#i did forget to put the taglist in the other asks but will slap it here

[gummybugg]

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday!

In your world, what happens when people get sick/injured? What are the kinds of help they can hope for? Are there properly trained doctors or something similar?

Happy WBW, thanks for the ask!

(mild warning in tags)

You see, remember how in the last ask, I said I took inspiration from Real Life? It totally applies here, as well!

When your Average Citizen has an ouchie or a boo-boo in Crater City, they will generally take care of it themselves. Ambulence? What, do you want a police escort, too? The average citizen scoffs at those able to afford such luxuries. It is almost unheard of to get diagnosed and go into emergency surgery the same day.

Sitting in draft mode, collecting dust, is a scene in which I plan on explaining the Healthcare System in Crater City a bit more. Blair gets a toothache and must wait 6 months to fix it. "They said it looked like a termite made a home out my tooth," he says. He ends up pulling the decayed tooth out himself once the pain becomes unbearable (goodbye, permanent molar).

In another scene, we find out that there aren't really any reputable doctors or even therapists in Crater City, where Darcy tells Blair

"You just weren’t cut out for Neo-civilization. Maybe you could have been back then, when everyone still had doctors and insane asylums. But there’s none of that left."

The lack of Healthcare providers is mostly due to the staggering amount of citizens willing to go to/pay for college in a scary, post-apocalyptic setting where tomorrow is never promised. It's Very Dangerous in and out of the city border. Yet, Crater City is the most sought-after city in the country. A beacon of hope, some might say.

-------

Crater City Taglist:

@writeouswriter

@lyra-brie

[trippinsorrows]

through your eyes + au 2

authors: well....this is happening. don't ask. we're just going with it. gotta read part one before consuming this.

don't know who's interested, so only tagging the people i know have read and would be okay with a tag!

taglist: @sayyestoheav3nn @fearlesschimera @annfg8 @zoeyybellex3 @cyberdejos2

Solana never expected to see Roman Reigns again. Not in person, at least. That up close, especially.

It was a one off. A fluke. An anomaly. Her happenstance literal run-in with quite literally the most dangerous man in their world was just one of those things she'd never forget but nothing beyond that.

She could never forget his intense gaze on her, the heat that shot through her body when he touched her, his arm holding her, protecting her almost from a man who clearly doesn't understand boundaries.

But, while she tried her best to put the weekend's unexpected happening behind her, life, or maybe fate, had another plan in motion. One she could have never expected or seen coming.

She's sorting through one of the few remaining boxes that still needs to be tagged and put out for sale when a throat clears behind her.

Putting down the iPad, Solana stands up, wiping her hands on her shorts and loads up her typical, usual smile. Turning around, she readies to greet the probable customer but falters a bit, taken back by his appearance.

Wild, red hair that's surely seen better days. Tall with an almost lanky build, he wears one of the friendliest grins she's ever seen on a person, let alone a man.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "How can I help you?"

Again, he clears his throat, pulling out a wrinkled little piece of paper that seems to have writing scribbled on it. "Yes, I'm looking for a Sol---Solana?"

She laughs at his pronunciation but proceeds to confirm her identity. "I'm Solana."

He makes a sound, slapping his hand against his forehead. "Of course, my apologies!" She giggles. His demeanor is so amenable. "Umm, yes, if you could, umm, come with me?"

At that, Solana's smile drops. "I'm sorry?"

He leans over a bit, and she naturally moves back a little. "I'm sorry." His cheeks are heating with redness. "I'm here on behalf of the Tribal Chief."

Solana goes still. "Roman?" He nods. "He's---he's here?"

When Solana mentioned Roman coming to see her, something she still can't figure out where it came from, she wasn't actually expecting him to follow through on that.

And yet....

The man continues to explain, "he would come in, but....you know."

Yes, she does know. Roman Reigns coming into her little, quaint bookstore would certainly attract an audience and attention, the last two things she wants, that she's ever wanted.

Solana nods.

She should reject it. Should try to find some excuse as to why she can't. Why she's busy. But, she's also not dumb enough to say no to this man.

You don't just say no to Roman Reigns. You can, but it's bound to not end up well. And Solana would rather not find herself on his bad side.

Pushing back her anxiety, she finds herself agreeing. "Of course." Hooking her fingers through the hoops of her denim shorts, she asks, "w-where is he?"

The man whose name she realizes she still doesn't know motions with his arm. "Ladies first."

He really does have a gentless about him that doesn't seem to make sense considering who he works for.

Solana silently and wordlessly follows him out the emergency exit in the back of the store, ignoring the fact that that's probably how he got inside in the first place, which makes little to no sense to her. How did he get by without the security system going off? But, for her own sanity, she doesn't push it too much.

This is Roman.

He gets what he wants.

And speaking of, Solana finds her stomach knotting a bit when she's outside in the alleyway behind the strip. There's three black SUV's with tinted windows lined up, but he's standing by the one in the middle. Leaning against the middle door, his arms are crossed over each other, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes she secretly wishes she could see.

Moving closer, Solana has to take in once again the magnanimity of him. Roman is such a big man, his presence alone something that's both overwhelming and strangely satisfying.

But, when she gets her wish, and he lifts his sunglasses to the top of his head, she finds that feeling in her stomach intensifying. He's raking those beautiful eyes over her entire body, from the top of her head to the sole of her feet.

And Solana is suddenly wishing she'd maybe put on a little makeup or done something more sophisticated with her hair. Not that that seems to stop this man from looking like he'd take her in the back of this alley if he could.

Before she can say anything, the man with the wild red hair is speaking again, his voice suddenly riddled with anxiety.

She gets it.

"Ms. Solana, as you requested, sir." He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and just when Solana expects him to walk away, leaving her along with the one man she probably shouldn't be left alone with, he continues to talk, offering an unexpected save. "And might I say, my Tribal Chief, she is absolutely beautiful. I mean, if I wasn't already married—" At the same time Solana looks at this strange man confused, Roman's gaze is borderline murderous. "But I am m-married, happily so, might I add. And I would never betray my Tribal Chief—"

"Sami."

"Yes, My Tribal Chief?"

"Leave." It's spoken to the man, but Roman's intense gaze is back on her. "Now."

Sami.....it fits.

"Of course," Sami clears his throat and scrambles away, getting in the SUV that's farthest from them without bothering as so much as a goodbye.

Once alone, she finds herself admitting in that same small voice, "I-I didn't think you'd actually come."

He chuckles, and it's such a beautiful sound. "I'm a man of my word, Solana." He flicks his eyes to her mouth. "I said I would see you again, didn't I?"

He did. She just wasn't counting on it.

Swallowing, Solana toys with the string of her top, unintentionally dragging Roman's attention to her cleavage that's showing more than usual. Of course. "How did you find—"

"That was easy. If I want something, I get it." She should know this, know that this man could probably have her social security number at this point if he wanted. "What are you doing tonight?"

Oh.

This is escalating. Quickly. So quickly. She should pump the breaks, should find someway to dead this now. But, she instead finds herself answering him, "n-nothing. Why?"

"You are now." Roman kicks off the SUV and instead moves toward her. Instead of backing away like she did with Sami, Solana stands still, only silently and internally panicking when he snakes his arm behind her and jerks her toward him, into him, into his body. Solid as steel. He's so big. Naturally, her hand moves to his chest, something Roman notices and smirks at. This man. "I'm fighting tonight. I want you there."

It takes her a second to think about what he's referring to, and then it hits her. WarGames is tonight. It's one of the few main events he still participates in. She hasn't attended an event in years. It's never been her setting, but instead of finding a way to tell him this, she's still limited to one to two word response.

"O-oh."

His smirk deepens as he brings his hand to her chin, thumb glossing over her skin. "I'll send a car to pick you up."

Picking up on something, she asks, partially concerned, partially flattered almost. "You-you know where I live?"

Roman's eyes continue to study her face, and she's never felt so under pressure. Like this is a test of some sort that she has no idea if she's passing or not. "I know a lot about you, Solana Miller, but there's still more I want to know." Oh my god. "Wear red."

Just how much does he know? Had he looked her up? Done research on her? Why? What would be the reason? What's so interesting about her that not only has he gone out of his way to gather information on her, but beyond that, is now seeking more info.

It just....it doesn't make sense.

Eyes shutting a bit from the overwhelming nature of this all, she finds herself asking in a breathy voice, "w-why?"

And as if she wasn't already an apprehensive mess, Solana's knees nearly give out from under her when he dips his mouth near her ear. "I like seeing you in my color." She exhales shakily and nervously, as he ghosts his lips over the shell of her ear. "Though I'd rather see you in nothing, but we'll work up to that."

That's not exactly what she was asking about, but regardless, it takes the pure will of God for her to not pass out when he finally pulls away, the lack of his touch on her body something she notices almost immediately.

Roman lifts his hand and snaps, not even a full minute later, one of his men emerging from the passenger side of the SUV to open the car door for him. "I'll see you tonight, Solana."

He can clearly see the reaction he's evoking from her and obviously finds great enjoyment in absolutely toying with her sanity. It's something that leads to her asking, "How-how do you know I'll be there?"

She never accepted. Never agreed. Never mind the fact that she's already thinking about what she owns red that could work for the event....

Roman gives her a curious look followed by another chuckle that she finds so much more attractive than she should. He answers so easily and confidently before climbing in the truck, door being shut for him,

"Because you're just as intrigued by me as I am by you."

[honnelander]

crush

alright, this is such a niche and self-indulgent little piece of writing bc i freaking LOVE this (awful and huge asshole) character buuut i do like to write for whatever i love in the moment sooo here's a little Brad Wolfe aka Hunter X-5 fic (he's cute ok??) (and if you're into marvel and are not watching the loki series, PLEASE go watch it! it's so amazing!) credit to @mrsbawar21-blog for the still!

WARNINGS: none

word count: 2.8

pairing: Brad Wolfe (Hunter X-5) x reader

summary: Mobius could tell Brad knew you a lot better than he was letting on, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

masterlist

taglist: @antrenna @buggy0827 @laviiv @feelinmatcha @ivonarfsh @facelessfionna @deserticwren @shadydeanmuffin

"See? Isn't this nice, Brad?" Mobius asked his beige jumpsuit-claded prisoner as he sipped on his vanilla milkshake, happy as a clam. "I mean, literally ten minutes ago we were at each other's throats, yelling at one another, and here we are," Mobius gestured around with his hands, emphasizing the 1980s McDonald's they were currently sitting in, "sharing a meal like two adults."

"Yeah, and you also tortured me," Brad replied quickly, not missing a beat as he kept his gaze set on the pair of Lokis conversing in the parking lot through the window. He drummed his fingers on the plastic tabletop, bouncing his leg up and down as he quickly glanced at Mobius with a quirked eyebrow. "Forgot to mention that part, huh?"

"Yeah, and you called me a 'nobody'," Mobius rebutted quickly, a hint of irritation dripping from his voice. He stopped himself, shaking his head slightly with closed eyes as he exhaled curtly.

Now wasn't the time to dispute that and the silver-haired TVA analyst knew that arguing with X-5- or Brad, whoever, was a waste of everyone's time and he didn't feel like renewing their earlier verbal scrimmage here when there were more pressing matters at hand. Ultimately, Brad did bring them to Slyvie in the end so that must count for something, right?

"But, that doesn't matter. See, I even bought you a shake," Mobius said, reaching across the table to pick up Bradley's vanilla shake and put it closer to him. "A little peace offering."

Brad's eyes flitted to Mobius' obvious olive branch for a second before looking back up to the analyst, unimpressed. After a beat, he raised his right hand, jabbing an accusatory index finger at Mobius, as he cocked his head to the side, saying, "But you did slap me, right in the face. I'm not gonna forget that."

"Just take the shake, Brad," Mobius said swiftly, slightly exasperated as he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

Now, Mobius M. Mobius prided himself on his seemingly never-ending well of patience, but even he felt himself start to get annoyed at Brad's unrelenting persistence on being as difficult as can be. Did he always try to be as annoying as possible or was this just how the ex-hunter always is naturally? It was exhausting.

The former minute man-turned-actor glanced down at the shake again, leaving it untouched before looking out the window to refocus on the Lokis outside. "What- what are they even doing out there?" he asked with a huff, gesturing a hand towards the pair of variants. "It's like they're going over every detail of their relationship or something."

"Yeah, well," Mobius relented with a small sigh, taking another sip of his shake. "There's a lot of baggage to unpack when you're basically in a relationship with yourself," he explained casually like he was talking about a bad day at the office.

Brad picked up on the slight disdain in his captor's tone but he didn't care enough to broach the topic any further. Instead, Brad sighed in slight disgust as he resumed drumming his fingers on the table saying, "God... it's weird."

Not wanting to harp on his partner's unorthodox romantic relationship any more than he had to, Mobius picked up a plastic fork, getting ready to dig into his pie. "Now, why don't you tell me a little bit more about your movie, huh?"

Brad rolled his eyes and scoffed at Mobius's obvious deflecting technique. "What about it?"

"Tell me about all about it." The analyst took a forkful of pie, asking with an encouraging smile, "Is it a horror flick?"

"Oh, come on, Mobius. You don't care."

"No, really! I'm serious," he said through a mouthful of pie. "The poster we saw looked scary."

Not being one to pass up discussing his work and real life that awaited him back on the sacred timeline, Brad took the bait. "It's not scary... it's elevated thriller," he explained in a slightly matter-of-fact tone, waving his hand around for emphasis. In a condescending tone, he added, "It's cinema, thank you very much."

Mobius had no clue if there really was a difference between a scary movie and an 'elevated thriller', since it all sounded the same to him, but he appreciated Brad's enthusiasm on the topic.

Lifting his milkshake up to his mouth to try and hide his amused smirk, Mobius relented, "Oh, my bad. You're right... 'elevated thriller', got it." He nodded as he took a sip, putting his cup back down when he was finished. "I'll have to check that out then."

"And you have to get your own ticket!" Brad continued. "I'm not hooking you up. Especially not after all of," he waved his hands around at their current setting, "this."

"Right, of course," Mobius agreed patiently, watching Brad with a small smile. "I'll get my own tickets."

After his small spiel, the ex-hunter let out a small sigh. He blinked, a look of recognition overcoming his face as he straightened up like he was remembering the situation he was currently in.

He turned his torso to face Mobius head-on, putting his arms on the table and motioning towards the TVA analyst's meal. "Look, why don't we get this all to go, huh? It- it packs right up. Why don't we just- get it to go, so we can get out of here," he said, emphasizing the second half of his sentence as he mimicked packing something up and motioned towards the exit.

"We can't do that," Mobius rejected quickly. "Not yet, anyway. I haven't finished eating and besides, y/n hasn't even gotten her food yet," he added, jabbing a thumb over at you, who was loitering by the cashier in the front, hands on your hips as you looked up at the menu.

Brad followed Mobius' thumb, huffing out another irritated sigh at your figure and rolling his eyes. "She's still ordering? We don't have time for this- God," he muttered under his breath and slumped in his chair, rubbing his jaw. "She always takes forever to do anything," he added with a mumble.

However, Brad's little admission right there didn't escape Mobius' keen ears. Trying to keep casual, he dug back into his pie. "'Takes forever to do anything', huh?" he asked nonchalantly. "It kinda sounds like you know a lot about y/n."

Brad's eyes flashed to Mobius's briefly before looking elsewhere, shifting in his plastic seat. "Yeah, well, she's your partner, isn't she?" He glanced out at Loki for a second, "Or, at least one of them? You should know how slow she can be sometimes."

The silver-haired analyst shook his head once. "She's not slow. I prefer the term meticulous, actually."

For whatever reason, Brad felt the need to clarify himself, which Mobius couldn't help but find interesting since he knew X-5 to be a guy who always brazenly said what was on his mind no matter the circumstances.

"I didn't mean slow as in stupid," Brad quickly clarified. "I-I meant as in she just takes a long time to do anything."

"Uh-huh," Mobius replied simply, secretly enjoying how bent out of shape the man in front of him was getting. "Right."

"Yeah..." Bradley trailed off, finally picking up his forgotten shake and taking a long sip of it, avoiding Mobius's expectant gaze. After a few beats of silence, he put his shake back on the table, looking over at Mobius with an annoyed glance. "What?"

"Nothing," Mobius replied easily, looking over at Brad once again before looking back at his food, munching on a fry. "I just think it's interesting how you know how 'slow' y/n can be sometimes, that's all."

"Look," he looked back at Mobius, a hint of irritation (and embarrassment?) in his features. "Whatever little 'thing' you're trying to imply here between me and her, just drop it."

Mobius perked up, looking back at his prisoner. There it was again, Brad's peculiar choice of words. "'Drop it'? Don't you mean 'give it up'? Since 'giving up' would imply that there's absolutely nothing there, whereas 'dropping it' would mean that something is there but you just don't want to talk about it?"

Brad sat up. "Drop it, give it up- whatever Mobius, just stop talking about it."

A smile started to creep up on Mobius's face, finding joy in all of this. This little impromptu interrogation was turning out to be a lot more fun than the last one he had with the actor. "'It'? So there's an 'it' now? What's 'it'? Do you mean your little crush on y/n?"

The actor's body stiffened for a nanosecond before turning to fully face the analyst. "Mobius, I swear to God-"

"OH! So that's a 'yes'!" Mobius declared, hitting the tabletop playfully with a grin, his smile only getting wider at seeing Brad become more and more agitated. "You do have a crush on y/n! Aw, that's so adorable Bradley, really."

The ex-hunter leaned back in his chair, scrunching up his face as he looked to away. "'A crush'? Really, Mobius? What are we- five? Please."

"Oh, so you love her?"

Brad's eyes widened, snapping back to look at him. "What? No, I don't-"

"Oh, that's ok," Mobius reassured with a wave. "Maybe your crush on her will blossom into love one day, who knows? I mean, life is crazy right?" He got another forkful of pie as he said, "I just can't believe that you had a crush on my partner this whole time and I didn't even notice. What kind of analyst am I?"

Mobius shook his head, laughing at his own joke. It seemed so obvious to him now. He should've realized that X-5 had some type of feelings for his long-time work partner eons ago. He always thought it was strange how X-5 would randomly stop to chat with them, well, with you mostly he now realized, at seemingly random times throughout the day, like when you both were having lunch in the cafeteria or how X-5 would always be the minute man to volunteer and be the muscle for one of your missions if need be. He had always thought it was weird and strange, but now it just made sense.

"Mobius," Brad said, letting out a defeated sigh. "Can you just, drop it? Please?"

Mobius looked back up, eyebrows raised as he looked up at the former minute man. "And now you're saying 'please'? Wow, you're just full of surprises today Bradley, aren't you?" he asked with a disbelieving laugh. He watched as Brad slunk back into his seat, a resigned look on his face. Ever the kind soul, Mobius kinda felt kinda bad for him. "Hey, look," Mobius started, in a softer tone, "X-5, Brad, Bradley, whatever you want to be called, your secret is safe with me, alright? I won't tell her, I promise."

The movie star was quiet for a moment, sucking on his teeth. Even though he personally might not like Mobius, he did know that Mobius was a man of his word and kept his promises so, he had no choice but to trust him. "Yeah, well... thanks," he said, flashing the analyst with a quick look of gratitude as he rapt his knuckle on the table.

"Hey, no problem," Mobius said, regarding the man across from him for another moment before finishing up his pie. With a small, surprised laugh, Mobius said, "You know, I just think it's funny how a," jerk, he thought to himself, "guy like you ends up with a little, school-yard crush on such a kind and caring person like y/n."

Brad raised an eyebrow at Mobius's choice of words. "'A guy like me'? Liking someone like her? What is that supposed to mean Mobius?"

"Oh, nothing," he replied innocently. "I just think it's funny. I guess, in this case, opposites really do attract, huh?"

"Oh, what? Now you're calling me a jerk?" Brad started, ready to go at it with Mobius again. "Why don't you just-"

"Hey, guys," you said, finally arriving at the table with a brown to-go paper bag with your food, sliding into the seat next to Mobius, your partner, unknowingly stopping the argument that was about to take place. "Sorry I took so long. There were just so many options to choose from, you know? It was hard to decide."

Now that Mobius was keen on Brad's little crush on you, he couldn't help but want to mess with him even further. "Ah that's ok y/n, I know that sometimes those things can be a little slow," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards when Brad sent him a glare. "So don't worry about it."

"No word from Loki yet?" you asked, completely oblivious to the invisible sparing match occurring between the two men. "They're still out there?" you asked as you leaned on the table, craning your neck to try and see the two variants better.

"No, nothing yet. Hey, y/n," Mobius said suddenly, hitting your shoulder slightly like he had just come up with a great idea. "Why don't you move and sit next to Brad? I think he has a better vantage point to see them than I do," he innocently suggested, sending Brad a good-natured wink.

Brad nearly face-palmed himself. He forgot that Mobius could sometimes be as subtle as a baseball bat. "Mobius," he warned lowly.

But the mentioned analyst continued unphased. "And while you're sitting over there, watching the Lokis, you know, next to Brad," he added again for emphasis, "you can eat your meal."

