#i need to sit down for an hour. AT LEAST.

[miajooz]

imagining riding vi’s bicep after she comes home from the gym!

warnings ˙⋆✮ honestly you’re both kind of submissive and pathetic, AFAB, masturbation, praise, swearing, reader has a huge fixation on these muscles, and well..riding vi’s bicep messily!

wc ˙⋆✮ 2.8k

vi was a women who enjoyed going to the gym, purely for her own benefits. she wasn’t some sort of gym rat asshole most people assumed she was—just a woman there to have a good time and feel good about herself. and maybe slightly to impress you, she could be quite a show-off.

you were very fond of your girlfriend’s biceps, when you clung onto them or touched them it felt and looked right. like a puzzle in your life you didn’t know you needed the piece to. you liked to squeeze the muscle softly, give her gentle massages, really any excuse you could come up with just to touch them. asking would probably be simpler—but where’s the fun in that!

besides her unfairly sexy face and personality—they were a huge reason why you were attracted to her. they felt right when you’d muffled your moans into them during sex, when you’d kiss them or just hold them while cuddling—they were perfect.

one time in particular, you asked vi if you could ride her bicep. you were both drunk out of your minds, curled up on the couch with the smell of alcohol and something sweet wafting throughout the room. perhaps that was convincing, because you followed through. it was a heated moment. messy, hot, frantic, wet—all of it. but it was so perfect, and vi seemed to get off on it a lot.

after that first time, it became routine. you were both obsessed with it.

usually you’d do it after she got home from the gym, that way her muscles were more prominent—you needed something perfect to grind and get off on! there was also a pain aspect she liked. she’d work out until her biceps felt tender, your added weight was painful but so pleasurable.

this day was no different, vi raced home. the traffic laws were just suggestions!

you were sitting in your shared bedroom on the plush mattress, watching some romance movie you probably had memorized. you were wearing that sweet perfume she liked, the one that practically magnified her to her body. it was a lure you knew always work, and it got you wanted.

that’s because you know what you wanted—you knew she wanted the same thing too. more so when she walked into the house, tossed her gym bag on the ground, and made a b-line straight to you.

you barely had time to look up because she was already on you. she laid you back, burying her face in your neck and panting. you could hear the sheer neediness in her voice, the way her lips trembled against your pulse and soaked up your heart beat in a way that made hers double in speed.

“god, vi. you could at least get yourself a glass of water or something.” you suggested, knowing you’d be ignored the moment you felt her lips on your neck. you could feel her smile against it, nose piercing cold but lovely feeling against your flesh.

vi pulled away for a brief moment, looking at you with those eyes that you always found yourself lost in. so full of meaning and so soulful. “oh, are you worried about me, baby? you should worry about getting that cute ass up and onto my arm.”

you laughed again, “don’t i deserve some love first? you abandoned me for hours.” you complained, legs wrapping around her waist.

vi had a grin on her face, the scar on her lip making it even more special. with gentle care, she placed one hand on your cheek, rubbing it affectionately. she leaned down, peppering small, loving kisses onto your neck. she worked her way up to your ear, breathing heavy in it in a way that made you shiver. “abandoned? oh please, i was gone for a few hours.” she teased, huffing out a laugh into your ear. a small kiss was planted on your cheek softly, her lips staying there for a moment. “but i do love you, dollface.”

there wasn’t much time to respond, not when vi captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. you sighed into the gesture, something between relief and an expression of the arousal sparking south. you wrapped your arms around her neck, deepening the kiss as if you could get any closer. it was a messy kiss, teeth clicking, tongues flicking and swirling around each other—everything you liked and everything she usually delivered.

vi bit your bottom lip, using the fact you gasped to her advantage. she slipped her tongue into your mouth, massaging her tongue against yours. you moaned softly, letting her tongue roll over yours. you felt dizzy, all of your emotions were pouncing on you at once and yet you were stuck in a messy, tongue tying kiss that you didn’t want out of. it didn’t get any neater, you two were practically devouring each other’s lips in a way that just screamed desperate. you wished her tongue was in outer places too.

you felt as she turned her head a bit, her body shuffling above you. she pressed her knee against your clothed cunt firmly, loving the way you moaned into her mouth and tried to grind against it.

eventually, vi pulled away, her lips barely hovering over yours. you could feel her breath on it, the two of you panting after sharing such an intense kiss. she lifted her head up a bit to look you in the eyes, her thumb coming down to wipe a small dribble of saliva off your face. she admired you. god, you were so perfect.

vi pulled away, crawling off you slightly so she was lower down your body. “god, you’re so pretty. my pretty girl.” she said breathlessly, it was clear she was desperate for this. she slid her hands down your body, one finger finding its way towards the waistband of your pajama shorts. she quickly slid them down, eyes immediately locked on your panties. a moan escaped her lips upon seeing how soaked you were, the patch on the cotton made your panties slightly translucent. “so wet. someone’s excited.”

“don’t worry, baby. its all yours, i’m all yours”

she then kissed the patch. kissed it—then just took it off as if it was nothing. you were panting now, face flushed and eyes blown wide.

“i know you look forward to this, i do too.” she murmured, two fingers coming down to trace lazy circles on your clit to stimulate you. but it ended quick, her eyes were just darting between yours and your sopping, wet cunt. she leaned back, scooting you to the side to lay beside you. “come on, baby. put it on me. i know you want it.”

you moaned and nodded in response, looking at her with sultry eyes. you waited hours for this, all day you had been thinking about finally getting to ride her bicep. you sat up, crawling a bit to hover over her arm. you scooted up, one knee pressing against her side and the other near her face. she often liked to kiss the knee that was by her head. you slid the sleeve of her t-shirt up a bit. after all, you wanted to ride her bare skin, nothing could get in the way of something so intimate.

vi couldn’t wait anymore, her eyes were trained on you and slightly widened, pupils dilated in a way that made you feel flattered. she was panting, almost moaning even though nothing was happening yet. the sheer thought and anticipation was what got her going. as well as the sight of your needy face. “i know you need it, baby, you’re a needy girl. you’re gonna start dripping on me so just sit.” she said, her free hand holding your hip and shoving you down onto her waiting muscle.

you immediately pulsed against her bicep, a weak moan leaving your lips from the sudden friction. you both panted there for a minute, vi watching you intently with an enamored expression. a breathy groan left her, her hand rubbing your hip softly. “that’s it, that’s a good girl. god..you look so pretty like that.” vi patted your hip softly “move for me, sweetheart.”

you mindlessly complied, dragging your wet cunt over her toned bicep. you immediately sighed, starting to soak her skin with a humiliating amount of arousal. it was soaking her, a wet clicking and squelching sound resulting from every move of your hips. the layer of slick helped you move your hips faster. “vi..god i love these fucking muscles. a-all for me..” you moaned, adjusting a bit so you could plant your hands down. “did you work hard for me? i-i can tell..”

vi was moaning too, as if she could feel it. your weight on her sore muscles brought her so much pleasure—she didn’t know why. it was the kind of dull, stiff ache that she just wanted to feel loosen. “i know you do, baby. i know. i worked so hard just for you. feel it, just feel it.” she responded huskily, pulling her hand away from your hip and shoving them down her gym shorts instead. her fingers started circling her clit, using the same pace you were using on her arm to get yourself off —as if you were rubbing that wet, pretty pussy on her own. “god, i can’t control myself when you’re looking at me like that. keep those eyes on me, sweetheart—please.”

your hips sped up, mouth falling open to let out pathetic, pornographic whimpers. it wasn’t just the friction, it was the sheer idea of this act. it was so absurd that it made it sexy, but so genius in your eyes. “look at you fuckin’ soaking me. you’re being such a good girl. use my arm, baby. use it.” she groaned, her fingers speeding up with your hips. she looked at the expression on your face and moaned again, softer sounds leaving her at the sheer sight of you.

her fingers slid down her wet cunt, maybe she was almost as wet as you were. two of her digits found themselves prodding at her neglected, waiting hole, barely pushing in. slowly, she thrusted her fingers inside herself and curled them. she moaned out and twitched, the arm you were riding was lifted up a bit and pressed against you further.

that elicited a louder whimper from you, “vi..fuck!” you whined, your hips bucking desperately against the plump muscle like a fucking dog. you watched with weak, mesmerized eyes as she touched herself. all because you were riding her bicep like that, coating it in slick and sliding your aching pussy up and down. you were panting and moaning uncontrollably, both from exhaustion and pleasure. “it feels so good, baby..s-so good..” you said between pants.

vi looked at you, making eye contact as her fingers pumped in and out of her cunt quickly. the combined sound of her squelching pussy and yours was downright sinful. she bit her lip softly, trying to control herself from just worshipping you. “yeah? can you tell me more, please?” she asked, knowing she’d get off on your pathetic, strained voice. not only because it sounded like that, but because you were getting off on her. you were riding her arm and blessing her with your sweet moans and wet slick. “tell me how good it is, tell me your mine—wanna hear it from that sweet voice of yours.”

you moaned in response, nodding mindlessly and trying to hold eye contact. “i love doin’ this..s’just so good.” you gasped, nails digging into the sheets below you. “i don’t ever wanna stop..don’t ever make me stop. please.” you pleaded, knowing you couldn’t hold off an orgasm forever. but you wished it was that way, and you knew she’d stay in that moment forever if she could. “i’m yours, i’m yours! f-fuck..me!”

vi drank up your words like wine, the affect on her was unfair. she pumped her fingers more aggressively, her own moans hard to control and manage. “holy shit..fuck. keep talking baby, come on. keep riding it just like that.” she husked, shivering at the wet slick that kept sloshing between her bicep and your pretty pussy. “god, i love this pussy. i fucking love it. i wish my tongue was inside you—fuck..w-wasting so much on my arm instead of my tongue.”

you whimpered from her words, the sounds a never ending stream of pleasure and messiness. though, you kept talking. “you can clean me up after, baby..i-i can’t stop, s’too good..” you were running out of stamina, but your sheer need to continue kept you going. “never leave me when i’m that needy again..i just wanted to cum on your bicep all day.”

the feeling of her toned muscle against your cunt was absolutely heavenly. the way it seemed to naturally mold for your pussy perfectly needed to be studied. your clit rubbed against her bicep deliciously, every rut of your hips having you weak. your slick was starting to drip down the sides a bit, the reeking made her shiver and groan. “i know, baby. you’re doing so good, promise i’ll take care if you before i go next time. my needy girl.”

unfortunately, vi’s brutal pace on herself was difficult to withstand, she couldn’t push down her orgasm building up and she sure as hell couldn’t slow down. you were in a similar state, the tightening in your abdomen almost made your hips stutter. you were both moaning and panting filthy words to each other, most of which weren’t coherent enough to understand.

“vi, vi..i’m gonna cum!” you cried out, eyes bobbling in place as an attempt to stay locked on hers. your hips were moving frantically against her bicep, desperately needing to feel that release you had been waiting all day for. sure, you took care of yourself through the day—but it just wasn’t the same as this. it wasn’t the same as your pussy on her skin, the closeness you felt was what made it so special. you needed that—you both did.

vi absolutely loved the way you looked, so soft and so desperate. she husked out a deep breath, an embarrassing whimper leaving her at the repeated curl of her fingers. “me too—fuck!” she gasped, the feeling building up to something almost unbearable. “cum on my arm, baby. do it, please just give it to me. i need it, i need it please..”

she was hardly done with her sentence before you finished. “vi, vi, vi!” you chanted as you threw your head back, back arching almost impossibly as you came undone on her bicep. your pussy pulsed against the muscle, clamping around nothing but not needing to. a weak string of whines and whimpers fell from your lips, most in which you’d definitely be embarrassed about later.

vi wasn’t far behind, halfway between one of your whines she came. she pushed her head back against the plush of the mattress, eyes rolling back almost painfully. her whole body reacted, the arm you were riding lifted up again. you were overstimulated, whining and squirming at the feeling.

“t-too much, vi! please i can’t!” you whimpered, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. “i can’t take it, i-i can’t take it!” she didn’t notice at first, only stopping as she felt that relaxed feeling wash over her while you squealed and panted.

vi let her arm rest firmly on the bed, no longer pressing into you. she looked over at you with half lidded eyes, lips parted in a pant that you both seemed to participate in. “sorry, sweetheart. i didn’t mean it.” she husked out between gasps and pants. she broke eye contact with you to look at the aftermath. her bicep was absolutely soaked, juices dripping down the sides and the layer of slick bubbling and webbing against your tired, overwhelmed pussy.

you weakly lifted yourself off her bicep, the sticky webbing never more obvious. it was embarrassing to you, but vi loved it. you laid back, legs slightly spread to avoid absolutely everything getting sticky.

vi looked at her slick bicep against, leaning to the side and licking a long strip up it—cleaning all the slick and wetness you left there for her. her tongue lapped at it desperately, groaning at the feeling of your arousal on her tongue.

you watched in awe—she hadn’t done that before. but..you loved it. “fuck, baby..” you watched with slight embarrassment and astonishment, eyes trained on the way she lapped at her bicep to drink up anything she could get.

after a bit, she stopped. she panted, licking her lips and wiping her mouth. vi looked over at you and smiled tenderly, the eye contact could only be described as thoughtful.

“spread your legs a little bit, i’ll actually clean you up.”

credits to my wife for the bicep photo

tags!! <333 @valeisaslut @eriiwaiii2 @usuck @haithone @yunaversalluv @smaugayra @andiemiaswife @mayfldss @elliesfavtoy @sewithinsouls @pariiissssssss @aliselune @myla-wyla @nattakasuperlesbian @xiletay @sawaagyapong @ellies-real-wife @lostdecisions @liddyflyer @talyaisvalslutsoldier @dustandpearls @vicluvsu @urmomssideh0e

[jaesblogstuff]

The Lines I Crossed For You

Happy (early) father’s day i guess LOL. I might write something a little better, best fit for the occasion.

Simon’s been divorced six years.

She left without a fight — just said she was tired of a man who worked too much and smiled too little.

He didn’t beg. Didn’t chase. Just stood in the kitchen while the door shut behind her. Since then he’s been steady. Alone.

Liam —his only continuation of Riley blood, his son — moved in after burning through money and excuses. Said he was trying. Said he’d “try and get back on his feet” Simon didn’t ask. Just gave him a room. A second chance.

But he knew the truth. Liam wasn’t trying. He was coasting. Still a boy in a man’s world.

And then you came along.

At first, just weekends. Then overnights, shifts too long, Liam too distracted to show up. You were always moving. Always tired. Always giving.

Simon saw it all. Quietly. Every forgotten pickup. Every brushed-off look. And the way you stayed anyway. He knew that lingering in the doorway, cooking for you, waiting up even when you didn’t ask. It was too much. But there was a point where watching became unbearable.

He told himself to stay out of it.

But tonight? He can’t, He wouldn’t.

