high rank for a reason- you weren't a puny pushover.

Blitzwing doesn't know if he should flirt or threaten you the next time he can- so naturally, he does both.

[scoupsakakitty]

this is probably annoying since the last couple of requests have been about 14th member BUT i saw a tiktok earlier today of a girl pranking her brother with a fake hickey so i was wondering if you could do the same but with seventeen obvi :D

The Fake Hickey Prank | Seventeen x 14thMember | fluff

The living room was a mess of snacks, controllers, and half-empty soda cans as Seventeen settled in for a night of gaming. The usual chaos filled the dorm—Seungkwan arguing over game rules, Mingyu trying (and failing) to organize the snack table, and DK already too invested in whatever was happening on-screen.

"Y/N! Get over here!" Jeonghan called from the couch, stretching his legs across two cushions. "You’re on our team, and we’re starting soon."

"Coming!" Y/N’s voice rang out from the hallway, but there was a slight delay before she finally entered the room.

The moment she stepped inside, Seungkwan’s eyes immediately narrowed. "Wait. What’s that on your neck?"

A hush fell over the group as everyone turned to look.

Y/N, seemingly unaware of the attention, strolled over casually. But it was too late—Vernon, who had been lying on the floor, sat up slightly to get a better look. "Yo… is that a—"

"A HICKEY?!" Hoshi practically shouted, pointing at her neck like he had just spotted an alien.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, and she raised a hand to her neck, fingers brushing over the suspicious mark just below her jaw. "What? No—"

"Oh my god." Seungkwan clutched his chest. "Who? When? How?!"

Joshua blinked. "Guys, calm down, it’s probably just—"

"WHO DID THIS?" Seungcheols voice boomed, cutting Joshua off entirely.

Jeonghan sat up properly, arms crossed. "You better start explaining. Right now."

"Wait, wait, wait—" Y/N took a step back, hands raised. "You guys are overreacting."

"Overreacting?!" Dino gaped at her. "You’re too young for this!"

"You’re literally younger than me," Y/N shot back.

"That’s not the point!" Dino huffed, clearly flustered.

Woozi, who had been quiet up until now, let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples. "I don’t even know what to say."

"Say that you’re disappointed," Seungkwan whispered dramatically. "That’s what she deserves."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "You guys, seriously—"

"Who is he?" Mingyu suddenly asked, looking personally offended. "Tell me. I just want to talk."

"More like fight," Vernon muttered.

"No one’s fighting anyone!" Joshua interjected, but the others weren’t listening.

"Wait, were you on a date today? Is that why you took so long to come back?" DK’s eyes widened as if the pieces were finally coming together. "Oh my god, guys, she was out earlier—"

"IT’S A BURN!" Y/N finally shouted over the noise.

The room fell silent.

"...Huh?" Hoshi blinked.

Y/N exhaled sharply, dramatically pointing to her neck. "It’s from my curling iron. A burn. Not a hickey."

"Oh." Seungkwan sat back down slowly. "Ohhh."

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

"YES. What kind of person do you think I am?!" Y/N huffed. "I was literally doing my hair, and I accidentally burned myself!"

Woozi squinted. "That… actually makes sense."

"Wait, hold on." Vernon, ever the skeptic, tilted his head. "Then why didn’t you just say that from the start?"

Before Y/N could respond, Jun furrowed his brows. "Wait a second... but your hair is straight."

The entire room went dead silent once again.

Seungkwan’s jaw dropped. "Oh my god, HE’S RIGHT!"

"Y/N." Jeonghan’s voice was dangerously calm. "Did you lie to us?"

Y/N bit her lip, her expression faltering for a second before she suddenly grinned. Without another word, she raised her hand and casually wiped her fingers over the ‘hickey’ on her neck. The makeup smudged instantly.

The boys collectively gasped.

"NO WAY—" Dino practically shrieked.

Y/N burst out laughing. "It was a PRANK! I saw it on TikTok and wanted to see how you guys would react!"

The dorm exploded.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Seungkwan looked personally betrayed.

"DO YOU KNOW THE STRESS YOU JUST CAUSED?!" Mingyu groaned, falling back onto the couch.

"I ALMOST STARTED LOOKING UP HER LOCATION HISTORY!" Hoshi wailed.