"Oh, no need," you answered easily, to which question, the guys didn't know. "I got my food to go."

"See?" Brad quickly straightened, a newfound urgency in his tone and movements are he looked back and forth between you and Mobius. "She's smart, she got her food to go, to have back at the TVA. Which is exactly where we all need to be. Right now. Let's go."

"Jeez, Brad, what is it with you?" He asked exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. "You're like a broken record. First, you're all like, 'get me back to the sacred timeline' and now you're all like, 'get me out of here'." He shook his head. "It's like you-"

"Know something," you said, cutting off Mobius' train of thought, your eyes looking at your beige jumpsuited prisoner with a calculating gaze.

At your words, Mobius stopped his spiel, blinking as he leaned back in his seat, his eyes looking over at Brad in thought. "Do you know something?" he asked.

Brad, however, stayed quiet. He picked up his milkshake, swirling it around before taking a couple of sips as he turned his body away from you both, looking out the window.

"Hey," Mobius said a little more firmly, slapping the actor's forearm to get his attention. "Don't get all quiet on me now, Zaniac. What do you know? Is this a setup?"

"It's an ambush," you said.

But Brad continued to suck on the straw, not looking at either of you.

"Bradley, answer me," Mobius said forcefully.

Brad put his milkshake down, swallowing the sweet treat before looking at you. "We need to get out of here," was all he said.

You held eye contact with him, discerning the urgency and panic you saw held within his gaze. You couldn't help but feel that when Brad had said 'we', he really only meant you and him. His look and words sent a shiver down your spine.

Mobius was the first to get up, the rest of his meal forgotten. "Alright, let's go. We need to regroup with Loki so our friend Brad here can tell us what's really going on." He picked up his tray, walking over to the trash to dump the rest of his fast food scraps away, and put his tray on top of the can.

Brad held your stare for another moment before finally blinking, breaking the spell, as he hastily got up himself. "Finally," he muttered. He tossed his drink away as he quickly followed behind Mobius.

But you didn't move. You stared at the now empty spot that X-5 had occupied seconds ago, trying to discern why you felt that he knew about a lot more than just this current situation.

As always, your long-time partner and best friend knew when you needed to be broken out of your train of thought and get you back on track. "Y/n!" Mobius called out as he headed towards the exit. "Let's go!"

Snapping back to reality, you blinked, shaking off your wandering thoughts and stood up, following Mobius and Brad outside. Now wasn't the time to analyze Brad's actions and choice of words, right now all you needed to know was what Brad knew right at this moment and why he was so adamant about getting back to the TVA.

If you wanted to question Brad more, you could do that later. He was your prisoner after all and time worked differently in the TVA, right?

[bilightningwhumper]

@angstober 2024- Day 10; Humiliation

<<Previous . My Angstober 2024 Masterlist . Next>>

"Royal Makeover" Masterlist --- TNEI Tumblr Masterlist

Summary:

Excerpt for "Royal Makeover" (Frog Prince retelling) Against his will, Wayland is forced to attend his first party as Lorainne's bird

Notes:

Characters: Wayland- Frog Prince Lorianne- Bad fairy/witch Max (mentioned)- Princess Sarah- Wayland's cousin Warnings: noncon intimacy, male whumpee and female whumper, noncon/forced use of drugs and alcohol

Ao3 link

Word count: 564

Wayland PoV

Heart pounding, Wayland stood stock still behind Lorainne as she hummed to herself while putting on her earrings. While she was dressed to the nines, he’d only been given some flimsy fabric she’d called underwear but barely felt like anything to him. And beyond that door… Maybe earning himself a night in the basement would be better than the unknown horrors awaiting him at this “party.”

Lorainne stopped humming, her sharp eyes piercing his, though she smiled brightly. “You are going to behave yourself now, aren’t you, my darling?” she asked, though they both knew it wasn’t a question.

He nodded. As much as he was terrified, he really, really didn’t want to spend another night in the cold and wet chained to that poll. Maybe if he did well, she’d let him have a blanket for his small mat on her bedroom floor. That would be nice, with winter beginning to sink into his bones.

But he couldn’t stop himself from flinching as her fingers walked up his bare chest. “Good, she purred, kissing his cheek. Then she hooked her fingers into the front of his collar, pulling him through the door with her.

As they crossed into the threshold, he kept his eyes on the floor. What if someone here recognized him? These were all his mistress’ friends, so they’d be like her. But the chances of them realizing who he really was unlikely. He’d seen himself in the mirror of Lorainne’s room. Scars all over his body and face. Barely anymore body-fat or muscle left. Just a shadow of who he was.

“Hellooo, handsome.” Hands were on his chest as an unfamiliar woman groped him from behind. “Do you mind if I borrow this one, Lorainne?” she asked, her wandering hands toying with the edges of his underwear… and what was underneath.

“Of course! That’s what it’s here for, after all.” His mistress met his eyes with that sharp look again. “It won’t disappoint, will you, Grof?”

As soon as he nodded, he was yanked away and pushed hard against the wall. The woman started kissing him, rough and sloppy, uncaring that he barely responded. His stomach churned at the smell and taste of alcohol on her breath.

“Let’s have some fun,” she said before kissing down his neck, down his chest.

Tears sparked in his eyes as the underwear was torn away and she started doing… things. Looking up, away, around, that didn’t help. Lorainne had disappeared and all he could see were other birds being given the same treatment he was. One poor bird was overwhelmed with multiple partners using them at the same time.

Another mistress met his eyes and grinned, walking over with a glass in her hand. “Mind if I join in?” she asked.

The one who was currently busy with sucking him off made an affirmative noise while slapping his ass.

“Drink up,” the newcomer ordered, tipping the cup to his lips. “It’ll loosen you up.”

He choked at first before the familiar feelings of becoming tipsy and aroused hit him all at once as the liquid poured down his throat, making his mind go fuzzy and numb.

Hopefully Max and Sarah would forgive him for this. That he broke his sobriety promise after so long, accepting another drink. He just… he needed to forget for a while. He needed to not be here anymore.

TNEI Taglist:

@scoundrelwithboba

[previousloversandmuses]

FREQUENCY: Episode 4 - A Solider Boy Story

FREQUENCY:  A Soldier Boy Story

EPISODE 4: “Virginia Woolf”

WORD COUNT: 4815

PAIRING: Soldier Boy X Reader 

WARNINGS: (NSFW) Foul language. Mentions of, and graphic depictions of sex. TRIGGER WARNING: Offensive slurs. Violence, depression, and mentions of suicide. 

A/N: This story is dark, and covers mature themes. The main character, as well as other major characters, are offensive in nature, and may offend some people. Please peruse with caution, and remember that this is fiction. Reader discretion is advised. Please message me for any questions, comments, or concerns. 

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No but seriously, if you're easily offended, this episode is not for you. Please remember that I am a writer, and the things my characters say are not my personal beliefs.

John was the closest thing I had to a romantic partner. We would have sex, he’d complain to me about something, and then I’d beg him to get revenge on Vought. We both understood each other well, and knew the other person's likes and dislikes. I knew what pissed him off more than anything, and he knew niche things like I didn’t like mustard. I knew he was unbeatable, and he knew that I was breakable. That was in comparison to Maeve, obviously. 

We would be fucking, his hot, suped up skin slapping into mine with unrelenting fervor. I wouldn't just feel him in my cervix, no; I’d feel my bones rub against each other, I’d hear my joints brace for impact as they tried desperately not to shatter. My fingers would grip whatever surface I was closest to. I’d hopelessly try and grasp for some sort of leverage, my knuckles popping, and turning a stark shade of white as I clenched tighter, and tighter as he pierced into me from behind. 

I’d be too overwhelmed to speak. Choking on screams, the breath being stolen from my lungs. He would get so into it, he’d forget how fragile I was in comparison to him. I’d try to pry myself out of his strong grasp, flopping myself down onto the mattress like a fish out of water. He’d pull away then, letting me go, and admiring his painting of broken capillaries on my asscheeks. I’d be bruised for weeks on end. One time I had to go to the hospital. A nurse asked what I did to myself, I told her I fucked The Homelander. She laughed, and said, “good one.” 

I remember he and I getting into a big fight because he used to follow me around town when I would’nt answer his phone calls. I told him he had no right to put a leash on me, and if he wanted to do that then he could just ask me to be his, and we’d call it a day. He never wanted that commitment though. And if I’m being honest with you, neither did I. To get back at me for ignoring him he started fucking Stormfront. The Nazi. Yeah, I saw that one coming. When she died he came crawling back. 

I stood by my open door on my balcony, wearing nothing but a pair of underwear. He knelt below me, his arms wrapped around my waist, resting on top of my ass like a shelf. He smashed his face into my lower stomach, placing gentle kisses, and speaking into me. He was begging me to forgive him. I gazed off into the distance, acting angry with my arms crossed over my chest, pouting. But if I’m being honest with you, I never felt more powerful than in that moment. The strongest man in the world begging for my forgiveness? I gave in very easily to that one.

I stayed up all night last night worrying about SB. Should I just tell Ama? Should I be honest, and let her know I’m housing an enemy of the state on her property? What if she didn’t buy the love story? What if she kicked us out, and I couldn’t get my revenge on Vought? What if John finds out, comes to find me, and kills everyone in his path, including my super weapon? There would be laser burns in the earth from here to timbuktu. 

See, in the beginning I was NOT planning on referring to SB as my boyfriend, or partner, or whatever. I didn’t even think that far ahead. In fact, I’m not even sure what I was going to refer to him as when the time came. But now that I’m here, and now that she has assumed that we’re an item, I guess there is nothing else I can do. He would be my fake boyfriend, and I would be the awkward girlfriend who didn’t like showing physical intimacy. I’m sure that wouldn’t be too hard to believe.

I mean, I could show physical intimacy with him, I could try, at least. But hell, I barely knew how to show it with someone like John, and he's been seeing me naked for almost four years now. 

I roll out of bed with a groan. I definitely didn’t get enough sleep. I open the blinds, and squint as the beaming morning shines in on me. High UV index, I think, or, I feel. Sunscreen is definitely a must. Looking out the window, I smile as a few of the res kids run around, spraying each other with a garden hose. That joy is short lived as I turn to see Soldier Boy SITTING NEXT TO FIVE OTHER UNASSUMING ADULTS, AND HAVING GOD KNOWS WHAT KIND OF CONVERSATION WITH THEM HOLY FUCK-

I scramble out of my bedroom, tripping over the pillows I piled onto the floor last night before I fell asleep. I rush over to the front door, only to catch myself in the reflection of the microwave. Yeah, let's not go outside in underwear and a skimpy tank top. I bactrack into the bedroom, sliding on a pair of jeans, and a bra. I trip over the pillows one more time on my way out.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Ama beams from a beach chair set up next to SB. He turns around to see me, as does everyone else in the area. 

Five different people come up to hug me, and say hello. I gracelessly return the gesture. Why does everyone here insist on touching me? I almost faint as a small toddler runs towards me with sticky fingers. Thank God someone lifts him up before he can get close. He smells like maple syrup. It makes me nauseous. I fucking hate kids. 

“I didn’t realize everyone woke up so early around here.” I mumble, moving over to an empty chair in the circle of adults. 

“I would've thought you’d be a light sleeper.”  Ama taunts.

“I usually am,” I respond. I turn to SB now, taking in his expression and overall vitals. He's calm, that's good, I think. “How did you sleep?” I ask him, squinting my eyes in his direction.

“Well, thanks. What about you?” He beams. Bastard.

Like shit, I think.

“Peachy.” I say, smiling back. I roll my eyes as I look off into the distance. This was going to be a long three months. 

Some of the other people begin to walk off back to their homes. Ama goes to wrangle her son and her boyfriend. I look up at her.

“Where is everyone going?” I ask.

“Most of us are going to get our day started. Feel free to tag along or chill out here, I don’t really care.”

“Awesome. I think we will probably get our bearings today. Maybe next time though.” I say stiffly, with a synthetic smile. 

She smiles back at me as she walks over to her trailer.

I sit uncomfortably, gripping the chair's armrests. He turns to me slowly with a raised eyebrow. 

“Are you always this awkward?” He asks.

I whip my head over to him, slightly offended.

“I’m not that awkward.” I defend.

“Right…” He drags. “And I’m twenty five.”

I scoff at him, standing up, and walking back over to our trailer. 

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“Getting my day going.” I respond curtly, leaving the door open for him to follow me.

I head inside, going into my room, and beginning to make my bed. He leans on the doorframe, and watches as I struggle to readjust the fitted sheet onto the mattress. 

“Back in my day you’d have that done before you even left the room.”

“Well, unfortunately, this isn’t 1940.” I sneer. 

“How old are you anyways?” He asks, his eyes burning a hole into my ass as I tuck in the top sheet under the mattress. 

“Twenty-two.” I say without turning around. 

I hear him whistle behind me, sighing. I move closer to where he is to grab the pillows off of the ground, putting them back onto the bed. 

“Not everyday you shack up with a dame eighty years younger than you, huh?” He jokes.

Looking at his face I can tell this bothers him. I decide not to poke fun at him about it.

“Well, you don't look a day past thirty-five.” I reassure. 

He smiles weakly at that. He moves back into the kitchen as I finish up on the bed. He pulls a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket, and goes over to the gas stove. Leaning down, he lights it on the burner. He lets out a few puffs before he takes a deep inhale, pulling it out from between his lips with his thumb and forefinger. He leans against the counter in the kitchen as he watches me make my way back out of the bedroom, and onto the couch. 

“So, do you have a plan?” He asks me. I look up at him.

“Oh, for the summer?” I question back.

I reach for the remote, turning the TV on. I leave it muted as I search for a news channel. Still no talk of his escape. 

“Yeah, do you have anything planned out?”

I sigh, thinking about all the fantasies I’ve had in the past.

“Well, for a long time I just hoped I could get them all in one room and then blow them up.”

“Ah,” He laughs. “Now I know what you need me for.”

“Well,” I start. “At first I just thought about using regular bombs, but no one was willing to help me do it. Then I realized they still had you alive somewhere, and thought to myself, he's a living bomb. Plus, you’re a tough man to kill. It’d be damn near impossible for these people to have any sort of defense against you when the time comes.”

He nods at me. “You do any combat?” 

I laugh a little at that.

“My abilities are strictly senses. I’m just as weak as a civilian, if not more.”

“If not more? What the fuck does that mean?”

I sigh, pulling my hands up to try and begin to explain to him. 

“Picture a thunderstorm,” I start. “You have a four year old kid who's deathly afraid of thunder. That fear isn’t going to physically stop him from getting to the storm cellar, is it?”

“No, guess not.” He says, watching me intently.

“Okay, then picture me. If there is a loud clap of thunder, and my hearing is the way that it is, a sound that intense will implode my eardrums. It will shake my body. The lightning will literally blind me. I remember I used to have to wear these noise canceling ear covers when I was a little girl. They worked, of course, but sometimes too well. I’d find myself being able to hear the blood pumping in and out of my heart. Then the neurons firing in my brain.”

“I guess you have a point,” He says, then realizes; “But your plan, with the bombs. That's loud. Wouldn’t that just be your worst nightmare?”

I take a deep breath.

“Well, I’ve never been around much of a sound like that before, I’ve only ever heard detonations from a great distance, like in Russia, and such,”

His eyes widen in awe as I continue to speak on my story. 

“But I’m assuming if I were in close proximity to something like that I’d surely just…die?”

“Ah, so it’ll be just me there then?” He inquires.

“No, I’d definitely be there,” I say, shaking my head. “Not to get dark, or ruin a nice moment, but…y’know…”

He looks around, confused. 

“No, I’m afraid I don’t know.”

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I would die happy? And I would be getting revenge on the people that ruined my life, and would hopefully go out quickly, without incident.”

“So this is a suicide mission?” He grills, moving in closer to me.

“I don’t think about it that way,” I say. “This is a childhood dream coming true.”

“Yeah, well, my childhood dream never involved sacrificing myself for the sake of revenge.”

“Well, to each their own.” I shrug, standing up, moving to put my shoes on. 

“What about my family? How will I end up finding them without your help?”

Oh yeah, I think. That. 

I look up into the ceiling for a second, rubbing my chin in thought.

“Ah,” I say, beginning to tie my shoes. “I’ll leave you a note.”

He watches as I stand up to leave the house. 

“Where are you going?” He asks, concerned. 

“A hike. It’s too nice of a day to stay inside, plus, I like to listen to the trees.” 

I go to grab the door latch, feeling his gaze burning a hole into my back. 

“You can come if you want,” I offer. 

He sighs in content as he follows me out of the house. 

When I was younger, when I lived in West Virginia, I used to hike all the time. I’d go out to the most remote point I could find off the beaten path, and sit with my hands cupped over my ears. If I quieted my mind enough, I could hear past the blood pumping in and out of a bucks heart half a mile away. I could hear past the thunderous flapping of a hawk's wings. I could hear past the cartilage rattling inside of a snake's tail. If I got quiet enough, I could hear the plants working. Living. Existing. I’d listen to them breathe carbon in, and exhale oxygen out. If I put my hands against the hard ground, I could feel their roots fill up with nutrients, and send the Earth's goodness back up into the trunk, and into the branches of the tree. I would completely envelop myself within the soil, becoming one with the flow of nature.

Life was simpler then, a time without distractions. A time without worries or a deathwish. A time without a prehistoric supe trailing behind me for an hour and a half not saying a single word.

I smell it as he pulls it out of his pocket and up to his mouth. 

“No.” I say simply.

He groans from behind me. I hear the flickering of a lighter anyway. I stop in my tracks, turning around to face him. He’s cupping a firm hand around a tiny joint. It's comical in comparison to him. As he exhales he looks up at me. I glare at him, my arms crossed over my chest.

“What, no hash either?”

I don’t say a word, just continuing to glare.

“I don't know what stick you have up your tight ass, but someone needs to pull it out.”

I roll my eyes, beginning to walk away from him. 

“Sometimes I swear you're mentally retarded by the way you act around other people.”

I stop again, turning around, and holding a finger up to him.

“Okay, first of all, no one says that word anymore. Second of all, I just want some peace and quiet. No distractions. But this entire walk you have been huffing and puffing, and now you decide to light one of the worst smelling things in the history of the planet, with a shitty, cheap gas station lighter from the middle of fucking nowhere that reeks of propane.”

He holds his hands up in defense, laughing at my irritation. 

“No reason for the hysterics, sweetheart.” 

“God, you’re a sleaze ball.” I groan, stomping off as far away from him as possible on the trail.

“Am I?” He asks.

“The quintessential sleaze ball, actually.” I gripe.

“Now doll, you’re just hurting my feelings.”

He catches up to me easily, trying to irritate me more. He walks right next to me now. I try to move faster, take bigger strides, but it’s no use. My sprint is his equivalent to a slow walk through the park. 

“I can always leave you alone and go fuck off to Costa Rica.” He beams.

I look at him from the corner of my eye, glaring.

“You say the word and I will happily let you exist without me. Doesn’t that sound nice, sweetheart?” 

“Fine,” I stop. “You can get the fuck out of here.”

He stops now too. Turning to face me, he holds his joint in one hand, and talks with the other.

“Hey nutcase, last time I checked you fuckin’ got me out! You really think I want to be spending my first taste of freedom arguing with a suped-up schizo-tard?”

I cross my arms, gritting my teeth.

“Then leave, I already told you once before.”

I pluck his joint out of his fingers and throw it onto the ground, smashing it into the dirt with my boot. He rubs his hands onto his face, growing angrier by the minute.

“You’re psychotic!” He yells.

“Okay! Leave then.” I begin to walk off, as fast as humanly possible without committing to a full run.

“I can’t leave!” He screams.

I stop and turn around to face him. He looks down at the ground in defeat.

“Look, wacko, I can’t go anywhere unless you give me information on my family. That’s the only reason I’m even considering helping you. You give me that, and I will gladly leave you alone.” 

Ugh, the fucking family, I think. God damnit. It was a good idea in the moment, but now it serves as a constant reminder for my immense guilt. I should've never, ever said that. I can’t stand to be around this guy, but I don’t want him to know I’m lying to him. He would be crushed to know.

“Look, I don't mind helping you,” He starts. “As long as I get what I need when the time comes. Just fuckin, chill out a little bit, please.” 

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. I clasp and unclasp my strained hands. 

“Okay,” I breathe. “Okay, you’re right.”

He sighs in relief, beginning to follow me again as we make our way back down the trail. 

“You owe me for that reefer by the way,” He adds. “And, if we could get some new clothes for me too, that would be nice. I’ve been wearing this for a few days now.”

I smile softly as he stomps behind me.

He didn’t understand why modern women were so whiny. So ridiculous and dramatic. He didn’t understand why they wore pants so tight you could see the outline of their G string through them-- not that he was complaining. He didn’t understand the point of platform heels outside of a strip club, or the fact that they had women with penises working inside of the strip club. 

