#like how the doors only open if you like. put in the work or whatever.

[wstviewvidal]

prerequisites- w. maximoff

summary: where worlds collide

pairing: rich!wanda x r

a/n: #needthat

minors do not interact

i know you told me not to, but you deserve it. i left something on your porch for this weekend

you open up the text from wanda and can’t help but feel a smile creep onto your face. you two have been texting and calling as much as your schedules allow since valerie’s recital last month.

you two have only had the opportunity to meet up three times since then— each time being for a quick lunch during the work day. the company event that wanda invited you to was on saturday and you had told wanda you were stressing out over what you were going to wear.

wanda, being the sweet woman that she is, told you not to worry about lifting a finger. when she told you this, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat worried— not sure what she meant by that. however, knowing the fact that wanda has yet to make you feel uncomfortable is what brought you the slightest bit of peace.

you get home less than an hour later to a pink rectangular box with a bow on it sitting on your front porch. a small laugh bubbles up and you shake your head slightly in disbelief. you quickly move to unlock the door and open the box.

the first thing you notice is intricate beading and lace as you pull out a black midi length dress from the box. you gape at it for a moment, your heart beating quicker at the thought of her putting thought into getting you this dress.

your phone rings, interrupting your moment. you dig it out of your bag and answer without even looking at the caller ID.

“hi,” wanda says, her voice warm, and you can practically hear her smile through the phone, “did you get my gift?”

you let out a soft laugh and tell her you did, “wanda, you know that you don’t have to buy me these things, right? it looks way too expensive and i hate that i made you spend your money on it,” you pout softly at the idea of wanda going out of her way to even think about spending money on you.

wanda rolls her eyes and twirls a pen in her hand as she sits behind her desk, “nonsense. you didn’t make me do a single thing. you were telling me you were stressing and what kind of a friend would i be if i didn’t at least try to help you out?” a slight grimace covers her face as she calls herself your friend.

truth is, wanda thinks she’s could fall for you. she wouldn’t admit it aloud, but she finds herself thinking about you often. the way you smile when you talk about your niece, the passion and love you have for your career, the way you make her laugh— everything

“still, i can’t accept this gift. you know i don’t like you spending money on me,” you whine softly as you trace the detailing on the dress, “you’ve paid for all the lunches we’ve been on— you never even let me finish offering to pay before you give the waiter your card!”

wanda can hear the whine in your voice and rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh, “so? i want to pay for you. keep your money so you can spoil your niece, or i’ll spoil her myself.”

you sigh into the phone as she says this— you know she’ll stick to her word about spoiling valerie, “you and that girl love to conspire against me and i hate it. fine, but next time we go out it’s going to be on me.”

you try your best to sound confident and firm, but you know wanda is on the other side of the call trying to hide her snicker.

“okay, whatever you say goes,” you can practically see her teasing smile through the phone as she replies and you can’t stop the feeling of butterflies in your stomach as you listen.

the two of you stay on the call for an hour later, even while wanda is working on her tasks for her company. she goes on to tell you all about how she has to review funding proposals and finalize budget adjustments for a new program she hopes to implement in another school.

you listen to her talk as you prepare your dinner, chiming in when necessary.

“sorry, i’ve been talking at you,” wanda cuts herself off and cringes when she realizes you haven’t said much, “what are you doing?”

wanda tries her best to smooth over and shift the topic back to you. “hush, i love when you tell me about your job. besides, it’s keeping me entertained while i’m making my dinner.”

wanda’s cheeks flush a shade of pink when you tell her that she’s not being bothersome, that you enjoy her company. she goes to respond but is suddenly cut off by a question.

“if i save you a plate, will you come have dinner with me when you get off?”

your body felt cold as soon as you asked that question, almost afraid that wanda would reject the offer. on the other side of the call, wanda was practically jumping for joy at the idea of having dinner with you. a wide grin covered her face and it was almost like wanda had to physically restrict herself from kicking her feet like a lovesick teenager.

she looks at the watch on her wrist and decides she could leave right now if she wanted. after all, she is her own boss.

“if that’s okay with you,” she shyly replies, “i can be at yours in about an hour or maybe less?”

an impossibly large grin covers your face at her reply, “that’s perfect. i can’t wait to see you.”

after you two hang up, the air seems lighter and you both know that the dinner isn’t just a friendly invitation. somehow, you both know that it signifies the potential start of something special.

wanda arrives to your house, true to her word, in less than an hour. she even brought you small bouquet of white roses with a pink bow.

you open the door to wanda standing there with a sheepish grin, a huge contrast to the businesswoman you met last month.