⸻

It’s almost 11 p.m. when you show up. No text. No call.

You hadn’t planned to really. You’d finished a 14-hour shift, head splitting, feet throbbing, too exhausted to go home. You’d asked Liam to pick you up — just this once — and when he didn’t answer, you sat in your car with your keys in your hand and your chest tight with something between shame and fury. Simon’s house was closer than your apartment. That’s the only reason you came. At least… that’s what you told yourself.

He opens the door in sweatpants, barefoot, hair a mess, face unreadable — and the moment his eyes land on yours, something in you buckles. You’re not okay. And he sees it. “I didn’t know where else to go,” you murmur. “Just… need a quick crash.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Just steps aside. “You’re here,” he says. “That’s all that matters.”

You walk in. He doesn’t ask questions. Just takes the bags and load from your hands, sets them gently on the counter, and looks at you like he’s trying to memorize you. You swallow and glance toward the hallway. “Is Liam here?”

Simon’s jaw shifts, barely, but you catch it. “He left a few hours ago,” he says. “Went out with friends, I think. Didn’t say much.” A pause. Then quieter, “Haven’t seen him since before dinner.”

You nod once, like it doesn’t matter. Like it didn’t sting.

“I called him… three times,” you say, mostly to yourself. “Guess he forgot.” You rub your hands over your face, the fatigue crashing down all at once. “I can go… if this is weird. I don’t want to—”

“Stop.” Simon’s voice is low, firm. “You’re staying. Sit down.”

You do. Not because you’re told, but because for once, it feels like someone means it.

He places a warm mug in front of you — tea from the pot he made not long ago. You wrap your hands around it like it’s the only heat you have left. He sits across from you, watching you sip. “Rough day?”

You nod. “I don’t even know what happened. Just… non-stop. Four admits. One code. Everyone short-staffed again.”

You shrug lightly, stare into your cup. “It’s whatever.”

Simon watches you a long moment, his eyes careful, searching. “And Liam?”

You let out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh — hollow. “Didn’t show. Again. I waited outside the hospital like a fucking idiot for fifteen minutes before I gave up.”

The silence that follows is thick — not awkward, just loaded. Something in Simon snaps. Not loudly. Not violently. Just… breaks.

“I’ve watched you give him everything,” Simon murmurs, voice low and sharp. “And I’ve watched him give you nothing. That’s not fair. That’s not love.”

You blink hard. Swallow. “I don’t want pity.”

“You think this is pity?” he says, eyes locked to yours.

Then, softer, steadier. “I don’t look at you and see someone weak. I see someone who’s been strong for too long.”

His hand finds your knee. His thumb moves in slow, grounding circles.

“I’d give you everything if you let me. Every minute. Every drop. Just to watch you breathe easier.”

Your throat tightens. Something inside you splinters. You’re tired. Spent. But right now — right here — you’re also seen. Not just as someone who’s holding it together. But someone worth being held.

And Simon? He’s still waiting. Still giving you room.

“I don’t want to think,” you whisper.

“I know,” he murmurs. “That’s why I will.”

Then you nod, barely a movement, and say, “Yes.”

⸻

He fucks you like someone who’s had years to imagine it.

Because he has.

Celibacy might as well have been stitched into the collar of his shirts — not by choice, but by the kind of quiet, aching resignation that comes from too many years of going untouched. No one since his wife.

And not once does he rush.

He undresses you slowly, reverently. Like your body is something to earn. His hands are warm and a little rough from yardwork and tools, but his touch is gentle. Intentional. His lips brush the inside of your wrist. Your collarbone. The skin just beneath your navel.

He doesn’t move to tease. He worships. When his mouth finds your thighs, you’re already trembling.

His tongue circles your clit. Soft, controlled, devastating, and the moan that leaves your throat is so quiet it startles you. It’s the kind of sound you don’t mean to make. The kind that lives deep in your chest and only comes out when someone really knows what they’re doing.

“Please,” you whisper, hips twitching, too gone to be embarrassed.

“Not yet,” he murmurs. “Let me feel you first.”

Two fingers slide into you — slow, deep — and the groan he lets out is nearly broken. Like he’s mourning all the days he didn’t get to touch you like this.

His mouth doesn’t stop. And neither does your unraveling. You writhe under him, hand fisting the sheets, tears pricking at your lashes from how tender it all is. He doesn’t stop until you break — gasping, breathless, your back arching and legs shaking as you come hard against his mouth.

Only then does he rise, chest heaving, and kiss you like he’s starved. And then, just before he sinks inside you, he presses his forehead to your shoulder, voice rough and trembling

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Simon says, his voice low and raw against your shoulder. “To have someone like you. Someone so strong, so fucking hardworking, and beautiful, and kind — and just… look away. To not show up for you.”

“If you were mine—”

He stops himself. Shakes his head again like he’s trying to clear it. Like the thought hurts too much to say out loud.

But you feel it. You need it.

“No,” you whisper, voice shaky. “Say it.”

His throat works around the words. And when they come, they’re not smooth — they’re wrecked.

“I’d never stop touching you,” he says, voice cracking. “I’d never stop showing you. Every day. That you’re wanted. That you’re seen. That you’re safe. That you deserve it. All of it.”

You let out a broken sound, a breath that turns into a moan because the way he says it is what finishes you.

Not the touch. Not the friction. Him.

When he finally pushes in — slow, thick, achingly deep — the sound that leaves your mouth is a strangled cry.

“Oh my god—Simon—”

He groans, low and guttural. His hands grip your hips, firm but careful. “That’s it,” he pants. “Take it. Let me give it to you. Let me fucking have you.”

You nod wildly, mouth open, no words left. Your moans are quiet, breathy, raw. Real. They spill out of you like confessions. Like relief.

Simon moves slow — deliberate — each stroke heavy and deep, angled just right to drag a new gasp from your throat. His eyes never leave your face. His hands never stop touching.

It’s not just sex. It’s reverence. It’s grief. It’s a man making up for all the years he didn’t believe he’d ever get to feel this again.

It’s a man giving you everything his son never even thought to.

“You’re so full,” you whimper.

“You deserve it,” he breathes against your mouth. “Deserve to be filled until you can’t think.”

And when you come again, harder this time, your whole body clenched and trembling, he fucks you through it with nothing but praise:

“Good girl.”

“So fucking perfect.”

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

When he comes, he doesn’t pull out. He stays there — still buried inside — holding you like he’s terrified the moment might vanish if he lets go.

Later, when your breathing slows and the room fades to a quiet hum, Simon wraps his arms around you from behind. Anchors you to him. Then softer, at your temple: “Sleep.”

And for the first time in a long, long time — you do.

(i don’t know what i was thinking oh my goodness i’m sorry)

[bluehourbucky]

Impulsive

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: youre known for doing something impulsive from time to time but this might be your best decision yet

a/n: had a neurodivergent reader in mind I know my adhd had me make some impulsive decisions haha

I wish I knew how to write smut🥲 tho this is might just be the filthiest dirtiest thing I've ever written

warnings: kitty eating, hard sex, lots of come, possessive bucky, squirting

bucky masterlist

~~~~~

Bucky gets worried when he's on a mission for a long time, he knows you're going to be okay but he also knows your adhd is unpredictable. He just hopes you don't run out of your meds or forget to take them.

"I'll be fine Buck, besides it's only 3 weeks you'll be back in no time!"

His hands are around your waist holding you close as you play with his hair looking at him like he hung the sun moon and the stars.

"I know, doll. Just I'll miss you and please take your meds. Last time I was gone for over a week you adopted a cat."

You laugh fondly

"You love that cat with your whole being, I see nothing wrong with that."

However true that is it was still crazy since neither of you had any idea how to care for a cat.

"Mhmm, and that time I was gone for two weeks you repainted our kitchen, actually half of it because you didn't like the color and just left it that way."

Bucky smiles softly at your eye roll.

"Well in my defense, at least I didn't paint all of it!" you say and smile

He can't help the pure joy that overwhelms him, he is so in love with you that he might actually explode.

"Fine, but if anything happens please call you have the emergency phone number."

"Relax nothing will happen! You dont need to worry!" you kiss him good bye and send him on his way.

And Bucky believes you, again.

~

"Okay maybe he was right to be worried."

"Huh?"

your tattoo artist looks up from her spot and lifts the tattoo gun.

"Ah nothing just talking to myself."

The tattoo is over in less than 20 minutes and this one might be the one with least amount of thinking through. You have a few tattoos and not all of them were thought through or meaningful.

But this one takes the cake.

Your tattoo artist put on her story how a client cancelled and she had a free spot and if the tattoo is small it would be cheap. So in your mind it was only logical to leave work and go straight to the studio.

there on your pelvis, on the left side near the hip lays in cursive three letters.

jbb.

You look at it in the mirror and you honestly love it. It's beautiful, it looks like it was always meant to be there.

Your artist gives you instructions how to care for it and you pay and leave.

Bucky left two days ago and in that short time you had gotten a tattoo, his initials.

Days pass and each day you look at the tattoo and admire it. Its cute and it makes you feel hot, and like Bucky owns you now. And the horniness is getting out of hand. All you can think about is Bucky and how when he enters you he'll have perfect view that you're marked.

It's torture waiting for Bucky to come home, it usually is but this time you can't stop hyperfixating on what his reaction will be.

The day before he's supposed to come home, you are filled with anxiety and the excitement had died down. Because what if he hates it, what if he thinks it's weird or what if hes superstitious and thinks you'll break up because couples break up very soon after getting their partners name tattooed.

And its finally midnight and Bucky is going to be home soon and you don't know what to do with yourself. You can't sleep, you look at the clock and its almost 2am, you've been turning for hours.

2:15am

you hear doorhandle shake, and doors opening and closing, not Buckys steps though he's too quiet. You do however hear meowing.

"shh alpine, mommy is sleeping"

"Or not.." Bucky says as he opens the door to your shared bedroom, he sees you sitting up in bed, looking at your phone and when you see him you stand up and almost knock him over with the force you jumped in his arms.

"I missed you so much. And I love you!"

He smiles into your neck hugging you tighter.

"Love you more."

When you let go Buckys instantly worried because you have that look in your eyes when you do something impulsive, and try to tell him not to freak out.

"Don't look at me like that! It's not bad! At least I don't think it is?"

God Bucky never knew he would love someone as much as he loves you.

"Alright, hit me." he's not mad, he couldn't be, you do however keep him on his toes.

"Okay close your eyes." and he does.

"Oh this definitely isn't bad." Bucky says when he hears the rustling of clothes, your shorts falling on the floor.

"Okay now." you peck his lips and step away.

Buckys a little confused, since you stand there in just his shirt and he doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary. He sees you playing with the hem of the shirt lifting it just enough so it's over your tummy.

"Take them off. Slowly."

Buckys confused but he doesn't need to be told twice, he takes a step closer and takes the band of your panties, and slowly starts pulling them down.

Bucky freezes as soon as he sees the tattoo, he just looks at it in shock.

"I can always cover it up of you hate it."

Bucky looks up and his eyes are two shades darker, he looks like hes about to devour you.

"Youre not covering anything up." he almost growls.

In seconds you're thrown on the bed, the shirt gets ripped and discarded somewhere on the floor as do your panties.

Bucky is breathing hard, he's overcome with some primal desire, and possessiveness that he never experienced before.

He doesn't give you a moment before his tongue gets buried deep in your pussy, his hands holding your thighs apart. You're holding for dear life onto the bedsheets with one hand and the other in Buckys hair.

The way he's eating you is sinful, the wet sounds from your pussy are pornographic.

"Oh god buckyyyy!" You moan as you cum but that doesn't make him stop, he eats you like a man starved.

Only when you come a third time does he detach himself. And its the hottest thing youve ever seen.

His eyes are clouded with lust, his beard and lips coated in your release. He takes off everything off of him in seconds.

"Fuck baby. Gonna fuck you so hard."

Bucky doesn't give you a chance to reply as he lines himself up with your entrance.

"Shit so fucking thight. Fuck look at my pretty pussy taking me so well, fucking own this pussy its all mine."

"All your Bucky, baby please fuck me please, so good, so big. Mhrittheee." you babble your words slurred incoherent.

Its rare for Bucky not to keep eye contact, but right now all he can focus on is the three letters, he genuinely can't have any coherent thoughts except.

Mine. Mine. All mine.

"Fuck baby girl m' close."

He thrusts into you with all he has, bed started creaking, and thudding against the wall (mind you you have a huge king size bed that's heavy af). Buckys fucking you into tomorrow and you come two more times before he does.

"Yes baby just another one give me another one please."

and as you come the final time so does he you can feel all of him everywhere, he continues fucking into you chasing his orgasm.

"Fuck baby, can't stop coming."

you feel your tummy bloat from his release.

It takes him a few moments to stop.

"Shit, I've never come so hard." Bucky says as he looks at the fluids coming out of you when he exits you. He crashes next to you and pulls you to his chest.

"Hey baby you there?"

you turn eyes unfocused your hair sticking to your neck tears and sweat on your cheeks.

You open your lipts to reply but words just won't come, so you just give him a thumbs up.

Bucky stands up and you lift your arms to call him back but he just laughs and kisses your head. He's back a few moments later with a bottle of water and a wet towel. You can see he cleaned himself a bit first.

"Oh baby you're a mess." he gently cleans you up and helps you drink some water through a straw.

He settles next to you , with your head on his chest, as he stroaks your hair.

"You did so well baby, such a good girl for me"

"So you like it?"

Bucky looks at you with a face that says "are you serious right now?"

"Might have fucked you senseless, but apparently I haven't fucked the brat out of you."

"Nope! You could never!"

"You're cocky for someone who can't even stand up right now." Bucky smirks and his hands wonder down to your folds but you're quick to grab them.

"NO BUCKY IM SORRY." your voice laced with panic.

"Ah not so fearless now."

a few moments pass.

"Perks of having a girlfriend with adhd is you get surprised in the best ways!"

"You're gonna be the death of me."

"You love me."

"Yeah I do now go to-

***snore***

sleep."

Bucky sighs with content, and falls asleep not long after you.

~~~

and i oop take me to horny jail ty very much.

[milk-lover]

These are all game-changer strategies frfr. I’m going to add my tricks too

Set out my clothes the night before (or even week before..) so I don’t get distracted/overwhelmed by my full closet and end up late to work

I have “dump bins” in my room, cute baskets on my desk and dresser to put stuff in. I don’t have the bandwidth to put this away in its proper spot but at least it’s not sitting out on the floor or the desk

Connected to above issue, when I buy something I find a spot to store it Right Away so that it doesn’t end up lost and or sitting out for months on the floor or desk. Buying a new hair product means making space in the bathroom cabinet, so be really sure you need Another bottle of gel.