As he walks up and down the aisles of the local consignment store, he can’t help but grab articles of women's clothing, and hold it up in awe. A black shirt without sleeves, small enough to be worn by a child, with the phrase “I’d do me” on the front of it in hot pink writing. He shakes his head, hanging it back onto the rack, and catching up to his brooding handler. 

She makes small talk with an elderly couple. The old woman holds up two shirts, putting each one up against her husband's skin, seeing which one looks best against his tone. Freak has her hand up to her chin in thought, squinting her eyes at the older man.

“See, I feel like the green is too harsh against his skin because he's so pink.” She states.

The old man groans, the older woman nodding along with her.

“See, I told you Steve, you don’t look good in this color.”

“I have to wear green, Marie. Everyone who's in the wedding party has to.”

“Well, I’m sure Junior will make an exception for his Papaw. And no one told me to wear green.”

“Cause you’re not in the damn party!”

“Well I should be, I'm only the groom's flesh and blood!”

Freak looks flustered, rubbing her hands down the front of her face. She can sense him behind her. Whipping around, she grabs him by the arm, presenting him to the old couple in front of her.

“I really wish I could stand here and help, but I have to go shop for my… husband.” She announces.

The couple turn to face him now. The old man stares at him with squinted eyes. The old woman takes off her glasses and gazes at him from top to bottom.

“Do I know you, son?” The old man questions.

Freak's face goes stark white.

“Oh, don’t be so senile,” Says the old woman. “These two just moved to town!”

The old woman turns to her now, leaning into her ear, whispering.

“I’ll tell you what though, he sure does look old enough to be your father.” 

SB rolls his eyes at that. The old woman's version of a whisper was just lowering her voice a few octaves. 

“Say, how old are you anyway?” The old woman asks. 

“Thirt-” Freak starts. He finishes for her though.

“A hundred and two.” He says with a smile.

The elderly couple look at him with their jaws dropped, then turn to each other and start laughing. The old man wipes under his eyes, pulling his own glasses off, beginning to clean them.

“You’re quick witted, son, I’ll give ‘ya that!” Says the old man.

As the older couple walks off, he pats SB on the back. They laugh their way into the tchotchke aisle. 

SB and Freak smile at the two of them as they walk out of sight. Freak turns to him, slapping him on the shoulder.

“Are you fucking crazy?” She asks in a hushed voice.

“They thought it was funny.” He shrugs.

She rolls her eyes as she pushes her cart into the mens denim section. 

“Not funny. Don't do that again,” She disciplines. “What’s your waist size, by the way?”

He makes a face, looking at different pairs of pants on the rack.

“I don’t know woman, that ain’t my job,” He states, leaning into her ear. “And I’m not a queer either.”

She turns to him, glaring. 

“You’re telling me you've never bought your own clothes?”

“Never been my job.” He states plainly.

She sighs, looking him up and down. He’s muscular, thick, manly. All things she can indeed admire, but tries not to for the sake of a professional partnership. She swallows those thoughts down before they can resurface again. 

“You’re probably a 38 or 40.” She states, her mouth going dry, grabbing a couple pairs of jeans.

He nods, whatever the fuck that means. 

They stay in the store a little while longer. He trails behind as he watches her pick up certain garments, and hold them up to his face. She never asks him for his opinion. He doesn’t care to give one anyway. Hell, what does he know about fashion? He was only thirty years out of date. She was much more tolerable when she wasn’t talking. Although he didn’t mind her being so headstrong. Different for a woman, indeed. Attractive? Most definitely. 

He was a lot more outgoing back in the day. More willing to have conversations with people he didn’t know. He knew what things were hip, and what to say to people as they passed him by on the street. But everything has changed now. You don’t smile at anyone as they walk past you. Apparently everything he says is far past expired, and comically vintage. Like a carton of sour milk. He's offensive, generally vile, and disrespectful to women, cripples, nutjobs, and other races besides his own. Yet, everything he does now was a social norm at some point. It was praised. It was normal. He was normal.

He follows her up to the cash register like a lost puppy. The person checking them out has downs. They really hire anyone these days, huh? He thinks to himself, rolling his eyes. It nauseates him to see. The woman at the other register has to be over a hundred. She moves like thick tar, and shakes like a withdrawing alcoholic. What has the world come to?

The two of them walk out to her shitty car. He offers to put everything in the trunk for her. She agrees, bringing the cart back over to the front of the store. So much for chivalry being dead, huh? They drive off without a word. She can tell he’s hungry, she's heard his stomach growling for over an hour. She stops to get him a cheeseburger, and suggests they run by the liquor store so she doesn't have to go back out later. 

She runs inside, walking back out with a twenty-five dollar bottle of jack, and a carton of marlboro reds. He remembers when whiskey was seven dollars even. The world has gone to shit. 

When the two of them finally arrive back home after a long day, the sun is just beginning to set on the horizon. She begins to unload the car, as he leans against it, lighting a cigarette. Before heading to the liquor store earlier they swung by the Dollar General for some groceries. She waltzes back and forth from the car, and back up to the house, stocking the cupboards more and more with each trip. 

In the distance, Ama walks towards their trailer, an elderly man by her side. He assumes they are here to greet the whackjob. He yells for her.

“Hey Virginia Woolf, looks like you got a visitor.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Tell them I’ll be out in a second.” She calls back, a hint of exhaustion in her voice. 

Her eyes grow tired and heavy as she puts everything away. She feels like her arms weigh a ton each. Sleep is always something she has needed to exist as a normal person. Although “normal” she's sure he'd disagree with. Virginia Woolf, she thinks. This guy must really think I’m nuts. 

“Ben!” Ama calls.

He turns around, puffing on his cigarette. He smiles at the two of them, reaching his hand out for a shake. The elderly man looks much older than Ben physically. He meets his hand firmly. The old man takes SB in for a second, looking him up and down curiously. 

“Nice to meet you, Sir. Thanks again for letting us stay on your land.”

The older man's eyes widen, holding his finger up to the sky as if he's gotten an idea.

“That’s it,” He beams. “Have you ever been told you look like Soldier Boy?”

A shatter comes from within the trailer. She had been eavesdropping on the conversation as she always does. So much for that new plate. She begins to pick up the mess quickly. Making sure to get all the glass pieces off the floor and into the trash can. Then she makes her way outside.

“Gee, I used to beg my parents for his action figures back in the day. Of course, we were never allowed to have them.” He continues.

Ben stammers on his words for a moment, trying to find the right way to de-escalate this situation. But she swoops in like his knight in shining armor.

“Goodness, I haven't seen you since I was what, sixteen?” She runs up to him, wrapping him in a big hug. 

She and the elderly man walk off into the distance, going to sit on the rickety front porch swing attached to the roof of their trailer.

Ben takes a big sigh of relief, going back in on his cigarette. He walks back over to the car, resting against it, and watching as the two of them catch up with each other. 

Behind him, Ama slips out her phone. She pulls up google, then proceeds to type in “Soldier Boy”. It’s pure curiosity. She’s just wondering if they really do look alike, or if she has to worry about Eduda's dementia. As she scrolls down the image search, she intakes a deep breath, accidentally dropping her phone on the ground. She feels sick as she squats down to pick it back up. He's the spitting image. 

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[84reedsy]

The Mentorship, Part 18

The Mentorship

Characters: Curt Hennig/FemOC , Scott Hall/FemOC

Part 18 of 22 (Parts not chapters, parts length varies)

Warnings/Considerations: Smut, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Dirty Talk, swearing

Word Count: 4711

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Taglist: @writeandsurvive @theweaselandthekilt (DM or comment to be added!)

Eventually worried that if she didn't make an appearance, Scott may return to look for her even more drunk, Brinkley did get dressed.  She chose a black v-neck halter top and short white shorts.  She put half her hair up and added some dangly earrings that she couldn't wear in the ring for fear of them being ripped out. Maybe if she looked good, Scott might forget he was upset. If even for a moment. 

By the time she made it downstairs, the party was in full swing and she was able to slip through the crowds relatively unnoticed. That was at least until she made it to the kitchen when a very inebriated and very loud Steve Borden announced her arrival with a Sting-esque howl.

“Jesus, I think half the county heard you,” she walked over to where he stood next to the counter, recognizing the setup for beer pong. She noticed Curt on the other end of the counter, spinning a ping pong ball in his hand. She knew he was uncannily good at these kinds of skill games and he was likely not as wasted as Steve.

Brinkley noticed him smirking the way only a shark would before annihilating the competition. 

“We're short, wanna play?” Rick asked from the other side. 

“Depends…” She barely managed to save an empty beer bottle from crashing to the floor as Steve bumped into it,  “Who's team needs a player?” 

Now both Rick and Curt smiled,  pointing to Steve. He never partied with them much so his tolerance was clearly minimal.

“Well that hardly seems fair…” she stood with her hands on her hips, watching Steve sway in place now,  “But fine. We're starting over though…” she motioned to the two cups already missing from the end in front of her,  “I’m not playing a pickup game,”

“Fair is fair,” Bryan Adams filled two red plastic cups 2/3rds full, “This is where the big boys play,  no wimpy shot cups here,” he arranged them in the typical ‘V’ pattern.

“Any terms?” Brinkley asked, taking the ping pong balls from Page.

“Hmm, terms. I guess we should set a wager,” Curt stroked his chin in sarcastic thought. Of course his mind spun through a litany of erotic suggestions, but that was only a selfish fantasy. He didn't want to degrade her like that in front of the guys. 

Brinkley could only imagine what ideas he was thinking of,  looking at Rick, he wasn't thinking much. Steve was useless. 

“How about…winning team picks one from the loser team to go jump into the pool,” she suggested. Both Curt and Rick seemed to mull the idea over,  “Naked” she added. 

“FUCKING YES! THAT!” Rick slapped his hand on the counter.

“You better think that shit through,” Page nudged her with his elbow, “Hennig is one competitive mother fucker,” 

She made eye contact with him from across the counter. 

“Oh, I know,” she smirked, “So? Do we agree on the wager?” She knew by Curt's shit eating grin that he agreed.

She looked around, not seeing Scott or Kevin anywhere.

“If you're looking for Hall, I'm pretty sure he and Kev are outside blazin’ it up,” Page said, noticing she was looking around.  

“Well, I figured he was around here somewhere,” she shrugged, turning back to the game, “Ladies first?” She postured to the opposition. Hearing no argument,  she took her first shot,  landing it in the front cup. She pointed at Curt who chugged the cup and spit the ball back to them. 

There was a decent crowd that built watching them. The game was going quickly, but only she and Curt were landing them. They switched off having Brinkley and Steve chug the beers; it only took two for Steve to find his place on the floor.

Down to only one last cup on each end, Brinkley was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, though she tried to play it off. She knew Curt probably knew her well enough to know though.  It was his turn.  As he lined up his shot, she leaned her arms on the counter behind the cup, letting the counter amplify her cleavage in a shameless attempt at a distraction. 

Too bad Rick wasn't throwing, he was definitely glassy eyed and drooling. 

Curt cocked his eyebrow at her,  feeling that Scott may very well come through on his promise to lay him out if he ever touched her again if he were to walk through right at this moment.  He tossed the ball and it hit the lip and skittered off to the side.  He was a little stunned that he missed,  but he didn't have long to wonder what happened as she sailed one back toward him right into the lone back corner cup in front of him. 

Cheers erupted and she shrugged at him,  pointing at Rick to chug the last one. 

“Hope you feel like swimming, Ricky,” she said aloud, but was staring Curt down still. 

“Aw, Hell!” Rick cursed, but didn't seem to be too bothered as he was already stripping on his way to the back door. The crowd followed him as he went outside and took a Tarzan worthy leap into the very occupied pool completely naked. 

Brinkley and Curt watched from the kitchen window. 

“Well…I was gonna say he could keep his underwear on…but he doesn't seem to mind,” the pool emptied a little as Rick floated front-side up in the water,  blatantly showing off everything.

“Not me,” Curt took a swig, smirking as Brinkley raised her eyebrows at him, “I'd have made ‘ol Stinger jump in stark ass naked,” 

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

Scott watched from the kitchen doorway as Brinkley laughed at something Curt had said.  She had no business looking as hot as she did in that outfit. Damn,  if he wasn't ready to fuck her again. 

“Hey,  there you are,” Kev came down the hallway, seeing Scott lurking near the kitchen.  He saw right away what had Scott's attention. It looked innocent enough,  but he also knew Scott had been in a mood tonight. When Page joined in on Curt and Brinkley's conversation, it seemed even more innocuous. 

Brinkley noticed Scott and Kevin first, feeling anxiousness twist in her belly.  She ignored it,  smiling and walking over to Scott.

“Finally! Where have you two been hiding?” She tried to keep the tone light,  still seeing that darkness stewing in Scott. But, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. 

“Just enjoying the festivities,” Scott kissed the top of her head,  before taking a long swig of beer, “Why don't we go somewhere quieter?” He mumbled to her. 

Brinkley was enjoying being against his body,  pretending that their interaction earlier hadn't happened.  But now, she felt fearful that it might happen again and potentially even worse. 

“But what about all your guests?” She kept her tone light and positive, pleading with Kevin silently, “We can go upstairs later…” she suggested, hoping he would be passed out long before then. 

“C'mon man,  let's head back outside, I could definitely use another ‘j’,” Kevin nodded towards the front door, encouraging Scott to follow. 

“What, don’t want me anymore?” Scott ignored Kevin’s suggestion as he looked down at her. Brinkley frowned a little. 

“Of course I do, just need a little time to recover after the last time,” She said, playfulness returning to her tone. Kevin rolled his eyes, but she was relieved that Scott smirked slightly, squeezing her against him a little more tightly, his hand grabbing her backside possessively.  

He followed Kevin back outside, leaving Brinkley in the kitchen. She breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the door jam. Curt walked over,  having only guessed what happened. He nudged her into the privacy of the hallway as he walked by. 

“That looked...interesting,” he struggled to find the right word for it, “Everything OK with you two?”

“Fine.  Why?” She asked,  taking the beer he opened for her. 

“Well, just seemed a little tense,” He shrugged, “And because I know when you're lying to me,” he challenged her. 

She looked at him, irritated. 

“Well…if you must know…things are a little weird today.  And I  don't know what's wrong with him.  He just kinda…flipped a switch or something.” She shrugged, “Probably just all the alcohol,  right?” She gave a weak excuse.

“Could be,” He was more than curious about what made her feel that way, “But, I'm headed up to bed,” he needed to get out of the habit of telling her what to do,  though he was dying to suggest she give Scott his space and take a break, “see if things are better in the morning…”

She offered him a smile as she nodded, waving as he headed upstairs. Another beer or two and she'd forget that for the briefest moment,  she considered following. 

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

The party was slowly winding down, but far from over.  These boys had stamina. Just because some of their brethren were passed out, didn't mean the good times stopped.  In fact, it only invigorated them as they schemed on a slew of potential ribs. 

Brinkley laughed as they slurred through sloppy suggestions. Though a little too drunk herself at this point, she tried to sideline anything too dangerous. She knew at least one person’s eyebrows were in danger. As she began to feel more and more drowsy, she knew hers were at risk as much as anybody’s. She made a pass through the house, unable to wake Scott from his couch coma, Kevin slumped against him. She didn't try very hard,  not very keen on the idea of sharing a bed with him tonight after what happened in the bedroom. 

She couldn't do much about their predicament, leaving to go to the thankfully empty master bedroom. She was sure the other spare rooms were likely occupied with people in various states of dress.  She'd definitely remembered seeing Bret sneak off with some lady she'd never seen before.  

She chugged one bottle of ice cold water as she went upstairs, bringing another to combat her likely morning cottonmouth. She locked the door behind her,  knowing it was a weak defense, though no one really had the coordination to stick a paperclip in the release mechanism. That is if they didn’t just kick it down instead. She relaxed completely in the space by herself.  She stumbled over her own feet a little as she went to grab her pajamas. That new silky set Scott had bought for her sounded exquisite, but she only found the shorts, settling on them with a white tank top she found next to them. 

She didn't bother turning on the bedside lamp, feeling more drowsy now.  She pulled back the covers just enough to slide into them. 

The slick, cold, mushy feeling against her legs was startling and slightly sobering as she leapt out of the bed with a squeal.

“What the fuck?!?” She exclaimed, looking down at her legs covered in some sort of creamy, sticky substance, “this better not be the fucking jizz of 50 guys….” She blurted aloud, now grossed out and gagging at the thought of that covering her legs.  She reached over her head to flip the light on,  minorly relieved that it looked too thick to be semen. The smell of cocoa butter started to waft up to her nose and she timidly touched where it was caked against her thigh. This was definitely sunscreen. Another part is her leg had something far fluffier. Shaving cream.  

She stood, trying not to get anything else on the carpet and pulled back the comforter. The entire king bed was covered in at least an inch of sunscreen with at least a couple cans of shaving cream swirled into it.  

“What…. the…..fuuuuuuuuuck,” she questioned again, ignorantly wondering who would do something like this.  But even her drunken brain could easily guess.

Brinkley collected herself, a shocked, angry laugh coming from her. Still looking at the carnage soaking the sheets, she toweled off the concoction from her legs.

“That ass is DEAD,” She considered for a moment waiting and perhaps pranking him back, but no way this man was going to just get to sleep soundly down the hall while her bed had been graffitied by toiletries  She threw on a robe, grabbing her bottle of water before making her way down the dark hallway. She could hear some party commotion still down towards the den and kitchen. 

She ignored the quiet objections in her head. She had no plans to do anything beyond giving him a hard time. It was not fair for him to just peacefully sleep as if he deserved no retribution. He brought this on himself. She turned the door knob to his room slowly, wincing when it clicked, waiting a moment to slowly push the door open. 

The room was dark and still, she snuck in the small opening of the door and closed it behind her. She stood unmoving, waiting for her eyes to acclimate to the darkness. She also made sure she hadn’t woken him, listening for deep breathing or light snores. She could see a body under the covers and as she crept closer, could see that it was Curt. 

She slowly poured the entire bottle of still very cold water from above his face, startling him awake suddenly. 

“Rise and shine, asshole,” She said, jumping on him before he could turn on the light or comprehend what was happening. 

“Jesus Christ, Brinkley!” He tried to wipe the water from his eyes and face, gasping for breath having nearly been waterboarded, while also protecting himself from her lightly wailing fists as she jumped on him. 

“My bed, man, my freaking bed? That’s not even my bed, its Scott’s!” She couldn’t help but giggle as Curt moved under her. 

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about?” He lied, unable to keep from smiling. She could see him now, adjusted to the soft light of a night light coming from the bathroom. 

“The hell you don’t…you think this is funny??” She tried to wriggle out of his grasp as his large hands grabbed ahold of her wrists. She was no match for his brute strength.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” He cocked an eyebrow, trying to maintain his control though her drunken wriggling was making it harder to control her and harder to ignore the way she was moving against him. 

At that moment, one had slipped free from his grip and she dove it under the blankets, tickling his sides - his known weakness. He tried not to laugh, but let her other hand go as he tried to stop her. She did the same on the other side. She was amused by the way he reacted, making herself easier to overtake as Curt flipped her over to her back, pinning her to the bed by her arms. Her laughter still came, though it was subdued as she looked up at Curt hovering over her. 

Her robe splayed open and she knew the thin white tank wasn’t hiding anything - but then again, he’d seen it all before. 

“Scott probably wouldn’t be too happy with you in my room like this,” Curt said, reminding himself as much as he was Brinkley. 

“Probably not…” She agreed, but didn’t stop the wanting lure of her upward gaze, “But I don’t think you’re going to let that stop you…” She called him out.

“Stop me? I haven’t done anything, miss late-night intruder,” He tried to stall, hoping his better sense would take hold. He was still buzzed from drinking (among other things). 

“You think I don’t know that look in your eyes by now?” She challenged him, she let her buzz be her excuse for her loose tongue, “You think I haven’t seen the way you look at me in the locker room? In the bars? In the ring? Do you really think I don’t know that you’ve been dying to fuck me since the moment we got back on the road?” She maintained a knowing smirk, though throughout her monologue, Curt’s face grew darker. She knew it wasn’t completely true, but at this moment she wanted it to be.

“You're playing with fire here, girl…” He warned her, “You better get out of here before things go too far.” He knew she had to feel his arousal against her leg. 

“And where do you suggest I go?” She postured, “If you'll recall, my bed is out of commission. I'm starting to think you did this on purpose…thinking I'd coming running here,”

“Well, if that was the plan…you played right into it didn't you? Barely any clothes on,  jumping  right into my bed,” He slowly leaned down closer as he spoke.  He could tell she wanted him to kiss her and he couldn't deny that he knew it would feel good.  But it had been weeks, he'd gotten used to not crossing that line.  He couldn't just regress and expect his life to get better. 

“You're lucky I didn't kick your ass when I got here,” she snipped at him,  squirming to get out of his hold, knowing she was worked up and failing to do the same to him,  though she was sure he was rock hard against her thigh, “my original plan wasn't as nice as what you got,”

“You'd really kick my ass, huh?” Maybe if he kept the repartee going,  the tension would fizzle out, “after all I've done for you?”