“hi,” her voice low, “i know you said i didn’t need to bring anything, but i didn’t want to come to your house for the first time empty handed. i didn’t want to be rude, especially since—“

wanda rambles and you can’t help but try to hold in a laugh at her nervous demeanor.

“wanda?” you tilt your head slightly with a teasing tone. your lips pursing together in a feeble attempt to contain a laugh.

wanda raises her eyebrows in acknowledgment as she looks at you with a flustered look, “yeah?”

your heart melts at the sight of her clutching the roses and rocking back and forth with an anxious look.

“come inside,” you hold your hand out to her to pull her inside, “your plate is already on the table.”

wanda looks at your outstretched hand, then back up to your eye, almost like she didn’t expect it. she takes your hand and allows you to guide her into your home.

she hands you the flowers with a timid smile, “i wasn’t sure what your favorite flowers were, so i tried to play it safe with roses.”

wanda looks uneasy and it takes everything in you to not let out a laugh, “thank you, wands. you’re so sweet.”

wanda’s heart beats faster at the sound of the nickname and you calling her sweet. she follows after you as you walk towards the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase.

the smell of roasted chicken and mashed potato full the air and you can hear wanda’s stomach growl as she stands near you.

that’s what makes you finally break into a fit of laughter. wanda looks at you sheepishly and apologizes softly.

“no, no,” you giggle softly and guide wanda to the table by the waist, “you need to eat, come on.”

wanda’s heart pounds as you lead her with such casual intimacy. she watches you as you walk back with two glasses, her lips curling into a smile as you set one down in front of her while you glance back at her with a playful expression.

“everything smells amazing,” she looks at the food then up to you again, “did you really make this on your own?”

you laugh softly, “what, you think i can’t cook?”

shaking her head and suppressing an apology, “no, i think you can do anything. this just smells amazing— like it came from a restaurant.”

wanda watches you with an amused expression as you playfully roll your eyes at her compliment. you pour the drinks in hopes that the flush on your face will go away— it doesn’t. wanda gazes at you as you busy yourself with making sure she’s taken care of.

as you two eat dinner together, the conversation flows and you two share jokes and memories. wanda begins talking about her childhood as you listen intently and rest your chin in your hand.

wanda’s infectious smile as she talks about her brother, pietro, is something you’re sure you’ll never be able to forget. she tells you all about how he was always a problem child and she always had to cover for him growing up. you find yourself hanging onto every word that comes out of her lips.

“i mean, i love him and all but, geez, that boy had everyone worried when he’d come home with a scrape on his face,” she shakes her head in disbelief as she recounts stories of him as a teen. you can see the love in her eyes as she talks about life before she became who she is today.

you decide to throw caution to the wind and ask something more personal, “do you think your relationship has changed with your family since you became big in the business world?”

wanda’s breath hitches as you ask that. she looks off into space as she thinks over the question, a small sigh coming from her lips.

“yes and no,” she sounds far off as she’s speaks— you almost regret asking such a question, “i miss my family— the dynamic we had, but i’m also a career woman. i’m lucky to be in the position i’m in, and i’m happy i’m able to provide for my family and give back. i see it as a price i had to pay.”

you nod along as wanda speaks, your hand subtly grazing over the back of her hand as she speaks. you aren’t sure if she wants to continue this conversation, but you allow her to take the rein.

after a few more minutes of wanda speaking about her family, she helps you pick up the table. you’re stood at the sink, ready to begin washing dishes before wanda stands next to you with a curious expression.

“what are you doing?” she goes to grab the sponge from your hand before you look at her with a confused look.

“washing the dishes?” wanda almost laughs at your tone, shaking her head at you. she gently pushes you to the side, “let me do it, you cooked our dinner.”

needless to say, you two both stood side by side washing the dishes together— the smile on your faces never leaving.

wanda turns to you after the last dish is dried with a smile, “thank you for tonight. i can’t remember the last time i had a good meal like that, or such great company for that matter.”

wanda watches in amusement as a blush covers your cheeks and you try to distract yourself. your chest tightens and wanda watches as you fold a dish rag.

turning to face her, your eyes trace over her features— something that makes wanda freeze, “you’re always welcome in my home, wanda. i loved having you here.”

her eyes meet yours, something unreadable behind her eyes as you two look at each other.

“i know tomorrow’s event sounds a little intimidating,” she speaks slowly, choosing her words deliberately, “but i’m really grateful you’re coming with me.”

the gentle reminder of tomorrows event causes your stomach to flip. the thought of being back in wanda’s world— the banquets, the attire, the business talk. it’s all out of the norm for you, a complete 180 from the simple night you two just shared together. however, the gentle way that wanda spoke to you brought you some sort of comfort.