Meanwhile, Y/N had collapsed onto the floor, clutching her stomach from laughter. "Oh my god, your reactions—priceless!"

Jeonghan, shaking his head, finally chuckled. "Okay, that was kind of good."

Joshua sighed. "I knew something felt off."

Seungcheol, however, was still glaring. "You’re lucky this was a prank, or we’d have to have a serious conversation."

Y/N just grinned, completely unbothered. "Guess you’ll just have to wait until next time."

Seungkwan pointed dramatically. "There will be no next time!"

[thewitchblue]

Dick managed to follow Tim on his way to you and even sneaked into the military base you were stationed at, stalking Tim the whole way until he entered your room.

"Hey, Sergeant."

Tim said with a grin. It started as a joke to call you Sergeant because you are in charge of the relationship and because you hated your current leadership, but as you proved yourself, you actually did become a Sergeant. Tim smiled and braced for the impact he knew was coming his way.

You turned around and tackled him immediately. You'd recognise that voice anywhere, and it's on-sight for you. You wrestled him like every time you reunited with your familiar grin and bright eyes. He let you pin him down again as you laughed.

"Hey yourself, pipsqueak!"

You lightly punched his shoulder and kissed him before helping both on you up. You haven't even gotten out of your military uniform for the day, but you didn't particularly care. You had too much love in your heart.

He eyed your military patches as if they had answers to questions he has never voiced. What does your new patch mean? You seem to only gain more and more patches and medals that he has no idea stand for. He knows he could realistically hack into the government files for answers, but guessing keeps him stimulated when you can't answer his messages.

"Is this the girlfriend, Timmy?"

Dick asked innocently as he landed smoothly off the nearby rooftop. Tim jumped in surprise. What is his brother doing here? How is he here?

"What are you doing here, boot?"

Your voice was stern as you straightened from your relaxed position. You smoothed over your slightly crumpled uniform with a frown. You assumed Dick was just another recruit that isn't in uniform. Why is his hair not within standards? Where is his uniform? What is he doing not in the barracks? What chaos was unleashed to make a boot run away? What damage was caused?

"I'm not—"

"Supposed to be here. Right, Dick?"

Tim said with grit teeth while glaring at the acrobat. He was annoyed, but he really shouldn't be surprised. The real question is why and how did he follow him without Tim ever noticing? Batman trained him to excel in noticing the smallest of details, but Dick left no trace. Tim was irritated.

You eyed the two warily. You're ready to break up the fight that seems to be brewing, but you're already tired of it all. You break up fights all the time, and you know the signs. You warmly said to Tim,

"At ease, soldier."

You placed a hand on Tim's shoulder and lightly squeezed it. He squeezed his hands into fists a few times before relaxing and shooting you an apologetic look. You kissed his cheek in gratitude before turning to Dick. Your gaze hardened immediately. You asked the most obvious question,

"What are you doing here?"

Dick raised his hands in surrender. He was getting a little worried this was going to turn into a fight instead of a lovely first meeting. Maybe he should have waited until you two left the base to meet you.

"I wanted to meet my baby brother's girlfriend!"

You shook your head in disbelief. Couldn't he be normal and ask? Then again, what did you expect from this family? A group of heroes who really need some grief counselling and a good therapist.

"Tim is a big boy and can make big boy decisions. If he's not ready for us to meet, then we're not meeting. Let's go, Tim."

You took Tim's hand in yours and shoved past Dick. Dick was so stunned that he almost let you go. He caught Tim's wrist just before you could leave and played a miniature game of tug-of-war with you.

"Let go!"

You said gruffly. Tim was also trying to save his wrist, but it wasn't looking like Dick was going to give up, and you weren't willing to potentially break his wrist to prove a point. You sighed heavily and let go of Tim.

Dick didn't let go of Tim, however, and promptly fell as Tim's full body slammed into him.

Both boys groaned in pain when they landed hard onto the floor in a heap. You helped Tim up and waited for Dick to recover while saying,

"What do you want to know so I can kick your ass to the curb?"

Dick blinked blankly at you as he stood. He was still dazed but recovering. He hesitated to say anything. You may attack him, and he's not keen to get stabbed by the knife strapped to your side. Sure, he beats people up every night, but this is his brother's girlfriend. He can't just beat you up or restrain you, especially in front of Tim.