“I think with what you got out of it,  we're pretty even,” she nearly huffed, not getting her way, “You had your own personal fucktoy at your disposal…what do you have to complain about?”

“Brinkley,” his grip softened around her wrists, “That's…that's not at all what you were,” he felt an extreme wave of guilt wash over him. 

She slipped out of his hands and sat up on the edge of the bed, pulling her robe around her tightly.

“Well what the hell else would you call it?” She felt that familiar sting of insecurity. 

Curt didn't have an answer for her,  sitting back and turning on the bedside lamp. 

“That's not what it was,” he reiterated.

“Yes.  It was.  Otherwise,  you'd have come up with something. You improvise better than anyone here,” she hated that in the moment she still found a way to compliment him. 

“Brinkley,  I know you love Scott…” he admitted, wondering if in another life she might have loved him instead.

“Yeah and look what it got me…just a different guy's fucktoy, just jumping from one dick to another,” she had hoped she wouldn’t subject herself to this;  that somehow she'd be able to resist what so many women before her had fallen prey to. She felt foolish for thinking somehow she would be better than them.

“Stop,” he said with some force, “That's not what you are to him either. Not him and not me,”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes and stood, shrugging off his hand that gently touched her shoulder. She knew her drunken self was about to start crying and she didn't want to cry in front of him. 

“Brinkley…” He stood following her as she ignored him, “Don't leave like this,” he stopped her as she reached for the door, “Talk to me, tell me what happened tonight,” He pleaded, knowing that she was still hiding something from him.

“Curt, just leave me alone,” she tried to leave again,  but he held the door closed, “Please…just leave me alone,”

He should. He should let her go. But he hated the idea of her leaving upset with him. He wasn't built for complicated relationships,  but he had sure created one. 

“I can't let you leave like this,” he blocked her exit,  now on the receiving end of a warning look from her. 

“I don't give a fuck what you want!” She gritted her teeth, but couldn't stop the tears blurring her vision. She also couldn't stop herself from leaning immediately into him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, swallowing her up against him.  He felt her warm tears falling against his chest. 

Brinkley leaned into him,  missing the way she used to lay against his body.  She knew she missed it because she was craving familiarity, something of comfort. That's what he'd become to her.  

She wished the opposite, mostly because of how it seemed to continually complicate her life. 

“You're drunk baby girl,  everything seems bad when you're drunk. Trust me,” he rested his face against the top of her head, “Tomorrow you’ll feel better, probably won’t even remember this,” He knew deep down he hated the idea that she’d forget seeking anything in him. 

“Promise?” She leaned her head back just enough to look up at him. 

He didn’t stop her as she slipped her hand around the back of his head and leaned up to kiss him. He hadn’t felt the softness of her lips in so long, but he hadn’t forgotten their taste. His arms were tense around her, resisting letting his hands wander. He couldn’t help but deepen it though. He sucked in a quick breath when she nipped at his lip. He pulled back, steadying his breath as he rested his forehead against hers. 

“I promise,” he clenched his jaw as he restrained himself. He could feel the disappointment in her body language as she slumped against him, “But…you can stay in here tonight if you want, I can find somewhere else to crash,” 

Brinkley huffed, but turned away from him silently. Shedding her robe, she climbed into the bed, pulling the covers up high around her neck. Curt sighed at the idea of trying to find somewhere that wasn’t already littered with passed out bodies. He went to the bedside, turning the lamp off. He only paused as her hand reached for his wrist. 

He looked back as she pulled at him with a pleading look.

“I’ll be fine,” He assured her, but she didn’t relent. He sighed heavily again, giving in as he lifted the covers to get under them himself. As soon as he was comfortable against his pillow, Brinkley lay herself nearly over him as she snuggled against his side. 

“At least until I fall asleep,” She mumbled, her arm draped over his chest. She had no intention of letting him sleep anywhere else by the way she laid over his arm that he wrapped around her. 

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

Scott woke groggy and hazy. He pushed a snoring Kevin from leaning on his shoulder. The late morning light was pouring in through the large windows. The brightness stung his sensitive eyes, making him blink several times before seeing how trashed the room was.

“The fuck, man?” Kevin grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he also squinted in the harsh light, “What time is it?”

“Late…probably,” Scott shrugged, rubbing his head as if it would help relieve the pressure behind it. He kicked a beer can and it skittered across the floor. He was surprised that most people had left. As he walked through the main floor, he only saw Rick Steiner passed out naked in a lounge chair on the back patio, Steve on the floor by the kitchen island, Page and Kim sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee.

He wondered where Brinkley was, becoming worried.

“I'm sure she's upstairs, man,” Kevin tried to reassure Scott, but knew that wouldn't calm him down. He poured two cups of coffee and pushed one towards Scott, “Drink up, she’s probably hung over, too,”

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

Brinkley woke first, sitting up in bed as she felt the effects of her consumption. She groaned quietly to herself. She should know where her tolerance was by now. She looked next to her,  Curt splayed out on the bed, the covers resting just below his hips. She admired his body with a platonic admiration; he was so very strong and he worked hard to maintain his stockier build. 

She averted her eyes as he moved and began to stretch. Opening his eyes,  he looked for her first, selfishly relieved she was still there. 

“Good morning,  Brink,” he mumbled, still stretching out his muscles, “been up long?”

“Not too long…just long enough to start thinking about how I'm gonna get you back,” she lightly teased.

“Maybe if you'd just take it,  I'd move on to a different target,” he played back, but regretted the way his words sounded. 

“Relax,” she pacified him,  “I know what you meant,”

Curt sat up,  leaning against the headboard as well, “may be a little inappropriate.. but I'm proud of us.  Slept all night in the same bed and both kept our clothes on,” he joked,  getting a slight smile out of her,  “Sorry, I shouldn't joke about that, Scott wouldn't like it much,”

“Screw Scott,” she mumbled, crossing her arms protectively across her, “I don't really care what he thinks,”

Curts eyebrows shot up. 

“What happened with you two? You can't tell me it was nothing,” he linked his hands together in his lap to keep from reaching for hers. 

“I just didn't like the way he made me feel last night,” she tried to keep her voice flat, but she felt it waver at the end, “He just…I didn't like how he treated me,”

“Did he hurt you?” Curt knew he had little room to judge without being a hypocrite.

Brinkley didn't answer right away,  worrying him. 

“No…I guess not…he just was mean and it was rough…in a way I didn't like. And then he just left.” She recalled the coldness of the encounter,  “I'm probably just being overly sensitive about it,” she shook her head trying to brush it off. 

“If you don't like something, you have to tell him. Don't put up with guys disrespecting you.  Me included.” He tried to give her the best advice he could.  

“He said I belonged to him.  That I was his. But…he treated me like…well.. what I said last night” she felt embarrassed to be having this conversation with him,  but she wasn't sure who else she could talk to. She didn't want her dirty laundry aired around the locker room. She wasn't sure who else she could trust. 

“So that's where that ‘fucktoy’ nonsense came from,” pieces were connecting now, “I assume he was drinking?” 

“By the time I met him in the bedroom, half his bottle of whiskey was gone,” she felt foolish as if she shared blame in staying in the situation, “I should have known,”

“Don't blame yourself.  None of that is your fault just like what happened with me,” he hated to bring it up,  but he had to own up to his own mistakes if he was going to point out others.

“Curt, I told him I loved him,” she looked upwards, trying to keep her eyes from welling up, “He wouldn't say it back. I feel like an idiot. Like…how disappointing am I to you after all you taught me, and then to end up like this.  Already.” 

It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms. 

“You're not a disappointment to me, Brinkley,” he did tilt her chin gently to look at him, “If anything I'm the disappointment for the way I crossed the line with you.” 

She offered him a smile as her forgiveness, nodding to agree. 

“I know you're upset…but don't go dark just yet. Don't get me wrong,  I don't like what you told me…but I have seen a different side of Scott Hall with you around.” He was not fond of defending Scott at the moment,  “But promise me you'll stand up for yourself. If he won't respect you…you can't stay…”

She nodded,agreeing with him, hoping that he was right about Scott. She tied her robe around her as Curt dressed, leaving the room together.

Scott stood frozen outside of his room as he saw Brinkley in a robe exit the guest room, followed closely by Curt. He'd seen his bed,  the prank reeking of Hennig. His blood had run cold when she wasn't in his room. It chilled him even more now seeing them together.

“What in the fuck is this??” Scott felt himself tensing.

[joekeeryswife]

Disaster Date - J.Q

hello angels! yes this is part of my nursery teacher joseph story!! sorry it’s taken me so long to write for him! i wrote this in 5 hours and i hate it but it’s a fill in chapter so i can continue with the story! i hope everyone is doing well ⚠️throw up warning⚠️ enjoy reading my loves 🩷 nursery teacher series

taglist(feel free to add yourselves 🩷) @eddieamoremio @theshireisonfire @aftertheglitterfades @gretavanfleas @luvrsbian @ihatepeanutss @phantomxoxo @livsters @hellfire1986baby @ladyapplejackdnd @alexxavicry @plk-18 @m-rae23 @shiftingmack @missabsey @chxrrysprxut (if there’s a line through your name i can’t tag you xx)

it had been a month since Joseph had asked you out and the dates had been constant. every Saturday the two of you would do different things whether the two of you went to the cinema, or for dinner or even just the two of you being in your apartment cuddling whilst watching tv.

Joseph didn't care what the two of you did, you were getting to know each other in your own way and he loved it. whenever Lizzie was there (which was rare because you didn't want to confuse her) she was ecstatic to see her new favourite person. Lizzie and Joseph were really close and he didn't want to be obvious to the other kids but she was definitely his favourite student.

she had finally come out of her shell and wasn't as shy as she was before he met her. well, she was still pretty shy in public places but in the classroom or in your apartment she was confident and it was so overwhelming to see. your beautiful girl finally having some confidence and the only thing you could do was thank Joseph.

he had helped her and you were so grateful. you and Joseph had spoken about your relationship and about how you should keep it a secret, it was unprofessional and the other parents would definitely judge the two of you. it wasn’t any of their business but it was just a precaution the two of you wanted to take for Lizzie’s sake.

it was another Saturday and Lizzie had been sick all night and all day and you’d never seen her like this. she was fine Friday morning and evening then she woke up vomiting all over her ‘big girl bed’ as she liked to call it. she had never been sick and it hurt your heart to not be able to take the pain away from her.

she was still so little and you felt helpless. she had been sobbing for hours and no amount of pain relief would stop it. so you were sat on the sofa with a sobbing Lizzie. she felt boiling hot but was tell you she was freezing so you had put a thin blanket over the two of you. the sick bowl was next to you just in case she was sick again and with the way she was acting you were just waiting for it and you were right, she would throw up yet another time.

it was around seven when you heard a knock at the door, it had been thirty minutes since Lizzie had last thrown up and her tears were still there but she wasn’t sobbing. you were confused but stood up, holding onto Lizzie tightly making sure the blanket didn’t fall off her body. you opened the door and saw a smiling Joseph dressed in a comfy t-shirt and some jogging bottoms.

“what are you doing here?” you didn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it did. his smile faltered “it’s Saturday? you asked me to come round yesterday” you slapped your forehead and sighed, you had completely forgotten it was Saturday and you had planned a movie night with him.

“i’m sorry i forgot to call, she has been sick all day and it completely slipped my mind, sorry” you rubbed your forehead in embarrassment, how could you forget you two had been seeing each other every Saturday for the past month. “it’s okay, i can come another day if you want?” you shook your head and moved to the side so he could come in.

“it’s okay, you don’t mind her being here do you?” he walked in and took off his shoes. “not at all” he smiled sympathetically, looking at the poorly girl in your arms. she was practically asleep now the only traces of tears were the tear streaks on her cheeks.

the two of you walked back to the living room and sat down on the sofa. Joseph wrapped his arm around your shoulder which made you cuddle into him. you breathed a sigh of relief and closed your eyes as you felt at ease for the first time that day. you were so tired, looking after a sick baby had worn you out.

“she been really sick?” Joseph asked looking down at you. you nodded, running your hand up and down Lizzie’s back as she finally fell asleep. “you have no idea” you just couldn’t help but feel bad for your poorly girl.

“i’m really sorry i forgot about tonight, it’s just been so stressful-” Joseph hushed you, not in a rude way just to stop you from apologising again. “i promise it’s okay, Lizzie is your main priority and always should be. you’re a really good mum so what you forgot one date” he somehow always knew how to put your mind at ease.

“have you eaten today?” your heart melted, Joseph really cared about you and you’d never had anything like this in your life before and you were just grateful he came into your life when he did. you shook your head, you’d given Lizzie a few pieces of plain toast knowing she would probably throw up anything else you made her but you had forgotten to feed yourself.

you had been so worried about Lizzie eating didn’t even cross your mind. “now that was silly wasn’t it” he joked making you laugh along with him. “i’ll order us food, you choose what to watch, i chose last time. do you want me to take Lizzie after? so you can have a break” he handed you the remote and looked through the different food options.

you shook your head again “it’s okay, thank you though. i think if i move her off me right now she’ll probably cry again” you scrolled through the different channels, picking a random film on Netflix and felt his arm go back around your shoulders with a small, delicate kiss placed on your forehead. you looked up at him and smiled, he was just so caring.

“i’m always here if you need me” he took his eyes off of the tv and looked down at you. you were smiling at him before he leaned down and kissed you. it was quick and wasn’t the first time the two of you had kissed but each time it made your stomach fill with butterflies. it was safe to say you were definitely falling for him and you weren’t complaining about it.

[dimepdf]

★ 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘, 𝐈'𝐌 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒. + 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

masterlist. / taglist. / any request?

synopsis. you were a sucker for jealousy sex, man.

pairing. toji fushiguro x reader

genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, established relationship, domestic fluff, dilf!toji, milf!reader, tattoos, jealousy sex, exhibitionish, Toji being childish, cowgirl position, hints of subby Toji | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍 800+ w.c.

Dilf!Toji who comes home from picking up Megumi and your daughter Nya from their kindergarten after-school activities. 

Toji scolds the two for running down the hallway as soon as the front door opens, their little pitters from their feet slapping against the wooden floor as they rush into the living room where you were lying snuggly just to tackle you into a hug. 

The two are all smiles and giggles as they kick off their sneakers and snuggle up next to you.

They were practically glowing with excitement, as if they hadn't seen you just hours before, on the same day you had taken them to school. "Mommy! Mommy! Can I show you what I made in art today?"

Despite posing the question, the girl had already started unzipping her bag and shuffling through the strange, cryptic amount of things she had packed inside of her small Hello Kitty backpack.

If you hadn't had quick enough reflexes, you'd have thought she was trying to take your eye out by shoving the bendy wire figure right into your face.

"Oh wow, honey, it looks so creative; I can tell you worked really hard on it." You honestly couldn't tell what it was—fuzzy purple, red, and green covered wires all bent into some sort of shape that you could only assume to be a figure, but you put on your best motherly smile for your child.

"It's you, mommy! Can you tell, I even gave it a big butt." When Toji came into the living room, slouching his shoulders on the back of the couch and leaning forward.

Looming over the exchange, you decided to change the direction of the conversation before he could get remotely lewd about his favorite body part of yours.

"Did you make anything, Megumi?" Despite not being your biological son, the coal-haired boy still showed the same amount of admiration for you as your own daughter did. 

But it was still very clear that Megumi had all of Toji’s attitude, with the boy showing no interest in his sister's show-in-tell and not even bothering to cover up his glare at her art project. "That looks like crap," Megumi states bluntly, earning a dramatic gasp from Nya. 

The girl held the figure to her chest as if she were protecting it from him.

"You look like crap." Toji teases, no better than the children. As the three start bickering back and forth with each other, you reach for the TV remote and pause the Netflix show that you were trying to binge.

It was like you were raising three kids, as the argument only became pettier by the second.

"Why don't you tell mommy about how Itaduri’s mom liked your tattoos?" Megumi shrugged, your brow furrowed in surprise as the two children abruptly switched teams to go against their father.

"Is that why she was touching your arm?" Nya asked naively, unaware that she had just unpinned a grenade.

Your palm pushed away Toji’s face as he tried to distract you with a kiss, curving him as you dug for more information between the two. "And what was daddy saying while she was touching his arm?"

“He said thank you.”

Now that you understood the cost of having a super hot husband, you weren't blind to Toji’s charm, but over the years of being in love with him, it was pretty easy to say that he was just blessed with his attractiveness.

Having women throw themselves at him was nothing new,it was just another daily problem added to the things that Toji had to go through. 

It's not like he entertained any of the women that came up to him because he truly only loves you, but that didn't mean that you weren't allowed to be a little needier sometimes.

Plus, he wasn't complaining much while lavishing you with affection. His hands lingered on your body long after the kids had fallen asleep for their naps. 

It was daring, having to straddle his lap on the couch in the family living room knowing that the kids could wake up at any moment, but for Toji.

It was just another goal he was willing to complete, seeing how fast he could make you cum in that circumstance.

Handing his hand down to your thighs, he gives them a squeeze as he catches his breath, watching you ride him with an admiring glint in his eye. "You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?"

"Really? more beautiful than that other bitch?" You knew Itadori’s mother wasn’t a bitch.

If anything, she was a kind lady who knew how to make really good brownies.

You’d probably scalp her if you ever saw her skirting with Toji again.

No hard feelings, but she should know better than to touch what was yours.

"So much—ah, you’re the most beautiful woman I know." Toji whimpered, reaching his tattooed hand in between and sharing some attention to your clit. 

You were a sucker for jealousy sex, man. 

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not me making another milf!reader man,,

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || your newest client asks you to give him a real challenge, and you’re happy to oblige.  

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 6.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut but no actual sex (lots of handjob stuff though and some brief oral m receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, more cnc (because of the overstimulation), bondage, edging, impact play (riding crop), brief cock torture (she just hits him with the crop a couple times), implied “kink as trauma response” (this is gonna be a theme throughout the whole fic), forced to break a rule/doomed to fail/impossible challenge (idk how to warn for this but yeah), forced voyeurism?, thigh riding (reader rides bucky’s thigh), some degradation/dumbification, brief/implied dacryphilia, a bit of angst/feelings

new parts posted on thursdays!  join the taglist here

“Can’t,” he sighed, “can’t come again.”

He looked so painfully adorable when he begged like that, his brow glistening with sweat as he jerked under your touch.  “Aw, poor baby,” you pouted, twisting your hand when it stroked over the head of his cock, “yes you can.  I know you can.  Just gimme one more.”

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, “Mistress, please— just stop, please, I can’t… can’t take any more…”

“I know you can, sweetheart— I know you can be my good boy and keep coming for me.  Tell me your color.”

“Yellow,” he whispered.

“Think you’re almost done?” you pressed, smiling when he nodded breathlessly.  “Yeah, there’s my good boy— gonna come again for your Mistress?”

“Yes,” he breathed, baring his teeth as his hips bucked wildly to try to avoid further sensation, “y-yes, one more, just one more, I’m gonna— fuck, gonna come, just don’t stop… fuck, it hurts.”

“I know, but you’re being so good for me,” you purred.  “You like it when I milk your pretty cock, don’t you?  Even though it hurts?”

He winced but nodded.  “C-coming, Mistress, fuck, I’m coming…!”

Since it was his fifth of the evening, he could only give you one thick drop of come that gathered at his slit before running down over your hand which finally slowed to a stop.

You both sighed with relief as you pulled your hand away and leaned back, admiring how beautiful he looked as he caught his breath, covered in come and sweat.

"Good job," you praised with a chuckle, "I hope I didn't go too hard on you."

"N-no, that was… that was really good," he sighed, slumping back onto the bed.  "Can I use your shower before I go?"

"Yeah, totally," you nodded.

After a long pause, you gave him a confused look.  

"I thought you were gonna shower?" you reminded him.

"Oh… I guess I have to get up for that," he sighed, making you laugh.

"Rest a bit longer.  You've had a… challenging afternoon."

He nodded a little and you got up from the bed to go wash your hands and freshen up a little, smiling at your own appearance in the mirror— sometimes you forgot how you looked when you did this, but there was an undeniable aura of power around you… especially after a session like that.

This was only your third week with James, and already the dynamic felt so natural between you— and yet, so fresh compared to your other clients.  Normally it took longer for a newbie to get comfortable with you, yet most of them had had multiple doms before and here was James, totally inexperienced and taking it all like a champ.  There was an air of innocence about him, you figured, in contrast to this undeniable strength and intensity that you caught glimpses of from time to time.

Sometimes, it felt like he was chasing an innocence he lost a long time ago.  Whatever it was that drew him to this, you were happy to help him along the way.

It was probably a little dangerous to enjoy sessions with a client so much; even though you often pretended that everything was about your pleasure and not theirs, obviously since they were the paying customer it was the complete opposite in reality.  But there was an equity to the dynamic with you and Bucky, he served you with a real dedication rather than for his own gain.  And you, meanwhile, had rediscovered the fun in this career that had originally drawn you to it in the first place.  It was less like a science now, more like an art— you let yourself go with your instincts and do whatever felt right in the moment, and both of you benefitted for it.  