I don’t really put away laundry anymore. I have 2 laundry bins, one full of clean clothes that sits on The Chair and one full of dirty clothes in the closet. I take out easily wrinkled stuff and put it away, but the rest usually lives in the clean bin. This somehow has taken a lot of stress off and made me not despise and avoid doing my laundry

Write down everything. I carry sticky notes everywhere at work. I text things I need to remember to myself (literally text my own number). “Oh I’ll remember this” L no you won’t.

PUT PLANS/APPOINTMENTS IN YOU CALENDAR IMMEDIATELY. This was such a hard habit to get for me but it’s so important for my functioning As An Adult. So many missed plans and late fees. I use my phones calendar app and I have a widget set up that puts my next scheduled event on my lockscreen. I also make evens alert me and hour before I need to leave, so I don’t lose track of time.

Never set your wallet down. Never set your keys down. Never set your phone down. Keys and wallet live in my bag. They never leave my bag except if they are in active use. Phone lives in my pocket or charging on my dresser. No. Other. Places.

Emergency snacks. I like frozen green peas and Chobani yogurt cups rn. Something w protein that tastes good that is easy to grab and eat fast when Oops i didn’t eat all day bc i was engrossed in Project. Or Oops I need to leave the house Right Now and I never ate breakfast. Running out of these emergency foods has been the inciting incident in weeks long crash and burns for me so I try really hard to always have them. Being too hungry/tired to cook/ buy groceries is a dangerous place to be.

Don’t beat yourself up. For me, forgetting things all the time, being inconsistent, “flakey,” bad at school, unable to hold a job for more than 3 months, “airheaded” and distractable, all of these negative things that came from having undiagnosed ADHD and 0 coping skills, gave me an overwhelming sense of shame and embarrassment, which led to very extreme anxiety and depression. My journey to better mental health didn’t start w being good at all these strategies and tips, it came with radical self acceptance. Once I decided shame was no longer welcome at the banquet of my emotions, all this stuff followed. Self acceptance comes first. Change comes after.

Some tips and tricks I use to be productive through my ADHD:

The “eh might as well” method. If I’m going to the kitchen to eat might as well bring all the cups from my room too

Make it inconvenient to ignore. If I have clean laundry that needs to be put away, I will put the basket in my doorway. Now it’s inconvenient for me to sidestep it. I also do this with my homework.

Hiding or making it hard to access distractions. I can slip into doom scrolling on TikTok so what I did is add the fingerprint requirement to open and removed it from my homepage. Now I have to go through 3< steps to get into it.

Make things convenient. I can get overwhelmed by my clothes so in my closet I have a shelf dedicated to comfort clothes. Pj pants and hoodies mostly, that I can quickly grab and throw on when I need them.

Use the “don’t see, don’t exist” to your advantage. Most of my crafting supplies sit in the same drawer under my bed. They are (kinda) hidden so I don’t get distracted.

Some other random tips

I sort my shirts by graphic, plain or under shirt and sweaters/blouses.

I have my quick grab n go pants next to my most used jackets

I hope these help

[maugustiee]

“Somebody Else?”

Smoke (elijah) x black!reader

Elijah hadn’t touched her in two days.

Not in the way that mattered.

He still made her breakfast. Still brought her home from work like he always did. But it was different. There was no warmth in it,just duty. Muscle memory. His hand on the small of her back felt like a placeholder, not a claim.

⸻

It started after that dumb argument about her wanting to go out of town with friends. She hadn’t even planned the trip, just mentioned it. But he’d gone quiet in that slow, dangerous way he did when he was thinking too much.

“Do what you want,” was all he said.

And he meant it.

Not out of freedom.

Out of detachment.

⸻

Now it was Thursday afternoon. Elijah was out on the back porch, talking low with his twin brother, Elias—Stack, the fast-talking one, always grinning like he was trouble.

Marie was in the kitchen. Window cracked.

She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Not at first.

But then she heard her name.

And then she heard another one.

“Shanice.”

She froze.

Stack laughed. “She still callin’?”

“Yeah.”

“And you still pickin’ up?”

Elijah didn’t answer right away.

Then: “She don’t run her mouth when I tell her something . Peaceful.”

Marie’s chest dropped like someone had kicked her heart down a flight of stairs.

Stack whistled. “That what you want now? Peaceful?”

“Maybe,” Elijah said. Flat. Cold. “Think I been to easy with Marie she been pushing my buttons lately.”

Stack made a noise like he didn’t believe him. “You serious?”

Another pause.

Then Elijah’s voice, low and final:

“I love her but Ian waiting for her to grow up.”

⸻

She didn’t even realize she was crying until the floorboards creaked under her bare feet.

She backed away from the window, heart in her throat, mind spinning. Shanice? Who the fuck was Shanice? And why was he answering her calls?

She sat on the couch in silence. Too sick to cry, too stubborn to panic,at least not out loud.

He came in half an hour later like nothing happened. Washed his hands. Looked at her once,he then turned toward the hallway.

“Elijah,” she said, voice too thin.

He stopped.

Didn’t turn.

“You wanna talk about something?” she asked.

He looked over his shoulder, calm as ever. “No.”

That was worse than yelling. Worse than anger.

He didn’t care if she knew.

Didn’t care if it cut her.

And God—it did.

⸻

That night, she couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Could barely breathe with him lying in bed beside her, face turned away, body distant. She reached for him once—he didn’t flinch, but he didn’t hold her either.

Just laid there.

Let her feel it.

The hollow.

“You gonna leave me?” she asked, voice shaking.

He sighed heavily sitting up against the headboard looking over at her with those eyes.

“You already crossed the line,” he said. “You push my buttons every chance you get.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looked up, slow. “Sorry ain’t always gon cut it with me?”

Her throat clenched.

Marie tried to hold her ground, but her lip trembled.

“I don’t want nobody else,” she whispered. “Even if I act stupid sometimes. I don’t. I don’t want no peace if it ain’t with you.”

He searched her face. Hard. Silent.

“Why now?” he asked. “Why not when I was giving you multiple chances?

She choked on the truth. “Because I thought I had you. Thought you wasn’t goin’ nowhere. I got comfortable.”

“You got careless.”

“I know.”

“You got everything other women begging for and you act like this ,” he said. “So I reminded you that you’re not the only one who want me.”

Tears spilled hot down her face. “You gon leave me?”

“No,” he said. “Dont need to.”

“But you wanted me to think you did.”

He didn’t answer.

And that was the answer.

She laid her hands on his chest, soft and trembling.

“I don’t want to feel this again,” she said.

“Then don’t give me a reason to make you.”

“Elijah… I love you.”

He leaned down until their foreheads touched. His hand cupped her jaw.

“You gon’ show it now?” he whispered. “Or I gotta keep remindin’ you I don’t beg for what’s mine?”

She nodded through her tears. “I’ll show it.”

“Good,” he murmured, brushing her lips with his. “Now get undressed. You gon’ prove it tonight.”

⸻

Everything was fine after that she had still spent her days making it up to him when he already forgave her.

Until she got a little visitor one after closing up her boutique.

⸻

Marie was locking the boutique door when she heard heels click behind her.

She turned, slow, the evening sun casting a soft gold behind her.

A woman stood there, arms folded, lips glossed, looking too pretty for a chance meeting.

“You Marie?”

Marie didn’t answer right away. She already knew.

“You must be,” the woman continued. “I been meanin’ to meet you.”

Marie slid her bag up her shoulder. “That right?”

“Mmhmm.” She stepped closer. “I’m Shanice.”

Marie didn’t blink. “And what exactly is it you wanna talk about?”

Shanice smiled, slow. “Elijah.”

There it was.

Marie took a breath, calm. “You his cousin or somethin’?”

“No,” Shanice said proudly. “But we been talkin’. A lot.”

Marie’s heart ticked—but her face didn’t move. “You telling me this for what?”

“I want you to know what it is,” Shanice said, stepping forward. “He look like he real tired. Said you been actin’ like you got better things to do.”

Marie laughed. “He told you that?”

“Yeah. And from the way he talk, I figured it’s only a matter of time ‘fore you out the picture.”

That one hit different.

Shanice saw it too.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said, arms folded. “He picked up when I called. Stayed on the line too. Real quiet. But I know what that silence meant.”

Marie’s chest pulled tight, but she kept her voice light. “You real bold.”

“I’m honest. And I know when a man’s already half-gone.”

Marie looked her over. “He ever take you home?”

“No.”

“He ever sleep over?”

“No.”

“Cook you breakfast? Wash your hair in the shower when you tired? Tell you how you not going anywhere?”

Shanice’s face twisted.

Marie stepped forward, real close now.

“Don’t matter he gon be mines sooner or later,” she said like she was so sure.

“You thought you could take somethin’ I bled for? I suffered for? You thought you could walk up here and tell me he yours like I’d hand him over?”

Shanice blinked, faltering.

“You ain’t built for the kind of man he is,” Marie said. “He quiet, but he ain’t soft. And when you fumble with him, he make you feel it. He make you sit with it.”

Shanice stepped back.

Marie didn’t.

“You ain’t got the years I got with him. The nights. The fights. The history. You saw him alone one time and thought that meant you was next. But he ain’t nowhere near done with me.

Shanice shifted, trying to hold pride in her spine.

Marie tilted her head.

“Because If he was done with me, you wouldn’t be here tellin’ me. You’d be home with him.”

Silence.

“Now get out my face,” Marie said. “Before I mop my floor with yo cheap ass bundles bitch.”

⸻

Later that night, Marie didn’t bring it up to him. Just made sure while he was in the shower to call her and let her hear who he was fucking and putting through the mattress at night.

Tag list: @chrisevansmentee @queenofklonnie22 @christinabae @secretlifeofpreshap @thefutureemmywinner @monstaxmomma0 @cocooned-butterfly

[ratatoastwrites]

Habits and Distractions

Spencer Reid x wife!reader

nsfw, 18+ MDNI

Synopsis: Your oral fixation has been getting out of hand, and your husband is concerned enough to take matters into his own hands

cw: professor Reid (but it’s like only briefly referenced), also he teaches at harvard (even more briefly referenced, like barely at all), reader has an oral fixation, chewing on lips, mentions of viruses and bacteria, pet names (angel, sweetheart, etc), some terms of degradation (slut, whore) BUT it isn’t meant in a degrading way, use of ‘Sir’ (once), like maybe one religious imagery ?, oral (m receiving), oral cockwarming, shoe humping, coming in underwear, face fucking, softdom!Spence

a/n: ughhhh this is so self-indulgent lmao 🥸 also, my reqs are open, so check out my masterlist for guidelines if you’re interested 🤟

wc: 2.8k

The grandfather clock ticks quietly in the corner of your shared home-office with Spencer, the room illuminated by the warm light of the setting sun. You’re both already home, sharing space in the quiet study, content with being in the same room, even without any conversation.

You don’t have any paperwork left to finish, so you’re curled up on the loveseat, drawing the outlines of a future painting on a canvas. Spencer is sitting at the big mahogany desk, glasses low on the bridge of his nose, as he grades some essays from his students, his lips moving quietly as he reads, mouthing the words on the paper. There’s something you’ve always found endearing about it, and you once told him that it was like he needed to taste the words, to fully take them in.

You don’t realise that you’re staring, at least until his lips stop moving, and when you glance up into his eyes, you find warm hazel irises looking right back at you.

“You’re doing it again,” he says softly, making your nose scrunch up a little.

“Sorry. I can’t help it, y’know. Try having such a pretty husband and not staring at him all the time.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, a fond huff leaving his nose as he shakes his head.

“I already have a gorgeous wife, so I understand the struggle.” His words are sweet, but you can tell that there’s a lingering ‘but’ in there somewhere. “That’s not what I was talking about, though.”

And there it is.

“What do you mean?” You ask, teeth sinking into your plush lower lip, which prompts a pointed look from your husband. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” His words aren’t mocking by any means, his tone is soft and indulgent. Still, your eyebrows pinch together, your lips twisting into a small grimace.

“You’ve been doing it a lot more lately,” Spencer points out, his gaze gentle, but observant, as he looks at you. “You did it approximately ten times just in the last hour. And that is not accounting for the nearly twenty times you chewed on the end of your pencil.”

You sigh softly in frustration, raking a hand through your hair as you glare down at the pencil in your lap, like the piece of wood is the real villain here. Spencer’s quick to cut off your negative thoughts before they can even form, completely attuned to your micro expressions.

“I’m not saying this to embarrass you, sweetheart. I’m just worried. For one, chewing on random things like pencils and pen caps can damage your teeth and cause several infections transmitted by bacteria. Did you know that, for example, a cold virus can survive on a pen cap for over a week, with bacterial strains surviving for up to a month?”

“I guess not.”

“Yeah. And that’s not even mentioning your lips.”

You reach up a hand to run your fingers along your lips, hissing softly at the sting. You habitually chew on your lower lip, but these days your top lip hasn’t been safe anymore, either. You have all sorts of chapsticks and lip balms lining your vanity, laying in your purse, decorating the bathroom counter. Still, it’s never enough, not when you aren’t giving your lips the chance to recover.

“You know I’m not judging you, angel. And I know this isn’t a new development. But you’ve been doing it more frequently, and I want to know if I can help you somehow.”

He sounds so genuine that it makes your heart squeeze in your chest. It also, coincidentally, makes a familiar heat flicker in your lower abdomen.

You stand up from the loveseat, smoothing down your skirt and the Harvard sweater that you stole borrowed from his closet, before sauntering over to where he’s sitting behind the desk.

“I don’t know,” you reply with a heavy sigh, leaning your lower back against the mahogany. “I guess I’ve just been more stressed about work lately. I know that I should try to redirect my frustrations, but I don’t know how. Lollipops aren’t my thing, and they aren’t good for my teeth either. Chewing gum only works for a while, and if I have too much, my stomach starts rioting. I’m all out of options here.”

You know that you’re being very transparent about your faux dilemma —which isn’t completely fake, actually, but you’re definitely playing it up. He catches on immediately, of course, raising one of his eyebrows as his lips twitch into an amused smirk. Being the indulgent, sweet husband he is, though, he doesn’t point it out. Instead, he pushes his chair away from the desk, making space for you as he spreads his legs.

“I think I know just the thing you need.” His tone is still mellow, but there’s a darker edge to it now, something that you know to recognise as desire. “Kneel down for me, sweetheart.”

You’re on your knees before he even finishes his sentence, making him chuckle fondly while you blink up at him. You reach out a hand to touch the bulge that’s formed in his slacks, and while you know that it never takes much from you to turn him on, you have a sneaking suspicion that watching you chew on your pencil and bite your lips for the past hour may have been what got him so worked up in the first place.

You retract your hand when you see his raised eyebrow, understanding the warning without him having to tell you. He smiles at you in approval, and it does nothing to quell the growing need in you.

“Please, Sir,” you plead in a whiny tone, making him let out a sigh of exasperation. You know it’s just for show, and he confirms your theory with his next words.

“Only because I appreciate your manners, princess.”