"I just wanted to talk and meet with you."

He admitted. He's good at smoothing over tensions, but what worked with you? He knows the people he calms down for the most part. You replied flatly,

"Well, you've met me. It's time for you to go now."

Tim was in agreement, but he was a tad worried about the impression you were leaving on Dick.

"Sergeant, maybe you should ease up?"

Tim said. You turned your eyes back to Tim. Both boys watched in awe as your expression softened with love. You felt yourself physically relax when Tim wrapped an arm around you. Yes, you are a badass soldier, but you are also a woman in love.You decided maybe you shouldn't be a jerk to your boyfriend's brother after all. You don't have to be mean like you would be to a private causing chaos like children.

"What do you want to know?"

You asked Dick, much kinder this time. You don't have to be the hardened leader to him, and Tim helped ease you.

"When did you start dating?"

Dick asked. He needed to know everything about your relationship. You decided that you could handle answering questions about your relationship with Tim. Tim kissed your cheek. Smiling, you replied,

"Three years. I tackled him and he fell in love."

Dick seemed delighted you were reeled in long enough to have a genuine conversation. Relieved at the change in your willingness, he continued speaking with you.

Dick seemed to be doing everything wrong. Tim was trying to guide him through charades, but both of them are terrible at charades. You noticed their little game but chose to ignore it. It was cute that Tim was proving how well he knows you.

The conversation went as pleasantly as it could between a curt military leader and a carefree vigilante. It would have gone better with Jason or even Damian, but Dick? Dick is the exact opposite of the mould you've been made into by your past and present superiors.

A panicked private interrupted the meeting before Dick could start asking more invasive questions. She came charging in and quickly explained,

"Private Kevin set the barracks on fire again, Sergeant!"You frowned and gave your orders. You'll interrogate him later. You knew the troublemaker well. The private ran off to complete orders while Tim slipped his hand in yours, which you squeezed in response. He lightly kissed the top of your head with a smile.

"Happy now, recruit?"

You asked Dick with raised eyebrows. Tim winced. You dislike Dick enough to call him recruit? Not his name, no positive nickname, only callousness.

Well, you used the term recruit to say he's a part of your unit now. He's a new person under your wing. Neither of them had a way to know of this, however, and assumed you were being cold and distant.

"No, ma'am."

He was feeling hurt despite it being a relationship he's in no way a part of. You sighed softly. This meeting was going horribly. You reassured,

"Recruit, I don't hate you. I'm welcoming you into my miniature military family."

Dick still didn't quite understand the significance of calling him a recruit, but he'll happily accept the growing fondness behind your gaze. You are accepting him, and he is excited to accept you.

Tim brought you home when he could, and it went significantly better with everybody else.

Jason was an entirely different story when you finally met. You connected with him immediately. He was rugged like you and fit in perfectly. He was happy to have someone he could be completely relaxed with. He even punched Tim like you punched him and said,

"Keep this one. I like her."

You laughed, and he grinned. Oh, he loved you immediately.

Cass watched you carefully as you talked with Jason. She liked you, too. You weren't hiding or shying away from them. You weren't afraid to call Jason a giant dickhead while laughing or bump into Tim with a cheeky grin, as if to remind him of a past memory you both share. You fit in perfectly. As long as you don't have to be a Sergeant, you were really relaxed and generally pretty happy around Jason and Tim. Dick's ego was still wounded by the immediate openness, but what did he expect when he came onto base illegally and met you prematurely? It's really common sense to not let yourself in like that.

Damian was critical, but he chose to play nice when he saw how easily you spoke with the others. You even learned sign language, and you already knew Morse Code to interact with Cass when Tim mentioned her mostly mutism. You were quite clever. While the morse code has been mostly faded out, it was still beneficial, and you learned it from your buddies in the Navy. Damian seemed to think you were a surprisingly good fit in the chaos of the family.

Bruce was just happy you glued Jason to the family again. Jason will visit more when you have the time to leave base. Bruce will follow Tim to your base later, of course, but for now, he's content with you being in the manor and proving how much you love Tim.

"Did you join the fucking military?"

Jason asked Tim, who blinked blankly at Jason until he noticed what he was holding. Jason was holding your military tags, which Tim's selfishly kept to himself when you "lost" them. Technically, he stole the tags from you, but you can always get a new set. You'll be matching! He did feel a little bad that you got in trouble with leadership when you asked for new ones, but he's sure you'd be fine without the old pair.