“Come on, get up and clean yourself off,” you encouraged— gently, of course— as you left the bathroom and returned to find James laying sprawled out on the bed.

“I know you said falling asleep here was a one-time courtesy,” he remembered with a smile, “but I could use it now a lot more than I needed it then.”

Honestly, you didn’t see him smile that often.  It was pleasant; you hoped to see it again.  He did get up, though, and take the washcloth you handed him to wipe off the come that had gotten all over him.  “What are you thinking for next week?” you asked as you leaned against the wall.  “Any special requests?”

“We can discuss all that over the phone,” he decided.  You still didn’t understand fully why he didn’t like to discuss future scenes in person; it was like he wanted the in-person interactions to be as ‘in character’ (if you will) as possible.

“Alright, just keep me updated,” you requested with a shrug.

You got changed while he took his shower, and when he emerged to the living room he seemed surprised to see you sitting on your own couch.  After a moment, you realized it was the fact that you were in normal clothes that threw him off.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before… or pants of any kind.”

You looked down at your outfit with a smile, glad it was at least still professional and not sweats and a t-shirt or something.  “Yeah, I guess you haven’t.  First time for everything, right?”

“Yeah, had a lot of first times with you,” he chuckled.  “Most significantly less mundane than this.”

A brief silence filled the room but it wasn’t exactly awkward, at least not for you.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” he decided as he grabbed his jacket from your chair and slipped it on.  You’d been spending most of this session trying to forget how good he looked in the leather motorcycle cut, so that was out the window now as you tried to keep from visibly biting your lip while he walked towards the door.

Damn, he was fine.  But there were more pressing matters at hand.  Like preparing yourself and your apartment for your next appointment.  This guy wanted to get slapped around until he cried… shouldn't be too difficult, but your arms would probably be sore tomorrow.

Opposite of last week, I really want you to edge me tonight, as long as possible.

Don't go easy on me, make me hold it in.  I need a challenge this week.

-J

It was odd how emails from James made your week.

He seemed to prefer to communicate his desire with you this way; maybe it was easier for him, and you couldn’t really blame him for that.  The nice part was that you didn’t have to temper your reactions, if you had any, since you were always alone when you got his messages.  You might be old hat at it now, but you could remember a time that you had to hide a grimace when a client told you to your face what he wanted.  Not that you would shame them for it or anything (unless, you know, they paid you to), but you didn’t enjoy everything you did with these men.

Did you enjoy everything you did with James?  Yes, but you were pretending not to— for your own sake.

You dressed a bit differently for today’s session, more conservatively… not that it was especially conservative by any other person’s standards.  But it left your legs and chest covered, somewhat in the spirit of ‘mean corporate businesswoman’ aesthetically.  For some reason you felt like using a riding crop required wearing pants.

James certainly didn’t seem to mind, with the way he nervously cleared his throat after you opened the door.

“Good to see you again,” you greeted formally, “please, come in.”

He stepped past you, still looking at you and not at what was in front of him, meaning he ended up slamming himself gut-first into your kitchen island.

“Oh!  Are you alright?” you smiled when you noticed. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he nodded, rubbing his stomach for a second but recovering quickly.  “I told you I can take a lot of pain,” he joked.

“Well, we’re going to put that to the test today,” you promised cryptically.  “You must’ve seen the crop on the table.”

He nodded again.  “Yeah....”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yes,” he answered, a bit too quickly.

“Then let’s get you tied up, James.”

Straddling his lap, you realized the rope was a bit too tight when you saw it digging into his skin; maybe he wouldn’t mind that, but you did, so you pushed the rope back through itself to loosen it slightly.

“How long did it take you to learn all these knots?” he asked casually, watching your fingers nimbly work the ropes around his wrists.

“Not too long,” you shrugged, “I’ve only been doing this a few years… but I knew them before that.”

“Boating school?  Boy Scouts?” he suggested jokingly.

“Just a hobby,” you decided, dodging the covert question about your past.  “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Do I look like a Boy Scout?” he countered with a scoff.

“Not anymore,” you shrugged, “but I bet you did once.  You’re sorta innocent, you know.”

He swallowed dryly, and you raised an eyebrow as you glanced from the knot you were tightening to his face, which looked a bit flustered.  “R-really?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, leaning back on your heels to look at him straight-on.  “Are you surprised to hear that?”

He nodded quickly, and you laughed.

“Aw, you thought you were so kinky, huh?  So dirty,” you purred, running your hand up his leg until he tugged slightly on the newly-tied ropes— a subtle way to get him to test them for you.  “But you’re really not.  You’re just my sweet, innocent boy.”

He whined— really, properly whined— and you dug your nails into his skin until he hissed instead.

“I don’t think you believe me,” you noticed, leaning back to reach for the crop behind you.  “You think you’re so filthy and perverted, right?  Are you a pervert, James?”

“Yes,” he breathed, shivering as you let the crop slide gently over his skin— his abs, his hips, his legs which were already quivering so adorably.  “Yes, Mistress.”

“And how’s that?”

“I think about… getting hurt,” he admitted weakly, “when I touch myself.  And I touch myself all the fucking time.”

“Yeah?  How many times a day do you stroke that pretty cock, James?”

“Twice every morning,” he blurted out, “after that it depends.”

You didn’t let yourself show your surprise at that number.  “Depends on what?”

When he hesitated, you hit him sharply on the thigh and he winced.  “Depends on what I… what I end up thinking about.  Sometimes… sometimes something reminds me, and I have to get off.”

Something told you not to press on what it was that he needed to be reminded of, and why it made him want to jerk off so bad.  Something told you he wasn’t ready to tell that story yet.  “Did you touch yourself today already?” you asked instead.

“No, no ma’am,” he shook his head, voice wavering as you brushed the crop over his chest, “it’s… it’s different with you.”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” you smirked, hitting him on the stomach quickly.  “I bet you’re finally satisfied, right?  Nothing’s ever worked for you before.”

“Yes,” he moaned, crying out slightly when you hit him on the arm (flesh— you were too afraid what sound the metal one would make) much harder than before.  “The nights I see you, I… I can sleep.”

“You sleep better?”

“No, I just… sleep.”

You tried not to react to that, moving to a new question instead.  “Do you want me to hit you again?  Or do you want me to stroke your cock for you?”

An obvious choice to some, surely, but he seemed to really struggle with it.

“Which one do you think you deserve?” you asked instead.

“Hit me more,” he decided.

Instantly, you struck him once on the face and again on the shoulder, then moved down to his legs for three in a row in spite of the way his body jerked away instinctively.  

“Fuck,” he sobbed, “don’t stop— I need more…”

You focused on his legs, on the inside of his thigh where he seemed the most sensitive.  His twisted joy turned to true fear, though, when you brushed the end of the crop over his balls.  “Do you want me to hit you here?” you challenged.

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered.

“Let’s make a deal, James,” you offered, “wherever I hit you, I’m gonna kiss it to make it better.”

“Then hit me wherever you want,” he nodded, almost smiling at you.  He cried through his teeth when you whipped his shaft with the crop— not especially hard, in fact quite delicately, though the second was harder.  And the third, though not much more aggressive, was right on the sensitive tip; his eyes shot open and his hips jerked away.

“So good, such a good boy,” you whispered proudly, putting the crop aside to lean in and kiss his cheek where you’d hit him before, his shoulder, his arm.

You worked your way down carefully as he breathed heavily beneath you, whimpering slightly when you kissed his thighs and notably ignored his flexing, leaking cock.  “Please,” he whimpered.

“Shh, be patient,” you soothed, “be my good boy.”

“Your good boy,” he repeated, trying to restrain himself but already bucking up into the air again, “fuck, wanna be your good boy, Mistress.”

“Are you already close, pet, just from getting hurt?” you asked in a faux pout.  “You’re not gonna come if I give your pretty cock some kisses, right?”

“I— I won’t come,” he promised.  “Not until I get permission.”

“Baby, it’s gonna be a long fuckin’ time before you get permission,” you promised with a toothy grin.  “Look down at me, honey, I want you to see this.”

He hesitated for a second but obeyed, looking down at you with an expression that was full of awe as you gripped his cock and gave gentle, teasing kisses up his shaft.  It bobbed in your hands with each one, and he let out the most beautiful sigh when you kissed the tip carefully.

A wide lick made him jerk beneath you.  “F-Fuck,” he stammered.

“You said you wouldn’t come,” you reminded him.  “Can I keep going?  Are you gonna be a good boy?”

“Don’t stop, please,” he breathed, “I’ll be good.”

Taking the head between your lips, you suckled gently as he shivered and moaned.  You weren’t sure you’d ever been with anybody— on or off the clock— who was so sensitive.  And you loved it, honestly; who could resist those precious noises he made?

As much as part of you wanted to go nuts and really push him to the edge, you tried to be gentle and careful so as not to make it impossible for him to hold back.  But even then, when you gently grasped his balls in one of your hands and squeezed them, he apparently couldn’t take anymore.

"S-stop," he hissed, and you pulled back, sitting up.

"You were close?" you asked, and he nodded a little.  "Oh, what a good boy."

He whimpered briefly.  "Yes, your good boy, Mistress…"

Your fingers trailed delicately up the underside of his cock, making him shiver violently.  "I know you want to come, but you want to be good even more.  You're such a sweet little pet."

It seemed like the praises did more to keep him on the edge than the touches, so you kept both going; wrapping your fingers around the ridge of his head, you gave the most gentle and subtle strokes, and leaned in to whisper against his ear.

“Is this why you wanted me to edge you today, James?  So you could show me how good you can be?” 

“I-I don’t know,” he blurted out, rocking his hips as best he could while restrained, “I just wanted to… I just wanted you to make me wait.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that,” you laughed slightly, “I can make you wait all day.  Is that what you want?”

“No, that’s— not that long, I can’t wait that long,” he shuddered.

“Mm, that sounds like your problem, not mine,” you smirked.  “Not sure why I asked what you want, honestly… cause I don’t fucking care.”

His choked-out whine was too perfect to ignore.

“Oh, what a pathetic little moan that was, poor baby,” you cooed mockingly, “are you regretting it now?  You’re probably wondering what you got yourself into, ‘cause you’re worried Mistress is never gonna let you come.”

“No, I don’t regret it,” he denied weakly, “whatever you want— do whatever you want to me, just… give me what I deserve, please.”

You stopped touching him completely and he straight-up sobbed.  “You don’t deserve anything from me, James.  You don’t deserve me at all.”

He told you before that he liked when you rapidly cycled between soft and mean.  Kept him on his toes, apparently.  Honestly, you felt a little guilty talking to him that way sometimes, but his cock leaking enough pre-cum to soak the bedsheets beneath him was a sign you were doing something right.  “I know!” he cried.  “I know, fuck, I’m sorry, but I need you.  I fucking need you, Mistress, please— you know I’ll do anything.”

“I’m feeling generous today,” you shrugged, “so I won’t ask you for much.  Just beg me a little more.”

“Please, pleasepleaseplease,” he rushed, “touch me.  Anywhere, whatever you want, I just need to feel you.  I know I… fuck, I know I don’t deserve it, but let me try to— to earn it.  Please.”

You knew if he had it his way, he wouldn’t do much talking at all.  But you couldn’t just let him have it his way, now could you?  It was better to make him just the right amount of nervous, just the slightest hair uncomfortable, by making him talk to you.  And, of course, you liked the way his deep and rough voice got all whiny and needy like this.

One finger under his chin guided him to look up at you, those pretty blue eyes watery and sparkling and wide with misplaced innocence.

“Tell me who you belong to, James,” you instructed darkly.

“You, Mistress,” he whispered, “I’m yours, I— oh fuck…”

Unshockingly, he was reduced to only moans again when you started stroking his cock, the slick precum making every movement smoother.  “All mine, huh?  My little toy?” you confirmed, but he could only nod and swallow thickly.

You sped up quickly, getting faster and faster until you were really, properly jerking him off and he was biting hard on his lip.  Just when he seemed to really fall into it, get almost comfortable, you had to stop.

"Oh, fuck—" he gasped, bucking his hips up to try to chase your hand when you pulled away, but it was no use with him tied up.  You watched his cock bob in the air and smiled.

“Did you think it was going to be that easy?” you smirked.

Shaking his head, you tilted yours to look at him, reaching up to trace your fingers over his chest.  

“Don’t lie, baby, you thought I was gonna let you come, didn’t you?  You’re so sweet, James, and so, so stupid.”

He gasped, and for a second you thought you might’ve gone too far, but it shifted to a moan quickly and you realized he was having the time of his life.

“Just my dumb, brainless little toy,” you continued with a snarl, watching him tug at the ropes as his eyes fluttered shut.  “It’s okay, James, it’s okay… you don’t need to think, I don’t want your mind.  It’s useless.  I want this pretty cock, that’s all I want from you.”

“It’s all yours, Mistress,” he promised, cheeks burning bright red and eyes forced shut.  “All of it, I swear.”

“I know,” you cooed, holding his face gently to soothe him a bit.  But then your other hand wrapped around his cock and he was anything but soothed.  “Shh, shh, don’t make any sounds, you’re just a toy and toys need to stay quiet.”

You missed his noises, actually, but he looked so cute biting his lip and struggling to suppress them.  His cock was so swollen in your hand that you honestly wondered if it was somehow getting bigger.  Was that even possible?  Your mouth was watering regardless.

“I’m gonna give you a little break,” you promised gently, “but I’ll be honest, pretty boy… I don’t think you’re gonna like it one bit.”

The look he gave you beautifully balanced fear with anticipation, and you stopped stroking him to reach over towards the bedside drawer and pull out a vibrator.

“Your Mistress is feeling a little.... self-indulgent today,” you winked.  “And since I, unlike you, don’t need to hold myself back from coming, I think I might as well get myself off if I want to.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed dryly, watching you closely as you stood up off the bed and started to carefully undress yourself.  It was a lot more fun to get naked when you were wearing something that didn’t actually show much skin— the button-up seemed to really get him going, his tongue mindlessly darting out to lick his lips as you opened one button at a time.

Once it was off your shoulders and on the floor, and he could see the almost-transparent bra you had on, you moved to opening your trousers as well.  Just to be mean, you faced the other way as you pushed them down over your ass; you heard his breath catch and you smirked to yourself, spinning to face him again in just the matching, dark red bra and panty set.

“What do you think, do you like this better than the black ones?” you asked coyly.

“I like you naked better than both,” he answered, and you grinned.

“I’m gonna let that backtalk slide just once because it’s not worth my time to go over there and slap you for it,” you decided.  “But don’t test me, James.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered dutifully, sounding a bit out of breath as he watched you climb back onto the bed, positioning yourself carefully.

You faced him straight-on and laid your legs over his, meaning your lace-covered pussy was in full view and only inches from his leaking cock— the damn thing looked sore by now, purple at the tip and just as desperate for attention as the rest of him.

When you pulled the fabric aside to show him your cunt, he hissed and looked away.

“Look at me, James, keep your eyes open,” you demanded, seeing how totally wrecked he looked when he turned his head back to you and stared down at your body with half-lidded eyes.  “Look at how fucking soaked my pussy is.  You remember how it feels to be inside it, don’t you?”

He swallowed, sighed, and finally (just barely) nodded.

“You remember how hot and wet and tight it is, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he choked.

“Well, that memory’s all you’ve got to work with, sweet boy, because I don’t think I’m ever gonna let you fuck this pussy again.”

He really, properly sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, and those arms flexed against the ropes defiantly.  “N-no, please—” 

“I’m gonna make myself come with this,” you promised, interrupting him as you grabbed the vibe, “and I want you to remember how it feels when I come around you, okay?  

Turning it on, you wasted no time pressing it to your clit, moving the end of the toy in slow circles and keeping a close eye on him as he watched you.  Your intention had always been to give him a show, but the embarrassing thing was how little of it was an act.  Ironically, even though you’d been edging him this whole time, having to touch him that way without any pleasure for yourself was almost as torturous.  You’d soaked through your panties by the time you had him tied up, to be totally honest.  So, giving into it and letting yourself feel good was a breeze.

“Think about when I was riding you, James,” you instructed, your own voice clearly affected by your pleasure now.  “Think about how good it would feel if I let you come inside me.”

“Oh, god,” he cried, leaning his head back.

“Think about my pussy milking every fucking drop of come out of you.  You know I wouldn’t let you stop until I was completely full of your come, I bet you’d like that.  I bet you’d like to eat your come out of me, you sick little pervert.”

“Fuck!” he yelped, tugging at the ropes harder now— for a second you thought he might really break them and jump you.  And for a second, you knew you’d let him.  It made your walls clench as you imagined facing the consequences of driving a man to the brink of insanity until he couldn’t help but fuck you like an animal.  It was a good thing he didn’t see you bite your lip as you imagined that.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” you taunted.  

“God, don’t tell me,” he sighed through his teeth, but obviously you ignored him.

“I’m thinking about what a good boy you are for me,” you cooed, your hips starting to rock up against where you held the end of the vibrator; you pressed it down harder onto your clit and moaned instantly.  “Yeah, I’m thinking about how pretty you look when you’re all desperate and needy and fucking pathetic—”

“Oh—” he choked.

“My dumb litlte whore, that’s all you are, James,” you groaned.  “I know you wish you could touch me, it’s all you can think about, right?  That pretty head of yours would be completely empty if it weren’t for thoughts of me and how badly you want me.  Right?”

“Yes,” he whispered huskily.

A shiver ran up your spine when the vibrator bumped into a more sensitive part of you, and you did it again and again until you thought you might lose it a bit faster than you meant to.  “This toy feels really good,” you informed him in a purr, gasping when you slipped the vibrating body of it into your pussy, “but it doesn’t feel as good inside me as you do.”

His eyes fell shut but he still winced a bit every time you made a sound; he couldn’t run from this, no matter how hard he tried.

“Oh James,” you moaned loudly, fucking yourself with the vibe for a moment before you pulled it back out to focus even harder on your clit, “I’m gonna come.  I’m so, so close… I can feel it getting stronger, I think I might make a mess on these sheets.  And the only way I’m ever gonna let you come is if you watch me do it.  So open your fucking eyes.”

He blinked quickly as he opened them, gaze scanning your whole body before settling on your cunt; you were sure he could see it pulsing as you got closer and closer, you knew he was imagining how it would feel.  You only spared a brief glimpse at his cock, bobbing between his legs, and wished you could just slip it in you now and come while it stretched you out. 

But that wasn’t what he was here for, sadly, and you were sure you were the only being truly denied of your desires, despite how it probably seemed from the outside.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, numbness starting to tingle in your legs as your orgasm built up quicker than even you expected.  “I’m coming— James, I’m coming, oh, fuck… right there— yes!”

A gush of heat warmed your cunt at the same time that shocks ran up your spine and down your limbs; you could feel your legs shaking, and you knew he could, too.  

It got so intense for a second that you had to pull the vibrator away, though you didn’t stop coming until a few moments later, eyes falling shut without you meaning for them to.

You actually laughed a bit, breathlessly, as you turned the vibe off and set it aside, although you weren’t sure exactly what was supposed to be funny about this per se.  When you opened your eyes, you saw James looking down and looking positively defeated.  But he looked tense, too, and you sat up on your wobbly legs to get closer to his face.  

“Relax, James,” you told him firmly as you examined him.

“I— I can’t,” he whispered. 

“Why not?”

“I’ll come.”

Nothing could fight your wide grin anymore, not when you heard that.  “Oh, baby… are you about to come without even being touched?  Is that how much you liked watching Mistress come?”

He nodded, ever so slightly, and you laughed.  Not quite a mocking laugh, moreso impressed.  Prideful, even.  You leaned in to give a wet kiss to his neck, licking over his pulse as he shivered violently.

“That’s my good boy,” you whispered against his skin.  He whined and you cooed soothingly right away, “oh I know, I know.  It’s so unfair, isn’t it?  Mistress gets to come and you don’t…”

“Please,” he stammered, “I’m so close, let me come, please.”

“But I don’t wanna see you come, baby— I wanna see you cry.”

You started to slide your hand down his chest and he jumped up to attention as he tried to squirm away.  “No, please, don’t— don’t touch my cock, not if I can’t come.”

“You can hold it in, can’t you?” you pouted.

“No, I can’t, I can’t,” he sobbed, watching fearfully as your hand moved down to his stomach and over his hips.  

“But I thought you were my good boy,” you frowned, suddenly wrapping your hand tight around his cock as he choked on a gasp.

“Mistress!” he sobbed.  “Please, don’t—  don’t move your hand, I’ll come.”

"Never fucking tell me what to do," you instructed firmly, just barely stroking as he cried weakly.  "I'm gonna touch you however I want and you're not gonna come because you're my good boy, right?"

"No, Mistress, I can't stop it, I'm gonna come— stop, please…"

"You'd better not fucking come," you hissed through your teeth, speeding up your movements and watching his eyes shoot wide open, "you'd better hold it in until I'm done with you."