Spencer finally unzips his slacks, pushing down his briefs just enough for his heavy cock to spring free. Just the sight of his length has you salivating, looking at the flushed tip and prominent veins like you are seeing the second coming of Christ himself.

“Look at you, drooling over yourself just from seeing my cock,” Spencer murmurs softly, carding a hand through your hair gently. “You want it that badly, huh? You dirty little slut.”

All you can do is nod enthusiastically in response, biting down on your lip. Noticing this, Spencer cups your jaw gently, his thumb swiping over your abused skin, freeing it from your teeth.

“None of that, sweetheart. Come here.”

He guides you closer to his erection, your thighs rubbing together from anticipation. Your lips are so close that you can taste him in the air, but you don’t do anything yet. Not until he gives you the word.

“Such a good girl. So patient for me.” Spencer’s tone is close to reverent as he praises you, watching with something akin to fascination as your gaze briefly leaves his cock, in favour of looking up into his eyes.

“Go on, baby. Take what’s yours.”

You’re on him as soon as he gives you the permission, moaning whorishly at his taste. You lick a fat stripe along the underside of his length, before swirling your tongue around his tip. You repeat the sequence a few times, feeling rewarded by the sounds leaving Spencer’s lips, and you can already feel your panties sticking to your dripping cunt, even though he hasn’t even touched you yet.

When you finally wrap your lips around his flushed, leaking tip, Spencer and you moan at the same time. You swirl your tongue and suck like he’s your personal lollipop, whining obscenely, like you are the one getting head.

His hand moves to the back of your head, his fingers twisting into your hair, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t make you take him deeper. He just lets you enjoy yourself on his cock, hissing out a curse when you finally take more of him into your warm mouth.

“You’re doing so good, angel. You look so beautiful like this, fuck. You needed this, huh? Needed that pretty mouth stuffed full of my cock.”

You moan around him pornographicaly, your eyes glazing over as you look up at him, your throat bobbing around him as you nod, making him let out a delicious sound in return.

You take more of him, as much as you can, your tongue continuing to run along his shaft, as you bob your head slowly up and down his length.

“Jesus Christ, baby, you’re an absolute vision,” he whimpers out the praise, his fingers tightening in your hair to ground himself, head tipping back against his chair. “Go on, sweetheart, just like that.”

You would love to do as you’re told, but you know that if you continue on like this, it won’t take long before he cums, and this ends. And you simply never want it to end, never want his beautiful length to leave the confines of your throat.

You humm around him apologetically as you still your movements and lay your head down on his thigh, with his cock still inside your mouth. Spencer looks down at you with a quizzical expression, to which you only respond with innocent puppy dog eyes, that are hazy with lust, and your cheeks hollowing around him for a second, before relaxing your mouth around him.

Spencer huffs in amusement and fondness, his free hand moving to caress your face gently, his thumb brushing over the bulge in your cheek, from having him in your mouth.

“Aw, you just need me in your mouth for as long as possible, right sweetheart? Warming my cock, while you hump my foot like a bitch in heat. My perfect little cock drunk whore.”

You don’t even realise what you’re doing until he calls you out on it, making you whimper around him needily. And true enough, somewhere along the line, your thighs parted around his leg, your hips grinding your wet pussy against his dress shoe, making the material shiny with your slick. You can’t bring yourself to feel bad about it though, matter of fact, your hips only pick up the pace, once you are aware of what you’re doing.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good.” Spencer’s soft encouragement has you whining around him as you grind your throbbing pussy against his shoe, your moans and whimpers vibrating around his shaft. “Mmh, so good for me. You gonna cum like this, angel? Is my perfect slut going to cum on my shoe, with my cock in her mouth, like the dirty little whore she is?”

You can’t answer him properly, but the need in your eyes definitely does. He continues stroking your hair tenderly as you get yourself off on his foot, and it isn’t long until you’re squeezing his ankle between your thighs, your whole body shuddering as your orgasm wracks through your body. Your throat relaxes around him, until your nose is buried in his neatly trimmed pubic hair, his moan loud enough to cover up your quiet gagging.

“Good girl. Did so well for me. You’re so beautiful, just for me.” He continues murmuring soft praises as you come down from your high, before he pulls you off his cock, just enough so that you aren’t deep throating him anymore, letting you catch your breath, as much as you can.

“You did so good, my love. Do you need me to take over for you? Want me to fuck your throat, sweetheart?”

The idea nearly makes you shiver in anticipation, managing a small nod in response. He gives you a soft smile, before standing up from his chair, tapping your cheek twice to make you open your mouth. You do so obediently, sticking out your tongue, that earns you a reverent “good girl”.

“You know what to do if it’s too much,” he says, his fingers tightening around your hair, and you barely have the time to nod, before his hips snap forward harshly.

Spencer doesn’t fuck your throat often, he likes watching you take his cock at your own pace and volition, and ultimately, he prefers going down on you anyways. But when he does, there is nothing hesitant about it. He fucks your mouth like he fucks your cunt, with deep, precise thrusts, holding you still, so you can’t squirm away. Your eyes fill up with tears from gagging around him, which he seems to enjoy, his eyes dark and heated as they take in your appearance.

That’s not to say that he has no compassion. Though he isn’t particularly gentle, after every deep thrust, he pulls back just enough to let you breathe, and he even reminds you to relax your throat from time to time.

“Mhm, there you go, sweetheart. Just breathe for me, yes, good girl. You’re so perfect, baby, you were made to take my cock.”

His praises come in the form of sharp gasps and whimpers between pants, looking absolutely gone as you look up at him. His eyebrows are pinched, his lips parted, and his nose scrunches up every time he has to remind himself to open his eyes, not wanting to miss the sight of you on your knees, with a mouthful of his cock.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum like this, twitching harshly in your mouth, making you dizzy with the taste of precum he’s leaking on your tongue. Your only warning is a choked “fuck, baby, gonna—“ and then his hips buck against your face, his tip spurting warm cum down your throat, as he trips over the edge with a moan of your name. You attempt to swallow as best as you can, your tongue tracing his shaft to clean him off, before you finally pull off, letting out a few shaky coughs as you try to catch your breath.

He is on his knees in front of you in a second, large hands cradling your face, like you are the most precious thing on the planet. Even through the fog in your brain, you have enough brainpower to think ‘holy fuck, I’m married to the most beautiful person in the world’. His face is flushed, his hazel irises looking almost black with how wide his pupils are from the lingering effects of his high. His brows are furrowed in slight concern, and his glasses sit a little crooked on the slope of his nose. His lips are red from the way he was biting them —ironic, huh?— and they’re also moving, making you realise that he’s talking to you.

“…you listening?”

You barely catch the end of his question, blinking a few times as the haze finally clears from your brain, shaking your head to snap yourself back into reality.

“Sorry, what?”

Your voice is a little hoarse, which makes his eyebrows furrow even more, despite the small twitch of his lips.

“I asked if you’re alright, sweetheart,” he says, with a tone so tender that you can’t help leaning forward to kiss him gently. He kisses you back just as softly, one of his hands sliding down from your face to your neck, caressing your throat with his thumb, like he’s trying to soothe it from the outside.

“I’m okay. I was just a little… out of it,” you murmur finally as you pull back, tilting your forehead against his.

“Mhm, I know. Your voice is a little rough, baby. Does it hurt?”

You just shrug, leaning in for another kiss, and he indulges you, just like he does about everything. He pulls back before the kiss could deepen, swiping a thumb across your bottom lip when it juts out into a pout.

“Please don’t shrug this off. I want to take care of you, angel girl.” His voice is still so achingly careful, like you’re made of fine china, and you’d crumble from so much as a harsh word. You’re putty in his hands now, unable to say no to him when he asks so sweetly.

“Okay. I’d like that.” The smile he gives you after your mellow reply is radiant in the gentlest way, his adoration lighting up the room like the pinkish orange hues of the sunset.

“Can you stand up for me, darling?”

He helps you up to your feet gently, pressing careful, soothing kisses to your red knees, his hands massaging your thighs. He makes you drink some water from the glass on his desk, and then reaches into one of his drawers to give you a honey flavoured throat candy, ignoring your raspy claims of being just fine.

And then he pulls you into his lap, turning on the desk light to continue grading the essays, even after the sun has set, letting you curl up against him, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead with every paper he finishes reading. You fall asleep to the sound of his pen gliding on the paper, the grandfather clock’s rhythmic ticking, and the soft voice of your husband, telling you that he loves you more than anything.

[msmk11]

Poly!marauders x fem!reader

CW: hurt/comfort; implied toxic exes; brief mentions of blood and wounds; James and Sirius are accidentally harsh

Summary: After a full moon James and Sirius snap at you, and you think it’s your fault.

A/n: this is total self indulgent; my sister snaps at me a lot for no reason and it makes me feel bad. So I needed the marauders to comfort me.

——————————————————————————

Sirius says your name more harshly than you’ve ever heard him say it before.

“Stop. We’ve got it under control. Go to bed,��� James adds sternly.

He’s never used that tone with you.

Your heart pounds in your chest and the blood rushes to your ears. You don’t have it in you to respond. Instead you just scurry off to your room, locking yourself in for the foreseeable future.

You’d just been trying to help. It was the first full moon that you knew about Remus’ lycanthropy. You’d suspected for months before but wanted to wait until your boyfriend told you himself.

And now that you knew, you wanted to provide all the support you could. James and Sirius, your other boyfriends, made it clear that they would handle his transition- that they’d been doing it for years. That was all fine and good. But you thought maybe, maybe you could help in other ways- to patch up the boys, or feed them, or just take care of them somehow.

Instead now you’ve ruined everything. You pushed yourself into a situation where you clearly didn’t belong and now your boyfriends are angry at you. It’s all your fault. You know it’s true because this isn’t the first time this has happened. Not with your current boyfriends, but with past exes. You’d been scolded by them for being too much, for being pushy, and nosy, and clingy. And now James, Sirius, and Remus- once he is conscious- realize it too.

Maybe if you stay hidden, you think, and don’t bother them for awhile they’ll forget and forgive you. Perhaps they won’t leave you too.

You wipe at the tears leaking out of your eyes, hot on your cheeks, and crawl under the covers of your own bed. You haven’t slept alone in god knows how long and you try to ignore the lonely ache in your chest. You have to do this. To save your relationship. You curl up in a ball and wait, hoping sleep will take away the pain of being awake.

None of your boyfriends notice your absence until the next day because they are so exhausted, beaten, and worried about Remus. It makes total sense for you to be off, asleep in your room. But they start to get worried when you still haven’t come out around eleven. You’re not exactly an early riser, but you never sleep this late either.

While James is cooking, Sirius redresses his werewolf boyfriend’s wounds. Remus’ tired brown eyes blink sleepily, eyes trailing from the kitchen to the boy in front of him, “where’s dove?”

James walks in with plates in hand, “she can’t still be sleeping?”

Sirius’ gray eyes flicker with worry, “I’ll go check on her.”

He stands and pads down the hall to your room. The raven-haired boy tries the door knob but finds that it’s locked. He frowns and knocks on the door, “baby?”

You’ve been awake for hours, never quite being able to fall asleep with the guilt wrecking your stomach and the constant stream of tears assaulting your cheeks. When you hear the knock on the door and Sirius’ voice you flinch, automatically withdrawing into yourself.

He knocks again, “why’s the door locked? Is everything alright?”

You tremble as you stand up and wipe at your face. You look awful- your eyes are red and puffy and heavy bags sit beneath them. You know the evidence won’t go away but hopefully you can play it off as worry for Remus. That would at least be true.

You unlock the door and are met with Sirius’ worried face. There are obvious scratches and bruises littering his body and he looks just as tired as you- his hair tousled and skin paler than normal. Your boyfriend’s dark eyebrows furrow in concern even more at the sight of your appearance, “were you still asleep?”

You decide to lie.

It doesn’t seem like Sirius believes you but he doesn’t push it, ushering you down the hall to the living room. James is attempting to feed Remus, despite the latter’s protest, and it warms your heart. When their eyes find your figure you freeze and Sirius nearly bumps into you. He places a steadying hand on your waist.

You can’t look at James, still recalling his words from last night. They fixate on Remus but you try not to stare either, not wanting to seem like you’re pitying him or anything.

“Dove,” your boyfriend says hoarsely, “you’re awake.”

You meet the sandy-haired boy’s eyes for a moment, and your heart breaks. He looks so worn and beaten. But of course you don’t mention it, and you don’t move to coddle him. It’s not your place.

You don’t really know what to say so you just smile shyly, “morning.”

Confusion flickers across Remus’ features and you feel your face heat, downturning your head.

“Jamie made breakfast,” Sirius mentions, pushing you towards the coffee table where all four plates sit.

You grab the furthest plate and scootch over, placing plenty of room between you and your three boyfriends. You give a murmur of thanks and start to eat quietly, not meeting anyone’s eyes, but they all meet each other’s, concern arising from your vastly different behavior.

“Did you sleep okay, angel?” James murmurs and you flinch.

You look up at him and his hazel eyes are wide, eyebrows hidden behind the tousled curls falling over his forehead, “sweetheart?”

You cringe internally, “sorry uh, I.” You don’t know what to say. Saying you slept good or fine would be a lie, but if you say you slept bad maybe they’d push. And if you say you slept good would they think you’re a terrible partner, so easily able to fall asleep while they were all out here struggling and injured? You don’t know what to do and you choke on a sob. Your own eyes widen and you freeze. Shit, now they were going to be even more upset with you for being dramatic and over emotional.

A hand finds your thigh and without looking you know it’s Sirius’, “doll, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

You shake your head, chewing on your lower lip so harshly you taste blood.

Remus hisses and he says your name sternly, “come here.”

Your eyes shine with more tears as you pitifully walk towards him, “I’m sorry- I- I’m making things about me but it should be about you and I did that last night too and- and.”

“Dove? What are you on about?” Your boyfriend’s bandaged hand comes up and cups your cheek, running his thumb over your lower lip to wipe the small drop of blood away, “you’re not doing anything of the sort. I’m not the center of the world just because there’s been a full moon.”

“But you’re hurt-“

“And you’re upset,” James interjects.

“No one’s problems matter more or less than the other’s,” Sirius adds, “I would know. I used to feel the same, baby. I thought my problems paled in comparison to Remus’ furry little problem or Jamie’s bad days. But they don’t. They’re just as important, hm?”

“Come sit with me,” Remus declares, and you can tell it’s not a question.

You timidly crawl into his lap and he pulls you against him. He’s so warm and you want to relax entirely against him but you don’t, worried you’re gonna hurt him.

“So are you going to tell us what happened?” James asks softly, sweeping a thumb over your ankle bone.

You don’t respond.

“Baby…” Sirius mutters.

“I’m sorry for getting in the way last night,” you murmur so softly it’s almost intelligible.

Your eyes are downcast but you feel Remus lock eyes with your other two boyfriends over your head.

