#gotta go through all my tags again soon

[did-slid-skid]

list of tags under the cut wooooo i enjoy being able to navigate my own blog

most commonly tagged people

Louis Antoine de Saint Just

Maximilien Robespierre

Camille Desmoulins

Lucile Desmoulins

Jean Paul Marat

Georges Danton

Bag of People (tag for when there are a lot of people. kinda inconsistent in usage but I'll clear it up eventually)

less commonly tagged people (for now)

Augustin Robespierre

Charlotte Robespierre

Eleonore Duplay

Fabre d'Églantine

Georges Couthon

Horace Desmoulins

Jacques Louis David

Jean-Lambert Tallien

Joachim Murat

Joseph Fouché

Napoleon Bonaparte

note that there are others who i have tagged sparsely but don't wanna find who they are right now

most plentifully tagged interactions

Robespierre + Camille

Robespierre + Saint Just

Camille + Saint Just

Camille + Danton

Camille + Lucile (note to self: go retag that one post) (note to self: i don't remember what post this is referring to, why did i think being so vague was a good idea?????)

slightly less plentifully tagged interactions

Robespierre + Marat

Robespierre + Danton

Robespierre + Bonbon

Robespierre + David

Robespierre + Camille + Saint Just

Robespierre + Camille + Danton

Saint Just + Charlotte

Charlotte + Eleonore

Camille + Horace

Lucile + Horace

Camille + Lucille + Horace

Camille + Fréron

Lucile + Fréron

Marat + David

Marat + Napoleon

Napoleon + David

Marat + Napoleon + David

Marat + Murat

Bonbon + Napoleon

and other tags

art

my art

untagged stuff

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: risk taking behavior / circumstantial self harm kinda / ignoring of injuries / self-depreciation / slight ooc-ness but for a reason! / ]

Post invasion, Leo is fine.

More than fine! He’s better than before, even. That is, if you don’t count the slightly cracked shell and still healing bones, but those are only a problem when the weather wants them to be!

Leo really is better in the ways that matter.

He’s not as cocky, not as self-centered, and overall just more heroic in general if he does say so himself.

Raph even said he was proud of Leo!

So obviously things are going well.

But.

It’s not enough.

Leo’s better, sure, but he’s still got work to do.

So - and here’s something that will probably make his brothers faint on the spot - he needs to train.

_____

His brothers do not faint, but it’s a near thing for Raph. Mikey has to fan the snapper’s face and Donnie almost brings out the smelling salts before Raph shoots back to his feet with an excited grin.

Leo’s big brother gets teary eyed soon after and envelops him in a bear hug, saying once again how proud he is that Leo is growing up.

Leo lets himself be hugged, even hugs back as fiercely as he can, because unbeknownst to Raph, this marks the end of Leo’s childhood.

He lets himself be hugged like a kid one last time, looking through the hole in Raph’s shell all the while.

_____

Leo only trains the regular way with his brothers and occasionally April and the Caseys, but most especially Raph.

But of course that’s not enough, it was never going to be.

So he goes through the motions of the stretches, the spars, the meditation, and then he leaves.

He makes sure to have his excuses ready, usually defaulting to Hueso as his go to since his brothers are easily bought off with the promise of pizza. Leo hasn’t yet found the tracker Donnie installed in him, but when he does that’ll be dealt with too! But for now, this should be good.

See, the invasion made him realize something.

It’s not about him, but it was his shortcomings that led to everything going to hell.

So he just…needs to get rid of those shortcomings.

He’s working on it, gaining fighting skill in training, but there’s more he needs to do, more skills he needs to train.

Leo watches intently as Repo Mantis swindles someone, he memorizes the sleight of hand that Hypno performs, he sneaks back into the Mystic Library and is so quiet the hush bats forget he’s there, he talks Big Mama into honing his manipulation, and he even sneaks into human hospitals and reptile veterinary clinics to get a clue on more serious injuries.

And after any of these, he heads to Run of the Mill to compete in the Maze of Death.

_____

This is his twelfth time going through the (newly remodeled and even more deadly) Maze of Death, and would be his fifth time winning. The first three times had him waking up in Hueso’s office, and each time he wakes his old persona shines through.

He always waves off Hueso’s annoyance and questions and insists on trying again next time before he steals some pizza and bails.

The skeleton actively tries to stop him from entering the Maze after the first time, but hey- mystics are allowed before you enter.

It’s easy enough to teleport on by.

Harder to meet Hueso’s - and later his brothers’ - eyes when he fails again.

When he first actually won, Hueso congratulates him in that typical deadpan tone of his.

“Ah, felicidades, Pepino. Now you can move on, sí?”

“Hm? Nah, boneman! That run was sloppy!”

And then Leo runs off before Hueso can stop him.

He doesn’t even look at his picture on the champion wall when he next comes around. It’s not much to look at anyway.

_____

His second win is much like the first, and only his third win is actually acceptable.

But he knows the field too much now. He needs a challenge.

When he attempts to go through it blindfolded, he’s quickly shown how much he doesn’t know the Maze. So, obviously, he loses again.

He got a bit more banged up that time around.

“Pepino, basta ya, you’ve already won. Where are your brothers?”

“I can’t stop yet, señor! This is for my brothers - no les digas, please.”

Even if Hueso wanted to tell Leo’s brothers, they haven’t been in enough for him to get to, and it’s not like Hueso has their number since Leo’s the one Hueso usually contacts. For now, Leo’s safe to continue as is.

Though his injuries are getting harder to hide, and there’s only so much his shell in particular can take.

So to speed things up, he incorporates the blindfold into his regular training.

His brothers question it, of course, but hey, he initially got the idea from seeing Lou Jitsu do it in the third best Lou Jitsu movie, so it comes as a great excuse now.

He’s only a little put off by how fast Mikey adapts to it when the others try.

“I dunno-“ Mikey shrugs when asked, “You guys shine so brightly anyway, a mask doesn’t do much.”

Seeing their mystic energies is pretty cool, Leo can admit.

He just wishes he could grasp that himself - and that it was useful for a death maze.

_____

Leo’s training pulls off eventually, and soon, after a few more losses, he wins a forth time. But it’s a near loss, and a near loss is the difference between someone living and dying.

He’s gotta go again.

Hueso’s more insistent than ever, though.

“You must stop, Pepino.”

“But I can do better-“

“You don’t have to! Your shell is bleeding - ¡por tu propio bien, poner fin a esto!”

“I told you, this is for their own good! For everyone’s own good!”

He forgets the pizzas when he leaves. He claims sickness when he hides under his covers.

He ignores how childish the act makes him feel.

_____

Leo’s getting better, and his reflexes and tact in training shows this. His other training of his subterfuge and medical skills also prove to be useful.

He’s pretty good at hiding injuries, now! Though not so good at hiding a pained shell. Even Donnie looks at him with blatant concern (and understanding) when Leo can’t help but take a sharp breath whenever he lands on his back.

It’s hard not to go right back into waving everything off with jokes like he used to. Deflections are easier when they’re annoying!

But- this is just another reason that he needs to get better, right? So his brothers won’t worry. He doesn’t need the spotlight anymore - he’s over that, thanks.

He squashes down the part of him that perks up when Splinter says he’s growing up. He actively kills the part of himself that cries at the same phrase.

_____

So. Yeah. This’ll be his twelfth time running the Maze. And, hopefully, his fifth win. Maybe he really will move on after this.

The Hidden City is pretty big! There’s probably a bigger challenge somewhere.

Maybe Big Mama has a more secret Nexus hidden away, out of the public eye.

Well, whatever. That’s a future problem for him to figure out, yeah? For now, he carries on like usual, teleporting to the entrance of the Maze and diving right in.

Even blindfolded, he works his way through, dodging and weaving and feeling as he goes. He even tries to evoke his inner Mikey and calls on his mystic energy. Not enough to cheat, but enough to feel.

Usually, when Leo teleports, he swears he feels every part of himself disperse into particles. Now, with energy thrumming under his scales, he can feel particles everywhere.

It’s not refined enough to tell him everything, and he gets a fun new burn and a nice whack to the back by getting distracted. Still, it gives him more than he had before. It makes him more aware of everything, like he licked a finger and held it in the air to feel the direction of wind, but every direction blew wind, all in different ways.

He makes it to the end with minimal injuries after that, and sure, his shell is screaming at him now, but he thinks he did a shell of a good job.

…Ah, he needs to cut that out, huh? Man. Maybe Donnie’s collar idea was a good call after all.

Leo needs to be a hero. Not a face man. Not a failure.

Not a kid.

_____

Leo doesn’t smile when the Minotaur takes his picture again for the champion wall, and he doesn’t listen when she tells him to “go home and never come back.”

He doesn’t plan to, anyway, yeesh.

He’s tired as he trudges out of the exit, and Hueso catches him when he stumbles.

Hueso doesn’t say anything. Leo doesn’t either.

Or, he doesn’t, until he feels a familiar large hand helping him up as well.

Leo’s face whips up as he flinches back, eyes wide as they meet with a worried (so, so worried) Raph’s.

“You told them?” Leo asks Hueso in betrayal, heart thudding wildly in his chest.

“Pepino…”

“Told us what?” Mikey pipes up from behind Raph, coming closer to get a better look at Leo, “Leo, what’s going on?”

“Your shell has been having pretty big setbacks on its healing, is this why?” Donnie demands, glaring fiercely as he motions toward the Maze.

Leo feels unmoored. “I-“

“Leo.” Raph interrupts, and no Leo doesn’t want to hear it- “Are you okay?”

And Leo wants to say “it’s not about me”. He wants to say anything that proved he learned his lesson, that he’s not a liability or worse, an active danger to his own family.

He wants Raph to continue being proud of him. He wants his brothers to trust him.

Instead, he passes out.

_____

The next time his eyes open, Leo’s on his side, staring at his blue lava lamp.

He knows without looking that his shell is re-bandaged. He knows his other injuries have been dealt with too.

And unless Leo learned how to do some pretty impressive medical sleepwalking, he knows he’s not getting away this time.

All three of his brothers being in his room prove that.

“What’s been going on, Leo?” Mikey asks, and his voice cracks partway through.

He’s looking at Leo like he’s searching for something, but Leo doesn’t have anything to show. Nothing’s hidden, he just did some light spring cleaning is all, throwing out all the parts he didn’t need.

All the parts they didn’t need.

And yet despite everything, he can feel himself falling back into old ways, a grin tugging at his beak and lackadaisical deflection on the tip of his tongue.

Maybe he should let that part of him show, just for once. It wouldn’t seem like too much of a setback would it? And he could really use a fun pun right about now-

No.

No it’s not about him. He needs to remember why he did all this in the first place.

“Okay- sorry, guys.” He smiles, softly, quietly, “I guess I got too caught up in training. I’ll work at it some more, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I see. Training. That’s all it was, huh? Training.” Donnie hisses more than says, nearly vibrating in anger.

“…yeah?” Leo nods slowly, because, uh, that’s literally the most honest thing he said. It was training.

“If it’s just “training” then why the secrecy, hm? Why in Curie’s good name did you prefer to sneak around rather than, oh, I don’t know, tell your family?”

Leo feels his shoulders rise at Donnie’s aggression, defensiveness welling up in him, “It was my training! Nothing went wrong, I’m getting better!”

“Better?” Raph asks incredulously, “Leo, you’re wasting away. A tap to the shell stuns you for minutes, you lost weight, and your dark circles are worse than Raph’s ever seen them! You aren’t getting better-!”

“YES I AM!”

The words rip out of Leo before he can stop them.

The room is silent as his brother look at him, all wearing expressions of hurt that Leo put there again.

“Yes I am.” Leo reiterates, shaking, “Because- if I’m not-“ He squeezes his eyes shut. “If I’m not-“

Then what was all this for?

Arms slowly wrap around him, and he knows now from the feel of the mystic that it’s Mikey.

“You’ve gotten faster, and sneakier.” Mikey says quietly. “When I accidentally cut my hand, you knew exactly how to take care of it.” His voice grows firm, and he backs out of the hug, “But those are your skills. You, though, you’ve been…you’ve been…”

“You’ve been dilapidating before our very eyes, and trying to hide it.” Donnie finishes, jaw tight. “You think we wouldn’t notice? After everything?” To Leo’s horror, Donnie’s voice is hoarse with tears, “You absolute dumb dumb.”

“I- but I need to train. The Maze is-“

“Leo, we don’t care that you ran through the Maze. We care you did it alone.” Raph says quietly. “We could have joined you, any time.”

“But- but I’m doing this for you-“

“Listen to your brothers, Blue.” They jump as a new voice joins the fray, heads turning to see Splinter make his way into the - frankly crowded - room.

“Dad, I-“ Leo begins, but trails off, suddenly more unsure than ever in the face of his father.

“It’s good you’re finally picking up training! Especially for your brothers’ sakes! But there’s such a thing as going overboard, you know.” Splinter pokes a sharp claw into Leo’s plastron, “Just because you’re dragging it out this time, doesn’t make this any less of a sacrifice. My son, you’ve taken after Karai an awful lot, haven’t you?”

Leo just looks at his father. At his brothers. Then, he looks down at his calloused hands, bandaged and scarred from overuse.

He swallows dryly. “Is that a bad thing?”

He feels his family crowd in around him, feels his father’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not wrong to want to be better, Leonardo.” Splinter says, softly and with so much grief and guilt that Leo can never begin to understand, “But you were never bad to begin with.”

Leo’s breath hitches.

“And-” Splinter’s hands rise up to frame Leo’s face. “You are much too young to ever consider sacrifice the best answer.”

“You got me to relax, Leo. So I’ll do the same for you.” Raph grins, eyes wet, “We’re still kids, right?”

And-

Leo smiles, watery but genuine. “Yeah, Raph. We are.”

[telesodalite]

I need to be weirder about the scavengers and cannibalism...

[princekirijo]

How are we doing folks this fine Wednesday

[lovesturni0l0s]

FLUFFMAS DAY 16: pranking Chris

After losing a bet to Matt you have to prank Chris all day

wc: 1.2k

lmk if you wanna be tagged 🫶🏼

a/n: I hope I did ur request justice! Literally was so sad for Chris, this poor baby I just wanna hug him

dividers by the lovely @bernardsbendystraws

“Matt, do I seriously have to do this?” I asked him, “Yup, a bet’s a bet. Plus I think it’ll be funny.” He laughed. “No he’s gonna be crushed and think I don’t love him anymore!” I argued, “We both know he’ll get over in two seconds, he’s whipped.” Matt reassured me.

I had lost a bet to Matt and as punishment I had to mess with Chris all day, ignoring him, wiping off his kisses, trying to sleep on the couch, things like that. I knew Matt was right and the second I told him it was a prank he’d be fine, but I felt awful at the thought of him doubting my love.

I had come over early this morning, at Matt’s request, while Chris was still sleeping because Matt knew that normally I would go lay with Chris till he woke up. Matt, Nick, and I sat on the couch watching a show for over an hour while we waited for Chris to finally come upstairs.

“Dude I’m fucking starving” we heard Chris grumble as he made it to the top of the stairs, stopping in surprise when he saw me between Nick and Matt. “The fuck? When did you get here baby?” He asked, confused, “Um a little over an hour ago I think.” I said as I checked my phone.

”Oh, why didn’t you come down to my room?” He asked, “No reason” I brushed it off, not fully paying attention to him. “Oh well good morning gorgeous.” He smiled as he leaned down to kiss me, when he stood up I tried to discreeting wipe my lips and if he noticed he didn’t say anything.

”Well, now that I’m up do you want to go get some food?” He asked as he grabbed his shoes, assuming I would say yes. “Just eat something y’all have here, I’m really into this show” I turned him down, his smile faltering. “Ok no worries” He said as he went to rifle through the pantry.

With Chris’s back turned Matt nudged my side, “How long do you think until he breaks?” He whispered, “Hopefully soon, this sucks” I complained quietly. “It’ll be good for him, maybe he won’t be attached to your hip all the time.” Nick joked. Nick wasn’t wrong, we were very close and Chris was very touchy and lovely, but it was one of my favorite things about him, I never doubted how much he loved me.

We continued to watch the show as Chris made his food, bringing it over to the couch, “move ur ass Matt” He said so he could sit next to me, “No you move, I can’t see the TV” Matt complained, lightly kicking Chris’s shin. “Dickhead, I want to sit next to my girlfriend.” Chris said, getting annoyed.

”Too bad, I was here first and I’m comfy” Matt insisted as Chris huffed and sat on the other end of the couch, looking at me, silently asking me to sit with him but I turned my eyes back to the TV.

After a while the boys had to get ready to stream, “You can chill in my room while we stream if you want, my bed isn’t on camera” He said as he got up to throw his trash away, Matt and Nick already in Matt’s room. “I’m chill out here” I dismissed his idea, “Ok well let me know if you need me.” he smiled, kissing me quickly.

”Once again, I wiped my lips, “What I got something on my lip?” He asked, staring at me in confusion, “Nope” I responded. “Then what you wiping off my kiss for?” He asked, “I was just wiping my lip Chris, no big deal” I insisted. “Ok, well I gotta get in there, love you baby” he said as he headed to Matt’s room, “See you in a bit.”

Matt texted that Chris came in all pouty and clearly in a mood and I knew it was because I didn’t say I love you back. All I knew is that I was counting down the hours till this day was over so I could shower Chris in my love.

I went out and got dinner with a friend while the boys streamed, for nearly five hours, and got home just as they were wrapping up. “Holy fuck that was a long stream” Nick sighed as he flopped onto the couch, “Matt we need to order food now I’m fucking starving” He complained as he turned the show back on as they all settled on the couch.

Chris sat down next to me, throwing his arm over my shoulder but I leaned away and towards Nick to watch as he scrolled through DoorDash to find dinner. Eventually they all settled on what to order and we watched the show as they waited, a clear distance between me and Chris on the couch.

They got their food and we ended up binge watching the show for a few hours, Nick and I occasionally yapping dramatically about a scene. Eventually we all got tired and Nick and Matt decided to head to bed after cleaning up their trash. “Yeah I’m beat too, ready to head to bed baby?” Chris asked hopefully as Nick and Matt left.

“Actually I’m just gonna sleep on the couch tonight” I said as I scrolled on my phone, “What?” He asked, his voice breaking. “Look if I did something so awful that you don’t even want to share a bed with me, I’m sorry, but you take my bed I’ll sleep on the couch.” He offered, holding back tears.

“Oh no Baby, you didn’t do anything, I’m so sorry” I said as I rushed over to him, taking his face in my hands. “Then why have you been ignoring me all day?” He asked, “I’m sorry honey, it was stupid fucking prank Matt came up with because I lost a bet. I love you, I’m sorry baby.” I explained as I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close to me.

“So you’re not mad at me? I didn’t do anything?” He sniffled as he wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder. “Not a thing baby, I promise” I reassured him as I pressed a kiss to his head. “Oh thank god. But please don’t do that again, today sucked” He breathed out as he pulled away.

“No, never again, it killed me to see you so sad” I reassured him, pressing my lips to his, “Now let’s go to bed and you can get all the cuddles and kisses that you want” I promised. “That sounds perfect Ma” he smiled, “Fuck you Matt!” He called, Matt’s laughter heard from his room.

After the long, draining day, Chris fell asleep with a smile, laying on my chest with my hand running through his hair, and everything was right again

tags🫶🏼: @bernardsbendystraws @colorthecosmos444 @sturnihoelooo @endereies @matts-myloverboy @emely9274 @hoes4matthew @sturniololuv08 @lovergirl4gracieabrams @conspiracy-ash @hearts4werka @obsessionsarenotfortheweak

[d3v1ls4dvocat3]

Doomed

James “Bucky” Barnes x Fem! Reader Smut

Summary: When Bucky notices the new neighbor, he can’t seem to get her out of his head! Whatever will he do?