"I'm trying— please slow down, can't take it—"

You shook your head, tutting disapprovingly.  "No, baby, I tell you what you can take."

"Oh— oh god, Mistress, please, please stop, please, I c-can't— fuck!"

You pulled your hand away the second his cock started to flex but it was too late: come was shooting from his swollen tip and painting his chest and stomach.  You didn't even wait until he was done to backhand him across the face.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled.  "I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it…"

You softened slightly when you heard his broken voice, saw the desperation and fear on his face— it was real, more real than the fake ‘no’s and the encouraging pleas for mercy.  "Baby, it's okay, you tried so hard," you soothed instantly.

Hope filled his eyes just as much as tears as he looked up at you.  "Am I still your good boy?"

"Always," you smiled, caressing his face where it was already turning red from your slap.  

You reached down and caressed his cock with the back of your fingers, watching it flex weakly.  

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

His lip twitched, almost like a wince.  “Do we… do we have to stop?”

You quickly glanced at the clock.  “Um, no,” you mumbled, “we still have time.  Just tell me what you want.”

“I wanna watch you come again…” he admitted softly.  “Is… is that okay?”

Although you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, you were still surprised.  “Yeah, sure.”

“But… but closer this time,” he added, “not so far away.”

You were literally laying on top of him, how did that count as far away? 

“I wanna see your face,” he clarified.

“Okay,” you nodded, deciding to indulge him.  It was sort of like aftercare, except that this wasn’t exactly the ‘after’ part yet.

On your knees beside where he was leaning back against the headboard, you slipped your hand down into the lace panties again, finding your clit still swollen but not too sensitive.  A little gasp fell from your lips when you touched it, rubbing it carefully with two fingers while he looked up at your face.  

You felt slightly exposed when he watched you this close, and you didn’t know where to look to avoid direct eye contact.  Looking at his lips was just a little too tempting, so that wouldn’t work.

“My hands are a little tired,” you explained, “they might cramp up.  Maybe I could use your thigh…”

“O-okay,” he nodded, and you removed your fingers from your panties to sit down on the thick muscle of his leg.  You felt him tense up under you slightly, and you carefully began to rock your hips until your clit rubbed just right against the inside of your underwear.  Surely he could feel how wet you were— actually, you both could hear it, almost a wet clicking-like noise as the soaked lace slid against your skin.

The dynamic shifted slightly, not that you minded it, as he watched you ride him carefully.  Just as he couldn’t hide much from you when he was naked and tied up and baring his soul to you in the kinkiest way possible, you couldn’t hide your pleasure from him when he was looking at your face so up-close.  You let your hands carefully roam his body, narrowly avoiding the trails of cooling come he’d left on his stomach and chest, until you found his strong shoulders and held onto them for balance.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, biting your lip as your sore clit throbbed against his hard, muscular thigh.  

“Will you… could you kiss me?” he requested quietly, and your heart broke a little bit.  You shook your head, and he nodded in understanding.

“I’ll kiss you here,” you offered instead, whispering against his skin before you pressed your lips to his forehead, then his cheek, then his jaw.  “Is that better, James?”

“It helps,” he agreed in a sigh.  

“I’m close,” you warned quietly, pressing your cheek to his and weaving one hand into his hair.  “I’m gonna come again, on your thigh.”

“Let me touch you,” he begged, “just a little, please…”

You nodded, about to reach forward to untie one of his hands, but he snapped the ropes and you had totally forgotten he could do that.  He quickly ran his touch all over your body, calloused hands and bound wrists in stark contrast to your soft skin.  The metal one was a little cold but it didn’t bother you; the other was almost too hot, and it was like being warmed and cooled all at once.

He ran his fingers down your spine, he gripped one of your shoulders, he rubbed your legs: he did everything he must have been wishing he could do this whole time, even gasping as he ran one hand up your chest and over a cup of your bra.  Just as you sensed that he was about to ask if he could touch you there, you nodded and felt his metal hand tug down the red lace and grab your breast— thankfully not very hard, though he did give your nipple a quick pinch which made you gasp.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he finally settled his hands on holding your hips, just tight enough to slightly guide your movements as you rocked faster and more desperately.  “Please come,” he begged weakly, “Mistress, please… use me.”

It sort of hit you all at once then, like a punch to the gut.  Except, you know, a lot more fun than getting punched in the gut.

“James,” you gasped, legs quivering where they straddled his as a new patch of slick soaked the lace (and presumably his thigh as well).  He held you tight, kept you moving through it while your fingers tangled in his hair and your mouth fell slack for another, louder moan.

The way his lips moved over your skin, laving your collarbones and pulse point and the innermost corner of your jaw, was positively worshipful; reverent.  “Mistress,” he whispered, almost sounding like praise but tinted with awe.  Your movements slowed down to a stop and the two of you breathed a sigh together, unintentionally.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“What for?” you asked, blinking quickly and looking down at him, coming back to reality (though you weren’t quite sure where else it was that you had just been).

“I dunno, everything,” he decided.

“Don’t thank me,” you smiled.  “Keep paying me, though.”

He laughed a little, glancing away.  “Yeah, and I’ll pay you back for these ropes… sorry."

"No, hey, don't be sorry," you dismissed, getting up off of his leg and standing up to go grab a towel for him.  "I'm just sorry we still haven't found anything strong enough to hold you."

"It's fine, they're strong enough to make me stop myself when I want to do something I shouldn't, that's all that really matters."

You nodded to yourself as you dampened the towel and came back to wipe him off.

"I can do that for myself," he reminded you, sounding a bit embarrassed, but you thought it was sweet. 

“You just focus on getting those ropes off of yourself,” you decided with a little smile.

[frogtanii]

“alright everyone, thank you for sticking around. please take care of yourselves and i’ll see you next time.” with a fake smile and a couple of clicks, kenma’s stream was turned off and computer powered down.

he let out a deep sigh before looking at the clock. it read 7:23am. he’d streamed all night. again. kuroo was going to have his head.

standing up with a groan, kenma ruffled his hair and adjusted his hoodie before making his way to the kitchen for an early morning drink before going to sleep for the rest of the day.

he shuffled along the wooden floors, his fuzzy kitty socks making little to no noise as he made his way to the five-star kitchen iwaizumi had managed to get for them.

kenma was a little confused as to who the kitchen was for — sure osamu used it for his videos but most nights, the house members ordered out or meiko cooked them a big dinner.

granted, he’d never actually seen meiko cook anything before but she took credit for it every time and she had no reason to lie. she was just that kind.

just the thought of meiko brought a small smile to kenma’s face. she was the one person who he felt understood him and cared for him like no other. she cleaned the house, she cooked for everyone, and she wasn’t stingy with her love.

although kenma was never one who liked sharing, he was willing to try for her. the others were equally enamored with meiko, willing to do almost anything for her and he didn’t blame them. the only thing was, he hadn’t hung out with her in so long and judging by the murmurs throughout the house, no one else had either.

oh well. he just needed to get her alone and ask if she wanted to watch him stream. he would ask if she wanted to actually play with him but she hated video games and would throw a fit if he asked so instead he would play and she would sit on his bed on her phone.

as much as kenma would’ve liked for his s/o to have something in common with him, he knew beggars couldn’t exactly be choosers — meiko reminded him of that fact every time he bothered requesting that they did something he wanted to do for date night.

the more his mind raced, the further his smile dropped as his eyebrows furrowed in disappointment. he knew she was busy but would it kill her to spend just a little time with him? was he really that disgusting? that repulsive?

kenma was jolted out of his thoughts at the sound of atsumu’s loud voice echoing throughout the kitchen. his golden eyes narrowed in suspicion — atsumu was never up early unless he was planning a prank which immediately put kenma on defense.

that was until he heard a light snort coming from room that he knew couldn’t have come from anyone but you.

slowly, kenma scooted forward to peek around the corner where his eyes met a scene that made his stomach churn and his heart twist in his chest.

you were dressed in some kind of apron and fluffy skirt combination while making a pot of really expensive coffee as atsumu hovered around you, teasing you clad in a massive hoodie (looked like samucooks merch) and gray sweats.

“tsum, leave me alone!” you laughed, shoving him out the way with your hip, skating around the kitchen as though you’d been in there thousands of times before.

that left kenma furrowing his brows in confusion. meiko always said you never cooked so why did you know exactly where the creme and sugar was? not even meiko remembered that but she played it off as her being a little forgetful. (would she lie?)

“go to bed atsumu,” your playful voice brought kenma back into the present, his golden eyes peeping you giving the blonde miya a tight hug and a slap on the butt, sending him back up the stairs and to his room.

kenma couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy that crept up his spine. he wanted this with meiko — a clearly loving but playful relationship where both parties were open with their affection for one another. he had no idea if you and atsumu were actually dating but your relationship was something he aspired to have.

“kenma?” god, kenma needed to stop getting lost in his thoughts, your hesitant voice pulling him out the shadows. you gave him a soft smile before waving him over to which he tentatively obliged.

he kept his distance from you, meiko’s warnings ringing throughout his brain as he took a seat at the counter across from you.

kenma noticed how your smile dropped a little at the corners at his blatant avoidance but you quickly plastered on a fake one, moving to pull out a cup and pour him his favorite sleepytime concoction of akaashi’s special chamomile tea and 4.5 drops of melatonin.

when he sent you a look of distrust, you just shrugged, saying, “i know what everyone drinks,” before turning back to pour your own thermos full of coffee.

he watched you as you worked, not missing the tenseness of your shoulders at his presence but you never once alluded that you wanted him gone.

kenma supposed that’s what gave him the confidence to ask, “do you make coffee every morning?” his voice was gravelly with the lack of sleep but you paid it no mind. “pretty much. i usually need this cup to get through the day at work and then recording at home.” you waved your colorful cup in the air for emphasis.

“work?” you nodded. “yeah, i work at the gaming cafe by the university? i have to wear cat ears but it pays pretty decently.” heat flooded through kenma’s cheeks as he briefly imagined you decked out in a full cat-maid outfit before shaking his head, guilt oozing from his pores. (he belonged to meiko...)

the room fell silent after that, the only sounds being kenma’s small sips of his tea and your brewing of another pot of coffee to leave for the house.

“ah shit, i gotta go. i guess i’ll... see you later?” you asked awkwardly while pulling a cardigan over your apron and skirt uniform. kenma just nodded, watching you race out the door to catch the bus to work.

finishing off his mug, he placed it in the sink, his blush back in full force as he realized what you had absentmindedly done — kenma had never told you he’d been up all night and was in need of sleeping assistance but yet you prepared him exactly what he’d needed.

kenma knew for sure that meiko had no idea about his insomnia and his favorite remedy and he didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. he wouldn’t want to worry her but a part of him wished she cared enough to know. (but that was selfish... don’t be selfish kenma...)

staring at the base of the sink, he smiled to himself at the thought of your kind words and careful hands before physically shaking the thoughts off.

no. he was with meiko and he was happy (was he?). but that didn’t mean he couldn’t just say...

“thank you.”

℗ poker face

a crack in the facade

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - MORE LORE MORE LORE :0 yall i’m proud of this ch, u see kenma changinggggg (ur welcome kenma simps hehe) FEED ME <3

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @vhskenma • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @amberalisa • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @ris-illustration • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @babierin • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[muniimyg]

no give backs // kth

an accidental kiss between you and a friend causes a discovery of unacknowledged feelings and it all simply makes you want to cry. 

m. list | ask me ! | add yourself to my taglist !

pairing:

taehyung + oc 

au/genre:

friends to lovers

college au

fluff fluff flfuflflflsdfs

warnings:

explicit language

mentions of ill intentions of others / slight implied smut

repetition with oc’s angry feelings and somewhat of an inconsiderate taehyung

wc: 2.9k 

note: this one shot was originally posted by me (@/omot7) in 2020/2021. i have deactivated and began anew here. this one shot has been rewritten for various purposes. i welcome you to it’s remake. please let me know your thoughts and comments through reblogs, asks, or even msgs! i would love to hear it all ♡

taglist: @casspirit0705  @preciouschimine @giannadodson @unicornbabylover @tae165 @prdshobi @jadethd @yukiehyukie @miriamxsworld @sopebubbles @vantxx95 @beomphvcs @angelsthetics @ggukkieland 

“Get out.”

You catch him before he can commit any more crimes. Taehyung is slightly bent over, lifting your bed covers, ready to settle in. He pauses, turns his body, and smiles at you. You greet him with an annoyed look to which he cutely drops your covers and puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Hello to you too, sags.”

“Get out,” you repeat. This time, the tone was a little drier. You wish he’d take the hint. You’re not in the mood for him today. You weren’t in the mood for him yesterday or the day before then. 

Then again, when are you ever in the mood?

“Still mad at me?”

“Yup.”

“But why?” he whines. “I’m so cute, I said sorry, and I’m so fucking cute..” he counts his reasons with his fingers, sending you a pouty face. You roll your eyes and push past him. He stumbles, pretending like the way you pushed him away had some sort of special strength involved. Taehyung scratches the back of his head stuck on what to do next. 

“I don’t like you very much right now.” 

He knew you were in a bad mood but he never realized how annoying you get when you overreact. There’s a smug look on his face that makes your blood boil and he’s very much aware but your frustration is only boosting his ego. 

Taehyung could never admit it out loud, but picking on you truly brought him joy. It made his day feel complete and quickly realized that it was no fun when he’d push you too far. But he had a lot of hope! He was a hopeful guy. 

Hopeful and just plain lucky. Taehyung is well aware of your bad habit of coming back to him.

“Oh, get over it!” he chuckles, following you around your room. You’re undressing your outerwear and crawling into bed. You slap his hand the moment it touches your covers. It’s silent as he stands beside your bed. 

“Do you know what your dining hall is serving for breakfast tomorrow? Nam Joon tried cooking earlier today and our stove isn’t functioning anymore! Can you believe that fucker—”

“Kim Taehyung!” you snap. This was entirely infuriating. How could he be so insensitive to you right now? It was all his fault. 

Does he not understand that? How disappointing this all was for you? You feel so used and underappreciated. Like you weren’t loved. 

“Yes, sags?” Taehyung’s tone lingers with innocence and it does everything but amuse you. Would you really confront him? Right here, right now? 

Is this anger getting out of hand? You feel so restricted. Like you’ve reached a certain limit and it was all thanks to him and his playful ways. If you’re going to burst, it might as well be now, right? The first thing to know about Taehyung is that he’s an easy-going guy. A lot of times that meant he came with no judgment. No strings, no feelings. 

Except for these feelings. 

You would hold him accountable for these ones. 

You huff, “you literally stole my first kiss, don’t text me these past few days, and the first thing you want to talk about is what you’ll be eating for breakfast tomorrow? Not to mention how you broke into my dorm. How’d you even get in?”

“Did you forget whose dating your DA?”

You bite your tongue. 

“I hate Yoongi sometimes,” you grumble. “But that’s not the point! Taehyung, I’m so mad at you.”

“And you shouldn’t be mad at me! You should actually be thanking me.. Who knows what loser would’ve kissed you instead of me? You’re so fucking welcome.” 

He can’t be serious. 

Is he insane? 

Your mouth drops open and you quickly begin to hit his chest and shoulders. “Taehyung, I will literally—“

“You’ll like, totally, literally, what? Why are you speaking like—”

“Like I’ve been kissed?”

“Like you’re dumb!” he deadpans. 

You’re not dumb. 

He knew that. You knew that. Everyone knew that. 

You’re a good student; too soft and kind for your own good. Having a friend like Taehyung helped balance your world. He was definitely a mix of trouble and more. From his party habits, the trail of broken hearts he seems to walk around with, and his challenging aura; he had a way with you. It was yin and yang, give and take, all or nothing with him. 

“___, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. You’re overreacting—”

“You know what?” you cut him off. “I am dumb. I’m friends with dumber people, though. Dumb people who are literal thieves!”

“Stop with the literally!” he groans, bringing his hands to cover his face. “I will literally get a headache!”

“And I’ll literally get herpes! You’ve kissed like fifty girls—”

“Yeah but like, on a slow night,” he interjects.

“Oh shut up, you slut. I’ll actually kill you right here, right now!” Before Taehyung knows it, you’re launching yourself to him and picking on his body. You’re poking, tickling, pushing, and soon your fist clench and begin to hit his chest. Heavily, you breathe his name again as his laughter calms from your little outburst.

It’s sudden but foreseen; you can’t help it but begin to sob.

Quickly, he holds your hands, putting them down. With his own, he begins to wipe the tears streaming down your face and lets you catch your breath. “I can’t believe a s-stupid fratboy stole my first k-kiss. I just wanted,” you pause. “I j-just wa-wanted to see your BioChem notes. I’m never skipping that class ever again! Doesn’t matter if I had a dentist appointment or anything. Never again!”

“Stupid fratboy? Is that what you think of me, ___? Your charming first kiss; a stupid fratboy? At least call me good-looking.” He teases as you push his hands away from you. 

You huff and close your eyes in frustration, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. 

Again, you’re in disbelief at how insane Kim Taehyung is. 

He can not be serious. 

Before you know it, tears threaten to arise and you take a deep breath again. Trying to control your emotional build-up, Taehyung laughs at the sight of your clenched fists and puffy cheeks. This time you look sad. He thinks it’s cute that you’re upset. 

Not that he liked seeing you cry or anything.. Just liked seeing you vulnerable. Probably one of the reasons why he kissed you out of nowhere. 

You two have been friends for almost three years and this is still his favourite part of your friendship. Whether if it was you excitedly, loudly, and hurriedly speaking about something good; he liked being around, or when you’re lost for words, frustrated with your own feelings, and fighting tears; he liked being again. It made him feel something knowing he’s the one that can calm your anger even if he’s the cause of it. It made him feel like something when you came to him happily. 

Whenever you’d draw near, he’d feel something deep down. 

His pleasure is cut short when a tear rolls down your cheek. You’re crying again in soft whimpers. 

“Okay, okay,” he panics, taking a seat next to you, moving closer. He takes his hands and places them on each side of your face. “I took your first kiss, but I’m not sorry. You were so pretty and your lips looked like a virgin. Also, your boobs were just right in my face. Kissing your lips would’ve been safer than your tits,” he attempts. You don’t let him in. He chases your eyes. “What do you want me to do about it, ___?”

The audacity this guy has makes you burn.

Your boobs? Your boobs were not in his face! His eyes were on it but what’s new?

You’ve always known Taehyung to be a little flirty. It would be a lie to say you haven’t flirted with him here and there; but for the most part, you cared for him as a friend. A good-looking, clingy, could-be-your-boyfriend-if-you-wished-hard-enough friend. Yet, none of that mattered compared to this disaster! This was your sacred first kiss that wasn’t supposed to be wasted on a harmless totally platonic friendship. 

Not Kim Taehyung. 

“Give it back!” You cry, turning your face away and wiping your own tears with your hands. “You ruined everything. My first kiss was supposed to—”

“Happen sometime in your childhood and teen years. ___, you’re literally in your twenties and have never been kissed—”

“Nothing is wrong with that!”

“Nothing is wrong with that. What is wrong is you wasting it on the wrong guy. If I wasn’t going to do it and word spread; you’d be the target of every stupid boy. Not just the frat ones.” Taehyung defends. “God, and here everyone is thinking you’re a hoe when you’re such a pussy. Crying over a first kiss? How will our baby ___ survive?”

“It was wasted. It was with you.”

“Is that how you really feel, ___?”

Although his dumb explanation is valid, it doesn’t process. You’re still in disbelief and completely consumed over the fact that your first kiss was stolen by your best friend instead of someone that was more of a boyfriend to you. Someone who thought you were pretty and made your stomach swirl; not the guy that calls you “saggytits.” 

Hence, sags. 

It’s no secret Taehyung has taken a shot at you (your boobs) here and there and leeches on you to eat at your dorm dining hall but come to think of it.. That’s not entirely the case. Taehyung just likes spending his morning with you. Something about how it gets him in a better mood. 

Also, it’s not like you never expected your first kiss to never happen.. You just never pushed it to occur. You didn’t want to lose yourself to sex and all that. Your parents would have never let you live if they found out you were kissing boys instead of studying or being the good girl they expected you to be. Also you just didn’t want to give in to the peer pressure growing up. Peer pressure is just as disappointing as men.

As time passed by, it became more and more important for you to guard it. You figured that if you waited this long for your first kiss; it might as well mean something. In all honesty, you don’t really expect it to be perfect. You didn’t expect a romantic moment where once your lips touch, rain pours and there are rose petals everywhere. You didn’t need all the clichés but you did need it to mean something with someone. 

Maybe with Park Jimin! He’s Taehyung’s extremely cute dancer friend that calls you “princess,” (which makes Taehyung want to throw up) and greets you with kisses on the cheeks. You’d be lying if you never wondered what it would be like if he missed your cheeks and found his way to your glossy lips. 

But that’s aside from the point. The point is: it might as well mean more than a moment of casual flirting over BioChem notes in your dorm with your ugly unmotorized lips. 