“What? You didn’t, you-“ James trails off and his hazel eyes fill with guilt, “oh, angel. I’m so sorry. I was too harsh last night. I- I didn’t mean...”

“No- it’s okay, you were right I should’ve-“

“No,” your raven-haired boyfriend interrupts, “you didn’t do anything wrong. You were just trying to help. And we lashed out.”

Remus coos softly and pulls you closer to him, “oh, my sweet angel dove. Were Jamie and Sirius mean to you?”

You pout and your eyes widen in fear, “no, I-“

He huffs a laugh into your hair and kisses your head, “I’m teasing, my love. But they’re right. They shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Sirius moves to sit next to James and the set of hazel and grey eyes look up at you pitifully.

“We really are sorry, sweetheart. Our behavior was unacceptable.”

“And we love you so, so much.”

James kisses your ankle and Sirius brushes his lips over your knuckles.

“Let us make it up to you, hm?” James offers.

“We’ll take care of both you and Rem,” Sirius adds, kissing your palm.

“But we should focus on Remus and-“

“You can focus on me by staying right here in my arms, dove,” Remus answers, kissing your cheek, “your love is the best cure.”

“Are you sure I wasn’t being a nuisance?” You ask, throat thick with tears, “because I’ve been told before that I’m too much and I’d understand if you wanted to leave me and-“

“Woah, woah, woah,” James protests, sitting up on the couch, “we’re not going anywhere, hm? You’re not getting rid of us that easy.”

Sirius cups your cheek and kisses your forehead, “you’re perfect just the way you are. And we love the way you love us, baby.”

Remus brushes his thumb over your nose, “so let us love you too.”

So you do.

[ninetailedruby]

Could you do a Thunderbolts* headcanons about like comforting Reader after they find them crying in their room after they screw up on a mission (romantic)?

I sure can! I ended up writing this as more of a little blurb for everyone and less headcanons I hope that is okay. Hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: None, all fluff.

Yelena

Yelena was already on her way to your room for movie night when she was stopped by the sound of sniffling. She had her ear pressed against your door as she knocked softly. She can hear you shuffle on the other side and mumble something before the door swings open to reveal you, eyes puffy and red. Her brows knit together.

“Oh milaya…”

Her accent is thick as she regards you. Once the door is shut she reaches out to take your hand and lead you with her towards your bed. She sits down and pats the spot beside her, waiting for you.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

When you shake your head she nods and wraps a blanket protectively around you, pulling you flush against her side. As she pulls you close the familiar scent of gunpowder and pine fills your lungs, easing some of your earlier anxiety. She reaches for the remote and puts on one of your favorite movies, as it plays in the background she occasionally places soft kisses to your temple or whispers in your ear words that remind you how amazing she thinks you are and how lucky she is to have such a capable partner.

Bob

Bob hadn’t been having the best day himself and had been looking forward to seeing you all day so when you walk through the doors and immediately go to your room, door slamming a bit louder than usual, he’s surprised to say the least. His stomach churns with anxiety, you usually give him a hug or a kiss right when you get home and you always tell him about your day. He gives it a good half hour or so before allowing himself to follow after you.

“Can I come in?”

When he has your permission he walks in, standing awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before asking what happened. When you shake your head and say nothing he gets that face that tells you he knows you’re lying.

“You can’t keep things bottled up baby, you have to talk about them or it’ll build up”

When you finally do talk he listens, holding your hand and rubbing circles on the back of it. He asks you questions and tries to help you figure out why you’re feeling so torn up about it this time.

Ava

Ava phased into your room without even thinking about it, ready to tell you about how John ate the last of her leftovers and that she needs your help getting him back, but when she sees you curled up in bed and sniffling she stops dead in her tracks.

She doesn’t say anything at first, just walks slowly over to you and puts her hand on your back to let you know she’s there. She’s never been the best at comforting people or being soft with them but for you she tries, she loves you more than anything and wants you to know that. Her hand gently massages your stiff muscles.

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

She doesn’t want to push you or say something wrong so she just stays with you until your crying subsides so she can ask you what happened.

Bucky

Bucky already knew you were upset before he found you, he saw the way you were acting on the way back to the tower and knew something was off. He didn’t follow you straight to your room, he gave you some time to cool off before coming to check on you. When he finds you still in your suit, covered in dirt and dried blood he sighs. He pulls you towards the bathroom and starts helping you out of your suit and starting the shower.

“Let’s get you cleaned up while you tell me what happened”

When you start rambling and telling him about how you screwed up he doesn’t interrupt, he waits patiently for you to finish before telling you that it’ll be okay, that everyone here has made mistakes and what’s important is that we learn from them.

When you’re both done rinsing the soap off he helps you out of the shower and wraps a warm towel around you. He leans down to kiss the top of your head and then rests his chin there and wraps his arms around you.

John

He was worried when you didn’t come out of your room for dinner, when all of you got back earlier you had said something about needing and shower and to go lie down so he didn’t think anything of it but that was a few hours ago and his gut tells him something is wrong.

There’s a curt knock at your door and before you have time to get up he lets himself in, a plate of leftovers in hand. When he sees the tears falling down your face he sets it down on your desk and reaches out, hands cupping your face tenderly. For a man who’s usually so gruff he finds himself unable to be anything but soft with you.

“What happened sweetheart?”

His arms encircle you protectively and the sound of his heart thumping helps calm your breathing. You can feel his body heat radiating through his shirt and smell his body wash, he smells like eucalyptus and bergamot.

[orellazalonia]

Unexpected Outlook

Summary: The Avengers launch a mission to raid a known base of the organization you now work with and discuss over what they found.

Word Count: 1.7k+

A/N: A little shorter since it’s Father’s Day, but I also wanted to add more weight to the previous chapter and progress the story.

Main Masterlist | The One You Don’t See Masterlist

Preparations moved fast. Too fast, maybe.

Steve didn’t like that they were running with incomplete information, but the longer they waited, the deeper this organization could dig itself into global systems. And the more time you had to assist them, whether willingly or not.

Still, it didn’t sit right. None of it did.

Bruce pulled the files. Natasha studied known locations. Sam monitored chatter. Bucky cleaned his weapons with a look in his eyes like he wanted answers he didn’t have the right to ask.

Yet no one brought up your name again. At least, not directly. But it hovered beneath everything.

The way Bucky checked each plan twice. The way Natasha’s jaw twitched when she reviewed footage. Even the way Steve hesitated before calling it an official mission.

The woman Bucky liked didn’t voice objections anymore. She simply kept a kind, quiet distance, like someone watching friends argue over a lost cause.

And within a week, the op was set.

Steve gave the greenlight with his jaw tight and eyes harder than usual. The mission was clear: infiltrate a suspected communications hub. A nondescript, rural compound masked as a grain storage facility. Satellite data showed encrypted signals routing through it over the last month, signals that matched ones the Avengers used internally.

Which meant either someone was watching. Or someone had been taught how.

They went in with a small team. Just Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Bucky. No need for Hulk or Thor; this wasn’t a battering ram job. It was a retrieval and disrupt operation. Quiet and clean.

Or so they thought.

The quinjet landed half a mile out, under cover of dense fog rolling over the hills. The forest beyond the compound was eerily still like it had been holding its breath since before dawn.

“They want us to find this,” Natasha muttered, brushing a branch aside as they crept through the trees.

Steve didn’t argue. His shield was strapped to his arm, but he hadn’t raised it once.

They reached the clearing. The compound was just as expected. Gray concrete, flat roof, minimal security fencing, and a gravel path leading to two entrances. No guards. No movement. Even the air felt… hollow.

Sam scanned the building with a handheld sensor. “No heat signatures. Not even a rat.”

“Too clean,” Bucky said, voice low.

They breached the back door.

Inside, it was dark but not ruined. Every surface was wiped. Consoles powered down. Not destroyed, removed. Carefully like a move-out rather than an attack. Upon investigating further, files had been cleared, drawers emptied, and chairs pushed in with bland desks.

Whoever had been here knew exactly when to leave.

Steve turned in a slow circle, taking it in.

“This was active,” He said. “Days ago.”

“Hours, maybe,” Natasha said, crouching beside a desk. She tapped the edge, there was a faint spot where something electronic had been sitting. Someone had worked here… and then vanished.

Sam stepped into the central control room. There was only one thing left behind: a monitor left switched on, flickering a soft blue light in the dimness.

A single message scrolled across the screen.

Too late, Captain.

That was it. There wasn’t any long monologues. No other mocking comments. Not even a signature or sign-off present. Just a cold fact. Steve stared at it like he could will it to change. Bucky stood a step behind him, arms folded, expression unreadable.

“I don’t like this,” Sam muttered.

Natasha approached a wall panel and pried it open effortlessly. Inside, wires had been sliced. Intentionally. However, there were no explosives. No traps could be seen anywhere either. It was all just… closure.

“They stripped this place surgically,” She said. “No fingerprints, no traces. It’s like they wanted us to know they were here… but not who they are.”

Steve closed the monitor with a clenched jaw. “This wasn’t a base. It was a decoy.”

“No,” Bucky said suddenly. His voice was soft but steady. “It was a base. It just outlived its usefulness.”

They all turned toward him. He looked at the empty room, the missing equipment, and the quiet hallways. Then, to the message. And for a moment, something shifted in his eyes. Guilt, maybe or something deeper.

“They planned for this,” He murmured. “Someone told them exactly how we’d come.”

No one responded, but no one needed to. Because they were all thinking it.

-

The debrief room was thick with a heavy silence, the kind that pressed down harder than shouting. Ghost-blue blueprints and photos of the abandoned compound still flickered on the monitors, reminders of how quickly their plan had unraveled. Notes about the missing equipment and the chilling message on the screen scrolled slowly, marking everything they should have anticipated.

Steve hadn’t sat once since they returned. He stood rigid at the head of the table, hands braced on his hips, and a deep furrow like it was etched there permanently. Sam had stopped pacing but his leg bounced nervously, jaw clenched tight. Natasha’s fingers tapped against her thigh in a rhythm so steady it barely seemed voluntary.

Only Bucky remained perfectly still, arms crossed, and eyes locked on the screen across the room. He said very little since they’d left the empty compound since that message haunted him.

Too late, Captain.

The words weren’t just text; they carried a weight, a deliberate coldness that dug into Bucky’s mind. Whoever had left it knew him. Not just the soldier, but his moves, his instincts. And worse, their enemy had used the knowledge you once held to outmaneuver them.

The memory played on loop in his mind. Not just the words but the feel of them. The calculation in them. Whoever was behind that terminal… knew him. Not just facts. His patterns.

And maybe worse than that, they’d used your knowledge to do it. They probably used you to do it.

The door hissed open.

She stepped in with her usual soft elegance, cradling a fresh cup of tea between her hands like she had no idea anything had gone wrong. Dressed casual, warm, and comfortable. Like she belonged. Like she didn’t feel the same tension that pulled everyone else taut. The one you used to be jealous of had sat out for the mission after all.

“Oh,” She said lightly. “You’re all back already.”

Her tone wasn’t mocking. If anything, it was gently surprised, as if she’d simply walked into a meeting that ended early. Steve didn’t answer right away. Neither did the others.

She blinked, smile sweet and expectant, like someone unaware they were intruding. “Was it a short mission?”

“We were too late,” Steve said flatly, straightening.

Her brows lifted, and she crossed to the table, setting the tea down. “Really? That’s unfortunate. I thought it was just one of those cleanup things. You all make those look so easy.”

Sam looked over, jaw tight. “They cleaned up, alright. Took every last trace of themselves. Left us a polite message, too.”

“They knew how we’d approach,” Natasha added with her arms crossed now. “Like they knew our pattern. Our flow. They stripped the place within hours of our arrival window.”

“Hmm.” She tapped a fingernail against the ceramic. “That’s strange. Maybe they had inside intel?”

“No,” Steve spoke, narrowing his eyes. “Not unless someone studied us long before they left.”

“Oh.” She blinked, tilting her head. “So… do you think your old administrator friend told them?”

Bucky stiffened.

Natasha’s voice was sharper now, eyes narrowing. “She’s not our anything.”

That seemed to amuse her. She let out a light laugh, the kind meant to dissolve tension, not that anyone was asking for it. “Well, you’re not wrong,” She smiled. “ She didn’t really fit in here anyways, did she?”

Bruce, who had been mostly quiet, looked up sharply. “She worked here for over two years.”

She didn’t seem phased. There was no malice on her face actually. Just soft confidence.

“I guess I didn’t think she’d be important,” She sighed simply. “Kind of kept to herself. I always assumed she’d move on.”

Sam stood, voice tight. “She did. Straight into the hands of the people trying to tear us apart.”

Her smile faltered just a touch. “I didn’t mean—look, I’m sure she was… sweet. I just don’t see how it helps to chase after someone who clearly didn’t want to be here. Don’t you think she made her choice?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t know that yet.”

“I mean, sure,” She said gently, “But if she’s really that dangerous, wouldn’t you have noticed before she left? You didn’t even realize she was gone until weeks later, right?”

Bucky shifted slightly. The burn in his chest deepened. Not from her words exactly, but from how true they rang.

They hadn’t noticed. They hadn’t looked.

The woman moved closer to Bucky, noticing his subtle distress as she rested her hand lightly on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I just worry about you,” She confessed softly, smiling up at him. “You’re all stretched so thin already. I’d hate to see you waste energy chasing ghosts.”

Her hand lingered. But Bucky’s jaw clenched, and for once, he didn’t lean into her touch.

“She’s not a ghost,” He muttered. “She’s a mirror. Of everything we missed.”

Her expression flickered for barely a moment. Then the sweet smile returned.

“Well, if you have to go after her,” She brushed her hand away, her expression turning more solemn. A hint of pity evident, “I hope you’re prepared for what you find. Sometimes people change… and not always in ways you can fix. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

She reached for her tea again, her fingers wrapping around the cup like it was an anchor.

“And if you do decide to keep going after her, well.” She gave a gentle little laugh, looking around with open, innocent eyes. “I hope it goes well. I really mean that. And if you need my help at all… just let me know. I’m always happy to support the team.”

The door hissed softly behind her as she walked out, quiet heels tapping against the floor in steady, graceful rhythm.

The rest of the team stood in silence for a few long seconds, each lost in their own storm of thoughts.

Steve broke it first.

“We move forward. We stop that organization before it spreads deeper.”

“And if she’s helping them willingly?” Sam asked, his voice low.

Steve hesitated.

So, Bucky answered instead.

“Then we stop her, too.”

Taglist: @herejustforbuckybarnes @iyskgd @torntaltos @julesandgems @maesmayhem @w-h0re @pookalicious-hq @parkerslivia @whisperingwillowxox @stell404 @wingstoyourdreams @seventeen-x @mahimagi @viktor-enjoyer @vicmc624 @msbyjackal @winchestert101 @greatenthusiasttidalwave

[karlachismylife]

Strawberry foam

#PriceGazWeek

Day six: Fantasy

I asked my comrades to give me additional prompts and they gave me: massage, strawberry, jacuzzi/hot tub.