W.C: 1600

Tags: Smut!, pervert! Bucky, panty thief! bucky, guilty bucky?, mentions of lingerie, AFAB! Reader, age gap but it’s not specified, male masturbation, breast fixation, nipple fixation, p in v? kinda? it doesn’t actually happen, Bucky POV, mentions of steve, mentions of war and Buck being the Winter Solider

MDNI!! Let me know if I missed anything!!

He remembers the exact day you moved into the apartment across the hall.

It was only a few days before the new year. Everyone on the floor had seemingly left to be with family, not that he bothered to keep track of his neighbors whereabouts, but he had noticed the overall lack of people when he made the unfortunate trip out of his apartment to see his therapist every other day.

That made your appearance even more noticeable.

Bucky liked to keep track of everyone he saw day-to-day anyway, it helped calm his nerves (rather he told himself it calmed his nerves) and luckily enough for him, you didn’t want to stop and introduce yourself.

Over the next few weeks, he only saw you a handful of times. You both never said anything, barely even looked at each other. It was nice.

Of course, nothing lasts forever. His therapist was sure to tell him that, much to his distain. Strangely enough, it was on one of his trips coming back from another session with Dr. Raynor that he found you cursing to yourself standing outside your apartment.

A part of him wanted to just walk by, and avoid the headache altogether. But he could hear a quiet voice in his mind that sounded a lot like Steve telling him to man up and help a poor lady in need. He sighed mentally and cleared his throat to grab your attention.

You looked up with slight shock and embarrassment. “Oh.. uhm, I’m not in your way am I?” You asked.

He frowned. “No, sorry. You look like you’re having some trouble there?”

Your eyes seemed to light up. “Is it that obvious?”

Bucky chuckled lightly and stepped closer to you, offering a hand of assistance. You gladly handed him your key.

“This building is old. These keys get stuck all the time. You’ve gotta know how to turn it to get it to unlock,” Bucky said as he fidgeted with your lock.

You watched him with unwavering eyes. Unknowingly to you, he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. This was the first time he’d really gotten a good look at your face. You were young, way younger than anyone he’d talked to recently. Most likely a college student. You held yourself with confidence but not in a way that made you seem cocky. You just had a sense of determination he hadn’t seen in a long time.

It was refreshing. Reminded him of sunlight.

He immediately frowned at that thought and focused his attention on your lock. Within a moment a quiet ‘click’ sounded through the small hallway. Your face lit up with a smile so bright he almost had to look away.

“Oh my god, thank you! I seriously thought I was fucked there,” You exclaimed.

He nodded and stepped back. “No problem. You can come get me if it does it again. I’m pretty much always home.”

You smiled again, gentler this time. “I will. Seriously, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He watched you escape into the comfort of your home. He smiled, unbeknownst to himself and turned to his own apartment.

Cute.

_____

The next time he saw you was only a few weeks later.

Since the door fiasco, Bucky couldn’t get you out of his head. He wasn’t sure why, but something about you was like a breath of fresh air. He felt almost addicted to it, to how he felt at that moment.

So when he opened the door to the laundry room he was understandably surprised to see you. He was also even more surprised to see you in nothing but pajama pants and a very very small tank top.

And no bra.

He was going to turn around. Laundry could wait. Just as soon as his hand hit the door knob, he heard an intake of breath.

“It’s you!”

He sighed.

Bucky turned back around and smiled. “It’s me.”

You were smiling that same damn smile. He felt weak in his knees.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” You said happily.

He nodded. “I don’t get out much.”

You hummed in understanding. “I get that. I’m still getting used to the city myself.”

It was quiet for only a moment, before you noticed Bucky’s small basket of laundry. You quietly moved over and motioned to the washing machine.

“I’m almost done with the dryer,” You said. Bucky muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ and began throwing his clothes into the washer. Once he was finished you both sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“I don’t think I ever got your name…?”

Bucky himself was surprised at the question that came from his mouth. You also seemed surprised for a second before grinning.

As you said your name, he watched your lips form the word. Your name fit you, he thought. He whispered it to himself, trying to commit it to memory. Although, he was sure just like everything else about you, he wouldn’t forget it.

“James,” He said in return.

“Nice to officially meet you, James,” You practically purred. He felt his knees go weak again. He feared that might be a common occurrence around you.

As the silence fell over you again, Bucky began to struggle with his most recent thoughts. He questioned why he was acting like a teenager with a crush again?

Bucky had been through more than twenty men combined. He’d done things so horrible he couldn’t even speak about it. He’d seen things that would make anyone want to commit suicide. So why, out of all things, was a girl making him feel so weak?

He quietly looked over at you again. He traced the outline of your figure. Your hair down to your eyelashes. His eyes moved to your lips, plump and wet from where you’d licked them while talking.

He continued trailing down until his eyes stopped on your breasts. He felt guilt wash over him immediately at the practically sinful sight before him. He could perfectly make out your tits. The cold air in the room had made your nipples perk up just enough to poke through the already thin tank top.

Bucky glanced away quickly as the buzzer from the dryer sounded. He turned slightly to hide his tightening pants. You bent over to grab your clothes and he practically called out to god to strike him dead right there before he made a fool of himself.

It felt like years before you were up again and leaving the room. Before you closed the door, you waved bye to him. Bucky had to force every once of what he’d learned as an assassin just to seem normal enough to wave back.

Once the door closed behind you, he groaned and put his face in his hands. He tried to calm his breathing, using some of the techniques Dr. Raynor had taught him in one of their very first sessions. It was probably close to ten minutes before he felt okay enough to remove his hands from his face.

Bucky needed to calm down. You were just a girl. There was absolutely no reason to be feeling like this.

He repeated that to himself as he took his clothes out of the washing machine. As he went to throw them into the dryer, a small bright red thing caught his eye.

He grabbed it before he could even process what it was. He held up the laced piece of clothing he wasn’t sure would cover anything and knew he was doomed.

“Fucking dirty girl…”

_________

He was a pervert.

He knew he was a pervert. He felt guilty and ashamed and terrible.

However,

The thought of you wearing nothing but those red laced panties and a matching bra had been plaguing Buck’s mind. He couldn’t stop. He’d tried. He’d done everything he could think of.

He’d taken a cold shower.

He’d gone for a run.

He even tried to watch some of the movies that Steve had written down in his journal of things he “absolutely needs to watch and listen to” or whatever the blond had said.

Nothing could get that image out of his head.

It was three in the morning when he was fed up and aching and he needed release. He hadn’t meant to grab them. He was simply caught up in the moment. His hand stroking up and down his cock. He moaned and stroked faster.

Once the soft fabric touched his tip, he had to stop himself from instantly cumming.

“Oh fuck…” He moaned. Bucky wrapped the thong tightly around his hand. In his mind, he imagined your hips rubbing up and down his hard on. Teasing him in every way you knew would rile him up.

“Something wrong, Barnes?”

He groaned. He was fucking up into his fist now. He imagined flipping you over, grabbing your hands with his metal one and using his other one to squeeze your breasts.

He imagined kissing down your stomach until he got to those red panties and slowly, sensually kissing down them until you were begging to feel him. Begging him to touch you.

“Say my fucking name, doll,” He moaned.

He imagined your hands wrapped around his back and he mercilessly pounded into you. He imagined your soft lips wrapped around his full length, with your bright eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him.

He cursed.

“Nice to officially meet you, James.”

Suddenly he was cumming into his fist. He continued to stroke his cock until he was spent. As he calmed down, he looked down to see the mess he’d made with your undergarments.

“Fuck.”

He was seriously doomed.

[charmedimsure]

THE NEXT EPISODE || thanos

pairing: Thanos/Choi Su-bong x f!reader

summary: You and Su-bong reunite after his stay at rehab. No debt/no games AU.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: rehab, drinking, drugs, addiction, depression

A/N: i've been working on this for like two weeks and i still feel like i could work on it more. i love this mini series i made and i'm excited to see how other people like it :) if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

Part 1: Wake Up Call

Today is the big day. The day Su-bong has been working towards for the past six months.

Today he gets out of rehab.

He originally tried to quit on his own, but after multiple relapses, he decided he needed help. Due to his multiple addictions and how long he's been addicted for, the doctors at the facility suggested a longer stay for him, to which he agreed.

Before he left, he gave you the keys to his apartment, putting you in charge of managing the place while he's away. You also promised to get rid of anything in his apartment that could potentially be abused.

Rehab had actually not been bad. It certainly wasn't easy, but Su-bong felt better about it knowing there were so many other people there going through the same thing as him. He had ended up making some really good friends there, friends that he was excited to see again once they all got out. A few of them had made plans to meet up at a coffee house soon, about a week after Su-bong is released.

The thing Su-bong has been looking forward to the most while in rehab is seeing you again. The only visitors that were allowed were family members, so he had to settle for just talking to you on the phone.

"Can I see you soon?" Su-bong asks into the phone.

"I have to work today, but I'm off tomorrow if you want to come by?" you say. "Oh, and I left something for you on your counter."

Su-bong smiles into the phone. "You didn't have to do that."

"Don't get too excited, it's not much," you laugh. "But I just wanted to give you something to congratulate you."

"I'll be happy with anything you give me," he says.

"Cheesy," you groan, making him laugh. A small gasp comes from Su-bong's phone. "Shoot, my boss just texted me I have to go in early. I'm sorry, I gotta go. Text me when you get home, okay?"

"All good," Su-bong says. "Yeah, I'll text you. Let me know when you get to the club and back home safe."

"I will," he can hear the smile in your voice. "I'll see you tomorrow."

<>

Su-bong walks into his apartment. A chill washes over him. It's been so long since he was here, and he's changed so much. He puts his things down, walking into his kitchen.

A feeling of dread fills him. Was six months enough? Is he really able to do this?

A glint catches his eye, and he sees a small chain sitting on his counter. Attached to it is a dog tag. He picks it up, examining it. When he notices a clasp on the side of the dog tag, he opens it, revealing a small note in your handwriting.

'I'm proud of you <3'

A comfortable warmth fills his body as he smiles at your note. He closes the tag, immediately putting the chain around his neck.

He looks around his place. It holds way too many memories of his time before rehab. Waking up with a headache so bad he's worried his head might implode, turning over to see some random girl in his bed who's name he can't remember. That's not how he wants to live anymore.

He takes a water bottle from the fridge, which you must have put in there for him, and sits on his couch, looking up listings for available apartments. Preferably one close to you.

<>

Su-bong feels his heart race as he stands in front of your apartment door. He's been waiting for this moment for six months. With a deep breath, he knocks on the door.

Footsteps are heard from the other side of the door. Something makes a loud bang and he hears you curse, making his lips twitch upwards.

The door opens and there you are. He swears you've only gotten more beautiful since he last saw you.

"Woah, I almost didn't recognize you," you smile.

He smiles, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. He hadn't dyed his hair since before rehab, leaving it at its natural dark brown. "Yeah, I've been getting that a lot."

"I like it," you say. "You look much more like Su-bong."

He feels his face heat up, muttering a shy 'thank you'.

You step to the side, opening the door wider. "Come in! I'll go grab a snack."

Su-bong walks into your apartment, a smile playing on his face at the familiar set up. You move to the kitchen and he sits on your couch. He chuckles at the new blanket laying next to him, clearly having been used recently.

He looks up as you walk back into the room, placing a bowl of pretzels and a bottle of blue Gatorade on the coffee table in front of him. You remembered.

He gestures toward the blanket. "That new?"

You put a pretzel in your mouth and smile at him, nodding enthusiastically. "My mom got it for me. You have to feel it, it's so soft." He chuckles as you cover your mouth with your hand, too excited to tell him about the blanket to wait until you've swallowed your food.

He reaches out to the blanket, eyes widening when his fingers graze the fabric. "Holy shit."

"Right?!" you laugh, picking up the blanket and sitting down. You toss it over both of your legs. You take a moment to study his face. "You look really good, Su-bong."

He feels himself blush, turning away in embarrassment. "Yeah, my pupils are finally the correct size."

You laugh at the comment. "Yes, that. But you also just look much healthier. Much happier."

He nods. "I feel happier. I thought I was happy all those nights at the club, drinking away my life. But now I know that wasn't real happiness." He looks at you, looking deep into your eyes. "This is real happiness."

Now it's your turn to look away, feeling heat rush to your face. "I'm glad. You deserve happiness."

He smiles.

"Even though you once tried to pay me to take off my shirt."

Su-bong cringes, bringing his hand to his face as you laugh. "Can you please stop bringing that up?"

You shake your head. "No way. This is the punishment you get for that. Me making fun of you. I think it's a fair exchange."

He laughs. "Fair enough."

You continue talking for the next hour or so, telling each other about everything and nothing. Su-bong's heart soars every time he is able to make you laugh. He's made music his entire life, but no song could ever compare to the sweet tune of your laughter.

"On Sunday I'm gonna meet up with a few friends from rehab at that new coffee place around the corner," he says. "Do you want to come?"

You shake your head. "Thank you for the invitation but I don't want to intrude."

"You wouldn't be intruding," he assures. "I, uh, talked about you a lot and they really want to meet you."

Your face heats up at his admission, nodding. "In that case, I'd love to go."

He smiles. "Good."

You put on a movie to watch, saying you saw one while he was away and couldn't wait to show it to him. Throughout the movie, Su-bong sneaks glances at you. He's wanted you ever since he first laid his eyes on you. You were the hot bartender with a fiery personality.

Now, though, as he watches you chew your lip in concentration, he sees just how amazing you truly are. You're the beautiful girl who changed his life for the better. The amazing girl who gave him a reason to become a better person. The kind girl who talked on the phone with him every day while he was in rehab.

You're his best friend. And he's deeply in love with you.

<>

Su-bong opens the door to the coffee house, letting you walk inside first before entering as well.

"Hey, Su-bong!" a voice yells, getting his attention. He smiles when he sees his friends, waving at them. He motions for you to follow him as you head over to the table.

"Hey guys," he greets, giving each of them a small hug. It feels nice to see them on the outside. They all accomplished the same thing, and they'll forever be close for doing it together.

He looks to you. "Oh right. This is Jung-su, Shin-il, and Ji-hae."

Each of them wave and smile at you as he says their names. Once he introduces you, they all seem to get a similar look on their faces.

"Oh, so you're the girl he keeps talking about," Shin-il smirks. Su-bong lightly smacks his arm, making the boy laugh.

"Shin-il, be quiet!" Ji-hae rolls her eyes. She turns to you. "He told us about how you helped him get sober. We're glad he had someone so supportive helping him."

You smile. "I just wanted to help any way I could. He's the one who ultimately chose to get help." You smile at him and he feels his heart melt. "And I'm glad he was able to make some great friends in there, from what he's told me."

"Aw, you talked about us?" Jung-su flashes Su-bong with puppy eyes, making the ladder roll his own.

"Plus, now he doesn't call me 'Señorita' anymore, so really I got something out of it too," you say.

The table bursts out in laughter and Su-bong hides his face behind his hands. "Maybe it was a mistake bringing you here, I didn't realize you were all going to gang up on me."

You laugh, rubbing his arm. "I'm just kidding. Come on, let's go get something to drink."

You move to stand but he puts a hand on your shoulder. "I got it. What do you want?"

You tell him your order, thanking him as he walks to the counter.

Ji-hae leans across the table to you. "He really likes you, you know," she smiles. "Talked about you all the time."

You smile. "He's a really great guy. I wish I could've talked to him sooner, maybe he would've gotten help sooner. He's my best friend now."

"You should go out with him," she says. "Based on how he talked about you, he'd treat you right."

You turn to look at Su-bong, smiling as he rocks back and forth on his feet while waiting in line.

"I do like him," you say, turning back to Ji-hae. "I just want to give him some time first. He just got out of rehab, I feel like he should have some time to figure out what he really wants and adjust to sobriety, if that makes sense."

"Totally," Jung-su says, nodding his head. "I've been out two months now and I still feel like this is all new."

"Just please be there for him," Shin-il asks.

You nod. "I'm not going anywhere."

On the other side of the coffee house, while waiting for your drinks, Su-bong feels a hand grasp his shoulder.

"Holy shit man," a familiar voice says behind him. "You dropped off the face of the earth!"

Su-bong turns to see the smiling face of Nam-gyu.

"Where have you been, dude?"

Su-bong opens his mouth to answer but is cut off when Nam-gyu continues.

"You know what, it doesn't matter." He pulls a small bag out of his jacket pocket. "I just got some new shit. It's fucking insane, man. You gotta try it."

He stares at the pills. This is the first time that drugs have been so accessible to him since before rehab. A cold sweat breaks out and his breath gets quicker. It would be so easy. All he'd have to do is pop one little pill.

He turns back to look at the table. You're sitting there, laughing with Jung-su. The sound flows to his ears and a soft smile graces his face. The sweat stops and his breathing goes back to normal.

He doesn't need pills anymore. He has you. And you make him so much happier than pills ever have or ever will.

He turns back to Nam-gyu, straightening his posture. "No, I don't do that stuff anymore."

Nam-gyu gives him a look. "Are you kidding, dude? You can't get this shit anywhere, and you're turning it down? What the fuck happened to you, Thanos?"

"It's Su-bong, actually," he says.

"No more Thanos!? What's going on?"

Su-bong opens his mouth to respond, but is beaten by another voice.

"Nam-gyu, leave him alone, please," you say, putting a hand on Su-bong's shoulder as you step beside him.

Nam-gyu looks between the two of you before a knowing smile spreads on his face.

"Oh, I see," he says. "So this is the guy you've been calling all the time." The barista calls out his name and he takes his cup. "Knew it was only a matter of time before you two got together, I should've bet on it." He turns, walking toward the door. "I'll see you at work!"

You wave to him as he leaves, turning to Su-bong. "Are you okay? He didn't give you anything, did he?"

He shakes his head. "He offered, but I said no. I was expecting him to be a lot less understanding."

"I've been talking to him the past few months at work, turns out he's not bad when he's not constantly sticking his nose up someone else's ass," you say, making Su-bong laugh. His name is called and you take the cups from the barista, thanking them before handing Su-bong's drink to him, taking his hand and leading him back to the table.

"Welcome back, Señorita," Shin-il smirks.

The table bursts out in laughter again and Su-bong stands from the table, waving goodbye to everyone. You grab his wrist before he can get too far, laughing along with him as he sits back down next to you.

<>

It's been about five months since Su-bong got out of rehab. He's been doing very good, resisting every time he feels even the slightest temptation.

He's gotten back into music and is working on his next album, which is going to be the first he's releasing that's not under the name "Thanos", instead rebranding as Choi Su-bong. You're of course his biggest supporter and he plays you all of his songs to get your opinion. You've even helped on a few songs, and he plans on crediting you as a co-writer.

Remembering what you told him nearly a year ago, he surprised you one day with your own guitar, taking the time to teach you how to play. You're still learning, but he loves everything you play, nearly as much as he loves your laugh whenever you play the wrong note.

You've been dancing around each other for the past few months, both aware of your feelings, but liking what you have going on between you for now. As time passes, though, Su-bong can feel himself getting closer to the edge, ready to take the leap.

One day you're both sitting in Su-bong's new apartment when he turns to you.

"Hey," Su-bong says. You look up from your phone at him. "I uh, I want to play something for you, if that's okay."

You smile, locking your phone and putting it face-down on the couch. "Yeah, I'd love that."

He stands up and reaches his hand out towards you. You take it, standing as he leads you to his piano. He sits on the bench, making room for you to sit beside him.

"I actually wrote this for you," he says, shyly looking at you. You smile at him, giving him a nod of encouragement. With a deep breath, he begins playing the notes before singing.