As the thoughts fill your mind, you pick up your textbook from your nightstand table beside you and begin to hit him with it. “I hate you! You ruined my life!” 

“Why’d you kiss back if you hated it so much?” Taehyung laughs, grasping your wrist and refraining you from hitting him. 

A little shocked, you quickly tell him: “It was my first kiss, I didn’t know what to do—”

He cuts you off again but this time he pulls you in a little. 

“You push me away if you hate it.”

He inches closer. You stay still, beginning to lose yourself in his damn eyes again. You gulp at the closeness. 

“I kissed you, so what? I did you a favour. Don’t make it such a big deal.” Taehyung takes the textbook from you and places it back on nightstand. “And what’s with all this hitting? Don’t you think it was hard for me to do the charity work too?”

“C-charity work?” You gasp, shoving him and pinning him down on your bed. On top, you cross your arms and glare at him dirtily. 

A sparkle in his eye. 

There’s a freaking sparkle in his eyes. 

Then there’s an uncomfortable atmosphere that kicks in, causing you to get off of him and straighten your posture. Sitting up and further from him, he clears his throat as he sits up as well. Although you and Taehyung haven’t been friends for long, you two became close way too easy way too fast. Being friends with Taehyung over time has defiantly been a challenge. Physically, this was normal. Why was it suddenly feeling weird between you two? 

Breaking the silence, you begin again. “But.. You stole my first kiss. It was supposed to be—“

With a mocking voice, he teases you. “Be what? Special? Fireworks? With Jimin—“

“Stop mocking me! Firsts are important, Tae.. And you ruined it for me.” You say quietly folding. You feel so small, so hurt, and disappointed. 

You’re still so confused. 

How could he do this to you?

 “And yes. Maybe. If Jimin wanted to kiss me I would have let him. I know he would have at least asked and made it more romantic.” You pettily say. 

“Fuck you, ___,” he says with a slight tone in his voice. Now he’s getting worked up and for a moment you contemplate if you want to continue your whining. “What do you want me to do, ___? I already told you I’m not sorry.”

“And why not?”

“I liked kissing you.”

What. 

What. What. What. 

He catches your mouth slightly agape. “What do you want from me, ___?”

“I.. Uhmm.. I want,” you’re nervous. Taehyung has moved closer to you again, his hand is on top of yours again, and he’s.. He’s leaning in? Again?

“G-give it back.” You state with a serious face, but your stuttering words and unsure tone beg to differ. Taehyung stares at you blankly. 

“I’m afraid it’s a ‘no-give-back’ kind of thing, sags.”

“You took it!” you cry for the millionth time tonight. “Since you’re so smart taking it, you should be able to give it back!” 

“___, I don’t know how! Honestly, if I knew you were going to be such a bitch about this, I wouldn’t have—”

“Well, figure it out.. Oh wait!” you laugh evilly. “You can’t! And that’s exactly my point, Taehyung! You shouldn’t have! Don’t take things that aren’t for you, you idiot! God, you can be so inconsiderate sometimes—”

It feels like déjà vu. Taehyung is inches away from you, towering over and eyeing your lips. It feels hypnotizing; completely enchanting to be in this moment with him. You can’t help your heart from beating so fast. Unlike the first time, you felt this moment build up and you’ve never seen Taehyung like this.. So stern and attractive in a way that you want him.

He’s always just been a friend. 

What is he now?

Why are his eyes so pretty right now?

When did his bone structure look so flawless? And his cheeks.. Why are they so.. Cute? Why is he captivating you right now? What the hell is happening.. 

You should be immune to him. 

He’s just a friend. 

Taehyung is just a friend. 

He’s just a stupid fratboy.

“You want it back so bad? Here.” Taehyung doesn’t wait for your response.

 Before you know it, he’s crashing his lips onto yours. Almost immediately, your lips sync into his and you almost gasp when he slips his tongue in. Your eyes flutter close and you begin to lose yourself in the kiss. Within seconds, you already know the difference between the first kiss you two shared and this one. This one was hungry, passionate, and sweet. This one has meaning and although you aren’t sure of what exactly; maybe the beauty of it was just to let it be. It’s passionate in a way that isn’t overwhelming and it stimulates every part of your body, sending tingles all the way from your head to your toes. Goodness, could you melt into this. 

So you do.

“Mmph,” your lips are tingling and a little numb. He bites your bottom lip before he breaks the breathtaking kiss. Taehyung watches you quietly trying to catch your breath and he can’t help but get a little cocky look on his face.

God, how you want to smack that look off his face. He is such a pain. Momentarily, you forget you hate his guts right now because of how pink his looks look. So luscious. Did you do that? A part of your heart flutters.

“So?”

“Uhm.. Okay, yeah. I got it back. Thanks.. I guess.” You awkwardly say, shifting away from him. Taehyung laughs before playfully shoving your shoulder. You rub it, still astonished from the kiss.

“You’re not a bad kisser,” he admits, getting into your covers. “Maybe next time slow down with the tongue and take the shirt off. Been dying to see your saggy tits.” Taehyung laughs, lifting his hand out of the covers and tugging on your arm. 

You follow his lead, crawling into bed with him. Beside him, you make yourself comfortable in the midst of a confusing setting. He runs his fingers through your hair, completely aware of how much that bothered you. You push his hands away and tuck your hair behind your ears. 

“I.. N-no. There won’t be a next time, Taehyung.”

“We can discuss that over breakfast tomorrow, sugarlips.”

[mostlybarnes]

It’s My Party, You’re Not Invited [Part Three]

Summary: Bucky did what he had to do, and you’re growing tired of his games.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, drunk!reader (mentioned), smidgen of jealous!bucky, language.

Words: 1,021

Author’s Notes: Well, this starts off with Bucky’s sides of things. We finally learn what the party was really about. I found it a little challenging to interpret his reasoning because as I mentioned in an ask, what he did was kinda inexcusable so I hope it flows well and get ready for some drama and action in part four on Wednesday!

Stand by, I’ll attempt a reblog with more tags!

Bucky had no idea what to do as he stared at the hole in the wall. He thought he could keep this whole situation under control, he was informed you would be on a mission, away from the compound and safe. He wasn’t expecting you to be relaxing in your room on the night of the undercover party. Inviting you would have been impossible because of the risks involved, and for their plans to work they had to invite an enemy from your past and Bucky wasn’t prepared to put you through hell since it took you a very long time to get away from him.

One of your ex boyfriends showed up as planned, shield had kept a close tab on him since he got on their radar for selling dangerous weapons on behalf of Hydra. Tony had made sure he received an invitation to the undercover party where Nat would take over to interrogate him over a couple of drinks. It worked, as the idiot gave her one of the key locations that they could now infiltrate on an upcoming mission.

Your ex boyfriend’s connection to Hydra made Bucky act like your protector. He thought he was doing what was best for you, but he ended up hurting you and he hated lying. He couldn’t help but feel the jealousy and frustration surge through his veins at the thought of you dancing with other guys in a bar somewhere and having a good time. Bucky just stood there, staring into the hole for hours and thinking of the best solution to fix this with his arms folded. He’s made mistakes in the past but this might be one of his biggest ones yet.

But if something was to happen to you tonight, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. The sound of the elevator on the other side of the hallway pulled him from his deep thoughts, but it was the sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor and someone staggering that made him turn in the direction. There you were, holding onto the walls for support as you staggered down the hallway with mascara stains down your cheeks. Bucky panicked, his immediate thought was something bad had happened and he rushed towards you with his hand out. You slapped it away and scoffed.

“Don’ pretend like y’ care now Barnes.” You slurred and staggered around him. Your ankle twisted and you yelped out in pain. You wait for the pending impact of the hard floor but it doesn’t come and instead a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around your waist to hold you steady.

“Just let me help you!” He growled and took you to your room to sit you down on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”

You’ve learned to hate that question, and you’re not sure if it’s because it was him asking it or just because you didn’t really know if you were okay or not. Sometimes you felt you had every right to wonder why you were excluded and other times you felt like you were being dramatic.

“S’pose, just tired.” You yawned, laying on the bed and curling up into a ball.

“Get some sleep.” Bucky watched on as you closed your eyes, he waited for your breathing to even out before he kissed your forehead and retreated back to his own room.

The next morning, you felt awful. Your head was aching so bad that it felt like someone had ran over you with their truck. You felt nauseous and not ready to face the day. You drank too much last night at the party, but you wanted to have a good time and forget about everything that had happened. And for many hours, that seemed to work in your favor.

But now you were back to reality, and you were about to face another day of humiliation and walk around with no clear answers as to why Bucky Barnes didn’t invite you to his party. You didn’t know if you could face it, but you had to because you’re not the kind of person to hide away from their problems.

You took your time getting out to bed, not wanting to make your nausea worse by moving too quickly. You grabbed some clean clothes and took a long hot shower, the tension in your muscles were relaxed and for the first time this morning, you sighed. You stayed under the water until your fingers had wrinkled up and grabbed a warm towel to wrap around yourself. It was going to be a long day, you didn’t see much point in rushing yourself.

Your main mission today was to avoid Bucky at all costs and when the afternoon came without running into him, you thought the rest of your day would be the same. You should have known better, you should have known he wouldn’t let you go one day without him making himself known to you.

“I thought you’d be relaxing.” He chuckled, taking a seat opposite you.

You folded your arms over your chest and stared past his shoulder.

“I was,” you emphasized. “Until you showed up.”

“Don’t fight me all the time, Y/N. I did what I had to do to protect you.”

“Protect me? Protect me from what?”

“It’s complicated.” You groaned at his response, and threw your hands in the air.

“I can’t keep doing this.” You sighed, standing up. Bucky blocked your path and you didn’t miss the opportunity to glare at him. The audacity of this man!

“Doing what?” He must be playing dumb, right?

“This! You keep giving me answers to the questions I’m not even asking! Just answer the one question: just tell me why you didn’t invite me!”

“I don’t know why it means so much to you, it was just a fuckin’ party!” He yelled so loud that you flinched. “He’s back, Y/N. He’s working with hydra and he was here the other night… looking for you. I did what I had to do.”

You frowned, “who is back?” Maybe now you’re playing dumb.

“Him.”

Taglist [50/50]: @w-wolfhxrd @kennedywxlsh @team-marvel13 @rosiahills22 @fallenoutofrose @sourpatchspinster @hazeljean2 @divergent-llamas-03 @gearhead66 @loudbluepancake @pinkybee926 @furiouscopshepherduniversity @moonlacebeam @chipster-21 @rottenstyx @mundaytuesday @legacies-roserussell @gallifreyansass @supernaturalcat7 @osterfieldshollandgirl @daeguboysmykt @serendipityharry @shittyfuckinweeb @wanniiieeee @hopplessdreamer @wordacadabra @josis-teacup @barneschoco @the-nonsenseblog @angywritesstuff @cherrytop02 @spn-obession @dottirose @veroxloki @wildeausten @directorofmylife @unholyhazza @bababasti @mrslilyrogers-ficrecs @study-aesthetics01 @sophieisinlove @merlin-288 @cable-kenobi @beananacake @johnmurphys-sass @slytherdoravenger @thesnoweclipse @townwitchbadbitch @sxtansqueen @i-ship-it-ironically

[reidsnose]

hair tie

overview: spencer and the reader start carpooling to work together

genre: fluff!!

a/n: i really dont know if this one is any good i just thought the idea was cute but let me know what yall think :)

masterlist

-

-

spencer was startled by the sudden knock, guests were rare in his little apartment, let alone this early in the morning. a bit paranoid he put his hand over the gun attached to his hip, just in case.

what surprised him even more than the unexpected knock was seeing you through the peep hole when he got to the door.

"y/n? are you ok?" he worried, scanning you up and down quickly to make sure you weren't hurt.

"no um i'm ok," you nervously chewed on your lip, "i was going to call you but i don't have your cell yet. oh my gosh this is going to sound so weird."

you were relatively new to the BAU and they were all very welcoming. the only person who seemed a little bit more closed off was Spencer.

it was true, he was avoiding you a little bit, but only because you were the most beautiful human being he had ever seen; which only made you that much more intimidating. he was afraid. what if he said something stupid? what if the second he opened his mouth you started thinking he was just his IQ. but you were fully a part of the team now. he would have to at least be aquatinted with you.

"its ok, you can say it." he encouraged kindly, causing you to visibly relax.

"ok. oh before i ask i want to preface this by saying you could totally say no i completely understand its a super weird thing especially because we barely know each other." you took a breath as he nodded, a slightly amused smile toyed with his lips.

"i understand the implications. proceed." he mentally slapped himself for wording his thoughts like that.

"do you maybe.. wanna drive to work together? i heard you talking about how you take the train and i also heard that you have an aversion to germs and i drive by your apartment to get to work anyway so i-" you cut yourself off, looking up and seeing him staring at you wide eyed. "i'm sorry this is too weird i over stepped my boundaries and now you dislike me even more. i'm sorry for interrupting your morning. um, you're going to be late for work if i don't leave you alone so ill just- sorry. i'm sorry."

truthfully, this was one of the kindest things anyone has ever offered to do for him. and you offered it with genuine kindness, no ulterior motives to try and get something from him. he stood stunned. how were you so beautiful AND kind. and still somehow a little intimidating.

"we're gonna be late" he called out.

"what?" you turned, having already walked a couple steps from his apartment, your heart beating a bit faster at the sound of his voice.

"you said i'm going to be late. but were carpooling. so we'll both be late," he said matter-a-factly, grabbing his coat and satchel.

"YES!" you laughed, a cracking a wide smile and punching the air triumphantly.

you leaned against the railing of the stairs as you watched him lock up. he was tall and slender and very handsome. so handsome. not handsome like morgan, handsome in a way you were sure you'd never seen before. an incredibly unique and scarce handsomeness that only Spencer Reid had. you tried to forget those thoughts as he began walking towards you.

"i don't dislike you, by the way." he blurted as the two of you walked down the stairs. he felt bad that he made you think he isn't fond of you; the problem was he was too fond of you.

"oh! thats good i've been trying to think of every interaction we've ever had because i was afraid i might have said or done something."

"truth be told," he huffed out a breath, "i was kind of intimidated by you."

you laughed a real, genuine laugh from deep in your belly as you reached your car. the sheer coincidence of the situation as well as your entirely non intimidating nature was seriously laughable.

"you cant be serious! did Garcia tell you?" you asked, completely dumbfounded.

"tell me what?" he asked back, confusion lacing his voice.

"that i was intimidated by you!" you confessed.

"what? this guy in Texas called me a pipe cleaner with eyes! how could i have possibly intimidated you?"

he looked around your car trying to subtly profile you. thats when he noticed you had put hand sanitizer in the passenger side door. and you had pushed the seat back to accommodate for his long legs. it was just two little things, two ways you put a little extra effort in to make him feel welcome, but he was 100% positive if he thought about it too much he would cry. he felt the need to do something like this for you. not to get even or anything, but simply because he wanted to make you feel the way he felt right now.

"i don't know! you're so tall and smart and you seemed quiet but i guess thats only because you were avoiding me. are you sure garcia didnt tell you?" you laughed, watching the road.

now it was his turn to laugh, "no i swear, Garcia didn't say anything about that to me!"

The two of you continued driving, either talking or sitting in a comfortable silence. and this little carpool became a tradition. the two of you arriving and leaving work together every single day, causing the two of you to become closer.

you had to admit, every morning and evening you spent with Spencer made him just seem more and more perfect. unbeknownst to you, the exact same thing was happening with him.

he noticed, one day, as you were pulling your hair up to tie in a ponytail, your hands alternated searching your wrists for a hair tie but there wasn't one there. once he noticed it once, he started noticing it constantly. on a case, in the office, in the car, at a bar. you always seemed to forget your hair ties.

so he went to the store after you drive him home one day, and got a few packs of hair ties. after paying for them, he put one on each wrist and the rest in his satchel, so next time, when you needed one, he'd have it.

he felt like such a creep, constantly watching you to see when you would try to put your hair up. of course the rest of the team took notice, though they had noticed your obvious incline towards each other, Spencer was clearly acting a little weird.

and then it happened.

the two of you were partnered to go to the crime scene on a case, and you went to tie up your hair before you entered the scene. he could hardly contain his excitement, his mind moving a mile a minute trying to decide how he wanted to give you the hair tie. he watched one of your hands search your wrist, but this time it pulled off a little black band and started looping it around your hair.

he couldn't believe it. he finally had a chance to make you feel a portion of the way he felt when he saw your effort in making his car Spencer-friendly, and new he had to think of a new way to do it.

snap.

he looked over and saw you holding what used to be your hair tie, now no longer a band, but a completely useless elastic line.

"you've gotta be-" you muttered to yourself, but your sentence was interrupted as Spencer nonchalantly jutted his wrist towards you. "what are you doing?"

"take my hair tie." he stated simply, trying so hard not to blush. this became even harder as your fingers graced the skin of his wrist while you pulled the hair tie off.

"oh! thank you! you're a life saver!" you breathed, cracking a wide smile as you used it to tie your hair up.

you couldn't help the butterflies going absolutely insane in your stomach. why did he have a hair tie? does he tie his hair up sometimes? why have you never seen it up? you tried to suppress a smile, that would be completely inappropriate for a crime scene.

but you couldn't suppress the warm feeling in your chest. because that was always there when Spencer was around.

-

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife

[shingia]

hopefullyy this inspires u to write,,, can i request hc's of the boys getting jealous seeing their s/o work well with another person on a team/club? like good chemistry with a dance partner for example! (u can choose who u write but can it include iwa!!) <33

✗ HQ BOYS GETTING JEALOUS SEEING YOU WORK WELL WITH ANOTHER PERSON ✗

a/n : kdjfkdjdkdj i love this request omg ty ! i did half hc/half scenarios bc i thought the request fitted this format <3

-> iwaizumi, osamu, kuroo, suna, tsukishima

-> warnings : kuroo’s a bit suggestive (tbh i don’t know about the rest. it’s just... kinda hot? (tsukki’s only fluff tho<3))

-> reblogs are >>>>

— IWAIZUMI

• iwa’s jealousy was practically non existent until he actually saw you interact with your partner

• don’t get me wrong, he absolutely loves your smile - but he especially loves to be the one who caused it

• he tends to get physically very protective of you, so expect his arm to stay wrapped around your shoulders most of the time. because to him it’s the easiest way to show the world (but especially your partner) that you’re his

• he also not-so-subtly offers you to wear his clothes on days when you have practice. and he secretly hopes that someone will ask you who they belong to...

« it’s cold outside. you should wear this ». iwa’s low and unannounced voice makes you turn around in surprise. leaned against the bathroom’s doorframe, he’s holding your favorite jacket in his hand - the one with his name written on the back, and you suspect that this might not be a coincidence... with a chuckle, you agree to put it on, noticing the proud spark in his eyes. « you know, i’m pretty sure everyone already knows i’m dating you » you tease him with a wink, all while also admiring the way his name takes up the whole width of your back. « oh yeah ? » he asks, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leans forward to rest his hands on the sink behind you. trapped between his outstretched arms, you watch his smirk grow just a little bit bigger as he lets out, very quietly, « well this is just a reminder... it better be the last ». his green eyes locked with yours could almost make you forget about his arm snaking around your waist at a painfully slow pace. almost.

— OSAMU

• look, he’s very happy for you. no doubt about it. but he’s so used to see people fawn over his brother that he can’t help but get a little protective from time to time

• since gifts are his #1 love language, he might buy you a workout-friendly piece of jewelry that you can wear during your practice

• he also insists on dropping you off and picking you up as often as his busy schedule allows it. especially since he learned that your partner was willing to give you a ride home...

• it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, obviously. he just doesn’t trust them yet

• and that’s why his kisses - and pda in general - are a bit more « intense » than usual

leg bouncing up and down, osamu is (very) anxiously for your conversation with your teammate to end. because after watching the entirety of your practice, he needs a little reminder that you two also have incredible chemistry together... a better one, even. so as soon as he sees you wave your teammate goodbye, he stands up straight, arms open just wide enough to welcome you against his chest. but instead of the chaste kiss you expected to get, you’re actually greeted by his left hand grabbing your sides while his right meets your lower back. disconcerted, you don’t even have time to say a word that his mouth crashes onto yours so eagerly that you have to lean back a few inches. « wh-what was that for ? » you pant as soon as his warm lips have left yours. « nothing. i love ya, that’s all » he smiles innocently, glad that you didn’t notice the cocky look he just gave your teammate who witnessed everything from afar... exactly as planned.

— KUROO

• passive agressive™️

• he would insist on properly meeting your partner but oh god they better brace themselves,,,

• because kuroo’s the kind of boyfriend that will shake their hand hard enough to make them yelp, all while having an angelic smile plastered on his face

• oh and you can forget being called by your name : he’s going to demonstrate the entire variety of nicknames he has for you. he might even come up with new ones just because he’s feeling « inspired »

• every single thing he says to your partner has to be a reminder that you two are dating. like « oh yeah they told me about this yesterday.. during our date ». just to make sure that there’s no misunderstanding.