CW: suggestive, kinda dirty talk, thus NSFW (MDNI)

"What's your status, Gaz?"

"Like a depressed pig in mud, sir. No movement."

"Aye, well, stay sharp, Sergeant. No movement on my end either, but tha' can change rather quickly, yeah? We'll get ya cleaned up afterwards."

"Gonna scrub my back, sir?"

Kyle hears a snort, distorted by the shitty sound in comms, and smiles into his rifle's scope. He wasn't kidding about feeling like a pig in mud - weather conditions turned the slopes they were supposed to have this stakeout at into a greasy mudbath, so that after crawling around for just thirty minutes the need in a ghillie suit disappeared entirely. With every passing minute Gaz can feel cold, liquid, slippery and squelchy mud seeping deeper into his clothes, and he's pretty sure that the few more sturdy and steady rocky bits he placed his rifle on are slowly drowning in this shit. At least it smells like wet clay and not like...

"Don't needa hear your fantazies over the comms, Garrick. Keep the channels clean."

Price's hushed voice sends shivers down Kyle's spine - or maybe it's the nasty Russian summer chill, and he shrugs it off his shoulders without tearing his eyes off the target - or the lack of such. He can clearly hear his Captain smirking, so he pushes his luck again.

"I don't know, sir, feelin' kinda filthy today. Drippin' wet, even."

"Dirty boy, are ya? Too bad. Bath isn't on the schedule till the end of the mission. Over."

They probably both cringe a little - all in good fun, and Kyle sighs, getting back to the enthralling task of doing jack shit. He doesn't get antsy like Soap before the lad locks in, but his mind is wandering - especially because he started suspecting something since the hour two of stalking the empty warehouse up ahead.

"Sir." He waits for Price's quiet "wot" in his earpiece and sighs with extra flair. "The intel was dogshit, wasn't it?"

"You're not getting out of this jus' because ya got bored, Sergeant."

"Ya can't blame me, sir. I don't even have a nice view of your arse this time."

Price clears his throat on the other end and Kyle realizes - John in his turn must have a decent view of his arse, covered in shit, leaves and sticks. Must be fuckin' nice staying on the upper, drier land further back.

"So it's not me who's filthy, eh, sir?" He muses and gets half a mind to wiggle his butt for Price, but the slightest movement causes the pit his body indented in the diarrhea-like soil to make a pornigraphic squelching noise, and Kyle groans in a hushed voice. "For fuck's sake... don't tell me you're not fantasizing about a bath yourself, sir. Or a shower, at least."

At this point Gaz expects Price to get serious and shut him up for good - there's only so much joking complaining his Captain will take over the comms before he deems it too distracting; but to his surprise John sighs wistfully and relents. Probably agrees deep down that the intel was shit, but his stubbornness is too strong.

"A proper hot tub, Sergeant. With massage jets. Go big or go home."

"Mm, fuck, and some fragrant foam," Kyle doesn't mean to practically moan into his mic, but the thought of putting his cold, stiff back against a pressured stream of hot water is too enticing. Even without imagining Price sitting across, wet fur clinging to his chest and arms resting on the tub... "Like a strawberry scent, what do ya say, sir? Or better, actual strawberries on a plate right there... with a nice strawberry shake, too..."

"Gettin' pregnancy cravings already, Kyle?"

The answer rolls off his tongue fast - and obvious.

"Negative, sir. Haven't been bred in a while, ya see."

Price chokes on the other end of the comms and grunts, then Gaz finally hears his rifle supports fold.

"Olrigh', cheeky. Get your arse up here, I'm gettin' us outta here. There's no way these fuckers show up, intel's shite."

Gaz takes off his place in an instant, crawling back to John like a lizard on speed, then getting up and crouch-rushing. He gets to Price and wipes the mix of grime, paint and mud off his face, dripping the shit sludge down his legs. John senses there's some demand coming his way by the sheer look of those big brown eyes, guilting him with no words uttered yet.

"If ya get us that hot tub, I won't say "I told ya so", sir."

Cheeky git. How can John ever say no to tha'?

[chan-hvgs]

First request lets go!

Ship(s)/characters: Minho x Reader (Soonie,dongie and dori mentioned!)

Word count: 699

Cw: Pet names like: Baby, Honey, ect., mentions food, mentions of kissing and cuddling, tooth rotting fluff.

Honey! I’m Home!

It had been months since you’d seen your boyfriend, and you were getting tired of just facetimes, daily texts and fancams. His side of the bed had long gone cold and all of his hoodies had lost his scent ages ago. You had been tempted to fly to him multiple times but your schedule never allowed it. But finally–finally– tomorrow would be the day that Minho is coming home. You could already feel his arms around you, engulfing you in his scent. Just a little longer.

Minho could hardly wait, he was sitting on yet another plane, headphones hugging his ears, as his eyes watched the clouds outside the windows. But this time, the plane wasn't bringing him to another hotel in a place he didn't recognize, it was bringing him where he had wanted to be for so long. Home. By lunch he would be in your arms, a feeling he had missed so, so much, it was almost tearing him apart, his chest ached with longing. He just had to wait a few more hours.

When morning came, you threw yourself to work, tidying up the apartment and preparing a somewhat presentable lunch. What could you say, you weren't the cook in this relationship. It wasn’t the prettiest but it at least tasted good. You did the dishes and vacuumed around, Minho loved a clean apartment. You had quickly taken a shower and did your skincare before putting on a simple, comfy outfit. You didn't need to do anything to impress Minho, you knew all he wanted was you and only you.

You were laying on the couch, scrolling through your phone when the door creaked open. You immediately jumped up and ran into the arms of your boyfriend, taking him by surprise for a quick second before he dumped everything from his hands to hold you, squeezing you so tight, almost bone crushingly. You smiled at him, pulling away to look at his face, giggling and pecking his lips.

“Honey, I'm home!” he joked, voice wavering with emotion. Squeezing you tightly again, you hadn't realized quite how tight the loneliness had been gripping you until it was chased away by the safety of his arms. You smile happily “Welcome back, I missed you so much!�� You exclaimed, giggling as Soonie prowled over, the orange furred cat rubbing up against his owner's legs. You whined when he pulled away, walking towards the bathroom. “Baby, I love you too but I've been in an airplane for hours. I'm literally covered in germs.” You sigh but accept it, allowing him to slip away into the bathroom.

As you listen to the sound of the shower start. You walk to the kitchen, warming up the meal you had prepared, setting it at the table as your boyfriend walked out, Wet hair and dewy skin making your heart throb. He sat at the table and looked at the meal in front of him, smirking mischievously, eye brow raised. “Oh? You attempted to cook?” He teased as you stuck your tongue out. “It tastes good. I'll have you know, sorry I tried to make a good welcome home gift.” You murmured in mock offense. He smiled, looking at you as he took a bite. “Hey how about you leave the cooking to me for now on yeah?” You gasped, grabbing your heart. “Words hurt Lee Minho, words hurt!” He chuckled, taking another bite. At least his actions showed that it wasn't as bad as he was making it seem. You sat next to him, taking his hand that he wasn't using. “I missed you. So much.” He looked up at you, eyes soft. “I missed you too, I promise I'll make up for all the missed time.” You smile, nodding softly. “Sooooo that means all the cuddles I want for the next few days!” He nodded with a small smile, disposing of his empty dish in the sink before taking your hand and leading you to the bedroom.

Once inside he got into bed and pulled you down with him, holding you to his chest. You hadn't noticed it but the sun had started to set on the horizon, casting the bedroom in a beautiful golden glow, making your boyfriend glow that much brighter, his three cats curled together in between the two of you. You looked up at him, his eyes heavy, causing you to giggle. “Sleep” you murmured “you've worked so hard and you deserve to rest my love.” He smiled, pulling you impossibly closer, mumbling a soft “I love you, so much.” as he slipped into his dreamland. Safe and finally home.

(A/N: Hey! This was my first time writing a request so I'm a little nervous to post it! This was requested by @mariam-ra Thanks so so much for your request, you're so sweet! -🐝)

[pagesfromthevoid]

Spirit Week | b.b. | 2

Bradley Bradshaw x librarian!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Brief mentions of past abusive ex's (not graphic), language, alcohol use

Author's Note: I yapped a bit in this. And also wrote the cringiest Facebook post for the sake of it. Idk, part of the TGTU (Top Gun x Teacher Universe)

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

“Can’t I change first?” She whines, motioning to her outfit today. It’s Surfers vs. Skaters and she obviously went for surfers with her flip flops, Hawaiian shirt and Hurley tank top underneath. This was her staple outfit in high school, minus the Hawaiin shirt and bermuda shorts. Usually it was a hoodie and way too short board shorts or cut offs. “And why are we going out on a Thursday?”

“Because they got a day off tomorrow. Plus, I called off tomorrow,” the counselor explains but she is not dressed up like the spirit day theme. “And you look cute –did you bring those shorts I told you to bring? Trust me, going to the Hard Deck in your work clothes is weirder than showing up like you’re going to the beach.”

She sighs and nods, fishing them out of her bag, holding them up. They are not cut off shorts, but they’re still better than the bermuda shorts she currently has on. With the school day over finally, she’s able to quickly change into her other shorts and slip out into the parking lot without too many students giving her weird looks. For some reason, the kids act like their teachers must not do anything outside of school hours –like they just live at the school. 

“I’m not getting drunk enough to call off work tomorrow,” she counters, giving her a look of mock disappointment.

“I’m not calling off because I’m getting drunk. I’m calling off so I can spend the day in bed with my boyfriend.”

She gags jokingly, fishing her keys out of the bag as they approach her car.

“Rooster is going to be there,” the counselor comments like it’s just a casual thing to bring up, opening the passenger side door. Jake dropped the counselor off this morning solely so they could drive together tonight. “Could call off to hang out with him…,”

“I’m not calling off work,” she says again, rolling her eyes as she starts her car. “And I know. He texted me last night, actually, asking if I wanted to come out. I told him you asked me first, but that you’d probably bail on me for Hangman eventually.”

“I will not bail on you,” her friend promises, but she knows that’s a lie. “I am not like Floyd and her husband –the night I met Jake, she had disappeared with Bobby for like half an hour. I would never do that to you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” she teases, grinning as she pulls out of the school parking lot. 

She’s not one to desert her friends because of a man, but she is kind of hoping that her friend does find herself distracted by her boyfriend tonight. If Bradley is actually going to be there like he says he is (and why wouldn’t he be? His squadmates will be there), she wants to see him again. They’ve been texting sporadically since he came to the school on Monday, and he’s been flirting hard with her –at least, she thinks he is. Bradley’s always been a bit of flirt; it’s just sort of his natural state of being. 

Her ex had made a comment about it at the ten year reunion. Saying something about how Bradley needed to learn to not flirt with women with engagement rings on. She tried to explain that he wasn’t actually flirting, and that’s just how he was. But her ex had just huffed and that started a fight later that night when they got home.

She probably should have known that was the beginning of the end.

“Wanna pregame in the parking lot?” The counselor asks suddenly, pointing at a liquor store down the street. 

“I thought your bartender made Jake pay for everything?” She asks, but then she’s pulling into the parking lot anyway.

“Maybe I want him to save some money for my ring.”

If she rolls her eyes any more, they’re going to pop out of her head.

Bradley is sitting in his truck, staring at his phone. He’s spent the better part of thirty minutes stalking her Facebook page, after finally having made one and added her. Social media isn’t really his thing, if anything because it’s not like he can post anything about what he does or where he’s at at any point. He just never felt the need to have one. 

But he’s nosy and wants to know what happened to that guy she was engaged to. Did she get married? Did she get divorced? Or god forbid, was she widowed and he had no idea? He almost asked Hangman if he had any idea from his girl, but then he decided asking Hangman anything was a stupid idea.

Her Facebook –which is full of shared social commentary posts, educational ideas, and wishlists for the library –is not half as helpful as he’d hoped it would be. He’s gone back about ten years already, through pictures that she’s posted. There is one photo of her and the guy –Max –that he’s found and she’s got an engagement ring on her finger in the photo, but it’s just a family photo of her with her parents and siblings. It’s not anything special.

Then he goes through her “Life Events” section and she did get married –a year after their ten year reunion. But then there’s nothing else posted about them. Nothing. It’s like she went through and scrubbed her page of him entirely.

So Bradley does what anyone that’s normal would do:

He finds Max’s Facebook. 

And this guy doesn’t have anything set to private. He’s an open book of shitty memes, bad takes on dating, and life updates that get one or two likes maybe and comments asking if he’s good. And that’s when he finds the post that confirms the end of the relationship between Max and her.

Two years ago, Max posted what seems like his most interacted with post:

Life Update (Not that anyone cares): Well. I guess she finally did it. My wife walked out. Packed her bags and left without even trying to fix things like an adult. Said she “doesn’t feel safe” and “can’t live like this anymore.” All because I got upset and punched a wall. Yeah, I punched a wall. Not her. Not even near her. But somehow I’m the bad guy? I’ve explained this over and over –sometimes emotions build up and need a release. At least I didn’t bottle it up and have a heart attack, like my dad. But no, apparently showing emotions “aggressively” is abuse now.  I only did it twice. Maybe three times. It’s not like I meant to scare her. I always apologized. I begged her to go to therapy with me –she never would. She just kept saying “you need help” like I’m some kind of monster. Sorry I’m not some soft-spoken yoga guy lighting candles and crying to Coldplay. I worked, I paid the bills, I stayed loyal. I gave her my whole damn heart. But I guess some people just want perfection or nothing. I’ll be fine though. I’ve been through worse. Just sucks that in today’s world, men can’t even feel anything without being labeled toxic. 

He had to read it a few times, to really understand that this guy actually thought this post was the right idea. When he opened the comments –because Max seems to be dumb enough to really not lock his shit down –Bradley is only slightly relieved to see that absolutely no one took this guy’s side. 

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, closing out of the app and pocketing his phone. He feels like he needs to wash his hands after reading any of that for some reason.

Inside the Hard Deck, it’s loud already –anyone with a day off tomorrow is there, getting an early start to the weekend. He comes up beside Maverick, who’s making eyes at Penny while she works, and knocks on the bar. Maverick forces his eyes from her and looks up at him with a brow raised as Bradley takes his shades off, looking around the bar for her.

“You’re late,” Mav says, though he knows the captain doesn’t actually care. “The rest of the team is back at the pool table.”

“Have you seen her?” He asks, looking back at Maverick again. When he gives Bradley a confused look, he says her name and Maverick looks genuinely surprised.

“I didn’t know she was around,” he admits, looking around the bar now himself. “Wow –I haven’t seen her since you guys graduated high school.”