"No."

Tim didn't elaborate further. The tags have practically lived on him since he stole them. He only ever takes them off for showers, which is how Jason found them. Jason scoffed,

"Good. You'd be a shit soldier. Why do you have military dog tags?"

Tim tried to take them back, but Jason held them above his head. Your dog tags are air jailed until he gets answers. Jason needed to know.

"Answer or I'll find a place to smelt them down."

Tim knew he was serious by the gleam in Jason's eyes, so he said,

"My girlfriend is in a special forces unit for the marines. She refuses to tell me which unit she's in, but I've narrowed it down."

Jason was too stunned to notice that he dropped your dog tags. Tim snatched them off the floor and put them safely around his neck again and tucked under his shirt where they belonged. He likes to say that you're closer to his heart with your tags under his shirt with the bonus of protecting him from any potential bullets. Even when you are gone, you promise that you will always come back. He's used to your deployment and the limbo you have him in.

"When do I get to meet her?"

Dick said from the doorway. He was passing by and overheard. His little Timmy has a girlfriend? When did that happen?

Tim touches the tags while thinking of what to reveal and what to keep private. He's never been good at respecting privacy, but he has been learning for you. He knows to keep anything you say to him a secret, but what about other things relating to you?

"Whenever she wants. I'm not her keeper."

Tim answered vaguely. He's flying to see you soon, and he doesn't want to be followed. You've been together for three years, but you met kind of awkwardly. You tackled him to the ground and wrestled with him after mistaking him for one of your friends.

Your willpower eventually overcame his reflexes, and he stopped struggling. You had laughed when you pinned him down and ruffled his hair in victory. It was embarrassing to him how quickly he submitted to you. He watched your eyes widen when you noticed he's not your friend. You took in the scene too slowly. You, straddling who you had assumed was your friend with your hands pinning his wrists to both sides of his head, and Tim blushing underneath you. Tim didn't know how to react either, so you both stared at each other before you started awkwardly apologising.

Tim was a mess, but he was an adorable mess. His hair was ruffled, and his clothes were wrinkled, but there were no bruises nor any scrapes. You were always careful to leave no injuries. He was breathless, just staring at you with wide eyes and a shyness that almost made you smile. He was so cute that you wanted to squish him.

You quickly got off of him once you realised how long you've been staring at him. You pulled him up from the ground when he didn't make a move to stand by himself and actually almost fell right back to the ground because his legs refused to work for him. He was understandly stunned.

This is awkward. How do you explain the tradition of you fighting your friend on sight? Your friend does the exact same thing with you. It was excellent training for your deployment to fight each other on sight without any prep. Enemy soldiers aren't going to reveal themselves before attacking, so surprise attacks help keep your reflexes sharp.

"Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

He couldn't get the image of you pinning him down out of his head. Nobody has ever pinned him down so intimately. You were gentle. Your hold would have been easy to break out of if he didn't stop struggling. It was like you only played until one of you got pinned, and then the fight was over.

Tim was still trying to remember how to function. What does he do? What does he say? He's all shaken up. He had to look away from you. He managed to say,

"It's fine."

He tried to sound like it was no big deal, but it sounded strained. He was pretending like the wrestling really took it out of him by fake panting, but you both knew better. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but pat his back and attempted to leave.

Attempted, being the key word. Tim caught your wrist loosely and nervously said,

"I, uh... would you... Can we... Let's... I'm sorry."

He didn't have the words with you looking at him like that. He was nervous. You smiled softly at him, and he forgot how to speak entirely. He could only stare until you took the initiative and asked him to go on a date before you leave for boot camp. He nodded, and that was that. You gave him your number and continued your run like nothing happened.

The date went amazing. It was a bit unconventional as you took him to a paint gun fight after showing him the gun and explaining the rules. You grinned every time he landed a hit and even wiped away the paint that splattered onto him with a fond expression. You opened up about the fear you have about joining the military, but your desire to help. You want to make a difference, however small or large that may be.

You kissed the bruising wounds softly and banaged the bleeding ones before he could even reach for the first aid kit you brought. You helped him up with a wild grin, and he kissed you until the adrenaline ran out. The guns were empty, and you both were messes, but your hearts were full, and Tim can safely say he hates paintballing. You took him to see a movie like a normal person next date.