"I text a postcard sent to you Did it go through? Sending all my love to you You are the moonlight of my life every night Giving all my love to you."

You feel your eyes start to water as you listen to the words. His words reflect exactly how you feel, put in a way that makes it more beautiful than anything you could say to him.

You've heard him sing more ties than you can count. But sitting here next to him, listening as he pours his heart out to you, you don't think any song will ever compare.

"With every breath that I am worth Here on Earth I'm sending all my love to you So if you dare to second guess You can rest Assured that all my love's for you."

Su-bong puts his entire heart into the song. He had started writing it on the piano they had at the rehabilitation center. He had written a few songs while he was there, but this one was specifically inspired by you. The lyrics were from notes he would write down while talking to you, things that came to his head as your sweet voice drifted through the speaker of his phone.

"My beating heart belongs to you I walked for miles till I found you I'm here to honor you If I lose everything in the fire I'm sending all my love to you."

He stops playing, bringing his arms to his sides. He slowly looks up at you. "You've done so much for me. I don't think I can ever pay you back, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying if you'll let me."

A tear escapes your eye. You sniffle, nodding your head.

Su-bong reaches out to cup your cheek, wiping away the tear with his thumb. He looks down to your lips before looking back up to your eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please."

He leans forward, closing his eyes as his lips make contact with yours. Su-bong has kissed girls before, more than he'd like to admit, but he feels like a teenager kissing their crush for the first time.

This is a moment nearly a year in the making. All of his longing for you, his adoration of you is put into the kiss.

He pulls back, regaining his breath as he looks over your face. Your kiss-swollen lips are just begging to be kissed again, but there's something that needs to be done first.

"I love you," he says. "I've loved you for a long time. You're the most amazing person I've ever met and there's nothing I want more than to be with you."

You smile at him, and he feels starstruck by how beautiful you are. "I love you too, Su-bong," you say. "I'm forever grateful that you showed me the real you that day in my apartment. Because I love the real you. So much."

Su-bong's face lights up in a smile, leaning forward to capture your lips again in an awkward kiss that makes you both laugh.

All his hard work is paying off. He is finally worthy of happiness. He is finally worthy of you. And he's going to spend every day making sure he stays worthy.

Song: Last Night on Earth by Green Day

Squid Game Tags: @thebiggestigurosimp @vvnbxz @lov3yy @miltzzy @l5byrinth @come-as-you-are-111 @starkeyszn @learninglinesintherainn @galactict3a @sawlover353 @jspidey5 @skywalker0809 @zannispppp @lianobody

Pt 2 tags: @dweeebazoid @apookalypse @jxsibat @fallout-girl219 @senorittaaaa

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist

[pricegouge]

shovel talk

it's not even six in the morning and yet the shovel grates across the walkway, grit of pebbles beneath its steel edge scraping and catching. it balks in unsteady hands, tries again with another drawn out rasp before meeting the wall of the bank. trembling as it rises, it spills a portion its spare load back across the pavers before being tipped meticulously atop the mountain of snow that runs parallel the walk. she lets the shovel fall carelessly ahead of her and grits her teeth, rises an inch and scoots forward minutely, dragging the cheap lawn chair she's been perched on along by a hand shoved between her knees, gripping the seat. it scrapes just as much as the shovel, heavy with implication. she's not even wearing a proper jacket, just a flannel over a zip up hoodie, the wool weave of her button up already beaded with melted snow.

she looks ornery and mulish, but so are you and you can't just keep walking past.

clear blue eyes turn on you when you call to her, ask if you can help. her hands might shake but her gaze is level, taking you in from head to toe before scooting herself along another inch. "shouldn't be doin' that," she advises, voice croaky in her old age.

"neither should you," you counter, nodding at her makeshift mobility aid. it teeters when she turns to chuckle at you, though she hides it in a cough. stubborn old bat, you can already tell.

"anyway my son will be here soon."

pursing your lips, you look the walk over properly. the poor woman's already done over half of it - how late is the son exactly? but you don't comment on it, step closer when her shovel catches on a shelf of ice instead. "give it here, please," you offer rather diplomatically. she frowns apprehensively but does as told, shuffling her seat back a smidge to give you room to work. it takes a couple tries but you catch the bottom edge of the ice, ply it back and huck it over the bank easily enough. it thunks as it sinks through the snow, a real ice breaker.

"and here i'd pegged you for some soft, sweet thing," she laughs, sheepish.

"must've loosened it for me," you shrug, and turn to finish the walk while she's distracted, laughing herself into a minor coughing fit. "should you go inside?" you offer, unsure if it's a good suggestion seeing as that would leave some strange woman alone on her front lawn.

thankfully she just waves you off as she calms herself down, heavy breaths clouding around her like the smoke that's probably catching up to her. "can't. gotta take credit for your work when my son gets here."

"oh, i see how it is," you snark, and purposefully leave a good quarter inch on the paver, a base level that will freeze solid soon enough and create another sheet of ice for her to struggle with in the future.

she just eyes you, thin eyebrow pulled low on a once-heavy brow. she may be old and frail but it's a sort of sternness that doesn't dull with age and you can only smile to yourself as you fix it. no wonder her son still comes by to help. "he running late?" you ask conversationally, nod up the path where she's already done most of the work by way of explanation when she hmm's at you.

"oh, no. he'll be two hours early, probably. which is why i'm out here three hours early. a woman's got to have her pride, after all."

you nod along as if that's reasonable. "well what's he gonna do when he gets here, then?"

"fix my water heater," she gripes. "say, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

it earns an unladylike snort from you, but you don't think she's the type to mind. "'fraid not."

the stoop is easy enough, just a quick swipe to clean the steps. you note the name above the door with some interest, a misplaced desire to keep tags on her, come back and check maybe. "got any salt, mrs. price?"

she motions you toward the open garage behind her but sticks a hand out for help as you pass. her grip is surprisingly strong on your forearm, the fingers of her other hand digging into your tricep almost cruelly when she uses you to drag herself up. you snatch the lawn chair up before she can even try it, nod toward the garage questioningly.

"next to the overhead, please," she agrees, and you find the bucket of salt right beside it, an empty coffee can already filled and ready for dispensing. when you emerge from the garage, there's a truck parked out front.

"give me that," mrs. price hisses and you jump to find her so close, already snatching the can from your fingers. old bat can still move.

the driver's door creaks when it closes. you can only see the top of a blue beanie from over the roof of it but mrs. price doesn't wait to see him before hollering at her son. "i thought you wouldn't be here until nine!?"

tall and burly with his mother's same stern brow, price junior rounds the corner of his truck and frowns between the two of you."and i thought you didn't like when other people shoveled for you," he counters before tacking on a quick hi pet towards you.

"hi -."

"who's shoveled for me?" she demands, motioning up the walk with another spray of salt. "did this all on my own."

he hums as he comes closer, boots crunching over the thin dusting of snow that still coats the driveway. you sincerely hope mrs. price didn't shovel all that, but judging by the banks that line the drive you suspect a service was likely hired. why they couldn't take an extra two minutes to clear an old lady's walkway you'd never know. you think maybe the son is wondering the same, the way he's inspecting the short stretch critically, but when he opens his mouth it's not at all meant to insult the snow removal service. "you're losing your touch, woman."

you're unsure who's more offended, yourself or his mother. "what's wrong with it?" you blurt, unheeding of the way mrs. price elbows you again.

"i've done a fine job," she supplies, trying to save face.

he just tilts his head at her patronizingly, rocks up onto his toes to appear unnecessarily bigger. "you've forgotten we're expecting more snowfall soon. you'll want to widen the walk to push the banks back, make it easier to shovel out the next storm."

this ass. "well if you'd wanted it done right, you should have shown up on time," you huff, unreasonably defensive of the quick job you'd done.

he's still got that insufferable expression on when he turns to you, but you think you see an edge of something playful glimmering in his clear blue eyes, that same expression his mother had worn when she'd asked if you could perhaps also take his job fixing her water heater. "'on time' would be hours from now," he reminds you. "would you have had this all fixed by then?"

the worst part is, calling him out on the insult would mean admitting you'd done it, and you're suddenly very aligned with this man's mother re: his versus her pride. instead you turn his own words back on him, leaning close to your new friend to ask her if she's going to take that.

she chuckles. "oh, don't mind him. john here's just scared because he knows his job is at risk."

you watch john frown between the two of you, the furrow between his brows deepening in a way which brings you too much pleasure. part of you wants to stay, keep carving away at his pride, but you're now running late for work and you still have a few blocks to walk. "well, it was lovely to meet you, mrs. price," you say with an overly formal shake of her hand.

"pleasure doing business," she agrees with a wry smile. "see you again bright and early next snow storm."

john doesn't budge to let you pass, instead squints down at you in open assessment. you note his cheeks are rosy with the cold and you briefly hope he gets stuck outside fixing the damn walk, cold wind stinging the chapped apples of cheeks which his ridiculous beard doesn't quite cover. they scrunch up when he affects a smile, lend a sort of disarmingly childish quality to the patronizing tone he still can't quite drop. it just pisses you off even more. "didn't actually catch your name," he prompts, gloved hand extended, as if attempting to continue the ruse.

"that's because i didn't give it," you chirp in your best customer service voice. you brush past him when he can only blink in confusion, the contrast between your words and your tone evidently too much for him to process so early in the morning.

"she usually pays me with breakfast if you want to stick around!" he calls after you, far too late to start acting sweet.

you nearly slip in your haste to spin around and fix him with an overly saccharine smile. "oh, i already ate. got here at five," you lie, just to watch his face crumble into genuine concern.

behind him, his mother's thin mouth twists into a cheshire grin and you stumble away before she can solidify any real plans.

too bad she's just as stubborn and ornery as you.

too bad john's worse than both of you.

[bunny-jpeg]

Hi bunny I have an idea

What if reader and lando lowk hate each other and are rivals but one night at vegas they wake up after being blackout drunk married and they only have photos (a bit like the hangover movie) and then they get a flashback of everything with a fruitcake, crostata, cranberry juice and coffee plss thanksss bunny !

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there are tons of items to check out, thank you so much for those who have submitted, these have been a lot of fun to make. i really love this concept so thank you for putting it in front of my eyes! i hope you enjoy <3

fruitcake: "i'll make tonight special." + crostata: “stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.” + cranberry juice: mean!character + coffee: rivals served by lando norris (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, rivals au, driver!reader, drinking, drunk marriage, hate sex, mean!lando,

light streamed through the large windows in your hotel room. your eyes cracked open and your mouth felt instantly dry. your lips couldn't form words as you just groaned. you were no stranger to hangovers, but when you turned away from the evil sun, your cheek collided with something firm. someone firm. it was a body, your eyes open wider. you looked to see who was the mystery man in your bed.

while you were expecting some babe from the strip. you instead saw a sleeping lando norris.

and when you recoiled away from you and put your hand over your mouth, you noticed something even more terrifying. you had a gold band on your left hand.

it started over drinks, you could see lando from across the bar as you leaned back into your seat. your teammate followed your gaze. not this again.

lewis had the displeasure of hearing almost all of your drunken rants about lando. he knew very intimately how much you loathed, but also wanted lando. he was your proper rival. while the rivalry wasn't the more fierce in the history of formula one, he wanted you to just get over your stubbornness and sleep with the mclaren driver to get over the tension.

"i hate him." you sighed, "he walks around the paddock like he has the biggest cock."

"and how would you know his cock isn't the biggest?" lewis laughed which spurred you to laugh.

"well, c'mon. we all know that my cock is the biggest. in a metaphorical sense anyway... but it takes big balls to be the only female driver. gotta keep up with the boys." you laughed and winked at your teammate.

lewis chuckled, "can't argue with that." then took a sip of his (non alcoholic) drink. he watched you look over at the mclearn drivers at the other end of the bar. while oscar gave a wave, lando glared at you.

you made a face before you took another sip of your cocktail, "he doesn't act like that with anyone else. he is practically running max off the track and he is still more friendly than with me. maybe he hates women." the alcohol was flooded in your brain and your tonuge felt looser.

your teammate laughed, "right, right. he hated woman." he watched you ramble. an unintentional plus side to not drinking was that he got to be the sober person in the room when fellow drivers spilled their guts over drinks. eventually he said, "i think you need to talk to him."

and you were so drunk at that point you took hew advice and got up on shaky legs. you started to make your way over to lando, which shocked lewis. you never took his advice like that. he also knew that he wasn't going to be seeing you for the rest of the night.

he looked around for a moment before he took another sip of his drink. he hoped that you didn't get into too much trouble tonight. and made a mental note to check in on you in the morning. someone could get into heaps of trouble in a place like las vegas.

you don't know this happened or what you said. but lando was soon in your room with his large hands all over you. you groaned at his touch and he wanted to devour you whole. you wanted the same for him.

"i'll make tonight special." he said as he got you out of your mercedes branded t-shirt. and eyed your breasts.

"never seen tits before, norris? i thought you went through women like pairs of socks." you laughed before lando pushed you further up against the wall.

he chuckled lowly, "you like getting me mad, huh? you like driving me up the fucking wall. stupid slut, this is what you wanted, huh? you wanted me to fuck you like i hate you." lando then groaned, he pinned you to the wall, "you're such a whore. i bet you keep toto's bed nice and warm during the off season."

"fuck, shut up. you basically are between the legs of zak any time he asks. like a fucking dog." you bit back before lando kissed you once more.

the months of feuding had come to a head. as lando continued you to mark up your breasts before he took your bra off. he hungrily licked his lips and groaned a little.

the bed seemed far and you ended up on the couch. both of you were stripped naked, your flushed body on display for him as you straddled his waist and he held on to your hips like you two had done this a million times. you moved well together.

"i thought you were a virgin because you never put out. turned out you're a proper whore." your moan only spurred him on as he pushed himself inside of your achy cunt. he felt you in such an intimate way.

"i'm not a whore" you groaned as you fully seated yourself onto his cock.

he gripped you by the ass and replied, "there's no shame in being a whore. especially my whore. don't worry, i won't throw you away. nah, i'm keeping you." he groaned as he started to fuck you. and you felt the flood of pleasure in your body.

you had to admit, lando made you feel good. there was something about how it made you feel that made you move faster. damn lando norris, damn him.

his kisses got hotter the more you both rutted against each other.

"you feel like heaven. the hottest piece of ass on the track." he groaned, "you're always trying to be the best, but i know you well enough. fuck you drive me crazy!"

you asked, "is that why you hate me?" you felt the pleasure pair with the liquor in your system. it all clouded your mind.

"could never actually hate you." he groaned, "i'd bully and tease you. but that's because i want you so badly. spent so many nights jerking off to the thoughts of you." his breathing became heavier, "wanted to fuck you in front of the grid. i wanted you all to myself." his tone was hungry, but his words were true. he needed you. you had invaded his thoughts.

"fuck, lando." the haze of it all kept you moving. there was a painful heat between you. it was unlike anything you felt before with anyone else. sex was fun with others, but with lando it was a deep need.

he excited you sexually, just as he ddi on the track. you two kissed once more and lando moaned against your lips. youmoved faster, you could feel his cock hit against your softest areas. and you felt heaven on earth. and as you climaxed, the feeling was closely compared to winning a grand prix.

"fuck.' he groaned as you came. you kissed once more and practically melted against him. he gripped your hips tightly.

you continued to fuck him through your orgasm. and by the time he finished inside of you, you had marked up his shoulders with your nails because he made you finish for a second time.

when you slowed to a stop, you rested against his toned chest. he wrapped an arm around you and gave you a lazy kiss on the mouth.

he groaned when he pulled away, "fuck it. i'm keeping you. let's get married." there were a lot of ways to get into trouble in las vegas.

-

you laid in bed beside a sleeping lando. you looked at your wedding ring in shock. it only made the hangover worse. you had no recollection of most of the night, you remembered being intimate. but no details about your wedding.

your phone rang and you reached for it. you picked it up and heard lewis' voice on the other end, "good morning mrs. norris."

you sat up in bed and the throb in your head got worse. "how did you know? jesus christ." you said as you got out of bed to have this conversation in the bathroom.

"i mean, you sent me photos of your wedding. didn't take you as someone who wanted to be married by an elvis impersonator. how drunk were you last night?"

you closed the bathroom door and looked into the mirror. and saw all the marks lando left you the night prior. you said, "i couldn't tell you... i remember nothing."

"well they already updated your name on the track for next weekend." lewis laughed, "i'd suggest your change it on your track id, don't want any problems, mrs. norris."

"you hate me, lewis. you want me dead."

lewis replied, "not as much as toto wants you dead. have fun with your husband, let me know if you're flying to qatar with him or not."

when the call ended, you looked through your photos. you got married to lando norris. your rival. you felt your stomach dropped when you saw all the photos. the bathroom door opened and you were face to face with your husband.

you looked at one another in shock. you looked down at the photo on the phone screen. it was you in a short white number and lando in a white button up and tan slacks. you had no memory of this.

your hands shook as you showed him the photo. there was a silence between you two. before you could say anything, you jumped as you phone rang once more.

your stomach twisted when you saw the caller id. it was your boss, toto wolff. <3

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 1 ] || [ Chapter 3 ]

Pairing: Soap x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: a bit of dirty talking/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 2: Johnny

“Oh, hello…” You remarked to yourself as your eyes locked into a stunning pair of blue eyes on your screen, stopping your mindless right-swipping. “...Johnny.”

“You’re 29… A soldier… Scottish… Are you friends with Kyle?” You mused playfully. “Let me guess, you’re a gym bro, aren’t you?” You asked sarcastically as you tapped your finger on the right side, skipping through his pictures. The first one immediately after was him lifting while wearing a weightlifting belt. “Yup… Mandatory gym pic.”

Chuckling to yourself, you snap a screenshot of his profile to the girls as well, sending it quick.

leah: @/mia Whatever good energy you sent its working. second hot guy in the last 5 minutes! mia: i lit a CANDLE for this!!!!! leah: there weren’t any handsome guys like this when i was on tinder?! 😫 UNFAIR. 🙄 you: blow it out then cause this is the 3rd actually. leah: 3rd??? Where’s number 2??? you: didn’t think to snap a screenshot. hasn’t matched me back yet. mia: has he posted a shirtless pic? you: kyle did and this one idk but probably. need to check. leah: Don’t forget to send it over.🥴

Shaking your head and laughing in amusement, you went back to Tinder, checking on ‘Johnny’. The mandatory gym pic was there… a couple of them in fact! And then the mandatory shirtless selfie. Or rather… The mandatory shirtless SELFIES. Plural.

Three of them… The first one was him just straight up wearing just a towel… And the next was him in a kilt… And the next was him with a button-up very much so unbuttoned. 

“Oh, my, Johnny-John-John… You sure know how to woo a bird…” You joked to yourself.

You dragged your finger down to check his bio and immediately frowned. “Of course…” You trailed off with a disappointed frown as you snuck another spring roll into your mouth.

He might be stupidly attractive, but his personality… Gosh, he doesn’t know how to sell himself. Boring, boring, boring. “I work out and like video games!” You quipped mockingly and scoffed a bit.

“Artist.” You remarked when you reached the last of his profile’s tags, spotting that word in the hobby section. “An artist? You?” You asked your phone screen as if Johnny would come alive in it and answer you. 

You’d admit, him calling himself an artist was intriguing enough, but normally that wouldn’t be enough to make you Swipe Right on him… But you’re not under normal circumstances. You promised your friends you’d Swipe Right on everyone so…

Your phone almost dropped out of your hand as soon as the ‘It’s a Match’ screen showed. “Of course… He’s probably swiping right on everyone as well…” Rolling your eyes, you go to click off the screen but accidentally enter DMs.