“Yeah, she’s the school librarian,” he explains, turning and leaning back against the bar. “I ran into her on Monday there –she’s friends with Hangman and Bob’s girls.”

“And you invited her here tonight?” Maverick jokes, giving him a pointed look. “That school is a better matchmaker than any dating app out there.”

“Technically Hangman’s girlfriend did,” he explains, glancing down at Mav with narrowed eyes. “You act like I’m tryin’ to ask her out.”

“Aren’t you?” Maverick counters, brow raised. “If I remember correctly, you tried asking her out several times when you were younger and chickened out every single time.”

“I never chickened out,” Bradley quickly argues, rolling his eyes. “I just…never found the right time.”

“Didn’t you make her a mixtape and she told you it was bad?”

“I told her it was for someone else, in my defense.”

The bell on the door chimes, and Bradley immediately looks to see her walking in with the counselor close on her heels. He’s barely registering what else she’s wearing because he’s distracted by high waisted shorts and how long her legs look in them –and the jellyfish tattoo that’s wrapped around her thigh, just below where the shorts stop. 

“Look at that,” Maverick says, shaking his shoulder some and Bradley can just hear that smirk in his voice. Doesn’t even need to look at him. “You two match.”

He blinks once. Twice. Then realizes they do, sort of. She’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt similar to his –though hers is a faded blue while his is his usual orange. But she’s wearing a white tank top underneath just like him, and he can’t help but grin some as he pushes off the bar and walks towards her. 

The counselor is pulling her towards the pool table where Hangman and Phoenix are arguing. He’s half aware of Hangman’s girlfriend making some comment about Jake’s inability to admit when he’s wrong. If Bradley wasn’t set on getting her attention, he would have chimed in but his focus is solely on her as she laughs, covering her face as she does. 

“Now don’t go hiding that pretty smile of yours,” Bradley says as he comes up behind them and he’s reaching out to tug on her button up with a grin. She turns and looks up at him, dropping her hand to her side. It takes her a second to process what he said, and she glances between him and her friend before she finally settles on him, looking him over. “You good?”

“We match,” she points out, reaching out to mimic how he’s touching her shirt. The smile on her face is definitely not a sober one, and Bradley realizes she’s already been drinking –and then he wonders how the hell she got drunk between coming here and leaving work. “I think this shirt is yours, actually,” she admits with another laugh. “I found it buried with all my surf stuff –I think I stole it in high school.”

“Probably doesn’t fit me anymore. Looks better in you anyway,” he reassures, but he realizes she’s right: it is his shirt, and that…is a lot to take in at the moment. “Are you drunk already?”

“We may have stopped at the liquor store on the way,” she admits with a sheepish little laugh, but she waves it off. “I probably won’t drink anymore though –I didn’t call off work tomorrow like someone did.”

“And who’s taking you home tonight?” He asks, and there’s a double meaning there. He knows it. And she does too, as she cocks her head to the side.

“I guess we’ll see what happens,” she says with a shrug. Then she’s turning to walk back to her friend –but the counselor and Hangman are walking out the back door. She throws her hands in the air. “I fucking knew she’d do that. I literally said, in the parking lot at school, that I told you she’d bail eventually. It didn’t even take ten minutes.”

“Listen, Hangman works fast,” he chuckles, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her towards a booth. “That’s okay though. You get to hang out with me now.”

She hums a little as she sits down, resting her chin in her hand as she leans on the table. “I’d be lying if I didn’t kind of want that to happen.”

“Oh yeah?” Bradley can’t help but smile at her admission, elbows on the table as he leans forward. “What if I told you I asked Hangman to distract her for me?”

“I’d say Hangman probably would have held out longer, just to annoy you.”

“Damn,” he laughs, leaning back against the seat. But he nods. “No, you’re absolutely right. He would have.”

They sit there for a little while, just talking nonsense. He asks if she’s still surfing, and she says when she has free time, which is rare. That tonight is the first time she’s gone out in a while, just because she’s so tired after work. Sometimes she goes before work, but it's rare she wants to get out of the bed early enough to do so. She asks when he got back to San Diego, and he explains he’s been given a long-term contract to remain on North Island until further notice; the squad has been back for a little over a year and half now. The only one that left is Bob, but she knows where he went with his wife.

He does ask about her ex, and admits that he may have stalked her Facebook. She just rolls her eyes and huffs a sigh, explaining pretty much what Bradley assumed from reading Max’s post. They were engaged for three years, and got married right before the fourth year. The first few years were fine. But he had no emotional stability, she explains, and didn’t know how to handle his anger. She promises that he never hit her, but that she just couldn’t live in fear that he might one day. So she served him papers, changed the locks on the house and put his shit on the porch. That was that. 

Making it even, she asks him about what happened between him and Maverick for him to pull his papers. Bradley explains a bit reluctantly what happened, and why. He can’t go into a lot of detail about how they reconciled, just because of where they were and why they were even together in the first place, and he apologizes for that. But she just says she’s happy they figured it out because she can’t imagine him not having Mav in his life. 

At some point, Phoenix brings over a round of drinks and winks at him like she knows he’s up to something. When Phoenix isn’t looking though, she pushes the beer towards him with a sheepish smile, and Bradley texts Maverick under the table, asking him to bring over water or something (“No, you cannot stay,” he’s sure to add). The bastard doesn’t waste a second making his appearance as he sets a bottle of water on the table with a smirk.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, nearly knocking the table over as she stands and hugs Maverick, who laughs and hugs her back. “I –don’t know what to call you –are you still Lieutenant Mitchell or –?”

“Most people just call me Maverick,” he reassures as he pulls away, crossing his arms over his chest. Bradley is staring him down, trying to subliminally tell him to go the fuck away. “But Pete is fine too.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to call you by your first name,” she admits with a sheepish grin. “Feels weird. But Maverick –okay. Wow –it’s been so long. How have you been?”

“Oh, I’m great,” he promises, but he’s knocking on the table. “However, I think Rooster here wants me to leave, so I’ll let you two finally figure out what’s going on here.”

“Mav,” Bradley groans, shaking his head. Maverick just smirks knowingly and saunters back to the bar, where Penny is rolling her eyes at him. 

When she’s sitting back down, she’s watching Bradley with a small grin on her face. “What’s he talking about, ‘finally figure out what’s going on here’?”

“It’s…nothing,” he promises, but he’s definitely blushing and now he’s significantly less confident than he was ten minutes ago. “He’s just annoying. You know how he can be.”

“Bradley,” she says softly, and she’s giving him that look. The same look she gave him when she’d ask him to be honest, when it was just them sitting on his porch at night. When they would talk about anything and everything as kids –the look that made him fall for her in the first place. “C’mon –I know it’s been a while, but I mean, we’re still us. Still friends. Right?”

“Of course,” he reassures as she reaches over and touches his hand. Friends. Always friends.

“So what’s Maverick actually mean?”

“Just…he wants me to ask you out,” he says, and that’s not technically a lie. Maverick does want him to ask her out. Though he’s wanted Bradley to ask her out since 9th grade. “And I am –you know. Right now.”

She laughs some, shaking her head some as she watches him closely. Like she’s trying to piece together what he’s leaving out. But she doesn’t argue, leaning back in the booth and crossing her arms over her chest with that same smile he used to dream about as a teenager.

“You think you can call off tomorrow?” He asks, and he can tell she’s hesitant. Like she doesn’t know if she should or not. But as Hangman and his girl come back inside, she looks at them then nods finally.

“Yeah, I think I can do that. But I do have to be back for the homecoming bonfire.”

“I can work with that,” he quickly says, smiling at her brightly. “I’ll pick you up at ten sharp.”

“You sure you wanna pick me up?”

“How else am I gonna take you out?”

“I mean, you did ask who was taking me home tonight,” she teases, slipping out of the booth as her friend approaches. Then she shrugs with a grin. “Maybe you don’t need to come over twice.”

He swallows hard, nodding as he slowly stands. Before the counselor can interrupt, he’s grabbing her hand and pulling her back to him, smiling down at her. 

“I can work with that.”

[kilojulietsierra]

“Sam, and a few others, knew that secretly he calls in a favor every year to fix the schedule because he knows Parker lives for Halloween.”

1) Jack would totally dress up as the Terminator with prosthetic and all and pass out candy in Pediatrics. Shen suggest they can be Robin Hood and Little John but that’s shot down quickly.

2)Jack and Sam may not have children, but they would do anything,with arms wide open, for their ducklings (Shen, Ellis, Mel) and the kids would do the same for them.

When they all become attendings , birthdays when they’re away from family, when Mel is feeling overwhelmed from being a caretaker for her sister and guilty for having a life outside her.

Shen is surprisingly great with Becca and Ellis’ parents send stuff for Mel and Becca in care packages.

They all really come together on the anniversary of Mel’s mom passing and Mel is so grateful to have found this second family.