Jason and Dick watched their brother soften further and further as he went down memory lane. Dick was ecstatic and already plotting to meet you, but Jason was confused why anybody would date Tim. Yeah, he's had his fair share of partners, but he's surprised every time he gets a date, let alone a girlfriend.

You were his mystery girl, and their family loves a good mystery.

[svt-luna]

ʚིᵋ ⋆ INSTAGRAM UPDATE ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── 250312: Spring

i have been getting comments about wanting more negative comments on Luna’s instagram posts, so here you go! it’s so much fun to write how everyone reacts 🤭

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰౨ৎ luna's instagram

Liked by jeonghaniyoo_n, vernonline, min9yu_k and 7,454,454 others

lunabae spring wrote me a love letter 🌷💐✨

View all comments

moonlightbae Bugs is living a better life than us

jeonghaniii BUGGSSSS 🥹💕

↳ bugsbunny_17 This is a Luna & Bugs fan account now.

jiyeonienienie_ you are spring personified Jiyeon ☺️🌷

jxjdaily the Lego dates 😩

h0shik-tiger Mom, Spring wrote you a love letter? Meanwhile, I got seasonal allergies

boojae_dk The real masterpiece here is YOU 💖💖

gyuldaekwan Luna with a paintbrush? Luna painting? Oh, hang that up immediately in Louvre, she’s making history

shua_angels And where is my Lego invite?

↳ lunaticsforever lets third wheel together 🫣

seokminsbiceps When did Bugs sign up for a modeling career?

lalunanova Bugs… let’s switch positions… i can be a bunny *starts hopping*

verkwan_ how do WE join the Lego date?!

horanghaehoe A performer, an artist, a songwriter, a model, Yoon Jeonghan’s fiancée, a bunny mother, a Lego master… what can’t she do?

user0762727215 Ugh, here we go again 🥱 Luna and her constant need to shove her relationship in our faces. You’re only showing off Jeonghan because you know it gets you more likes and engagement. We all know your entire relationship is a PR stunt. You just love male attention, don’t you? Anything for the views, right? Gosh, you are embarrassing 🤮 do us all a favor and kys, thanks.

↳ jeonghaniyoo_n Imagine waking up, choosing to be bitter, and still being this bad at it. If jealousy was a sport, you wouldn’t even make the bench. Try harder.

↳ jeonghaniyoo_n You can be bitter all you want, but the moment you speak badly about my fiancée, we have a problem. Careful now— I’d hate for your sad little comment to be the biggest mistake you make today.

↳ jeonghaniyoo_n Oh, look what I found— your account spreading hate and fake news about my fiancée. Don’t worry, I already reported it. Maybe spend less time being obsessed with Luna and more time preparing for that account suspension and enjoy being sued.

↳ lunabae oops, sorry! can you repeat that? i was too busy admiring the custom Lego set MY FINACÉ bought and built with me. just because your life is as dry as overcooked chicken doesn’t mean you need to project your misery onto mine. MY FINACÉ loves ME, my bunny that MY FIANCÉ bought ME is adorable, and my life is thriving— sorry that bothers you 😊💕

↳ sound_of_coups Not the audacity being on sale for free today.

↳ joshu_acoustic Ah, jealousy. A disease with no cure.

↳ woozi_universefactory Imagine thinking you matter in this conversation.

↳ everyone_woo This level of delusion is fascinating. Should we study it?

↳ ho5hi_kwon If Luna wanted clout, she’d get it from me. Not Jeonghan 🤷‍♂️🐯

↳ junhui_moon You spent all that time typing just to embarrass yourself. Inspiring.

↳ pledis_boos PR stunt?? LMAO, babe, have you seen them? They’re disgustingly in love 😂

↳ min9yu_k The irony of calling someone out for “clout” when you’re the one desperate for attention.

↳ dk_is_dokyeom It’s giving “I have no love in my life so I hate happy people.”

↳ xuminghao_o You’re mad at Jiyeon for existing? Have you tried… not being miserable?

↳ feat.dino If you don’t like her, why are you here? No, really. I’ll wait.