Johnny: ye have any scottish in you? you: not that i know of. Johnny: would ye like to? 🫦 Johnny: wait. wdym not that ye know of??? Johnny: i was trying to be filthy and now got me curious bonnie

“Fuckin’ hell…” You said as you set down your phone and covered your face before breaking into a fit of giggles.

The fact you had accidentally ruined his pick-up line and succeeded in stumping him got you very, very amused. Okay, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as boring as you thought.

you: story for another time. you: i walked right into that one tho. good job. Johnny: no ye cant do that Johnny: gotta tell me all about it now you: i mean werent scottish people everywhere in the uk at one point? you: i might be 1/370232103484320th scottish. Johnny: would ye like some MORE scottish in ye then? 🫦 you: solid attempt again. you: if you keep trying you might just get there. Johnny: i intend to dont worry you: soooo… Johnny: so? you: were you wearing underwear under the kilt? Johnny: no Johnny: why want a peek? 😏 you: i’m good you: so ur an artist? Johnny: i am Johnny: ur fast at typing fuck you: what kind? you: keep up then! Johnny: drawing Johnny: im trying 🥴 you: can i see some? Johnny: hanging with my mates difficult to text fast 😤 Johnny: idk if ull be in the mood to see anything after im done with ye you: why? 🤨 Johnny: might be too tired and need to be cuddled to sleep 😏 you: oh fuck off. Johnny: u just cursed me out Johnny: i think m in love 😫 Johnny: gonna tell my mates i just met my spouse 🥴🥴 you: don’t give them any ideas. you: haven’t even agreed to meet up with you. you: haven’t been invited in the first place. Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏

Your eyes widened at his enthusiasm and persistence. Okay, he was definitely not boring… It was actually kind of endearing and funny!

you: jc r u copypasting that? Johnny: yes Johnny: are ye going to or not you: can i get back to you on that? Johnny: ill wait for ye you: sure you do that johnny Johnny: ow the sarcasm burns

Concealing a chuckle, you clicked off the DMs page for the second time tonight… but, this time, you closed the app and focused on eating dinner.

Sure, this whole dating app thing was stupid, but at least you were enjoying yourself. 

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

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taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

[blackynsupremacy]

CLARK KENT HELPING

YOU TAKE OUT YOUR

BRAIDS HEADCANONS

pairing: henry cavill!clark x blackfem!reader

fandom: DC

this was brewing in my head while actually taking out my braids today. plus, i wanted to give my baby henry a shot at this.

summary: it’s that time again! time to take down those 1-2 month old braids to prepare for your next fresh set. the only problem is, it’s raining, you’re tired, and you know it’s gonna take forever. yeah even getting your hair taken down, washed, detangled, and dried can be a hassle. fortunately, your fiancé, clark kent, is always happy to help with the process.

contains: lots of words, some things are based on true events, self insert, fluff, romance, established relationship, you and clark are simps, you and clark being fine, nudity but no smut, clark being a green flag, cuddling, kissing.

taglist: @rosiestalez @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @zombiehe4rt @elitesanjisimp @sabrinasopposite @gxuxhdjdu @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn

(i know i didn’t ask if ya’ll wanted to be tagged, but y’all are mutuals that consistently interact with my posts, so this is how i’m showing my appreciation! thank you! let me know if any of yall want to be tagged in my next blurb. again thank yall and i love my mutes)

• work was work today.

• it’s raining like hell.

• but good news, you’re getting your hair done this weekend! ain’t nothing like a fresh set of braids.

• the bad news, you gotta take out the old braids, wash/condition/detangle, and blow dry your hair all before your appointment. (yk how these new hair stylists be)

• girl, you’re dead tired, but you know you need to start asap!

• good news again though! your man clark kent is already home and you know he’s always down to help with your hair.

• ya’ll have been dating for 4 years before he popped the question a month ago on your anniversary.

• one thing about clark kent, he’s gonna hype up your hair no matter what style.

• he believes you’re stunning whether you have braids, twists, a lace front, locs, a slick back ponytail, a silk press or, your natural. he loves it!!

• he loves to watch you style it on your own or if you’re following along to a youtube tutorial.

• you’ve taught him a thing or two like taking down braids, detangling, applying edge control, and even helping you to wash and condition it!

• he catches on pretty fast and follows your instructions to a tee.

• his love language is acts of service and when it comes to your hair, he wants to make sure he does it properly.

• he told you he wants to continue learning because he can see himself helping out with your future daughter’s hair, so why not start with his future wife?

• this man is going to be the death of you.

• you see clark sitting on the couch with his laptop. as soon as he hears the door shut followed by your sigh of exhaustion, he’s already putting that to the side and zooming in your direction to take your bag, umbrella, and jacket off your hands.

• this man is teeth rotting sweet. how’d you get so blessed?

• he greets you with a warm embrace and plants a kiss atop of your head. he peeps that new growth, but he won’t mention it until you do.

• you both take a seat on the couch and have a brief conversation about each other’s day. you sigh again and run a hand through your hair one last time.

• “it’s about that time, clark. i’m getting my hair done soon and i need to start taking my braids down, but i’m so tired!”

• you whine and lean your head on his broad shoulder before you peer your “please help me” doe eyes into his blue ones that were hiding behind his glasses. he doesn’t hesitate to keep that eye contact either. it’s so intense yet intimate. you almost look away because even after 4 years, clark can still get you a bit flustered from time to time.

• “baby, would you like to help me out again? i promise you’re not gonna have to do all the work. i just need some assistance to get this done faster.”

• you playfully pout and bat your lashes. you already know the answer, but this brought you joy. you knew he was waiting for an opportunity to help with your hair again.

• he shows off those pearly whites before he enthusiastically responds, “i’d never thought you’d ask. you go change into something more comfortable, i’ll handle the rest, and we can get started.”

• he lays a chaste kiss to your lips and pats your behind to signal for you to handle your business and you don’t hesitate to do so.

• by “handling the rest”, clark gathers the necessities: 2 pairs of scissors, a detangling comb, 4 hair ties for sectioning, a plastic bag from that one drawer in the kitchen, your satin bonnet, and an order of chinese takeout placed on doordash.

• clark was waiting on the couch and he gleamed when he saw you come back clad in a white tank, no bra, grey cotton shorts, and one of his oversized, plaid flannels.

• as soon as you found yourself comfortable on the couch, clark handed you a pair of scissors and ya’ll got to work at cutting the braids shorter before you both section off your hair into 4 parts and start unbraiding from the front.

• you started on the right side, while clark took over for the left.

• you obviously know of clark’s abilities, his extraterrestrial heritage, and his intense duties as superman. he makes sure his powers can be of help in the most important areas of his life, one of them being your relationship.

• he’s had some practice with unbraiding and his fingers moves like clockwork. he moves at a delicate, quick pace and uses his keen eye to make sure your hair doesn’t get tangled or pulled, so there’s no unnecessary breakage. braid by braid, each one is removed out of your head and into the empty, plastic grocery bag that’s placed between you two.

• he’s seen you sometimes get it tangled and you would be quick to just cut it off, but with his aid, you’ve been doing that less frequently.

• after about 30 minutes, clark can already hear the doorbell ring and footsteps walking away. the food’s here.

• he opted for contactless delivery this time because he knew he just had one more braid….and done!

• he urges you to give your hands a break from unbraiding your side and to wash them because your dinner has arrived. he chuckled as you perked up hearing that because you were hon-grey!!

• he also takes it upon himself to gently place your satin, royal blue bonnet on your head.

• it’s his absolute favorite because it’s patterned with his iconic red and gold family crest!

• you have a friend who owns a small business of designing bonnets, durags, and head scarves with the cutest patterns imaginable for black nerds like you.

• they got some with superheroes, anime characters, hogwart house symbols, disney, you name it!!

• 2 years ago, you asked them to commission a bonnet to match his heroic attire.

• this was to show him that you’re proud of his kryptonian roots and that you 100% support him being one of the world’s most selfless heroes along with the other members of the justice league.

• you sometimes worry for his life, but he always tries his best to make it back to you in one piece.

• but girl, that bonnet had him geeking when you showed it to him!! his face heated with a bright hue of pink before he plants a billion kisses all over your face. his voice never ceasing his appreciation and eternal love for you.

• you both chill for a few minutes to eat and watch some tv.

• you stretch your hands, placed your bonnet on the coffee table and resumed to unbraiding the last strand on the front before sectioning it off with a hair tie and starting on the back of the right side. it seems that time moves slower (or faster) as your fingers meticulously unravel each braided strand.

• clark is half way done with his entire side. his brows raise at the sound of your soft groan of what seemed to be pain and exhaustion.

• “babe, my fingers are starting to cramp and so are my arms.” you gripe and pause your movements to massage out the stiffness in your fingers.

• clark also pauses what he’s doing. he delicately grasps your hands into his, sprinkling tiny pecks on each aching knuckle. his pink lips lingers on the rock that adorns the fourth knuckle of your left hand before those baby blues gaze into your own eyes.

• you could clearly see your worn reflection in his pupils, but you lovingly smile as you know what he’s about to say.

• “c’mere, beautiful. let me take care of the rest while you sit and relax. it’s just a few more and it’s nothing i can’t handle, so it’ll be my pleasure.”

• that’s true. clark’s an invincible kryptonian. unless your hair was laced with some green k, a cramp within the joints of his digits wouldn’t be possible. if you ask, he would one day take out your braids all by himself without you having to lift a finger and he’d be in pure bliss of taking that burden off your plate.

• he spreads his thighs apart. the large palms of his hands encircle around your waist to shift your body in between his legs before his fingers get back to tenderly remove the last remaining braids.

• as he does so, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. ya’ll would be cracking jokes, planning suggestions for the wedding, your jobs, and a myriad of other topics to kill time.

• about 30 more minutes pass by and your braids are finally out! he leans back feeling accomplished and marvels at how much your hair has grown over the month.

• “may i?” he politely asks. his expectant eyes glancing into yours for approval.

• “of course, kal.” you grin. it’s like seeing a child light up in a candy store, he’s so elated.

• you feel more at ease and lean into his touch as his fingers lovingly caress through your natural hair and scalp.

• you know that he just wants to feel your hair in it’s natural state. it’s not out of a fetish, but out of pure fascination, so you let him!

• you love that even though you’ve been together for 4 years and he’s helped you with your hair on multiple occasions, the curious kryptonian wonders why he always has to ask you before touching your hair.

• as a journalist, he’s gonna conduct his own research.

• he educates himself and he understands the history of that one boundary in your community, so he always asks you before touching your hair or he waits for you to offer.

• he’s not even human and he understands the basic human decency of not to reach out and touch someone’s hair out of nowhere.

• you sigh in relief and thank clark with a kiss before you go to dispose the plastic bag of worn out braids to the kitchen and into the large garbage can. you turn around and lean up against the sink.

• now it’s time to wash, condition, detangle, and dry.

• clark already knows the next step. he stands from his position on the couch and stretches his back muscles. he moderately saunters to the arched threshold that separates the kitchen and living room. his tall stature works in his favor as he casually raises his arms with his hands gripping the arch that’s a few inches above his head.

• you know exactly what pose i’m trying to poorly describe to the best of my ability. it happens to be one of those non-sexual turn ons that men do without them realizing.

• you go into a bit of a hypnotic state as you stare at his bulging biceps. you also take notice of how his white t-shirt raises up to expose a small section of his sculpted abdomen. the raven tresses on his skin that perfectly matches the messy curls on his head form a trail straight down to his—

• the trance is broken by the baritone voice of your fiancé.

• “my eyes are up here, angel. were you even listening to me?” he flirtatiously quips and tilts his head with a playful smirk curving on his lips, lowering his arms to cross them over his chest.

• like some suave lady killer, he approaches you and places his index under your chin to shift your gaze to his.

• girl, not you getting caught in 4K! you know that man is fine, but you got to finish off your hair. there’s no time to waste when it comes to that, so you must stay focused.

• you can’t help, but feel the heat of embarrassment rush on your melanated cheeks and giggle nervously before you confess.

• “i’m sorry, clark! after all of these years, you still get me sprung. now, what were you saying, boo? ”

• “it’s no worries, (n/n). don’t doubt that you’ve got the same effect on me too.” he blushes himself, beaming at the compliment and pecks your forehead, nose, and lips before he resumes his question.

• “would you like to wash in the sink or shower?”

• he bursts into a joyous laugh as you don’t hesitate to choose the shower.

• of course he was hoping you’d say that, but you shut down the idea because you just want to kill two birds with one stone, wrap this up, and cuddle in bed.

• he understands where you’re coming from and it’s no pressure at all. you both love when you two get down in the bedroom, but you share a common belief that spending quality time is the key to true intimacy.

• he takes your hand and leads you both to your shared bathroom.

• he puts his glasses on the sink, switches on the shower and checks for the perfect temperature that’s not too hot for your scalp, but not too cool for your body.

• you go to obtain large drying towels, african net wash cloths, and disposable shower caps. you then seek out the shampoo, conditioner, and detangling cream to nourish and clean your hair.

• you return to the bathroom with the items and clark gets your second opinion on the water temperature. you get a feel and let him know that it’s just right before you both strip of your clothes until you’re both completely naked. you make sure your engagement ring is placed in the velvet box it came in and set it on your drawer before you both step under the running water.

• clark reaches up to detach the shower head. before making a move, he asks if you need any further assistance in this step and you gladly accept, closing your eyes as he handles the shower head to pre-rinse both of your heads for a well deserved cleaning.

• as he puts the shower head back where it belongs, you let him know that you want to do the shampooing for both you and him.

• yep, clark uses your products on his hair!

• one time after your fifth date, he hugged you and his sensitive nose stealthily picked up on the natural, sweet, and intoxicating scent of the hair lotion that seeped into your scalp. he thought at first it was your perfume, which he loves too, but he was mistaken!

• “my god, you smell amazing.”

• clark takes you out to dinner and feeds your ego! okay, kal-el!

• he couldn’t get enough of it!

• this aroma— it was like something fresh and made from natural ingredients without any harsh chemicals.

• it reminds him of the homegrown warmth and love that his parents, jonathan and martha raised him up in back in smallville.

• if it wasn’t so soon (or the fact that he hasn’t told you his secret then), he would literally fly you out there in 10 minutes.

• when you moved in together, he would sometimes sneak a bit of your shampoo and conditioner in his hair routine once or twice a week until you finally caught up to him!

• you scolded clark a bit for using your products without permission because you would’ve let him use a little if he’d ask and plus, that stuff was expensive!

• he looked genuinely remorseful and apologized. “i’m sorry, (f/n). it was wrong of me to sneak like that, but i just wanted to use it because it’s like i’m taking a part of you with me everywhere i go. that way even though we’re apart, i don’t feel so alone in this universe anymore.”

• that almost had you crying and throwing up. he’s as big a simp for you as you are for him, so you couldn’t stay mad at him!

• you had an agreement to share or double up as long as you both are putting in for it.

• it was definitely no problem for clark because besides it’s sentimental value, it does wonders for his hair! it looks healthier, shinier and it feels softer compared to those 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner concoctions that he’s been using since high school.

• he loves your weekly beauty supply store excursions. he doesn’t care if the 6 items in your cart is $35, he’s paying for it all!

• clark’s aqua pupils observes from behind as you pour a generous amount of shampoo into your palm, rubbing the other against it, and massaging the bubbly, white substance through your scalp. your fingers work to make sure every single hair on your head is lathered in the coconut scented liquid and he notices that you’re careful not to tangle it.

• his own trance is broken by a “your turn! now lean down a bit, my love.” you’re now waiting for him to follow through, leaning his head down and forward to make his now drenched, dark hair right in your view and in your reach.

• he exhales at the contact of the cold shampoo descending on his scalp. as your fingers massage through his hair, his eyes close and a smile of ecstasy plays on his lips.

• your touch, the scent of the product, and the fact that if he opened his eyes again at this very moment, your breasts would be right in his face is clark’s idea of his personal heaven.

• you both take turns to rinse your own hair and each others to double check that all of the suds of the shampoo are gone.

• you repeat the process again, but this time it’s with conditioner. once that’s applied, you both put on the shower caps to let it rest and do its thing.

• you both use that time to talk some more and thoroughly clean your bodies of the filth of the work day using the african net wash clothes and aromatherapy body wash.

• after one last rinse of ya’lls hair, you cut the water off and grab the towels set out to wrap around your soaked bodies and dripping hair before walking to your shared bedroom.

• fortunately, you and clark have your own respective hair dryers, so that step doesn’t take too long before you take on the final boss: detangling.

• still clad in your towels, you and clark apply the detangling cream through your scalps. as he uses his comb to effortlessly rake through his noir mop, you just kind of stand and stare at the detangling brush in your hand.

• if you’re tender headed, you’ve probably lived the nightmare over and over with your heavy handed mother tugging the comb through the knotted ends, jolting your head and neck forward as you whined in pain. of course she got mad at you for that and said that it didn’t even hurt.

• you’re grown now! with your own bills, home, car, job, and man. there’s way more stressful things in the world than getting some knots out.

• you start the teeth of the comb from the root of your hair and hear the wet stickiness of the detangling cream as it glides to the end.

• okay, we’re getting somewhere! no pain or the pulling of knots for the next few strands near the front. now let’s start on the back. comb one, comb two, comb three—

• “ow, ugh!” you yelp. cringing as you hit a knot at the end.

“ woah! sweetheart, are you alright?”

• clark immediately halts his actions and puts his comb down. he takes one step behind you to examine the situation.

“please, lord, don’t tell me it’s tangled that bad.”

• you attempt to comb without breaking your hair out and the more you try, the more painful it gets. your arms and hands started to stiffen again.

• you lowkey wanted to cry because you just want this to be done and sleep peacefully in clark’s arms for the rest of the night.

• you immediately ask clark for help and he once again, comes to the rescue. he was gentle and comforting, but straightforward when it came to getting those knots.

• he talks you through it to make this a little easier.

• “i’m so sorry, honey. this is gonna hurt a bit, but we’re gonna knock these out and go straight to bed in no time, okay? i love you.” he kisses your temple before he proceeds with the task.

• several minutes of detangling are over! clark gets a second shower of kisses all over his face as you thank him again.

• you discard your towels and replace them with your nightclothes. clark’s shirtless with his sweats and you’re comfortable in another one of clark’s shirts with a fresh pair of cotton shorts.

• you put your hair in an afro puff ponytail and as always, you let your fiancé do the honors of placing your superman patterned bonnet on over your hair like a king crowning his queen.

• he looks at you with such pride and joy. seeing you happy feels so good it hurts. it makes him feel as weak as when he’s around green k. maybe even more.

• clark wouldn’t feel too comfortable to wrap his hair up just yet, so you suggested he uses a satin pillowcase instead.

• speaking of pillows, you look at the clock and realize it’s gotten late. you and clark shut off the lights and retire your exhausted bodies into your bed.

• you lay in a fetal position and turn to face him. kryptonians don’t usually need that much sleep as humans do, so you weren’t surprised that he was still awake.

• you both gaze and admire each other in comfortable silence. your hand reaching to his jaw. your brown toned fingertips caress the pale yet angelic face of the man you love. he closes his eyelids and leans into your warm touch.

• like a magnet, you drew closer to his face until your, full yearning lips rested on his. it doesn’t take him a second to melt into it, his hands clinging to your waist to rest your figure on top of his. your palms find themselves to rest on each side of his jawline.

• between each kiss, the moonlight illuminates the wide smiles you exchange to each other.

• after you two get your fill of each other’s affection, you lay your head on clark’s chest with his arms still acting as a shield around your back. he pecks your temple and is pulled in by the music of your steady heartbeat. he looks down to see your eyes pointed toward his and your hands folded flat on his chest.