I say this all the time and I will continue to say it, theses make my day! As always if you find any of this entertaining check out the master list for Save Me From Myself for more headcannons and full fics!

~~~~~~

- “no” “c’mon” “absolutely not” “the girls are doing it” “if you want to dress up in platforms and a tube top go right ahead” Shen followed Jack back towards the nurses station “we could be Starsky and Hutch” “no” “the blues brothers” “no” “Robin Hood and little John” “please stop” “c’mon Doc, it”d be fun!”

- Parker, she on the other hand, asks him exactly one time. “Hey Doc, I’m helping with the trick or treat parade for peds again this year. Want to do it with me?” Shen is watching from the next computer over when Jack shrugs, “yeah, sure” Shen scoffs loudly. Parker on the otherhand beams, “so, I was thinking,” she leaned over the counter, “Sarah Conner and the terminator”

2)Jack and Sam may not have children, but they would do anything,with arms wide open, for their ducklings (Shen, Ellis, Mel) and the kids would do the same for them.

When they all become attendings , birthdays when they’re away from family, when Mel is feeling overwhelmed from being a caretaker for her sister and guilty for having a life outside her.

- A perfect example of “the kids” stepping up I think would be when Sam is in the hospital post op from her appendix.

- She has a whole team of minions sneaking her real food, Shen comes through with the Dunkin, she has to remind all three of them that they work there.

- Either get back to work or go home!

- Parker kidnaps her and brings her down to the ED on her third night.

- Jack turns a corner and catches them right out of the elevator. “Absolutely not.” Sam whines, “I’m dying up there! Just let me hang out please. Give me your badge, I’ll chart for you.”

- The fact that a patient in a wheelchair sat at the ED hub and charted for two hours with no one questioning it is a great insight into what it’s like on nights

- HIPAA? Never heard of her?

- Gloria would never even know

- Mel showed up early to her shift just to make sure she had time to swing in and visit. She even brought a goodie basket she and Becca had put together

- it was on one of those visits that Mel confides in Sam that she loves night shift and the team and working under Jack, but the schedule was hard for her and Becca.

- Sam felt for her, she understood a little about taking care of someone that needed you nearly 24/7. At least for a time. It was exhausting, in more ways than one.

- “Have you thought about hiring someone? Even just part time? You need to take care of yourself too.”

- They weigh out the pros and cons before her shift. Then continue the conversation through text over the next few days.

- “If it’s money, you know we would help”

- Mel has a rough night and Jack sits with her on the stairs. Silent, while she soothed herself. Once she had calmed down enough Jack leaned a little closer. “Let us help. It’s not just the two of you anymore. You know that right?”

- The answer, it actually ends up being Shen. Becca friggin loves him.

- He is quite possibly the only other person on the planet that can watch elf as many times in a row as Becca.

- They quote it line for line over dinner.

- When they depart: “bye buddy, hope you find your dad!”

- Becca is now a Dunkin girl. Easy on the espresso shots.

- Sam throws a pretty good birthday party. Jack just throws money at the credit card bill the next month and stays out of her way

- The first time Ellis had a birthday with no family around Sam found her mom on Facebook and they planned a party for her together. So even though she couldn’t be there it felt a little like home. They still text back and forth a lot.

- Becca requested a pool party for her birthday and after that Mel brings her over every weekend in the summer to swim. Becca plays volleyball in the pool with Sam while Mel sits with Jack and just relaxes. More than once she falls asleep and has a nice nap in a deck chair.

- When Shen applied for the attending position, he was so uncharacteristically nervous and driving Jack fucking crazy that Jack caved and told him ahead of time he was getting the offer, so calm the fuck down about it.

- After it was official Jack asked if he wanted to go celebrate. Shen just shrugged, “nah, it’s no big deal”.

- He did a few weeks later come up to Jack out of the blue “we should go golfing. I haven’t played in forever”. So that’s exactly what they do. Shen is good, and stay actually have a good time, but Shen is not allowed to drive the cart ever again.

- Jack wouldn’t admit it but he knows exactly how they’re going to celebrate when Ellis finishes her residency. He hasn’t figured out what to do for Mel yet, but he’s working on it.

- Shen picks the girls up for coffee on the anniversary of their mom’s passing.

- Parker takes them out for lunch.

- Jack and Sam have them all over for dinner and Sam makes all their favorites. No matter the request.

- After dinner “the kids” are all camped out on the couch watching a movie and eating ice cream

- Sam is standing in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee with a look in her eye. Jack comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her, kisses the back of her head. She’s quiet when she says “if we still can’t…. This is good right? This is enough?” He squeezes her and whispers “more than enough”

- Becca yells at them from the couch. “Hurry up! You’re going to miss the best part!”

[study-diaries]

Best Time Management Techniques I've Used. (Academics + Extracurriculars)

Managing your time for energy and extracurricular activities can be challenging, especially when everything you do is overwhelming, requires your attention, and has deadlines that are too close to each other.

These are some of my best time management techniques that I have personally used, the ones that have changed my life and can possibly change yours too.

There's a free template at the end of the post too! Be sure to check it out :)

________________________

Question Your Time

If you take a look at your day, you might think that you're doing too much (or nothing at all). That is because you have no idea what you're actually doing and how you're spending your free time, which leads to precious time being wasted.

How It Works:

Take a look at your normal day. Ask the following questions and more. Ask as many questions as possible on your time spent:

What am I actually doing every day?

What is an activity that I do almost every day for more than an hour that is actually unnecessary? [Likely social media]

Do I study for at least 2 hours?

Am I finishing up on my projects and deadlines?

Does my calendar really reflect my current goals?

Time Grouping & Blocking

Time grouping is basically when you group similar tasks together. If you have Maths and Science homework, each around 40-45 mins, you don't do them together in different sessions.

Many make the mistake of spacing out their study and homework sessions. It takes more time in the long run, and sometimes you can't actually get anything done. So, group your time!

How It Works:

You must assign a time slot for the task, and you don't do anything else during that time. You block everything else and focus on one thing.

Golden Hour = Morning

This is an advice that I ignored for most of my high school life. Why? Because I believed that mornings were meant for sleeping in and that I'd be too tired. That was a negative belief.

How It Works:

You get up in the morning and your brain is active and flowing with creative energy. This only occurs when actually have a full 8 hours of sleep, by the way. If you sleep at 1 am and try to get up at 6? That is not going to be possible. Literally.

No Routine = Just Work

Most people hate mornings because they have this perception that mornings must have a load of steps and routines. Throughout senior year, I had only three tasks in the morning,

Get Up

Drink coffee

Read The Quran

Hit The Books

If you compare my routine with some of my friends? Unnecessary steps that bog you down. I know some people who do a full 10-step skin care in the morning, dress up, eat, and by the time they get to work or sit down to study? They're drained.

It's not exactly wrong to dress up and eat, etc. But my point is, you can at least get 1 hour of work done before doing anything else. Your focus is laser sharp when you get up. So, use it.

Take your four main tasks and don't add anything else. And follow them.

Eat The Frog

“If it’s your job to eat a frog, it’s best to do it first thing in the morning. And if it’s your job to eat two frogs, eat the biggest one first.”

In simple words? Face your hardest, most important task first, before you get distracted with any other thing.

Honestly, I've heard many say that sometimes it gets overwhelming to do a huge task first thing in the morning and complete it. You feel drained the entire day, and I actually agree, it does. So, here's a simpler way.

Divide Your Work Into 4 Stages:

Outline : Draw a basic overview. What should be done? How will I get it done? Basic steps I need to follow? When is the deadline?

Research : Collect basic information to do the task. That includes articles, journals or just notes.

Draft : This is your prototype. You draft your work into the refining stage.

Final : You keep refining it until you are at the final project. This is the stage where you add the small details.

This flow makes you feel less overwhelmed and gives you more clarity to actually sit down and work.

One In Advance Rule

Look, it's really easy. Your assignment is due in two weeks? Complete it by next week. Project due in one month. Complete it a week in advance.

This is necessary because, when you start early, you finish it earlier than others so you can actually focus on some studying rather than wasting your time managing assignments and tests.

You'll actually notice the difference in your stress levels when everything doesn't pile up.

The trick is to complete everything before one week of the deadline.

Hour Sprints: 1-4 Hours Break Sprints = Work Hours ÷ 2

Hour sprints basically refer to doing your day's work in around 1-3 hours. And honestly, I didn't think this would work but it does. You might have to be patient and slowly increase your time to avoid burnout.

There were times when I worked straight for around 5-6 hours after I had increased my work time, pushing little by little every day. The burnout doesn't last long but the fruits of this method are really worth it.

Breaks are really necessary. I advise you to not allot a certain time limit for the break. Rather take a break when you actually feel tired. If you've worked for 2 hours straight, then you deserve an hour of rest. If you worked for just 30 mins and you feel tired, take 15 mins as your break.

Divide your work time by half and that is your break time.

Energy Mapping

Observe your past three days and find out when your energy is high, medium and low. Based on this, align your tasks according to your energy flows.

High Energy = Deep Work Like Intensive Studying And Creative Projects

Medium Energy = Outlining Your Projects, Skimming Notes, Active Recall

Low Energy = Passive Study & Chores

This is based on my own energy mapping.

How It Works:

Track Yourself for 3 Days

Every 2–3 hours, jot down:

What you were doing

Your energy level ( 1–5)

Your mood (😊😐😣)

Now, figure out yours.

Rule Of Three = Daily, Weekly, Monthly

See, the thing about extra curriculars is that you have to handle academics and family commitments at the side too. So, here's the rule of three:

You choose three tasks/goals for the day, week and month. And you focus on that alone. Only that. Nothing else.

How To Figure Out Those Goals?

Monthly:

What is the top three priority goals/tasks this month?

Pick Three And Break It Down Into Weekly Goals.

Weekly:

What is the top three priorities this week to achieve my monthly goals/tasks ?

Pick Three And Break It Down Into Daily Goals.

Daily:

What are the three actionable steps that I must do everyday to achieve my weekly & monthly goals/tasks?

Pick Three And Follow.

Non-Negotiable Rules For Managing Calendar:

Here are some rules that you can not break when you're planning your calendar:

If it's not on your calendar. It does not exist.

Add your class timings first

Study time should be scheduled daily

Enter extracurricular activities/deadlines as soon as you know

At least a 20 min gap between two things is non-negotiable

Every day must have at least 1 hour of "Me Time"

No more than 3 extra curriculars

Plan every Sunday. Tweak it every day

Get Your Free Template

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Additional Posts That Might Help:

How To Self Study

How To Study Concept-Oriented Subjects

How To Study For Longer Hours

An Absolute Guide To Manage Your Time And Energy For School

How To Better Your Overall High School Experience From A Recently Passed Out Student

How To Study Multiple Subjects

_____________________

Ebook:

How To Self Study [Ultimate Productivity Guide] + Exercises. => Get It On -- Ko-fi

__________________

I hope this helps!

[thepixelelf]

Oh Baby, You Part 56 - Again, Again

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note: I'm literally so sorry 😭

Mingyu exhales as he looks at his phone, then lets his hand fall to his knee. Orion, at the bottom of the slide, turns to him with his arms in the air. “Again, Uncle Gyu! Again!”

Uncle Gyu.

It’s not the first time that name has made him feel things, not in the least, but lately, it’s like every utterance of uncle digs some hole in his chest deeper and deeper. His heart sinks in that hole, and he’s not sure where it’s going. Somewhere dangerous, surely, if Minseo’s assumptions are correct.

She’s rarely wrong when it comes to him. That’s why he barely talked about the scandal with her when it first broke out — both she and Mingyu’s mother are much too good at reading him.

So then why would he come here today, and with Orion in his arms, no less?

When he asked you if he could watch Orion today, he kept telling himself it wasn’t for any specific reason, and yet…

Here he is. 

Orion scrambles up the playground, but this time, Mingyu sits with Orion between his extended legs. He slides down with the gleeful boy, and once they reach the bottom, he scoops him up into his arms. Orion giggles uncontrollably, which makes Mingyu unable to resist giving him one strong toss into the air.

“Again, Uncle Gyu! Again!”

Mingyu smiles, but he chances one look to the side and sees Minseo sitting at the picnic site. Her arms are crossed, and she looks both annoyed at the fact that he left her last message without a response, and confused at the drop of Mingyu’s expression.

“Is something wrong, dear?” his mother asks as he walks up to them both.

Too perceptive by far.

She goes to feed Orion half of a grape, and when Mingyu doesn’t answer her question, she looks up at him. “Mingyu?”

“Mom.” He swallows. Holds Orion a little tighter. “Minseo… I have to tell you something.”

=

You collapse to the gym floor, cringing at the thought of what else has touched it, but unable to do anything except lie there. 

Appearing in your line of sight, Jihoon bends over you. “You okay there?”

Chan shows up too, his hair dripping with sweat — which narrowly misses you, thank god.

You let out the roughest groan of your life. “Neither of you told me beating you up for an hour would make me feel like I was beat up for eight.”

While Chan holds his hand out to help you up, Jihoon shows off another one of his stupid smirks. “You’re out of shape, MT.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.” You pout with your eyes scrunched shut, refusing to pull yourself up. Chan uselessly drags your lifeless body across the gym floor. “Nooooo…” you whine, “...I’m gonna lie here for the rest of eternity. I’m gonna melt through the floorboards if I have to move another muscle.”

Jihoon snorts. “Dunno if Wonwoo’s into goo.”

“Is anyone into goo?” you retort with a grimace.

After dropping you next to the pile of everyone’s stuff, Chan shrugs. “There’s a kink for everything. I bet Wonwoo would still love goo you.”

“That settles it, then.” You starfish on the floor, then peek one eye open at him. “You really think so?”

“That there’s a kink for everything?”

“No— Chan— Wonwoo.”

Jihoon sits down on a random piece of equipment, hunched over his phone. He doesn’t look at you while he says, “If you’re doing that thing moms do where they feel less attractive after having kids, then you’re dumb.”

“Obviously that’d be stupid.” You pout and cross your arms, glaring Jihoon down even though his eyes are glued to his phone screen. “I didn’t actually give birth.”

“Not just that.” Jihoon meets your eyes, and your chest suddenly goes tight. His face holds so much regret that it steals your breath. “I can’t know what it must’ve felt like for you, but MT… I swear, Wonwoo didn’t let you go just like that. He… in his heart—” Jihoon grimaces. Seems he’s better at the gushy stuff when it’s set to music. “He didn’t want to believe any of it. But the evidence… and when I— fuck. Look. He loves you okay? I know he told you that already, but…”

Sitting up, you pull your knees close to your chest. “...But what?”

Jihoon exhales, looks away, then glances at Chan, who shares his grim expression now. Your brows furrow as your eyes flit between them both.

“But what, Jihoon?”

He meets your eyes again. “I feel like you’re afraid to believe it.”

“Afraid…?” You hug your legs even tighter. “I… Is…” A sigh escapes you as you deflate, and Chan crouches down next to you to put a hand on your shoulder. Your next inhale trembles. “Is that so wrong? I mean, what if— what if I believe it, and then…”

Jihoon bites the inside of his cheek, jaw stretching. He knows.

“I believed he’d trust me back then. Or, I guess, I had that hope. And— and—”

“You’re scared to hope now because it might hurt you even more if things go badly?” Chan offers, his thumb rubbing little comforting circles on your shoulder.

With a pronounced sniffle, you pout at him. “No need to nutshell it so succinctly.”

Chan just gives you a smile, and you can’t help returning it. Deciding you don’t want to wallow anymore, you rub your eyes and get to your feet. “Hey, Jihoon,” you say after clearing your throat. “Wanna meet the little boy you’ve been buying all those gifts for?”

Although surprised for a second, Jihoon breathes out on a smile of pure gratitude. “I’d love to.”

=

As Jihoon pulls up in front of Mingyu’s house, Chan having left for home in his own car, your expression sours.

You know it’s only the afternoon, and there really shouldn’t be any lights on in the first place, but the entire house seems… empty. Even from the outside.

“So this is where Mr Geomsoft lives, huh?” Jihoon muses as he gets out of the driver’s seat and joins you on the lavish front walkway, unaware of the sinking feeling in your chest.

Please. Fuck, please no more surprises. Not again.

Trying to remain calm, (Because panicking might jinx things to be even worse, right? Right?) you push your finger on the touch sensor doorbell.

And nothing.

You try again, and again, and eight or nine more times before Jihoon stops you with his hand physically blocking yours.

“Call him,” he says, no nonsense, concern mixed with determination written into his features, and you oddly wish you had this guy on your side during every other freakout you’ve had so far.

Three missed calls in, and you switch to a different strategy.

“Hello?” Jeonghan answers after only one ring. “Is something going on?”

“That’s what I was hoping to ask you. Did something happen? Mingyu’s not home.”

“He’s in, ah… what was that town called again…”

You blink. “He’s out of town?”

“Yes, visiting his mother and sister for the weekend.” Jeonghan seems to sense your shock, wherever he is. “Why? What is it?”

Completely lost, you meet Jihoon’s concerned gaze once again. He has his arms crossed, listening to everything, and his jaw clenches. Without a word, he gently leads you back to his car, and after he deposits you next to the passenger’s side door, he takes your phone.

“Jeonghan, right? I need you to tell me exactly where Mingyu is. Now.”

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oby tagging 1, 50/50: @shiningstar-byulxx @shuabby-woowoo @90s-belladonna @xavi-in-kpopland @kachren @xmessaroundx @chwevernonlover @kwanisms @dalamjisung @1ntaktak @crazywittysassy @butterfliesinthenightsky @ddaengpotate @dorrysstuff @ckline35 @vanishingboots @potatofrieswithketchup @minhwa @oncecaratorbit @sugacookees @royal9 @doodlelibrary @myjaeyunn @yksthings @jundundun @amosmortese @jaeskz @seungmintree @woozarts @my-chaos-in-stars @yoonychoik @ksywoo @kellesvt @candidupped @sharkipoonis @wooahaeproductions @capsiclesworld @hellodefthings @sunshineshouchan @calumsfringe @caratinluv @pinkysinnerbaby @winterwallacehenderson @jvhoons @woo8hao @sxftiell

[2000sangel]

RAHHHH tenna x autistic reader who likes video games RAHHHHHHHH

Thanks for requesting !!! I'm not autistic, so I hope I was more or less accurate with what I went over.

Warning for mention/slight description of meltdowns, right after "★ !!" ; feel free to skip that part if you're uncomfortable!

*★*★*★*

Tenna x Autistic Reader who's into video games !! - Headcanons

★ Tenna knows very well about your unmatched love towards video games: you're always the first one who wants to try out the ones he creates! He feels appreciated when you do, like his work is worth something, especially considering how passionate you are when it comes to them.

★ You've got your favorites of course, be it because of their characters, plot, or simply for the sense of comfort that they grant you from replaying them over and over…Tenna knows each one of them by now, and makes sure to add little references to them in his own sometimes, just to see your face light up as you realize!

★ He has super good memory so when you info dump about your favorite games he retains every single information; should you have to stop talking for a while, he'll remind you where you left off, making you grin at how attentive he is.

★ Sometimes it happens that you need some more time spent on your special interest -video games, of course- to self regulate or just because for one reason or the other your interest in them is heightened; at first, Tenna might get nervous because of this, thinking that he's done something wrong to make you want to spend more time on games than doing anything else, but all you need to do is sit him down and explain that it's got nothing to do with him, actually!

★ He manages to calm down over time, and either lets you be and have fun or gets comfortable on the couch next to you if you invite him to watch or play along. He's not the best at games that are modern even though you've explained each concept to him…he holds the joystick weird sometimes, or gets confused on how to save if there's a lot of things going on on the screen already plus many controls, he might even be afraid of slowing you down but you reassure him it's all in good fun, and he's good again!

★!! With you being autistic, sometimes things get a little too much; so much so that even the soft music playing from whatever console you're using might send you over the edge, if combined with other things. Each sound is too loud, each feeling is amplified, and suddenly Tenna is by your side turning off whatever device managed to irritate you and removing anything that could be upsetting for you from your proximity. He's a natural entertainer, and through your relationship he has learned to ‘entertain’ you during meltdowns just the same, just a little differently than he's used to on stage; he's quieter if you're quiet, more reassuring, and brings up topics that he knows you'll enjoy hearing about, and adding to if you're up to it. He validates your emotions by having genuine reactions to what you're saying, the dramatic side of him never really leaving.

★ Tenna, despite not being autistic himself (at least in my headcanons), emphasizes with you if you dislike disruption of routine. He's got quite the busy schedule often, but he likes recordings happening at the same time every time, and having that short hour after lunch to slightly nod off -don’t judge him, okay?-. Most importantly, he likes spending the end of the day with you, finally switching off from his TV Time persona. So rest assured that he'll always be around for an evening watch of your skilled gameplay. <3