« well... speak of the devil », kuroo hears you chuckle, your voice almost drowned out by his heavy breathing. he’s obviously planing on apologizing for being late... but not now. there’s something he wants to do first. still very aware of your partner’s presence right in front of you, he decides to securely yet eagerly wrap his arms around your waist before spinning you around proudly. « so... you guys were talking about me ? » he asks, glad to know that he’s the reason behind your giggles. « we were, actually » you answer a bit more seriously as he finally puts you down, still keeping both his hands on your waist. « well, i am your boyfriend after all... » he starts, interrupting himself to place a loud peck on your jawline. the only thing you can think is about is how awful this situation must be for your partner... kuroo, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered at all, as shown by the way one of his hands discreetly makes its way under the fabric of your t-shirt to rest directly on your skin. « hands off, kuroo » you order him with a slap on the back of his hand. an offended gasp leaves his lips, yet he complies reluctantly, thinking that your partner probably already knows everything that needs to be known about him.

— SUNA

• he doesn’t really mind it... as long as you’re willing to cuddle once you get back from practice. if you’re not, then he’s gonna start to worry

• because cuddling is probably his favorite ‘boyfriend privilege’ and he doesn’t want it to be taken away from him

• his schedule is pretty tight so he might not be able to attend any of your practices, but he asks you to record it as much as you possibly can so that he can watch the videos with you afterwards

• and seeing how smoothly you and your partner move together definitely doesn’t help with his worrying

it’s been thirty minutes now, and suna’s still not done watching the videos you took today. he loves to share these moments with you, snuggled up against each other the bed ; but most importantly, he has someone to keep his eye on... « babe- are you 100% sure that this was part of the choreography? » he suddenly speaks up, his eyes leaving the screen for the first time. you quirk a curious eyebrow, more surprised by his unusually suspicious tone rather than by the question itself. « oh, the hand on my waist ? yes, rin. it was ». at your words, his lips press into a thin line, he’s obviously far from being convinced. but you know your boyfriend well and you’re quick to reassure him : « you know, his hand might have been on my waist but you’re the one laying in my bed right now ». the frown on his face disappears almost immediately - much faster than you would’ve thought, replaced by a much more confident expression as his hands start to gently stroke your sides up and down. « mmh, i guess you’re right.... i mean, at the end of the day, only i get to have ‘all of this’ for myself » he smirks, playfully eyeing you up and down until he can’t resist the temptation of your slightly parted lips anymore.

— TSUKISHIMA

• tsukki’s not jealous, he’s just... well.. cautious. or at least that’s what he tells you

• but, deep down, he knows that simple cautiousness wouldn’t make spend his days and nights stressing about this new partner of yours...

• so, after a few weeks, his impassible facade starts to crumble a little bit. nothing too extreme, but just enough to let your partner know that you’re taken.

• and he knows he doesn’t need to do much : one of his signature scornful looks is more than enough. especially when he’s staring at your partner dead in the eyes while you’re greeting him with a hug and a kiss after your practice

« tsukishima kei, i’m waiting for an explanation ». with a sigh, your boyfriend drops his book on the table, turning his chair around to face you. « i don’t have one, i already told you. you told me to introduce myself, and i did. end of story ». you both know that tsukki did not just ‘introduce himself’ like any other human being would have done. and that’s precisely what you’re trying to make him admit - because your partner looked genuinely scared during practice today. « wha- no, i didn’t look down on him. it’s not my fault he’s so short... » he mumbles under his breath, trying his best to avoid any eye contact with you. but you know that only a slight tilt of his chin upwards is enough to make his eyes lock with yours - and that this is enough to have him admit anything. « you’re jealous, kei. and it’s painfully obvious by the way... » you smirk - but this smirk disappears in a split second as he slowly gets up from his chair, towering over you like he usually does. « ok, maybe i am. but i just wanted to make sure that he knew his place. and especially mine » he finally admits, his lips spreading in a scornful smirk that would be terrifying if his eyes weren’t filled with the infinite tenderness he has always felt for you.

✔️taglist : @toworuu @catwithangerissues @miyumiya @livy384 @k0u-minamo2 @fullsundear @hsjvwq @mochi-marie @hiraeth-z @velvetvirgos @kirishimas-manly-eyeliner @47meow @japanesevenom @geektastic84 @noir-blanches-blog @idontlikeyourjob @seiri-ami @atiny-grl-with-luv @admiringlove @nachotrash @kellesvt @aintyourholy @Moonlaeli @catchmewiddershins @duhsies @devilgirlcrybabiey @crystal-lilac

[shemarmooresfedora]

A Bump in the Road

Summary: You and Spencer had kept your relationship a secret from the team until something changed your plans.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: brief mentions of a case but other than that, just pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: this is the first of my 3 fics for me and @samuel-de-champagne-problems 500 follower co-celebration! the prompts for both of us today were: Accidental Pregnancy, Reader/Spencer looking for excuses to hold the other’s hand, “I need to talk to you…like right now”. To see her fic today and our upcoming prompts: click here!

Masterlist

“Prentiss, Morgan, you go to the neighborhood of the victims. Y/L/N, Reid, go downtown and just look around for anything strange,” Hotch stated, “I need you all to look casual while scoping out the area so try to look like normal citizens and don’t flash your badges.”

Derek raised his shades to put them on but Gideon gently grabbed his arm to stop him, “Less official.”

Emily let out a chuckle, “Let’s go, Morgan.”

“You ready, Spence?” you grabbed the keys.

“Yes, lov- ,” he played it off as a cough, “Yes, Y/L/N.”

“That was a close one,” Spencer said as he adjusted his satchel as you walked out of the police department together.

“You’re the one who keeps almost calling me ‘love’ in the conference room in front of the whole team! And on the jet!” you added with a giggle.

“It’s not my fault!” he insisted, “My brain short-circuits whenever I look at your beautiful face.”

“You’re hard to stay mad at,” you playfully rolled your eyes.

You and Spencer had been dating for about 4 months now. You decided to keep it a secret from the team until your six month anniversary. You didn’t need the teasing at the beginning of your relationship when things were still a bit new and awkward. But now, you both had said ‘I love you’ and you were practically living at his apartment when you weren’t away on cases. It was perfect.

-

You and Spencer were walking down the sidewalk downtown, looking for anyone who seemed to fit the profile.

“Hmmm we seem too official,” you smiled, grabbing his hand, “I guess we have to act like a happy couple. You know, just for the case.”

“Yep, just for the case,” Spencer squeezed your hand, leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“For the case,” he grinned.

You cupped his cheeks and pulled him back in for a much longer kiss on the lips.

“For.” you planted butterfly kisses along his jawline, “The.” another kiss, “Case.”

Spencer opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of his phone buzzing in his pocket.

“Hotch,” he said before swiping accept and putting it on speaker phone, “Hey Hotch. You’ve got me and Y/L/N.”

“Morgan and Prentiss caught the unsub trying to grab another victim off the street. They fit the profile to a tee. We’re bringing them in for questioning but we’ll take shifts. You and Y/L/N can go back to the hotel and get some rest first.”

“Alright, thanks Hotch,” Spencer hung up the phone.

“Oh I think there’s one more thing we have to do when we get back to the hotel room…for the case,” you winked, pulling him back to the SUV with your hands still interlocked.

-

You were in the bathroom stall of the sixth floor, anxiously bouncing your legs up and down.

The timer on your phone started vibrating, indicating the time was up. You stared at the stick in front of you, waiting to be flipped over.

You flipped it over quickly like ripping off a band-aid. Two lines. The second one was faint but definitely there. You were pregnant. 5 months into a relationship with Spencer.

You rolled the test up in toilet paper before placing it in your purse. You washed your hands and splashed some cold water on your face. You took a deep breath before walking back into the bullpen like you hadn’t just received life-altering news.”

You grabbed a random file from your desk as you passed by and approached Spencer’s desk. He looked up from his paperwork with a soft smile as he saw you coming.

“I need to talk to you…like right now,” you whispered, “About the Johnson case,” you spoke a little louder so no one would question what you two were whispering about.

Spencer began to stand and grab his jacket to follow you but Penelope came charging into the room, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards her bat cave.

“Actually, Penelope, I have to ask Spencer some questions about a case. I’ll come find you in a bit.”

Spencer nodded to back you up.

“Trust me, the news I have is wayyy more important,” Penelope continued to tug at you.

“Penelope, I really need to finish this. Just give me the highlights now,” you resisted her pull.

“I found a pregnancy test box in the bathroom and I didn’t find the stick. I’m no profiler but usually people would only keep the test with them if it’s positive,” she confessed, “Someone on this floor is pregnant!”

Your eyes widened and you mentally slapped yourself on the forehead. How could you forget to throw the box away?

You made eye contact with Spencer, shooting him a sheepish grin as if to say ‘surprise?!’

Penelope started to drag you along again but Spencer grabbed a hold of your other arm.

“Actually, Hotch really needs her to get this done, Garcia. I promise she’ll be over as soon as we finish it.”

Penelope and Spencer were engaged in an intense staring battle with you in the middle.

“Ugh, fine! I’ll just have to gossip with Morgan! Now you don’t get to know all my theories,” Penelope huffed.

“I’m sorry, Penelope. I’ll make it up to you at lunch tomorrow.

As she clicked away with her high heels on, Spencer pulled you into a supply closet.

“You’re pregnant?!” he asked.

“Um, yeah I am. I understand if this isn’t what you want though, it’s not really the timing either of us had in mind,” you spoke softly, rubbing your arm.

Spencer pulled you in for a hug, “I’m happy if you’re happy. I’ll support whatever decision you make. I can schedule you an appointment at the clinic and I’ll be right by your side the whole time. But if you do decide to have this child, have no doubt that I will be there every step of the way with you in raising them.”

“I think I’m going to keep it,” you smiled softly.

“We’re having a baby?” Spencer beamed.

“You’re gonna be a dad, Spence.”

The closet door swung open, revealing a confused Anderson.

“I don’t know why this is so emotional for you, Reid. We’re out of paper clips,” you crossed your arms as Spencer wiped his happy tears away.

Anderson grabbed some extra staples and scurried out of the closet.

“Most women tend to find out they’re pregnant from 4 to 7 weeks and we’ve been together for 15,” Spencer stated.

“Even your sperm is smart. They managed to get past my birth control so quickly,” you laughed.

-

You and Spencer decided to wait to tell the team until the end of your first trimester. After that, you couldn’t put it off any longer because you were beginning to show slightly if you wore tight shirts. Also, it was killing Spencer to have to pretend that his child was not inside your tummy all day.

You tried to schedule ultrasounds before or after work but sometimes one of you would have to take the day off in advance for ‘a family thing’ while one of you would mysteriously ‘fall ill’ the day of.

Your doctor had just given you the all clear that the baby was perfectly healthy at the end of the first trimester so you were ready to tell the team.

You wore a tight shirt with a jacket over it for the announcement. You let go of Spencer’s hand right before he entered the bullpen.

“See you on the other side,” you winked before sneaking off to the other entrance of the round table room.

You heard Spencer ask if everyone could join him in the conference room for a special announcement.

“What’s all this about, Kid?” Derek asked.

“I have been dating someone for just over 7 months now and she is amazing, beautiful, smart, kind, and I love her so so much. We found out about two months ago that she is pregnant. We actually just got back from the final ultrasound of the first trimester,” Spencer announced.

The team was speechless for about a minute.

“Congratulations,” Hotch finally spoke for everyone.

“WHO IS IT?” Penelope asked.

“She’s actually right out here. I have a feeling you’ll like her,” Spencer smiled.

You stripped off your jacket so your belly bump was on full display as you entered the room.

“Hi guys,” you waved as Spencer wrapped his arms around you from behind and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

The team erupted into gasps and cheers.

“You…and her???” Derek couldn’t seem to process this new information, “How did a group of profilers miss this?”

“Because my boyfriend is a genius,” you grinned up at him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

“No, my girlfriend is way smarter. She scheduled all of the ultrasounds and how to get the time off,” Spencer smiled down at you.

“Okay, we’re both geniuses so the baby will be a genius too,” you concluded.

Spencer bent down to give your belly a kiss as the team ‘aww’ed.

taglist (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly

[sacredsorceress]

Know You Better || Bucky Barnes

pairing: 40’s!bucky barnes x rogers!reader

summary: your brother’s best friend, bucky, rescues you at the dance club and walks you home, but you both have feelings that are a bit more than friendly

a/n: i have been on such a 40s!bucky x rogers!reader kick i’m so sorry but i hope you enjoy! reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 2.0k

warnings: attempted assault, fluff

masterlist || request || taglist

1940

Listening absentmindedly to the brunette seated beside him, Bucky took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes trained on you dancing across the room.

He wasn’t sure if you had seen him when you walked in, but he sure as hell did. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as soon as he caught you walking into the establishment with some of your friends, not even taking six steps into the building without some guy asking you to dance. Although he was there with his own date- a girl he had asked out at the diner yesterday- he regretted it as soon as he saw you in that other man’s arms and felt his heart drop to his stomach.

He hated it- thinking that way about you- he knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was wrong. You were Steve’s sister. There were thousands of eligible ladies in New York and he just had to have feelings for his best friend’s little sister.

He should have seen it coming- he had always had a soft spot for you- getting into fights any time someone looked at you the wrong way, making up lies about his sister begging him to ask you to braid her hair just so he could see you without Steve there, and even the simplest things like knowing he laughed harder when you were there laughing along with him. 

As much as he hated it, he wasn’t the only one who had seen it either- his mom teasing him that one day he was gonna settle down and marry that Rogers girl, him having to slap his hand over his sister’s mouth because he just knew the little punk was gonna let it slip one day- he was undeniably soft for you with only you and Steve being none the wiser.

Watching as the guy rested his hand on your lower back, pulling you closer to him, Bucky began to feel his blood boil. Who did this guy think he was anyway? He didn’t deserve to hold you close like that. He didn’t know you. He didn’t know you the way that Bucky did.

As the band continued to drone on in the background, Bucky began to grow tired watching the sight of you two together and was ready to head home until he saw you shake your head adamantly and part from the man, making your way to the far corner of the dance club where the bathrooms were situated, the man you had just been dancing with following behind you.

As soon as you left his line of sight, Bucky put out the cigarette he had been smoking in the ash tray. Cutting off the brunette whose name he couldn’t even remember, he pulled out his wallet, leaving cash on the table before standing up.

“It’s been nice, doll.” He said. “But I’m gonna have to go.”

Without another word, he shoved his wallet into his back pocket, striding over to the back corner of the building.

-

Swinging open the door of the bathroom, you saw the man you had just been dancing with waiting right outside the door in the tiny hallway just off the main room.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, bumping into the man you had never caught the name of.

“One more dance?” He asked.

Shaking your head, you chuckled nervously trying to push past him. “No, sorry. I can’t.” You faux apologized. “My brother’s waiting for me at home and I don’t wanna worry him.”

Just as you attempted to move past him, he pushed you against the wall of the dimly lit hallway and grabbed your hands when you tried to shove him away. Struggling in his grasp you jolted backwards as his head made its way into the crook of your neck.

“C’mon sweetheart.” He whispered. “The night’s still young-”

“She said no.” A familiar voice spoke up from behind him.

Feeling a sense of relief wash over you, you took advantage of the man’s distraction and shoved him away from you, Bucky grabbing him by the collar of his shirt as he stumbled into him. Shoving him against the wall you watched as Bucky’s face came inches away from the man’s.

“Listen man.” The guy said throwing his hands up in the air. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked. “Didn’t look like that to me.”

“C’mon pal,” The guy chuckled nervously. “Just let me go and we can forget this ever happened.”

“Y/n?” You heard your brother’s best friend ask.

“Yeah?” You answered, standing up straighter.

“What do you think I should do with this guy?”

Wrapping your arms around yourself and checking the time on your wrist watch, you shrugged.

“I don’t know, Buck.” You sighed. “It’s getting late. Steve’s gonna wonder where the hell I am. I told him I was just goin’ to dinner.”

Heeding your words, Bucky pulled the man’s face closer to his.

“You got lucky this time.”

Once Bucky saw fear in the man’s eyes, he felt satisfied, throwing the man to the floor and watching as he scrambled to his feet and ran out of the hallway. Turning back to you, Bucky pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, slipping one out.

“I could have handled that myself, ya know.” You said, still leaning against the wall.

Shaking his head, he scoffed slipping the cig into his mouth.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” He said looking up at you, pulling a lighter from his other pocket. “You and your brother, Y/n... ya know... sometimes it would be nice to hear a ‘thank you’.”

You understood what he meant- Bucky was looking out for you just as he always had and as much as your pride hated to admit it- you were glad he had come to your rescue when he did.

Watching him bring the lighter to the cigarette that hung from his mouth, you shook your head.

“C’mon, Buck.” You groaned, snatching the lighter from his hand. “Those things will kill you.”

“There’s a war going on, doll.” He said plucking the lighter from your grasp. “I think a cig’s the least of my worries.”

Hearing the pet name slip from his mouth, you began to feel the heat rise to your face.

In all the time you had known James “Bucky” Barnes, you had heard him call dozens of girls that name, but never you. He had always called you by your name or teasing nicknames like “punk” or “kid”- never “doll”. That name was saved exclusively for girls you took on dates and kissed on the walk back to their apartments - not you.

But as he used the name on you for the first time, whether it was an accident or not, you felt butterflies floating in your stomach.

A part of you hated that you didn’t hate it and the other wished he would call you that again and again.

“James please.” You urged. “You know I hate the smell of those things.”

James.

As much as he loved his nickname, the sound of his first name falling from your lips was sweet as honey and so intimate he swore he would do whatever you asked when you said it.

Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, he shoved it back in the pack and into his back pocket, pulling up his sleeve to check his watch.

“You’re right.” He said, clearing his throat. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you back home.”

Following him out of the hallway and into the main room, the sound of the band still playing in the background, you spotted the man Bucky had just thrown out speaking to what you assumed was one of his friends. Adverting your eyes from him, you instinctively moved closer to Bucky, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Feeling your touch against his clothed skin, his heart skipped a beat as he pulled open the door of the club, both of you moving outside into the cool summer night air.

“Why were you here anyway?” You asked, walking alongside Bucky on the sidewalk. “You have a date or something?”

“Yeah.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach.

“But I wasn’t interested. I stopped listening to her story about her last date two minutes in.”

Just now realizing that you had been holding your breath, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sorry, Buck.” You apologized half heartedly, a part of you glad that his date with another random girl he had just met didn’t work out.

“S’alright.” Bucky assured you. “There’s plenty of better girls in the city. I’m walkin’ with one of 'em right now.”

Glancing up at your brother’s best friend beside you, you met his eyes and smiled.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirtin’ with me, Barnes.” 

Gazing down at you, your face highlighted by the dim glow of the streetlamp illuminating the sidewalk, his breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say next. You had been consuming his thoughts for months- years even- that now as you tested the waters he couldn’t find the right words to speak next.

He couldn’t risk losing you, but as he admired you in the soft glow of the moon shining above the apartment buildings, he knew he couldn’t risk not having you either.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

Now the one speechless, you stared up at him, noticing the seriousness in his face- not a hint of his usual teasing smirk in sight.

Just as you opened your mouth, you watched as the light switched on in your apartment above. 

Shoving Bucky against the wall of the building so he was out of sight, you looked up as the window opened and your brother’s head popped out.

“Y/n?” Steve asked. “That you?”

“Yeah!” You called. “I’ll be up in a second. I just gotta... fix my shoe.”

“Were you talkin’ to someone?” He asked, checking the sidewalk below you.

“What?” You asked, shaking your head. “I wasn’t talking to anyone. You’re hearing things- go back to bed before you wake up the block!”

With that you watched as your brother shrugged, moving himself back into the apartment, slamming the window shut. Emerging from the shadows, Bucky gestured towards the apartment.

“You’re lying to your brother now?” He asked. “You really don’t want to be seen with me that bad?”

Strolling towards him, you laughed.

“I love Steve, Buck, but sometimes he can be a bit too protective.” You said, grabbing the end of his tie. “I gotta go, but...”

Tugging on his tie, you pulled him towards you and when his face lined up with yours, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks for saving me, James.” You whispered in his ear.

As you dropped his tie from your hands, he stood up straighter, watching with wide eyes as you made your way back towards your apartment, throwing him one last glance over your shoulder with a smile before climbing up the steps and out of his sight.

Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, fearing that he was blushing so hard anyone could see it even in the darkness of night, he held his hand up to the spot on his face where you had just kissed him, leaning back against the wall.

Feeling his heart thump against his chest, he knew he was done for.

A part of him had always known that his mother was right- that he was gonna settle down one day and end up with the Rogers girl. As much as he had dismissed it, promising “Ma, she’s Steve’s sister. She’s my friend”, he knew better. As he stood there leaning against the brick wall of your apartment building on that cool summer night, a part of him knew- as he would recount to you on your wedding day- that it was the end of the string of new girls on dates every other night for him and the beginning of the rest of his life.