↳ vernonline Seek help.

caratrose SEVENTEEN WENT FERAL I CAN’T BREATHE.

bunnies4luna Not Hoshi saying she’d get clout from him LMAOOO.

jeongluna4ever SEUNGKWAN EXPOSING THEIR RELATIONSHIP HELP 😂

lulu-hannie YOON JEONGHAN IS OUT HERE COMMENTING NOT ONCE, NOT TWICE, BUT THRICE AND THREATENING A LAWSUIT? This man does not play around!! I’m shook.

↳ svtfan1997 I am literally shaking. Jeonghan’s scary side is RARE, but when it comes to Luna? He doesn’t hold back. @/user0762727215 your done.

94zlover_ Vernon really said “therapy is an option.”

bugsbff I want to be reincarnated as Bugs so I can witness this drama in real-time. also… KEEP YOON JEONGHAN’S WIFE’S NAME OUT YOUR MOUTH!!

loveforluna @/user0762727215 got jumped by the entire band. ALL FOURTEEN of them. Imagine 😂

ashonashonash Jun’s “Inspiring” sent me to another dimension 🤣🤣🤣

svtmoonchild seventeen in the comments like it’s Fight Club. Don’t mess with Bae Jiyeon. Period.

aegyo_king Petition to frame this comment section and hang it in a museum.

missluna_17 that bitch just got publicly executed… well… that’s one way to get their attention 😝

napipopeta I’ve never seen Jeonghan this scary… He reported the account and said they’re about to be sued? My jaw is on the floor.

lunaandsunshine Jeonghan is acting like the CEO of Protecting Luna and I’m LIVING for it! You NEVER see him this fired up.

bunnyboo_THREE comments and one of them says they’re getting sued. He’s not joking too.

↳ jeongnadaily Yoon Jeonghan is really about to take someone to court for Bae Jiyeon and I’m here for it! And they said chivalry is dead 🤩

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[literaila]

gojo accidentally calling reader his girlfriend/wife in front of other people

(u don’t have to do this they r just infiltrating my mind rn)

accidentally is really a strong word, isn’t it?

satoru gojo doesn’t make “mistakes.” that one time he forgot to make lunch for both of the kids? well, that was a test of their survival skills. when he let a cursed spirit get away because he saw a new bakery down the street and had to try it? that was just for fun—he likes a little chase.

satoru doesn’t do things on accident, of course, because he lacks basically all faults—but he’s only human, okay?

there’s only so long one man can go sleeping next to the same person every night—suffocating said person with the entire weight of his body and being lulled to sleep by a strong heartbeat—before he accidentally gets a little bit confused.

and so, you’re standing in an aisle at a grocery store, staring at a collection of snacks and trying to discern what, exactly, tsumiki meant by “the blue sweet things.”

you’ve been there for about three minutes—satoru having gone to hide some impulse purchases, probably, or annoy a poor stock person—when a gentleman taps you on the shoulder.

you look lost, he says, but kindly—and oh, he’s got a name tag, the stores logo embedded on the front of his hat—how can he help?

so you reluctantly launch into a story about your nine-year-old daughter, and your daughter’s friend, who introduced her to some snack, which, apparently, until tsumiki can have again, she won’t be able to eat anything else.

she’s not being picky, you quote, just particular.

and it’s right when you’re laughing with this man, telling him about tsumiki’s puppy dog eyes and completely unhelpful descriptions, that satoru rounds the corner.

he’s already focused in on you, as always, so his eyes don’t have to do a lot of seeking. it takes one breath, a clarification of what he already knew, and he’s walking towards the both of you.

(though, having the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, blessed since birth, trained since a child, heading directly for you—target in mind—can’t really be classified as walking. running, maybe. teleporting ten meters in a matter of seconds. what bounds does satoru gojo know, after all?)

“there you are,” he says, in some sweet version of a strange man who’s been stalking you. which, honestly, he has. “i’ve been looking all over.”

satoru announces this basically into the back of your head, because he’s not even a step behind you.

he’s just appeared, suddenly, and you don’t even have the time to be shocked about it. no time to flinch, or tell him to stop scaring you like that.

and satoru has no regard for personal space, or respecting other people’s bubbles, but this is excessively close, even for him.

so immediately, you’re suspicious. but when aren’t you, around your curse of a co-parent?