• “thank you, clark. thank you so much for your help, your patience, your kindness, your love, and your compassion. not to mention that you are so fine, you still get me giggling like a schoolgirl at my big age! whether you’re superman, clark kent, or kal-el, i just thank you for being you. i love you, clark kent and that’ll never change.” your lips curve with a beaming smile.

• “(f/n), you need to know that everything i do, i do it for you and i’d do it again. you’re the most beautiful person and i’m not just talking about your stunning beauty. your heart is golden. despite everything that we’ve been through, it’s always been you. you understand me, you give me grace and hold me accountable, you still believe in me when i don’t even believe in myself. that’s how i knew i had to ask you to marry me, so i love you more, (f/n) kent and that’ll never change.”

• “look at us! we’ve only been engaged for a month and it sounds like we’re exchanging vows already.”

• “that sounds like a great start to me.”

• you both laugh and he gives you one last lingering kiss on your lips. your heads drop and your eyelids close before you take your peaceful slumber in each other’s presence.

[myownwholewildworld]

uniformed!joel one shot - the police officer - part ii

part i | series masterlist | main masterlist

pairing: police officer!joel x f!reader.

summary: what? you really thought officer miller was done with you? 🙄 don't be so naive. he's going to make good use of that cell he's thrown you in.

a/n: am i a rabid dog who needs to be put down? yes i am. you'll find me taking a walk and touching some grass because oh boy 🥵 please enjoy part ii to police officer!joel. as always, all interactions are welcome! i'd love some feedback if you feel like sharing. yea, that's everything i gotta say, i'll go hide under a rock now. thank you for reading! <3

warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. dark theme. a hella lot of unhealthy smut. dub-con. age gap, no age gap, you choose (joel is mid-late 40s, reader is at least of legal drinking age). power imbalance (joel is a cop). object insertion (oopsie 🥴). fingering. squirting. oral (m and f receiving). strong sub/dom vibes. mouth fucking. slut shaming. cheating. reader talks to boyfriend while being drilled. unprotected piv. creampie. overall, rough, filthy sex. joel is a bully and a dick, basically, so be warned. alternating pov. no description of reader apart from having hair that can be pulled. not proofread so i'm sorry.

w/c: ~7.7k (someone put me down, seriously).

tagging some people who seemed interested in part 2 (please let me know if you want to be removed, no pressure!):

@cestlavieinrenaissance @ijustlovemensm @fartcloudfartcloud

Joel looked through the rearview mirror. You were sat on the middle seat of his cruiser, silent and with your gaze down. You almost looked like you regretted what had happened, but he knew you had actually enjoyed it. Your slutty moans and your squirting cunt spoke for yourself ― the proof of your ecstasy still staining his uniform’s trousers.

He adjusted the mirror, paying more attention to you than to the road. Luckily, it was well past midnight, so there were not many cars around. You had parted your legs, probably on purpose, and gifted him with the sight of your tight pussy. Joel wished the interior of the car was better lit, so he could have a good look at your cunt.

Ah, yes, he knew you wanted more. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be exposing yourself like that to him. His cock twitched at the memory of being clamped down on by your narrow pussy, deeply buried in between your puffy lips. Joel bit the inside of his cheek, focusing his eyes on the road ahead.

“Is my cum spilling out of your hole?”, he broke the silence.

You felt the guilt eating you up. You shouldn’t have pushed Officer Miller’s buttons like that. You blamed the last drops of alcohol running through your veins that had distorted your reality ― as soon as they disappeared from your system, you had realised that you didn’t want what was about to happen. However, your body had betrayed you, reacting to him and his provocations.

I’m not a cheater. I’m not a whore, you chanted, keeping the tears at bay.

But deep inside, you knew you were just lying to yourself. You blamed your body, but the reality was you did enjoy it ― all of it, everything he gave you, everything he took from you. You had never been so turned on in your life ― never squirted before, never had your pussy eaten so filthily from behind, never been used like that.

You pursed your lips, eyes down and still daydreaming about him fucking you senseless ― you unsuccessfully attempted to erase those hot flashes that your mind was trying to take you back to. Unconsciously, your legs had relaxed with your train of thought, and that was when you heard Officer Miller’s question.

You jumped in your seat and pressed your knees together, suddenly very conscious of your pussy. You could feel you had gotten wet again at the mere thought of him jackhammering into your cunt on top of the hood. Once more, you felt betrayed ― you didn’t want to feel like this, you didn’t want to be this horny for him.

You slowly nodded in reply, ashamed of yourself ― your unwelcomed slick dragging his cum out of you. But you wouldn’t tell him that, you wouldn’t let him know that your hole was crying for more.

“I― I think I’m making a mess of the upholstery. Sorry.”

Why did your voice sound so high-pitched, so moany? You needed to get a grip of yourself or you were going to end up impaled again. You kept your eyes down, avoiding his ― tears of frustration gathering on your waterlines.

“Only with my cum? Or are you gushing again, doll?”, he questioned with a husky voice.

You knew he was getting horny again ― your nipples reacted to that thought, wrinkling suddenly, your breathing accelerating.

You shyly looked up at him, your gazes meeting on the rearview mirror. His eyes pierced through you and you felt exposed ― there was no point in denying it, you knew he knew. So you nodded again with watery eyes.

“Yes, sorry”, you apologised, although you were not sure why.

“Yes what?”, he insisted, his attention dancing between the road and you.

“I’m― I’m gushing”, you replied in a very low whisper, so abashed a tear ran down your cheek.

Officer Miller didn’t say a word for the rest of the trip to the station, so you had more than enough time to dwell in your embarrassment.

Joel’s horniness was clouding his mind to a dangerous degree, so he summoned all his strength to drive the damn car instead of stopping in the middle of nowhere to fuck you again. After fifteen eternal minutes, he braked as he steered into the parking lot of the station. Then the cruiser came to a halt.

He had to cup his swollen bulge, kneading it a bit, in the hopes it wouldn’t be too noticeable. What a little minx you were, confessing your pussy was leaking all over the seat. You were acting all sheepish now, guilt-ridden, but Joel knew what you really wished for. And that was getting your cunt drilled again.

Walking out of the car, Joel got to the back door and opened it up for you. He extended his hand to help you out of the car, all gentlemanly. But when you grabbed it indecisively, he hauled you out of his Crown Vic. You gasped at his brutish manners, but quickly closed your mouth when your breasts pressed against his chest.

Joel hurried his hand down, riding up your skirt a bit, his fingertips caressing your inner thighs. You looked at him, a mix of surprise and shame, when he dipped his fingers in your silky slit. He moved them up and down a couple of times, buttering your fold with your discharge and his cum. You panted at his contact and your forehead leaned against his chest as if your neck was unable to support the weight of your head anymore.

You were so receptive to his touch, Joel had to control himself. If he could, he would turn you around, bend you over and fuck into your hole until dawn. But another patrol car entered the parking lot, stopping a few metres away. He scoffed in frustration, reluctantly removing his hand from in between your legs.

Stop, don’t, please stop, you wanted to tell him.

But the words never abandoned your mouth, stuck in the back of your throat. His fingers stroked you so intimately, so good, you couldn’t muster the strength to stop him. And, if you were completely honest with yourself, deep down you hoped he didn’t. When his digits traced your whole damp furrow, you tilted your head towards him ― your lips pressed against the pocket where he had kept your panties, in an attempt to mute the moan that wanted to slip out of your mouth.

And then he unburied his hand, leaving you spiralling down with lust. You whimpered, vexed. Your eyes were still half-lidded with desire, your mouth agape. Officer Miller took a step back, breaking all physical contact with you.

“You really are a harlot”, he muttered while the hand that had explored your pussy dipped in his pants, and you knew he was spreading your gush all over his cock. That should have disgusted you, and it did, but your pussy fluttered in response.

“Please don’t say that, and don’t do that again”, you were finally able to find your words.

He cocked a brow while taking out his hand of his trousers. You didn’t look down, although you wanted to. The thought of him wet with your tacky cum destroyed a few neurons in your brain.

“Your mouth says no, but your cunt says yes. And I believe your cunt more than I believe your mouth”, he announced, unbothered by your petition.

Then he rolled down your skirt, grabbed you by the elbow, and forced you to walk in front of him. But first Officer Miller got something out of the passenger’s seat ―your purse and the paperwork― before he pushed you towards the station with your hands still cuffed.

You pondered your options when the female officer on the counter greeted Officer Miller.

“Hey Joel, another drunken bird?”, she asked, her blue eyes ignoring you completely.

“Yeah, that’s a Saturday for ya”, he said boringly, his fingers still sinking in the flesh of your elbow while he handed her your license and insurance.

“I’ll book her in for you”, said the woman, looking down at the paperwork spread on her desk.

You wanted to say something, to ask her not to leave you alone with him, to tell her what had happened. But what were you going to say, really? That you actually enjoyed being fucked stupid on top of his cruiser’s hood? That you were still wet, the dampness in your fold begging to be licked again?

While still debating, you felt Officer Miller ―now you knew his name was Joel― staring at you. He probably suspected what you were thinking, it was like he could smell fear. You dropped your eyes to inspect your bare feet, silently letting him know that you wouldn’t say a word. If you had had a peek at him, you would have seen his sly grin.

“All the cells here are full, you’ll have to go to the adjacent building, I’m afraid.” You thought the female officer winked at him.

“That’s alright. Thank you, darlin’”, he smiled at her before pushing you in front of him. “C’mon, move.”

You shambled towards the backdoor, walked out and then Joel― Officer Miller opened the door to the secondary building. You entered with him on your heels. His body was so close to yours, you felt a pleasant tingling start on your neck that shot down your spine. You cockled your lips, disappointed in yourself.

The room was not too big, it only housed four cells, all of them empty. The only decoration was a wooden desk with a chair for a police officer to be stationed. There was also a small room at the end, which had a unisex bathroom sign on its door.

You didn’t like how isolated it felt in there ― you had hoped there would be someone else in there with you. To stop him, to stop yourself. You really were out of luck.

Officer Miller pushed you to the furthest cell in the room. “Stay”, he commanded while he uncuffed you, then grabbed the keys off a metal hook, unlocked the cell and opened the door for you. “Be my guest, doll”, his tone was so snide.

You simply obeyed with averted eyes. Maybe if you didn’t look at him, your pussy would stop palpitating. You could still feel his fingers buried in your tacky slit, your clit begging to be paid attention. He had left you so unsatisfied, your brain kept going back to the moment he ate your cunt from behind. You shuddered, conscious that you had to stop daydreaming about it.

“Now be a good slut and finish what I have started. I know your pussy is asking for it”, his voice rumbled under his breath, locking the cell behind you. Officer Miller dropped your purse on the table and unsheathed his gun to leave it there too. Slowly he turned and sat down on the chair, conveniently positioned in front of your cell.

You shook your head no with teary eyes. Teary not because you were afraid, but because you really wanted to ― frustration corroding your vaginal nerve endings. Your clit twitched as you sat down on the wooden bench, looking away from him.

“You’ll give in, sooner rather than later, I bet.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Officer Miller manspreading on the chair, a hand slipping under his belt. His gaze was transfixed on you while he touched himself. You turned your head towards the wall, your clit lit on fire at the mere thought of him jerking off in front of you.

You pressed your knees together, looking for some relief and finding none. You tried not to but ended up whimpering in frustration. Joel was right ― you gave in. Your eyes welled up with shame and lust as you discreetly hid your hands between your parted legs. You caressed your clit with your index and then traced the entirety of your fold, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

His groan made you look askance in his direction. Joel had freed his cock through the zipper of his uniform trousers and was pumping himself. The sight of his veiny cock made your mouth run dry. Then you noticed he had something tied around his veiny dick. You had to take a second look, this time with no furtiveness, to see what it was.

He had wrapped your wet panties around his manhood and was rubbing himself with it. You couldn’t contain your whoring moan any longer after that. The vision of him masturbating with your underwear almost strangling his cock sent you in a spiral of desire ― you were, once again, out of control.

Two fingers slipped in your dripping opening while your thumb stroked your clit, this time more intently. Leaning your head back against the brick wall, you closed your eyes, whimpering like a bitch in heat as your digits picked up a reckless pace between your legs. Your breathing intensified, coming in and out in short bursts. Your cunt was so drenched that every time you pushed your fingers inside of you, wet, sucking sounds quickly followed each thrust.

Lava was pooling in your overstimulated furrow, your whole sex so slick your fingers slid in and out easily. Then you felt it: the climbing to the climax and then the falling. You screamed, bending over yourself, as the orgasm hit you hard, very hard. You dropped to your knees on the floor while you felt your insides melting, your inner walls trying to squeeze something that wasn’t there. Your clit convulsed one last time, a moan tearing through your throat as you looked up, eyes closed, imploring to the heavens.

You had not noticed but Joel had stood up and was right in front of you, his dick poking in between the bars ― your panties still wrapped around the base of his cock. He was whacking off with a tight grip, his hips slanted forward. “Come over here, right now”, he emphasized.

His cock had you mesmerised, it was calling you. You wanted to suck him so badly, that you mewled as you crawled towards him.

Joel gritted his teeth at the scene. You moved towards him on all fours, panting and whimpering. You were such a hot mess his cock pulsated in his hand. When you were close to the bars, you straightened your back and sat on your heels, awaiting permission. Joel grinned at the sight ― he fucking knew you would cave in. Sliding a hand in the space between the bars, he placed it on the back of your head while resting his pelvis against the metal rods.

“Open wide”, he croaked with lechery, his mind somewhere far away.

His throbbing cock hurt like hell when you parted your lips and sticked your tongue out, your eyes still damp and your eyeliner running down your cheeks. Joel fisted your hair in a ponytail and pulled it back, so your face was up. He spit in your mouth, deranged with lust, and then swiftly drove his dick down your mouth until your bottom lip was touching his hairy balls.

He held you there for an eternal minute, rejoicing in the wetness of your cavity while you simply choked on his cock. Tears sprung to your eyes at the intrusion, he was way too far down your throat. But did he care? No, he was just chasing his own release. Holding your head in place so you wouldn't go anywhere, he bobbed his waist back and forth, fucking your mouth as deep and fast as he could go.

You probably did it on purpose to drive him crazy, but your lips pressed around his girth as you tried to slurp all the fluids. You would gag from time to time, especially when he would force your head close to him, but you didn't turn away.

Joel looked down as he used your mouth as he pleased. Your eyes were all watery because of the deep intrusion, your lips rubbing against his skin, your palms against your knees as if you were all innocent.

Joel only tugged you back to free his dick when he felt your neck muscles contract, announcing you were close to throwing up.

God, how much he loved your mouth. The mouth of a whore.

You heaved, trying to catch a breath, fighting your gag reflex as much as you could. Your eyes met his. His pupils swirled with lust and that scared you.

Do I really want this?, you asked yourself again, unsure of the answer. You didn’t and did at the same time ― you couldn’t stop yourself. It was like you had lost your freewill and just turned into his plaything, letting him do with you as he deemed. You had succumbed to Officer Miller ― there was no point in fighting back, your own body was betraying you, getting wet in all the wrong places. Maybe if he finished quickly, he would let you be.

You looked up at him when he pushed you closer to his erection again. He was so ruthless ― with no care in the world, Joel dug his pulsing cock down your mouth again, the glans suffocating you once more and the fabric of your underwear tingling your nose. You unconsciously tried to clear your throat, suppressing a cough. Your bottom lip trembled because of how wide your jaw had stretched to house him. Your spit and his precum pooled in your mouth, dribbling down from your chin to your cleavage. You felt the trickle going down in between your boobs and wetting your top.

Joel grinned as he swept away a tear with his thumb.

“Now eat it like you mean it, like the slut you are”, he croaked.

Joel let go of your hair, both of his hands gripping the metal rods that separated you.

You pulled back to catch a breath and swallowed all the fluids that had accumulated in your mouth. Officer Miller was eyeing you expectantly, his dick twitching in front of you each time blood rushed through it. You broke visual contact to focus on his warm cock.

Without thinking, your fingers wrapped around his thick column and started pumping him while your tongue tapped the tip. His groan spurred you on, so you sucked on his glans like if you were a babe breastfeeding. From time to time, you would run your lips down his length, tracing the pulsating vein that fed his erection. By how his hips would sway every time you did that, you knew he loved it.

And so you repeated it, over and over again. Smother the tip, slide your lips down his cock, gently nibble and suck on his balls, and then back up ― your tongue sticking out while licking his shaft until you sealed his glans between your lips again.

Your body had a mind of its own, because your index found your clit again and caressed it softly. The core of your pleasure was heating up again ― your leaking entrance contracted suddenly when the lust reached a higher peak. You moaned with his dick in your mouth, eyes closed, as you fingered yourself unashamedly.

Then you felt it ― a hard pulsation in his cock, announcing he was close. Officer Miller tried to pull back so he wouldn’t come, but you were having none of it. You neglected your pulsing clit, threaded your arms between the bars and placed each hand on his butt cheeks. You forced him forward, pressing your palms against his ass, so he would be locked in place while your wanton mouth took him in as far down as you could.

You didn’t let him go and with a harsh, deep moan, Joel came in your mouth. His hot cum flowed in bursts and clogged your throat, almost asphyxiating you ― but you still didn’t let go. Your eyes were fixed on his, although he wasn’t looking ― Joel had closed his eyes to fully feel his orgasm, his hips still swaying back and forth in your mouth with the last wave of his release.

He fucking knew it. You were so hungry for him, you would even force an orgasm on him. His knuckles were all white due to the force he was using to grip the metal rods. His jaw was so clenched, he thought he might have chipped a tooth. When Joel regained control of his muscles again, he looked down at you and smirked.

“Aren’t you a little bitch, eh? You think because you’ve made me come a second time, I’m not gonna fuck that tight, tiny hole of yours? Well, you’re in for a treat”, he said matter-of-factly.

He just needed a bit of time to have an erection again. And, in the meantime, he was going to have fun with your body. A lot of fun.

Joel moved back his hips so his cock slid out of your mouth. In the process of doing so, a trickle of cum ran down the corner of your mouth. He quickly grabbed his shaft and with the tip, he gathered the cum off your skin and pushed it back between your lips. When you opened your mouth to collect his cum, he noticed you hadn’t swallowed.

“You gulp my cum down right now or else”, he demanded, inserting his dick in your mouth to help you keep it closed.

You tried to explain. “I’ve never don―”, you enunciated the words as you best could, your mouth still full with his spent and his cock.

He grunted, annoyed. “I don’t fucking care, don’t waste a drop of what I’ve given you. A good slut eats what is fed to her.”

Even though he was treating you like shit, your body got aroused at his words. Why? Stop, you begged to yourself, imploring for the gushing between your legs to disappear.

Joel glanced down at you with a cocked brow, awaiting. He wasn’t joking, he really meant it. So you swallowed ― twice, because there were still remnants of his sperm lingering in your mouth. You had never had anyone come in your mouth before ― let alone swallow it. It didn’t taste like you had expected it though ― it was warm and sweet, so smooth it just slid down your oesophagus without effort.

He literally had just used you like if you were his personal glory hole. You should feel ashamed of yourself ― and you did, very much so. But right now, your lust was greater than your shame. And the proof was on the floor between your knees: there was a small puddle, your fluids right there for him to see.

Oh, and he saw.

“Such a whore, you’re dripping like a broken pipe. Aren’t you embarrassed of yourself?”, he asked into the void.

You just whimpered, maddened with unspent passion. Your clit was still twitching, your opening palpitating. Had you not had enough embarrassment already? You had come five times, and you still needed more. Officer Miller was right ― you were a whore. You circled your clit, your eyes fixed on his, almost begging him to help you out.

“Don’t worry, doll, I ain’t done with you yet. Turn around”, he ordered you.

You blinked at him, unsure if he was to be trusted. A voice inside your head screamed at you not to, but you ignored it. You were so horny, you just wanted the fire within you to be extinguished.

You let a soft cry escape your lips as you obeyed his command ― you were on all your fours, your ass cheeks resting against the metal bars, your puffed-up pussy completely exposed to him. You heard him kneel behind you before cupping your whole cunt with the span of his palm, rubbing it delicately.

“Will you look at that? Obedient like a bitch in heat. With a red, swollen pussy, all ready for me to play with”, he laughed at you while you simply bleated, shaking your head yes at his words, uninhibited.

Joel suddenly slapped your cunt so hard, your arms failed you and ended up in a knee-chest position, your ass up in the air for him. “Ouch!”, you let go, your cheek resting against the concrete on the floor.

A cold, rubbery texture kissed your pussy lips and you lifted your head over your shoulder to see what it was. Joel was wielding the nightstick that was attached to his belt a second ago ― he lodged it between your damp flaps, moving it up and down to wet it with your discharge. You moaned, really moaned out loud, knowing what was about to happen.

With your forehead against the concrete floor, you closed your eyes with pure satisfaction when Joel started penetrating you with the baton. Your nails scratched the hard surface underneath, your very curated manicure ruined. Officer Miller pushed in a few more inches, your flesh parting to house the stick. And then, abruptly, you wailed in pain as the end of the nightstick kissed your cervix rather harshly.

You saw stars behind your eyes and tried to push away.

“No, doll, no. Stay put for me”, his free hand rested on the small of your back, keeping you in place.

You remained still for a minute, while you adjusted to such deep intrusion. The pain had been very intense, but it started wearing off as Joel spun the nightstick around in your hole. After a while, you finally relaxed and the cop resumed, pumping the baton in and out of you slowly. Then his hand drifted down from your lower back to your quivering clit and he kneaded the right spot expertly.

You whined, the pleasure so overwhelming it brought tears to your eyes again. You fluttered your eyelashes to clear your vision, your mouth open wide, your breathing irregular. Your womanly cave clutched onto the nightstick, all wet and sensitive. You could feel your heartbeat on your cunt, pulsating so hard it was maddening. His thumb pressed circles on your clit and you sobbed audibly, your orgasm so close you were on the verge of the precipice.

Then a phone went off, you were barely conscious of it ringing until Joel stopped what he was doing and stood up.

“No, please, please, Joel please”, you begged, almost crying, wanting to come so badly.

He left you there, on all your fours and with this baton sticking out of your weeping cunt, almost fully inserted.

“Ah, look, Sweetie is calling you. Bet he’s all worried about you”, he chuckled walking towards you, your cell phone on his hand. He had also taken something from your purse, but you couldn’t see what before he put it in his pocket. “Pick up and pretend you’re not having the best sex of your life.”

He put the phone on speaker and left it by your head. Your mind raced with panic, a very tight knot forming in your throat. This made it too real; you were really cheating on who you thought was the love of your life. And what was worst, you were cheating on him and enjoying it like the slut you were.

“Hey, honey? Are you okay?”, your boyfriend said.

“H―Hi, sweetie. Yeah, I’m fine”, you managed to reply with a steady voice.

Then Joel started jackhammering you with the baton relentlessly, so hard it forced you to close your eyes. Your moist pussy compressed so tightly around the rubbery stick, you had to cover your mouth to stop a moan from coming out.

“Where are you? I thought you’d be back like an hour ago”, he inquired, noticeably worried.

“I… I am in a nightclub, just walked out when I saw you calling”, you lied through your teeth. Joel cackled behind you while his thumb caressed your clit again, putting a sweet amount of pressure on it. “Ah, mhmmm… I should be back home in… uhmmmm… like an hour maybe?”, you bit your bottom lip, soft moans slipping out.

“You sure you’re okay? You sound weird, honey”, your boyfriend insisted.

Joel picked up a very fast pace with the baton, drilling you with it so hard the climax was fast approaching. Your whole body was rocked back and forth with the strength of his thrusts. Your clit melting at his suggestive touch.

“Yes, I drank a bit, mhmmmm… that’s all. I’ll get a taaaahmmh-xi back. Gotta go”, you talked fast, wanting to get the words out before you wailed. You managed to cover your mouth again just in time.

“Okay, take care, honey. I love you.”

At that point, the end of the baton kissed your cervix again but this time it pushed you over the edge. You had the biggest contraction of your life, your angry pussy trying to break the nightstick inside you. You came so hard, you squirted so much it almost looked like you had pissed yourself ― the puddle on the floor had grown considerably. Your eyes welled up, your creamy pussy fluttering, and your clit still writhing. You bit into your hand to suppress the loudest, sluttiest moan of your life.

“Honey?”, your boyfriend said, weirded out by the fact you hadn’t said it back as you always did.

Your orgasm was still washing over you. “Love you too”, you whispered, so guilt-ridden you wiped away some shameful tears from your cheeks.

Then he hung up.

“Oh wow, this is what love looks like to you? I almost feel sorry for the guy”, he made fun of you as he got up, the nightstick still inserted in your pussy. “Up”, he instructed you.

You had nothing to say, because you deserved his pun. There was no denying you were enjoying yourself a little bit too much. With a defeated sigh, tired of fighting your inner battle, you stood up with trembling knees. Your legs felt so wobbly you had to hold on to the bars.

Officer Miller dangled the keys in his hands before opening the door of the cell. For a second you thought that was it, he was done, even though he said he wasn’t a few minutes ago. But when he walked in front of you with his cock poking out the zipper of his uniformed pants, you knew he wasn’t.

Disappointment but also excitement came over you.

“Walk towards the bench. Get up on it on all your fours, doll.” He guided you to the farthest corner of the cell, where it was dark and hidden away in case someone interrupted.

It was like he knew all the blind spots. Had he done this before with someone else? A pang of jealousy tugged at your belly. You’re not the only one, you told yourself.

Completely surrendered to his desires ―and your own―, you followed his lead and did has he commanded. Once you were in the position he wanted you in, he walked to your side and nudged your cheek with the warm, tacky head of his cock.

“Give it a kiss, show me some gratitude”, he husked in a rumbling, raspy tone.

You turned your head ninety degrees and kissed the tip. He still had your panties wrapped around his erection. Licking your bottom lip, your eyes locked on his. A wide grin spread on his face. The motherfucker looked like a goddamn god when he smiled like that, dimples on his cheeks.

“Suck on it like if it was your personal pacifier, darlin’.”

Your tongue twirled around the plump tip as he finally took the baton out of your quivering pussy. You gasped at the emptiness you suddenly felt, his glans caressing your palate. Remembering your order, you quickly sealed your lips around the head of his cock and sucked on it, never breaking eye contact. The tip of your tongue tried to wiggle its way down his slit, slightly parting it and making him groan deeply.

You kept up the work with your smothering lips as one of Joel’s hands travelled down your back, briefly caressing one of your butt cheeks, to then cup your silky cunt. His fingers dipped in your welcoming slit, so velvety they slid up and down with no resistance whatsoever. He rubbed you softly while you worked diligently to make him hard again. One of his fingertips tempted you by getting lost in your needy hole, but he quickly removed it.

“C’mon, let’s get your wanton pussy ready again to ride some cock”, Officer Miller stepped back, his now hard cock slipping out of your mouth.

He walked around the bench and knelt behind you, your pulsing cunt perfectly lined up with his eye level. His mouth hovered over your ass cheek and then bit into your flesh ― his teeth marks were going to be there tomorrow, but that was not your main worry right now.

With no previous warning, he spread your cunt open and licked it from the clit to the perineum in one long, sweet stroke. You swooned at the feeling, half-lidded eyes and pursed lips. Moaning again, Officer Miller ate your pussy masterly while fisting himself, his tongue lingering in the right spots. He then taunted your clit while he fingered you slowly, his fingertip rubbing your g-spot.

Joel alternated his finger and the tip of his tongue to intrude in your opening. It felt delicious, his wetness mixing with yours. His hooked nose would get trapped in your slit when his mouth dropped to attend to your needy clit ― you heard him inhale your scent with no shame, dragging his nose in your silky fold as his mouth returned to your shaking entrance.

Officer Miller really knew how to eat pussy, so much so you would dream about his mouth feasting on your cunt every single night for the foreseeable future. Probably every single day too.

Your breaths quickened, fire melting your insides, your clit so sensitive you didn’t know if it was painful or delightful. You felt like you were about to ride the biggest wave of your life ― and then he stopped, standing up.

Frustrated sobs left your lips, almost mewling ― your pussy begging for release.

Your inner battle had been silent for a while, but came back with full force when you felt Joel’s cock lodged between your tumescent flaps, dousing himself with the product of your pleasure. He waved his hips against you, his dick skidding through your gushing furrow with ease.

He was going to fuck you again.

You tensed up, but you should have known this was coming. You didn’t want to cheat on your boyfriend again. Cheat for real, that was. Penetration was where you had marked the invisible line in your mind between cheating and just messing around.

Touching yourself while thinking of Joel’s cock? Not cheating.

Sucking his dick like a thirsty, panting dog? Not cheating.

Letting him fuck you with his nightstick? Not cheating.

Talking to your boyfriend while another man made you come? Not cheating.

Getting your pussy blissfully eaten from behind? Not cheating.

Him fucking you senseless with his cock? Definitely cheating.

You knew it sounded stupid, but your mind was really making an effort to make you feel a bit less guilty about what was happening.

You did not want this. Yes, you had messed around with him at first, but once your bravado abandoned you, you realised you did not want this.

Right? Right? Or at least you tried to convince yourself of it.

“No, wait”, you whispered when the tip of his throbbing cock kissed your dripping entrance.

Joel slid his drumming cock between your soaked folds, wetting himself. His mind spiralling down with desire, with lust. He took a moment to revel in the feeling of having his dick sweetly sheathed by your sodden lips.

Then he lined up the head of his thrumming dick with your drenched opening. When he heard your infuriating petition, he just cocked a brow. No, you were not going to deny him that, not after all the effort he had put into making you come over and over again. Your denial angered him.

“What a selfish slut you are”, he muttered furiously between gritted teeth before impaling you in one deep thrust ― his hips entirely flush against your pussy, his cock buried as far as it could go.

You moaned like the bitch you were and rolled your hips back into him, your trembling cunt hugging his cock.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought”, he murmured, still mad at you.

How fucking dared you tell him no? You were such an ungrateful bitch. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, not when you had been enticing him all night.

Joel spanked your ass hard, and you whimpered ― the palm of his hand leaving a red imprint on your skin. “You’re a whore. Say it out loud.”

“I am a whore, I am. I’m such a slut for you, Officer”, you wailed, bouncing your hips back and forth while he stayed still, fucking yourself with his dick.

Your neediness mildly soothed his anger, but not enough.

He slapped your ass again before grasping your hips to keep you in place, then Joel started fucking you as hard and as fast as he could, rutting into your tight hole mercilessly. His mind was just blank as the orgasm started to build within him ― the muscles in his lower tummy tensing, his balls contracting, his cock pulsating to the rhythm of his heartbeat. This was heaven, your pussy was.

He kept drilling you relentlessly, your whines growing louder and deeper, meeting his thrusts by pushing back your hips into him. The pace was so diabolical, your back arched, almost resting against his chest in a half-standing position. His broad hands left your waist and travelled up to hold your boobs while he perforated you, the carnal sound of flesh colliding against flesh filling the room.

Joel suddenly stopped, sliding out, and you whimpered, not wanting to be left unsatisfied again. You didn’t see what he was doing until he stuffed your mouth with your panties and covered your mouth with his hand, inserting his dick back into you unceremoniously.

“Don’t scream so loud or they are going to hear you. And I don’t want you to get me into trouble, understand?”, he threatened, resuming the plunging of his throbbing cock into your wanton cunt.

You just nodded, biting down on your underwear, while he fucked you stupid. So hard, so fast, so filthy, you couldn’t take it anymore. Your muffled moans announced your next climax, your pussy clamping down on his pulsating cock.

You both came undone at the same time, his hand still over your lips as Joel’s warm spent filled you up for the second time tonight. It came out of him in waves, both of your sexes beating in harmony.

Sweaty and tired, Joel let go of your mouth to move his hand down to slap your clit harshly. You whimpered, your clit so oversensitive it twitched one last time, making you come again. You bent over, resting your weight on your hands, as Officer Miller remained inside you for a few minutes, you cockwarming him with no complaints.

Suddenly hearing the ripping of plastic, you looked over your shoulder to see how he opened the packaging of a tampon with his teeth. And then, before you could think, he took his soft erection out of you and immediately inserted the tampon in your leaking hole, using it as if it was a vaginal plug to contain his semen inside you.

“Do not even think about taking it out until at least tomorrow. Understood?”, you nodded frantically, feeling slightly humiliated, but you didn’t say a word.

Joel pulled down your skirt and then placed the palm of his hand in front of your mouth. You spit your messy panties on his palm and he put them back in his pocket. You didn't bother asking for them this time, you knew he wouldn't give them back. And, weirdly enough, you wanted him to keep them.

You sat down on the bench with him standing in front of you. You looked up at him, your eyeliner all smeared on your cheeks. Your lips were swollen of eating so much dick.

“I think you’ve learnt your lesson now, right, doll?”, he asked with a smile, sweeping away the tears on one of your cheeks with his thumb. The gesture was almost sweet and caring.

You nodded again, wholly submitted to him. “Yes, Officer.”

“Good girl. Now go clean yourself up in that bathroom over there. I’ll take you home so your poor little boyfriend doesn’t worry about you”, he chuckled as you got up and hid in the small restroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You definitely had gotten more than what you had bargained for. But as much as you wanted to blame Officer Miller for everything that happened tonight, you knew you had been asking for it. With a heavy sigh and out of tears, you washed your face, your thighs and your sensitive pussy.

Once you walked out of the toilet, all semi-decent again, you saw Joel leaning against the wooden table, arms crossed at his chest. When you approached, he got up. His frame was so broad with square shoulders, his biceps flexing in that uniform, you kind of understood yourself for giving in to temptation. He was something else. Maybe it was the uniform, maybe not, but there was something about him that made your pussy melt for him.

Forgetting him and this night was going to be a herculean task. Would your boyfriend ever live up to him? Even to a shadow of what Joel had given you?

You halted in front of him. As if you were his, he dropped a hand in between your legs, his fingertips looking for your now clean hole. You separated your legs slightly to give him access without remonstrance.

He smiled at you sufficiently when he noticed the tampon was still in you, just as he had commanded.

“Good girl”, he muttered, gently caressing your clit as a reward for your good behaviour.

Against all odds, you smiled back at him, swooning at his praise.

You did the journey back home on the passenger’s seat of Joel’s Crown Vic. From time to time he would check the tampon was still in its rightful place, stroking your clit in the process. Had your hole been unplugged, you would have leaked on the upholstery again.

You both remained silent ― your mind racing with thoughts, trying to come to terms with what you had done.

What were you going to do? Were you going to confess to your boyfriend? Would you keep it a secret? Joel had fucked you so good, you thought you would never enjoy sex with anyone else.

Damn, your mind was a tangled mess. But you blamed it on his tentative finger, still stroking your clit.

The cruiser stopped and you looked at the building in front of you. You had arrived at your destination. Joel removed the hand from your fold and you sighed, gripping the handle.

But before you opened the door, you looked at Officer Miller.

“Will I ever…?”, you didn’t finish your question because he was eyeing you with amusement, his pupils flickering with fun.

“G’night, doll.”

Had you just been rejected? It felt like it, because it stung real bad. You pressed your lips together and, without another word, you exited the car and ran to the safety of your flat.

You entered as silently as you could. You got to the restroom and changed your clothes ―or what remained of them― for your pyjama, throwing everything in the washer. Tiptoeing towards the bed, you saw your boyfriend sleeping on his side.

Guilt and embarrassment ate at you, but you kept them at bay. You were tired, only wanting to go to bed ― tomorrow would be a new day. Pushing those thoughts away, you slid under the bedsheets and stayed on your side of the bed.

A minute later, your boyfriend turned around and hugged your waist, spooning you.

“Hi, honey. Did you have fun tonight?”

His question stabbed at your heart.

“Yeah, it was good seeing the girls.”

You wouldn't believe how much fun I actually had, you thought out of nowhere.

“Mhmmm, good, good…”, one of his hands wrapped around your waist and coincidently rested on your lower belly.

You had felt his swollen groin against your butt but decided to ignore it because you were completely spent. Joel had taken all the orgasms you could have today ― you had nothing left to give.

But your boyfriend didn’t know that, so he dipped a hand under your pyjama’s shorts, looking for your slit. Then he found the tampon string and grunted.

“You’ve got your period?”, he asked, disappointed.

You hadn’t really forgotten to take it out. Weirdly enough, you still felt compelled to follow Officer Miller’s demands. You were going to leave it there till tomorrow's afternoon, his cum warming you up. You didn't want to let go of the memory, not just yet.

“Yeah, it came earlier, sorry, sweetie.” You lied ― and felt really bad for it.

He sighed heavily, disheartened, and removed his hand from in between your legs. “It's okay, good night, honey.” He kissed your neck.

You were ever so slightly disappointed in him ― you were sure a bit of blood would have not stopped Joel from fucking you.

Ah, comparison was really the thief of joy.

“Good night”, you whispered back, fully conscious of Joel’s cum sitting snugly inside your pussy.

[steddieas-shegoes]

wanna shout it from the rooftops

for @steddie-week prompt 'secret relationship'

rated m | 1397 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: secret relationship, established relationship, love confessions, making out, coming out

🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫

As soon as Dustin walked out the door, Eddie was backing Steve against the wall, lips on his neck, hands wandering across his arms and sides.

“God, I thought they’d never leave,” Steve gasped, throwing his head back as Eddie’s teeth bit into his collarbone. “Need you so fuckin’ bad, baby.”

“Looked so good in that apron. So unfair I couldn’t get my hands on you when you were making cookies for us,” Eddie groaned against his skin. “Wanna fuck you right here. Open you up on my tongue-“

“Sorry, Steve! Forgot my-“ Dustin’s voice stopped before Eddie could even register that he should pull away. “What the fuck!”

“Language!” Steve yelled as he shoved Eddie away from him, trying to fix his shirt and hair. Not that it would do any good; Dustin just got an eyeful already.

At least they weren’t naked. Yet.

“Please tell me you were fighting,” Dustin sounds distraught, which isn’t fair. He should’ve knocked.

“You spent months making me feel bad for not wanting to hang out with your new best friend and now you’re hoping we’re fighting?” Steve placed his hands on his hips, subtly trying to catch his breath and will his dick back to soft. “What about that looked like fighting to you? How have you not sat through sex ed yet?”

“You were having sex?!” Dustin’s voice cracked. “In the hall?!”

“Of my home!” Steve threw his arms up. “And no we weren’t having sex, but we were getting there.”

Eddie held his hands up, brain finally coming back online enough to intervene before things got out of hand.

“Okay. Dustin, why the hell are you even back?”

“I forgot my notebook.”

“And you decided to storm in here like it’s your house instead of knocking?” Steve was trying to take it easy, but everything was falling apart.

They’d kept their relationship a secret for nearly three months now. Robin didn’t even know.

Now that Dustin saw what he did, everyone would know and everyone would hate them and then Eddie would leave Steve for making everyone hate them and-

“Stevie!” Eddie’s hands were on his cheeks as Steve focused back in on what was going on. His breath was coming in short pants, and if Eddie wasn’t so close to him, he isn’t sure he’d be able to see him. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ve gotta breathe for me.”