“you ran away from me,” you say, trying to push him back with your elbow, giving him a side eye you hope he can feel.

“i get lost. who’s this?”

the man opens his mouth, already looking wildly uncomfortable. it is a bit bewildering to have a tall, strange blindfolded man stare at you like you’re a threat, you guess.

satoru really must be taking intimidation lessons from megumi.

you breathe out, nudging him again. “he was trying to help me find the treat tsumiki wanted.”

“oh, was he?” satoru says this completely pleasantly, but he’s not grinning. and, by this point, he’s made a wet spot on the back of your neck from breathing too hard.

he’s entirely too warm and far too strong to push away. honestly, satoru is a playbook for abusing one’s power.

at least you’re not completely, totally disgusted by him. at least.

you refrain from rolling your eyes. “yup. i think we narrowed it down to three or four options.”

the man smiles, taking a not-so-subtle step back. “there’s a popular brand that i—“

“i already know what tsumiki wants.”

you turn, irritation spiking. “what? no, you don’t, satoru, you already told—“

“thanks for trying to help my wife, though. we’ve got it.”

both of his hands come to rest on your shoulders, basically holding you to him while satoru probably places a hex on this poor man with his glare.

and you would laugh, honestly. you would cackle in satoru’s face and grab the attendant by the arm, leaving your fake husband—and his lies—behind without a second thought.

but you can’t. maybe you’ve lost your mind. maybe satoru’s just a little bit too close in this very moment—for thinking rational thoughts, at least.

“o-of course, have a…” the man begins to say, but he doesn’t even attempt to finish his sentence before he’s turning around, quickly exiting the isle before satoru can say anything else completely idiotic.

you shake his hands off, turning. “what are you doing?”

it’s like a switch has flipped because satoru immediately grins, looking as clueless and irritating as ever. “what? i’m just trying to shop.”

“you just scared that man off for no reason. and now i don’t even know which ones to get.”

“i’ll find them.”

“he could’ve found them if you weren’t glaring at him like an animal.”

satoru begins to trifle through the packages on the display, oh so oblivious. “we should just get one of each. tsumiki can share with her friends.”

“she doesn’t want all of them, satoru.”

“then i’ll eat the rest.”

“hey,” you say, pulling at his sleeve. “you called me your wife.”

satoru looks at you, tapping his chin. “oh, did i?”

“i told you to quit it with that.”

“oops,” he shrugs. “i must’ve gotten confused.”

“satoru.”

“what? sometimes my words get mixed up.”

“this is the sixth time this month.”

he sighs, tilting his head back in a display of agony. “working hard puts such a strain on my head.”

“you haven’t had work in a week.”

“a big strain. ginormous. lasts for years.”

“im serious,” you say, pulling at the hair sticking up from his blindfold. “i don’t want you to call me that.”

satoru’s mouth turns. “why not?”

“because it’s not true.”

he waves a hand, turning away once again. “a little white lie never hurt anyone.”

“i’ll hurt you if you keep doing that.”

“ooh,” he mock shivers. “that was scary. say it again.”

“satoru.”

“he was looking at you weird,” he relents, tapping on your head like you’re a small child he needs to console. satoru pouts, looking down at you. “and you had that little wrinkle on your face. i wanted to make sure he wasn’t bothering you.”

he says this so pathetically, faking a sort of sympathy he has obviously never felt. satoru then takes his thumb to smooth out the so-called wrinkle.

you slap his hand away. “you walked up from behind me,” you point out, incredulous, “and he wasn’t even looking at me. he was looking at the wall so he could help.”

satoru blinks at you. he whispers, very dryly, “you were laughing.”

“i was telling him what tsumiki said.”

“he was probably gathering information so he could follow you home. i saved you. you’re welcome.”

“are you kidding me?”

satoru grins. “don’t worry. i’d never let that happen.”

“he was like eighty years old. i don’t even think he could follow me out of this isle without needing to stop and catch his breath.”

“better safe than sorry,” he runs that very same thumb—the one you pushed away—down the side of your cheek. just to watch you shiver.

you take a breath in and will yourself not to react. “better go find someone to help us before i kick you.”

he just laughs. “okay, wifey. whatever you say.”

you scowl. “stop calling me that!”

“it was an accident,” satoru looks away, grinning. “jeez, i can’t even make one mistake with you.”