Breathe for Eddie. He could do that. He did that all the time.

He liked doing what Eddie told him to, he liked the praise that came when he did it, he liked being good. Breathing was easy.

He took a deep breath, then another, relaxing as Eddie smiled back at him encouragingly.

“That’s good, angel. Keep doing that. I’m gonna get Dustin’s notebook, okay?” Eddie didn’t seem like he wanted to leave Steve alone, but he didn’t have much of a choice right now.

“Okay.”

Eddie walked away, towards the study that they’d turned into a game room for the kids to hang out in, and Steve immediately felt the panic settle in his chest again.

“Steve?” Dustin asked, stepping closer to him.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell any of us?” Dustin sounded hurt, looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was worried you’d hate me, or Eddie. That all of you would hate us for…for being different,” Steve looked down at his hands. “Didn’t wanna lose you.”

“But it’s okay if you’re gay, Steve. None of us would care!” Dustin exclaimed. “I just kinda thought you liked girls. Like Nancy.”

“I do. I just also like guys. I love Eddie,” Steve provided, relaxing slightly at Dustin’s words.

“You love him?” Dustin asked.

“You love me?” Eddie asked from the doorway, clutching Dustin’s notebook tight to his chest.

Steve wasn’t used to keeping his crushes and relationships a secret. He was used to holding hands in the movie theater and kissing a girl goodbye at her door. He was used to being able to show how much he loved someone without a filter.

But with Eddie, he’d held back. He had to in some ways, and they agreed it was best not to give anything away around anyone else for a while, but he’d hoped that Eddie saw how much he cared about him when they were alone.

“I do. I thought it was pretty obvious,” Steve stepped closer to Eddie, ignoring Dustin’s presence entirely. “I love you.”

Eddie threw Dustin’s notebook to the side, ignoring the ‘hey!’ that Dustin let out, and pulled Steve into his arms.

“Can’t believe you told Dustin before you told me,” Eddie laughed against his shoulder. “You know he can’t keep a secret.”

“Yeah, well. I love you enough to not care if everyone knows,” Steve said as he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, kissing the side of his head and lingering there for longer than he probably should in front of a guest. “Was gonna tell you tomorrow after our date.”

“You mean the super secret plans that you wouldn’t give me any hints about?” Eddie pulled away, searching Steve’s eyes. “Will you tell me them now?”

“Maybe when Dustin leaves.”

Both of them turned to Dustin, who was staring at them with a blank look.

“Dustin?” Eddie asked, snapping his fingers to get his attention.

“I’m gonna go,” Dustin said, still looking lost. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Hey, man,” Eddie let go of Steve to walk towards Dustin. “We good?”

“Yeah! I just thought you guys barely even liked each other and you’re actually in love and having sex and I’m just trying to do the math.”

Steve snorted, but straightened out when Eddie glared at him.

“If you wanna talk about anything, you can stay. You seem kinda…out of it.”

“I’d rather not intrude right now,” Dustin said, gesturing to the way their hair and clothing was still a bit disheveled. “But you are gonna tell everyone soon, right? So I don’t have to keep it a secret?”

Eddie looked over at Steve, smiling when he gave him one nod in agreement.

“Yeah, dude. We’re gonna tell everyone at the next movie night,” Eddie said as he turned back to Dustin.

“Thank god!” He breathed out. “Then I’m leaving so you two can do…whatever it is you do.”

He didn’t wait for them to respond, rushing out the door, nearly forgetting his notebook again.

Eddie laughed as he slammed the door, his head falling onto Steve’s shoulder as they fell against the closest wall. Steve was holding Eddie up, laughing with him at the absurdity of being caught by their favorite, but most likely to tell everyone, kid.

“He’s gonna go tell everyone right now, you know that, right?” Steve gasped out between laughter.

“Oh yeah. We’ll be lucky to have another hour before they’re all showing up here with questions,” Eddie said breathlessly.

He pulled back to look at Steve, both of them flush with sudden relief that it was no longer a secret. He leaned in to kiss him once on the corner of his mouth, smiling when he felt Steve’s lips turn up.

“I love you,” Eddie whispered.

“Even though I made you wait to tell everyone?” Steve sounded unsure suddenly, like maybe Eddie would retract everything.

“You didn’t make me do anything, sweetheart. We both agreed to wait.” Eddie cupped his jaw and kissed him slow, much softer than where they’d left off before being interrupted.

No matter how much he enjoyed taking Steve apart, how much he liked seeing him covered in bite marks and bruises, he liked seeing him melt like this more.

“I love you,” Steve said against his lips, already letting Eddie take more of the weight he didn’t have leaning back against the wall. “Want you. Before they get here. Please.”

“How can I resist when you ask so nicely?” Eddie nipped at his bottom lip before pulling away. “Let’s go to your room this time. Don’t want any more interruptions.”

Steve nodded and led Eddie upstairs.

If the kids showed up in an hour, Eddie would make excuses for why Steve was asleep in bed, field their nosy questions, and ease some of the burden of coming out for Steve. If they didn’t, he’d get to keep showing Steve how much he loved him.

Over and over again. Until the whole world knew.

[starmatzz]

Do you write omorashi?

i do!💙my first time writing to, so pardon me :D

bf!mingi x gf!reader | contains mature content

nsfw tags

omorashi, piss, piss kink, wetting, humiliation, praising, pet names, urinal denial, exhibitionism, dom/sub, forced urinal denial, bladder control

You were on a date with Mingi, strolling through the city on a beautiful day. Stopping by a cozy boba shop, he ordered you a large bubble tea without hesitation.

“Drink, sweetheart. Don’t wanna have a headache, hm?” he said with a gentle smile, his voice filled with warmth. His thumb brushed softly over your knuckles as he held your hand, his touch reassuring and sweet.

It was a hot day, and the bubble tea had disappeared quickly, the cool sweetness refreshing you as you walked through the park with Mingi. Tossing the empty cup into the trash, you sighed in relief, only for him to suddenly pull out a bottle of water from his bag.

He handed you the bottle, his expectant gaze never leaving you. You looked up at him curiously, tilting your head.

“I’ve just finished a large bubble tea, baby,” you pouted, lips forming a small frown.

Mingi only shook his head, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he slid an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. His warmth contrasted the summer heat, but it was comforting nonetheless.

“Drink up,” he murmured, voice gentle yet firm.

You huffed playfully but unscrewed the cap anyway, taking a small sip. He watched you with quiet satisfaction, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against your side.

“Good girl,” he whispered, just enough for you to hear.

The day went on, and Mingi never let up. Every so often, he’d bring the bottle to your lips with that same gentle yet insistent look, and you’d drink without thinking much of it. His hand stayed comfortably around your waist, his touch grounding as you wandered through the park together.

But soon, a familiar pressure started building in your lower stomach. You shifted slightly, realizing that all the liquid you’d been drinking was catching up to you.

Mingi noticed your fidgeting and glanced down at you. “You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was laced with concern, but there was also a hint of amusement in his eyes—like he already knew.

You bit your lip, hesitating. “I… need to pee,” you admitted quietly, cheeks heating up.

Mingi’s lips twitched, clearly holding back a laugh. “Really?” he teased, squeezing your waist lightly, “I don't see a bathroom anywhere though, and we still need to go buy groceries.”

Your eyes widened as his words sank in, his husky voice sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Mingi,” you whispered, half in disbelief, half in something else entirely.

He only chuckled, pulling you even closer, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. “Guess you gotta be a good girl and hold it,” he murmured again, his breath warm against your ear. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles on your hip, sending another wave of heat through you.

Walking into the mall hand in hand with Mingi, you felt your body grow tense with every passing minute. The cool air-conditioning was a relief against the summer heat, but it did nothing to ease the warmth spreading through your body—not from the temperature, but from the struggle to hold it in.

Your steps slowed slightly, thighs pressing together instinctively as you fought against the growing pressure. Mingi, of course, noticed immediately. His grip on your hand tightened, and when you glanced up at him, his eyes were filled with amusement and something darker beneath the surface.

“What's the matter, sweetheart?” he murmured, leaning in just enough for only you to hear.

You shot him a glare, your cheeks burning. “This is your fault,” you huffed, shifting on your feet.

He chuckled, utterly unbothered, his free hand resting lightly on your lower back. “You’re doing so well,” he praised, his voice laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine. “But I wonder how long my good girl can last.”

“Mingi,” you warned, your voice a mix of frustration and something dangerously close to anticipation.

He only grinned, tugging you a little closer as you weaved through the crowd. “Let’s take our time, yeah?” he teased, his fingers pressing just slightly against your back, as if testing your resolve.

Mingi hummed softly as he flipped through a rack of shirts, completely at ease while you stood beside him, barely able to focus. The pressure in your lower stomach was unbearable now, and every passing second felt like torture.

Holding up a shirt, he turned to you with big, innocent eyes. “What do you think about this one, baby?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, as if he wasn’t fully aware of your current predicament.

You clenched your fists, shifting on your feet as you swallowed down another wave of desperation. “Mingi, please…” you whined, your voice coming out shaky, laced with both frustration and urgency.

His lips twitched, fighting back a smirk as he placed the shirt back on the rack. “Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, voice dripping with feigned innocence.

You shot him a pleading look, your legs pressing together instinctively. “You know what,” you muttered, your cheeks burning as you tried to keep your composure.

Mingi let out a soft chuckle, stepping closer until his lips were just inches from your ear. “I do,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that made your heart stutter. “But I just love seeing you like this.”

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as Mingi’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his broad frame pressing against your back. His touch was warm, comforting—until his hands slid down slightly, applying the faintest pressure against your already full bladder.

Your whole body tensed. “Mingi,” you whimpered, grabbing onto his wrists to stop him, but he didn’t budge.

A shaky breath left you as you clenched your thighs together, your entire body burning from both embarrassment and something else entirely.

“Mingi, please,” you tried again, your voice softer this time, more desperate.

Suddenly, Mingi pulled out the cursed water bottle again, the plastic crinkling slightly in his grip as he raised it to your lips. Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you looked up at him. His usual playful expression was gone, replaced by something darker—something that left no room for disagreement.

“Please…” you whispered, voice shaky, your thighs pressing together instinctively.

He didn’t say a word. His gaze was steady, unwavering, filled with a quiet dominance that sent a shiver down your spine. With one hand still resting on your waist, he tilted the bottle ever so slightly, the cool water threatening to spill past the rim.

“Drink,” he murmured, his voice low, firm.

Your lips parted, but you hesitated, knowing exactly what he was doing. He was testing you, pushing you, waiting to see if you’d obey.

Your body screamed at you to refuse—to beg, to plead—but the weight of his stare, the way his fingers pressed into your hip, sent a different kind of heat through you.

Slowly, you took a sip, the liquid cool against your lips yet making your entire body feel unbearably warm.

Mingi smirked, satisfied, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your hip. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice barely above a whisper.

The minutes dragged on, each step feeling like an eternity as you tried to hold it together. The pressure had become unbearable, and you were so close to losing control. Every movement felt like it made things worse, the burning need to pee overwhelming your senses. You gripped Mingi’s arm, your fingers digging into his sleeve as your eyes pleaded with him.

“Please… Mingi,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the effort to stay composed.

He glanced down at you, the usual teasing glint replaced by something deeper—a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He could see you were on the verge of breaking, and he seemed to enjoy every second of it.

“Let go then,” he whispered, his voice low and commanding, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you thought you might lose it. You shook your head, too embarrassed, too overwhelmed to give in, but Mingi didn’t budge. He gently tugged you behind the mall, where it was quieter, away from the bustling crowd.

“You’ve been so good,” he murmured, his hand on your back, guiding you forward. “But you don’t have to hold it anymore.”

His words were like a wave crashing over you, and despite the embarrassment, the relief that came with his permission was overwhelming. You looked up at him, desperate, and for the first time, you realized he wasn’t just playing with you—he was going to let you go.

Mingi pressed you gently against the wall, his arms wrapping securely around you, keeping you close. His warmth surrounded you, but it did nothing to ease the overwhelming embarrassment burning through you.

Then, his hand pressed firmly against your bladder, and a shaky whimper escaped your lips as your body betrayed you. Your fingers tightened around his arms, your face buried in his chest as heat flooded your cheeks.

You let go.

The relief was almost instant, washing over you like a tidal wave, but the humiliation made it hard to enjoy it fully. Your body trembled slightly, and you squeezed your eyes shut, too mortified to move.

Mingi’s grip on you never wavered. He leaned down, his lips brushing the top of your head as he whispered, “Nobody’s watching, don’t worry. Just me.”

His voice was low, soothing, yet laced with that unmistakable amusement. You could feel the smirk on his lips as he glanced around, making sure the two of you were still alone.

You let out a soft, embarrassed whine as you felt the warm liquid trickling down your legs, your body trembling from both relief and mortification. A quiet sob escaped your lips, your fingers gripping Mingi’s arms even tighter as you buried your face in his chest, too ashamed to look up.

Mingi's smirk widened as he took in the sight before him, shaking his head in amusement. “Oh look at you, look at you,” he teased, his voice filled with a mix of affection and mirth. “Couldn't hold it in and wet yourself, hmm? You're so dirty.”

The contrast between your humiliation and the way he was looking at you—like you were the most fascinating thing in the world—sent a shiver through you.

His fingers brushed against your lower back in slow, teasing circles, his warmth pressing against you as if to remind you that you weren’t alone.

“You did so well, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

He leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear. “Such a good girl for me,” he whispered, the praise sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let’s go,” Mingi said, grabbing your hand and leading you toward the mall bathrooms.

You waddled behind him, your face burning with embarrassment, every step a reminder of what had just happened.

As you reached the restroom, he suddenly stopped and pulled something from his bag. Your eyes widened as he handed you a neatly folded skirt and a fresh pair of underwear. New pair of sneakers, you wanted for a long time, followed after, along with socks. 

“A reward,” he said smoothly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Change into this.”

You hesitated, still stunned by how prepared he was. “Mingi… You planned this,” you muttered, gripping the clothes with shaky hands.

He only winked, smirking as he leaned in. “Maybe,” he teased, his voice low and knowing. “But you were such a good girl for me. You deserve something nice, don’t you, y/n?”

Your breath hitched, and you quickly turned toward the bathroom, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze any longer. As you stepped inside, heart pounding, you realized one thing—Mingi wasn’t just teasing you.

He owned you in that moment, and you both knew it.

[notlongtolove]

to get it anyway

a steel case to the face. that's the last thing you remember seeing. spencer’s voice, shouting your name. gunfire in rapid succession. you remember hearing sirens. maybe. you’re not entirely sure. hands, trembling, cupping your cheeks.  then, nothing.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff, hurt comfort

content: slight mentions of stitches and wounds. bau!reader gets hurt during a case and spencer is worried out of his mind—maybe even worried enough to confess his feelings for her???

word count: 2.3k

note: love the linked poem... also need someone to confess their undying love for me rn rn rn (also is this considered fluff? im not too good w tags)

a line: He cradled your head in his hands, shielding your body with his own when the gunfire went down. His world tilted on its axis—Instinct overtaking reason.

the final sour cherry we kept politely pushing onto each other’s plate, saying, No, you. But it’s so good. No, it’s yours. How I finally put an end to it, plucked it from the plate, and stuck it in my mouth. How good it tasted: so sweet and so tart. How good it felt: to want something and pretend you don’t, and to get it anyway. - cristin o’keefe aptowicz

A steel case to the face. That's the last thing you remember seeing. Spencer’s voice, shouting your name. Gunfire in rapid succession. You remember hearing sirens. Maybe. You’re not entirely sure. Hands, trembling, cupping your cheeks. 

Then, nothing.

Spencer’s pacing down the hallway, his hands restless at his sides as he calls out for the doctor who’s only just walked out of your room. Before he can get far, he feels a hand clamp down on his shoulder, firm enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Hey,” Morgan says, his voice low. “Hey!” he says again, louder, forcing Spencer to look at him this time, “You gotta slow down.”

“She—she was hit. In the head!” Spencer twists under his grip, his eyes darting toward the room where you’re lying behind a closed door. “Do you know how fragile the human skull is? She could have a concussion or—or intracranial bleeding, or—I need to—”

“What you need to do—is calm down,” Morgan interrupts. His tone is stern, leaving no room for argument. “You pacing and panicking? That’s not helping her. And it’s not helping you. You’re worried. We all are. I get it.”

But Spencer isn’t just worried. He’s terrified. He’s bone-deep, mind-numbingly terrified. You all get hurt sometimes—Occupational hazard. Duh. Everyone knows that. But it’s rare for any of you to actually end up warded in the hospital, rarer for it still, to be a two-hour wait with no definitive answers. The doctors had been maddeningly vague: We’ll let you know as soon as possible. No reason to worry. But how could he not?

“Don't tell me to calm down, I—” Spencer’s voice cracks. His chest feels tight, constricted. “Even small blows can cause severe brain damage. Nobody knows how fast—how fast neurons can start to—”

“Reid,” Morgan repeats, his grip not letting up. “They checked her. Twice. You saw it yourself. You saw them go in. I promise you—They’re on it.”

Spencer doesn’t reply. He doesn’t tell Morgan that 3.6% of hospital deaths occur because of medical negligence—A staggering 1.8% of those linked to head injuries. Doesn’t tell him how many journal articles he’s read on misdiagnosed head trauma or the cascading complications that can go unnoticed until it’s too late. The numbers run through his mind unbidden anyway.

“I’m gonna let you go now,” Morgan says carefully, studying Spencer’s face. “But you gotta stay calm, kid. You hear me? Hotch is already looking.” 

Spencer forces himself to look where Morgan’s nod directs him. Hotch is speaking to a local officer at the end of the hallway, eyes already darting warningly towards them. “I’m calm,” Spencer mutters, though his chest feels like it’s caving in and his breaths are shallow and his heart is pounding so hard he thinks it’s a wonder Morgan can’t hear it. Nothing about this feels calm at all. Not even remotely. 

He drags himself to the bench in the hallway reluctantly. As it turns out, sitting does little to settle him. His leg bounces uncontrollably and he bites at his nails, a nervous habit he hasn’t indulged in since childhood. Old habits resurface when the mind is in distress, he recalls. He doesn’t even glance up when Morgan comes by again with a peace offering in the form of a cup of coffee. Not even when Hotch had come to pass on his well wishes, a pressing call waiting for him back at the bureau. 

The minutes crawl by and Spencer counts each one. Sixty. Seventy. Eighty. At ninety-three, a doctor finally approaches. Spencer bolts upright, standing so fast that his head spins a little. You’re stable. Visitors are allowed. Two at a time. He barely registers anything else that the doctor says.

You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.

The sharp antiseptic smell hits him first. Then it’s you, eyes blinking blearily as you try to grab a cup of water from the overbed table. The motion makes you wince and Spencer is at your bedside in an instant, his knees bumping gently against the frame as he leans down. 

“Stop I—I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” he says softly, scooping up the cup before you can strain yourself any further. 

“Thanks, Spence,” you whisper, your voice hoarse. You take the cup from him with a weak smile and lift it to your lips for a small sip.

Spencer’s gaze flits involuntarily to your temple. Stitches, eight of them, subcuticular running sutures, from what he can see. They start at your hairline, tracing a clean path down just shy of your cheekbone. He tries to tell himself it’s a good sign—clean wound edges, minimal scarring expected. He wants to say something but the sight of you, pale lips, fragile in the oversized hospital gown, usual biting sarcasm and saccharine teasing nowhere to be found, makes his heart ache. 

“How do you feel?” he finally manages. Even he knows it's a stupid question the moment it leaves his lips. 

“Like I got whacked in the face.” Ah, there you are.

Spencer chuckles meekly though ​​his attempt at lightness falls flat when he catches sight of the stitches again.

“S’not as bad as it looks,” You say tiredly, noticing his line of sight. “The nurse told me it was barely a concussion. A mild one at worst.” 

“Oh yeah? Would’ve been nice to know ‘bout two hours ago,” Morgan interjects, cutting into the quiet moment. Spencer startles slightly, having completely forgotten he was there. “Pretty sure our poor boy wore a hole in the tiles from all his pacing.”

The flush creeping up Spencer’s neck is immediate, spreading to his cheeks as he goes a little crimson. Regardless, he’s thankful for the soft laugh it draws from you. Eyes crinkling, lips curved. You look a little more like yourself now, even if the weariness hasn’t fully dissipated. It makes Spencer feel a little fuller, a little lighter. 

Spencer’s liked you since the first day he met you. 248 days ago, to be exact—But it’s definitely not like he’s kept count or anything. 

He thought he’d like you when he read over your application file. You’d cited winning a local checkers tournament at age 11 as one of your ‘greatest accomplishments to date’.

He knew he liked you when he caught you trying to explain the concept of gravity to Henry at his fourth birthday party using a juice box and a cookie.

When you quoted Aristotle in an attempt to convince Hotch to get a new coffee machine for the unit? Spencer was certain he’d fallen in love right then and there. Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work. Doesn’t it, Spence?

“Aw, Spence,” you coo softly, your voice carrying that honey sweet lilt he’s grown so fond of. “M’fine. Really.” 

For a fleeting moment Spencer almost believes you. Because the way his heart flutters when you reach over to squeeze his hand in reassurance makes him think he’s the one who should be hooked up to those machines instead. Your thumb brushes gently over the back of his hand and Spencer feels his breath hitch, swallowing hard. He swears he goes a little dizzy for a moment so he promptly takes a seat in the chair by your bed.

“It’s good to see you awake, pretty girl. You really had us worried there for a minute,” Morgan says. Spencer nods fervently in agreement. After a beat, Morgan just can’t seem to help himself, adding, “Well, some of us more than others.” Spencer’s certain Morgan’s thoroughly amused by how flustered he is—More so that you seem blissfully unaware. 

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Spencer pretends not to notice the pointed glance and shameless smile Morgan throws his way. “Don’t let this one fuss over you too much, though. He’s got that down to an art form.” The door clicks shut behind Morgan, and the room grows quiet again, save for the faint hum of the machines and the soft rustle of sheets as you shift slightly in bed.

“Do you remember anything? Before? After?” Spencer asks. He’s painfully aware of how your hand hasn’t moved from his. 

“Not much,” you sigh, your eyes downcast. “Lots of shots… shouting.”

Spencer nods grimly, his jaw tight. If he were being honest, he didn’t remember much either. The moment he saw you go down, his mind had gone blank, aside from the fuzzy static screaming in his ears. He’d lunged toward you as your body crumpled to the ground. The scuff on his pants and the sting of his elbow attest to that fact. His knees had scraped against the concrete as he cradled your head in his hands, shielding your body with his own when the gunfire went down.

His world tilted on its axis—Instinct overtaking reason.

FBI protocol was clear: never abandon your weapon, never turn your back during active gunfire. Subsection 28A, paragraph 2, page 36. Spencer knew it by heart. (He knew the entire handbook by heart.)

But Spencer also knew that if it ever came down to it, he’d take a bullet for you without hesitation.

“I remember you,” you admit softly, your voice a little stronger as you glance up at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“M—me?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, “I remember you calling my name. You holding me.” A faint smile tugs at your lips. Your fingers trace gentle circles into his palm as you sigh, “I only remember you, Spence.” ​​It sends a flip through him, right down to his toes—He short circuits. 

“I care about you,” Spencer blurts. His mind feels foggy, his words slipping out before he can overthink them. “Like, really care about you.” He winces internally. Filler words? Really? But with the way you’re looking at him—kind, expectant, devastatingly patient—he can’t seem to summon anything better. 

“I like you,” he tries again, his voice just a tad firmer. “A lot. More than I probably should. I—I really like you,” he adds in a rush. Real smooth, Spencer. 

You tilt your head, biting your lip to suppress a grin, and Spencer hopes you can't feel how sweaty his palms are.

“I know,” you say simply.

“Y—you do?” His voice comes out shakier than he likes.

“I do. Kinda guessed it from the teasing and stuff.”

Silence.

It stretches just long enough for Spencer to start panicking. He’s briefly comforted by the fact that even mild concussions can cause memory lapses and wonders if there’s any other way to make you forget this humiliating confession. 

“I’m sorry,” he stammers, rushing to fill the quiet. “I’m being insensitive. You’re probably overwhelmed enough as it is—I shouldn’t have—”

“I like you too, Spencer,” you say softly, cutting him off. 

“You—you do?”

"I do," you nod unabashedly, utterly unflustered. “I have for a while now, actually.”

His eyes widen. “You have?”

“Yes I have, and I do, I really like you too,” you say with a sheepish smile, laughing. “But if you keep making me repeat myself you’re gonna give me the headache the doctors keep saying I'm lucky not to have.” 

“S’not funny,” Spencer mutters, but he smiles anyway. The brightest smile he’s had today. Maybe even this week. Possibly even this year. “Don’t joke about that. I was really worried.”

“I know,” you reply warmly. “Something about pacing holes into the tiles, if I recall.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, a boyish laugh slipping out. He hadn’t imagined this moment unfolding in a hospital room, of all places. To be honest, he hadn’t imagined this happening at all. 

You’ll probably be out in three days. Maybe two if you’re lucky. He’ll ask you out then. Properly. Dinner at that Thai place you both love. A trip to the library you’d mentioned two months ago but never got around to visiting. He’ll take you to the park where he plays chess every Saturday. He’s going to do it all. The thought makes him absolutely giddy. 

Unbeknownst to the two of you, outside, Morgan hasn’t budged. Not an inch. He’s standing by the blinds, peering in through the narrow sliver. The panicked clatter of heels on the tiled floor announces Garcia’s arrival before she’s even turned the corner. Her face is the epitome of panic, teary eyes wide with worry.

“How—how bad is it?” she blurts, her voice shaking. “Oh god, did she make it? Reid called and—”

Morgan silences her with a gentle finger to her lips. “Shhhh. She’s fine.”

“Fine?! But—But Reid said something about brain trauma—and her neurons and—”

“Babygirl, you and I both know how he gets when it comes to her,” Morgan chides, “Nurse said it’s barely a concussion.”

Garcia lets out a deep, shaky breath, her shoulders sagging dramatically as relief washes over her. “Oh, thank god,” she utters, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, I’m gonna kill that boy, d’you know what he told me?! He said—” 

“Hold that thought,” Morgan says, cutting her off with a smirk. “Our boy genius is a little… preoccupied right now.” He steps aside slyly, gesturing toward the blinds. “Take a peek. You’ll thank me later.”

Inside, Spencer has moved his chair closer to your bedside. One of his hands holds yours securely, fingers interlocked now, while the other traces soothing circles along your forearm. His smile is blinding, proud even, as laughter fills your face. When you shift, a strand of hair falls across your face, and Spencer gently brushes it aside, his hand lingering on your cheek.

Garcia visibly melts at the sight. She lets out a soft, adoring sigh as Morgan starts to steer her gently down the hallway.  “You know, when I told you last week that she wouldn’t know Reid liked her even if it hit her in the face, I didn’t mean it literally,” she quips, amused. 

“I know babygirl, I know,” Morgan chuckles, shaking his head as he places a hand on her shoulder. “Now, come on. I think I saw some jello in the cafeteria.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: magnets by niki soft spot by keshi

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Look, Don't Touch 3

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: my back hurts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

Bucky's snores roll through the apartment. He's just as irritating asleep as he is awake. Your back racks and your legs cramp as you slump in the chair. Your eyes droop now and again only the roll open and flick to the blue digits of the clock. 

The minutes tick by like hours. His peaceful tempo irks you. It adds to the restlessness of your captivity.  

You don't blame him entirely. You're a dumb fucking bitch. Why didn't you do some scouting before you waltzed in? Wait it out to make sure it's clear. 

You go back and retrace your steps, over and over. Fuck. You're so stupid. So stupid. But not as stupid as that fucker thinks. 

Or as weak. 

He has that chip on his shoulder. He thinks his trauma overrides everyone else's. That no one else has been through shit. What you've been through you don't fucking think about because it's not worth it. He doesn't realise he's wasting his energy being such a miserable shit. 

You stare through the window for a while. The city sparkles here. Not like in your apartment where it blares like a broken television. 

Your head sinks down as your fatigue clouds your obstinacy. Your eyelids meet and your body slackens as much as it can within your bounds. The last look at the clock read about 3am. 

Your mind swirls in a miasma. Thick and viscous. Your skull thumps like sledge on concrete. Then all at once you're awake and shivering. 

The ice cold water seeps into your clothes as you gasp and gulp. Your lashes are webbed with moisture as you drip with the frigid rivulets. Bucky chuckles as a bucket hangs from his grip. 

"Morning sunshine." 

Your teeth chatter as you sneer back at him. You glance over at the city skyline. It's still a dusky mix of grey and blue. 

"0500. Up and at 'em," he proclaims chipperly. 

You shut your mouth and bite down on your shivers. This is what he wants. He's trying to break you. Well it's not gonna happen so soon. You've seen the videos on the dark web. You won't be scared by this emo bitch.  

"Gotta keep a routine." He taunts. 

You roll your eyes. Your gaze catches on the shine on the floor. You must've been out like a light. There's plastic under you. Maybe not just for the water. Well, you're not squeamish. 

"I usually start with a run. What do you do when you crawl out of your hole at one in the afternoon? Probably just the thought of Steve gets your heart pumping," he grits. 

"It helps," you snicker. "I've seen the real thing so... I'm certain my imagination is much better. The vibrator too." 

"Fucking smart ass," he mutters and stomps away. 

It's not a victory but it isn't defeat. You can match his energy, even if he's got you tied up like a dog. You wiggle in seat as that thought tickles something in you. You're twisted just like he said but he doesn't get to do that to you. Only Steve.  

He shuffles around in the bedroom. He emerges in track pants and a long sleeve tee. The legs are a bit too long for him. Steve's got a few inches on him, probably in more way than one. 

"I'll do about an hour," he taps on his watch. "Now you don't go getting into trouble." 

He scoffs and heads for the door. You tempo your breath as the goosebumps prickle over you in waves. Your clothes are soaked through. The door snaps shut and you huff. 

There's not much you can do. You close your eyes again. You're not going to sleep but you'll save your energy. As you languish in the slow drip of water pattering onto the plastic, your clothes grow stale and tepid. The wet fabric is sandpaper on your skin. 

He returns, whistling. He doesn't acknowledge you as he sets up in the kitchen. He puts his earbuds in the case and lets his music blast from the speaker. It's the kind of rock music a teenager listens to when they try to show off. 

You don't move. You're not going to let him see you squirm. He rattles around in the kitchen. 

"Gotta get lots of protein after a workout," he calls through as a pan sizzles. The aromas crawl over you and fill your lungs. Your tongue floods with saliva. "Lots of eggs, bacon, hm, oh Steve got the good greek yogurt." 

You don't answer his mocking monologue. You know what he's doing. Well if he thinks you've never gone hungry, that's his own martyr complex fueling his ego. 

He comes out with a full plate and sits across from you. He plants his feet wide, his plate in one hand as he shovels greedily with the fork. He stuffs his mouth and hums. 

You watch him calmly. He smirks and keeps pigging away on the food. There's enough for both of you and then some. You grimace. 

"How are you feeling? Hungry?" He asks. 

"Repulsed. You have grease on your chin." 

He pokes his tongue as he try to lick it up. You nearly gag at the remnants of food in his mouth. You don’t, you won't, look away. 

"I can hear your stomach," he says through a mouthful. "And your heart. Your lungs, too." 

"Yeah, I know you're a freak. Do you even know how the Russian fucks mangled you or did that go out the window with all the murder?" 

He gnashes his teeth down and narrows his eyes. His smile faded. It's your turn to grin. 

"Real fucked up from what I saw. There were some leaked classified docs after that weirdo Sokovian went off and planted those bombs." You tisk. "Children? Really? That's really der--" 

He's fast. Well, he is a super soldier. In an instant, he's in front of you, the plate is on the floor, and the fork is standing in your thigh as pain sears through your muscles. 

You yipe then muffle it to a groan. You take a deep breath as your lashes flick and you stare at the blood staining around the tines. You exhale through your lips and look at him. You don't stop smiling. 

You cackle, "hoooooo, I got you, Buck. I fucking got you." 

He stands straight and kicks the plate, scattering whats left of the eggs and bacon. He stomps away and balls his fists, grumbling and snarling. You laugh if only to keep from whimpering. 

There's pain beneath the swell of adrenaline. It's going to really hurt in a few minutes but right now, you feel great. You're awake. 

📷

Bucky appears again. His hair is damp and his skin is speckled with the aftermath of a shower. He has only a towel around his waist. Are you supposed to be impressed? 

He doesn't say a word as he moves around the apartment. He goes to the windows and looks out at the city. You stare at the couch dully. You're getting bored and your leg is throbbing. 

He circles around as you raise your brows, biding off the fatigue. Suddenly, he's behind you. He reaches around a rips the fork free. You grunt as blood pools up and spreads further along the denim.  

He wipes the tines on your sleeve, "I didn't get the artery, in case you're scared." He strides around and twirls the cutlery, "strange cause judging by your pulse, you're pretty fucking content with yourself." 

"Ha, is that what you want, hm?" You pout mockingly. "You wanna make a girl's heart race. Poor widdle winter baby don't got no place in this world. He wants to be wanted--" 

"You talk a pretty big game for someone as tiny as you are." He comes around and bends to look you in the eye. "What do you got going on? Who's going to even know you didn't make it home?" 

You hiss through a gritted smile, "you say that like I care. I've been pretty honest with you and myself. Maybe try a bit of introspection." 

"There's different types," he backs up and sits again. "The quiet ones. The violent ones. The talkers. Now, there's different kinds of talkers. The ones who threaten, then there's the ones who ramble. They talk so they don't gotta feel--" 

"You got me, Mr. Barnes. I'm so fucking scared of you I'm gonna piss my pants. You wanna watch again?" 

He chortles, "there ya go." 

"There I go." You sneer. "What's the game plan here, buddy? Starve me out? Think it'll happen before baby boy gets back? You gonna save some for him? Let him know you saved his ass. For once it wasn't the other way around huh?" 

"Shut up." 

"Or maybe that's a bad plan, huh? Steve might lose his shit a little. Realise he's not untouchable. I mean, a worm like me crawled right in--" 

"I said shut up," he snips. 

"You said it, I'm a talker. I gotta talk so I don't shake in my boots. Must feel like a big man. I mean I don't got Hydra juice in my veins and you could snap me like a twig," you scoff. "It's gotta make you a little hard." 

He tilts his head and squints, "you ever think of anything else?" 

"Don't worry, you're not in here," you nod your head. "It's all for the Captain. Second best again, sergeant." 

"You can't help yourself," he leans his elbows on his legs. 

"Well, I broke in, didn't I? Pretty clear I'm a bit off--" 

"No fucking shame." 

"It's really weird, don't you think? We only talk about shame when it's a woman. Men, they can do whatever the fuck they want and they're called outgoing and brave or committed, whatever." 

"Cut that shit," he snips. 

"It's true. But maybe that's not what this is. Maybe this is something else. Something more personal. Maybe you're jealous," you try to shrug. "The winter bozo got no fans to stalk him. Mm, sad." 

He stares at you then his gaze falls to your leg. He stands up and marches off. No answer. Typical. That's the thing about men, they can't admit when they're wrong. Can't own up to their faults but everyday a woman has to pay penance for just existing. 

He stomps back to you and slaps his hand down on your injured leg. The burning sensation of his palm tears a yowl from your and you look down as thick grains of salt tumble out between his fingers. He mashes the salt into your wound. You gnash your teeth and grunt. 

"FUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK!" You seethe through your clamped jaw. 

He laughs, "this is kinda fun." He puts his forehead against yours. "And I can't help but agree with you, doll. Why the fuck am I fighting my programming?" He squeezes your leg and you wheeze. "Let's get nice and cozy with the soldier. He's got all the good ideas." 

You snort and twitch, halfway between agony and amusement. You push against him and snap your teeth. 

"Finally, something interesting." You rasp. 

He smirks and pushes of you. You groan as he turns cracks his neck. He tosses the salt onto the plastic sheet. You watch his metal hand open and close. 

He spins and struts into the kitchen. He comes back with your notebook. A strike of rage swells in you. Fuck. 

He stands in front of you and licks his fingertips. He clears his throat and flutters through the pages. 

"'I went to his place. It's nice. Different than being outside. His bed is big, it's a wonder he never fucks in it. Seems like Cap is afraid of commitment.'" He guffaws. "You really think you know him?" 

"Stream of consciousness." You utter. 

"Sure," he skims the lines on the pages. "'I think I had my biggest O in his bed. Just with my fingers. I could smell him around me. If I closed my eyes, he was there--'"  

He shifts and the towel twitches. Your lips slant. Disgusting. 

"Do you really think he'd want to touch something like you?" 

"I can draw a line between fact and fiction. How about you?" You chirp. "You can't even remember how many innocent people you killed--" 

"It's getting old," he growls.  

"Maybe Stevie won't want a piece. I'm not delusional, just obsessive. But you-" you nod to his crotch. "Seems like you're getting a bit too into this." 

He lowers the notebook and grins. "You ever actually fucked a guy?" 

"What does it matter?" 

"Is that it? You think Steve wants to pluck the flower in your dusty little garden?" 

"It was never--" you huff and wiggle in the chair. "Look, you don't get it. It was never supposed to be real. It's like a TV show. A distraction. Something to do." 

"Wow, that's sad." 

"Yeah, but it's the truth. A lot of people can't face themselves in the mirror." 

"Oh virtue," he scoffs and throws the notebook on the couch behind him. "Is it honesty or self-pity?" 

"Bit of both." You look up defiantly as he steps closer. "Look at me. I know what I am. I'm a creep but I don't deny it. What you are, you can't even say it out loud." 

He exhales and his chest compressed. He puts his hands on his hips as he glowers at you. His towel tents and you frown. 

"Dude, get that away from me." 

"What's the matter? Is this the closest you've been?" He taunts. 

You lean back and keep your eyes up, "I've seen a dick. Touched a few even. Trust me, I'm not interested." 

"I could put on the suit. There's a back-up in his closet." 

"Nasty." 

"Look who's talking," he retorts. "You think I'm fucking serious?" 

"I know the things you're capable of, soldat." You challenge. 

His eyes flare and his knuckles flash across your vision, bone snapping against your cheek. You close your mouth as it floods with iron. You swallow the blood and wiggle a back tooth with your tongue. You snicker. 

You face him as the swelling thrums hotly under the surface. He glares back at you. You lean back and round your eyes. You've never been good at that cutesy shit. 

He smirks, "keep going, baby. We'll see who breaks first." 

You lower your lashes and sniffle. He hovers and you steel yourself. You lurch forward and open your mouth. The chair tilts with your weight and you bite through the cotton as your teeth meet the towel. You pinch something beneath it. Him. 

He exclaims and punches your head. He grunts as the chair tips and falls on its side. Your head bounces against the chair. The towel heaps next to you as he growls and cradles his erection. 

"The fuck? You are deranged!" 

"I told you to move back," you slur as silver stars spatter across your vision.  

"Fucking bitch," he hisses and leaves you on the plastic. You laugh until it fades into a dry crackle. You hit your head pretty good and he got a few good shots in too.