“i’ll be okay as long as i’m with you,” you say gently, looking at wanda with a soft expression that made wanda smile.

her words struck you where she’d hoped they would. she nods softly and brushes her fingers against the back of your palm, her warm fingers leaving goosebumps on your skin.

“it’s getting late, i think i should head out. we have a day ahead of us tomorrow.” wanda says, feeling remorseful that she has to end the night.

you nod solemnly as you begin to walk her to your front door. you open the door, the cool air now tracking inside. wanda turns to you, her eyes sweeping over your face as if memorizing your every detail.

“thank you,” her eyes flicker to your lips for a second too long, then back up to your eyes with a teasing smile, “i hope we can do this again.”

you nod softly and agree, watching her as she mentally battles between wanting to say more and leaving home.

“goodnight, wanda,” your voice came out softer than intended, but wanda loved it the gentleness in your tone.

“goodnight,” she gives you a warm look before walking towards her car and driving off. her adoring presence still felt inside your home.

the following day is filled with anxious thoughts and the overwhelming knowledge of knowing your night will be occupied by wanda. you know that she will be by your side the whole night, but knowing you’ll be in her world for a few hours is what causes your stomach to churn.

over the past few weeks, wanda has brought a sense of warmth to your everyday life that you hadn’t known before. her attentiveness and willingness to help you keeps you growing a liking to her more and more.

but tonight feels different— you’ll be crossing over into her world.

you’re seated at your vanity finishing up your makeup as your hair sets in place when you get a call from wanda. your heart beats a bit faster at the contact picture that takes over your lock screen. you’d taken a picture of her sipping her coffee while looking over the rim at you. her eyes twinkled as she made eye contact with you, and her small smile made brought one of your own over your face— even with nerves boiling in your chest.

“hi, wands,” you put the call on speaker as you grab your dress to put on. the black beading on the bodice catches your eye in the light— a reminder of wanda’s thoughtfulness. you still can’t believe wanda went out of her way to get you a dress like this.

“hi, you,” wanda’s warm voice comes through the call and it immediately coaxes a laugh out of you. “i’ll be at yours in about 20 minutes. do you need me to bring you anything?”

wanda is an incredibly thoughtful person and is always checking up on you— and today is no different. she’s sent you a few texts throughout the day sprinkled with reassurance and care.

“no, ma’am,” you say as you put the dress on, allowing yourself to marvel in its entirety and how perfect it fits. “just need you to get here.”

your voice is light and teasing, and you’re sure wanda can hear.

in fact, she can, and it makes her heart skip a beat. her fingers drum on her steering wheel as she prays the red light turns green. all she can think about is getting to you as quickly as possible.

“as you wish,” her voice softer now. “i’ll be there in two seconds.”

you two hang up and soon you’re walking to your front door fully dressed to accompany wanda’s event. on the other side of the door is a fully nervous business woman who can’t stop messing with her hair and blazer while she waits for you to open the door.

when you finally open the door, she looks up quickly and stiffens just a bit, then smiles widely as she takes the sight of you in.

her eyes rake over you as she takes every detail in— the way the dress hugs your body, the subtle curl of your hair, and the glow of your skin.

“hi,” her eyes travel from the dress up to your eyes, her face visibly turning a shade of pink, unable to stop the smile adorning her face, “you look.. wow. the dress is.. perfect. you’re perfect.”

her compliment makes your cheek burn and you can’t help but try to bite back a shy smile. wanda lets out a small laugh as she notices your bashfulness.

“thank you, wanda. you look beautiful.”

you look over the taller woman’s figure, at the way she looks poised in her well tailored suit. “i love you in suits.”

it was meant to just be a friendly compliment, but she way wanda immediately became shy was something you would pay to see again. her nose scrunches gently and she tries her best to not look you in the eye as she thanks you.

for a moment, you two stand there like giddy teenagers until wanda wanda finally clears her throat, offering you her arm with a nervous laugh.

“shall we?”

you nod as you slip your arm through hers. the soft fabric of her blazer rubbing against your skin somehow grounds you as you take in the moment. wanda gazes at you while she guides you into her car, admiring how your smile has yet to leave your face.

you two sit in the car en route to the event, making small conversation in attempts to ease the nerves that the both of you have.

“how’s my girl?” wanda asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence. you look over at her with a confused expression, eyebrows scrunched together.

she looks at you with an amused look, “i’m talking about valerie.. you know, the tiny little girl with the same dimples as you? the sweet little four year old?” wanda teases you slightly, letting out a little laugh.

you roll your eyes and softly hit her arm that’s resting on the gear shift. “yes, i know my niece. she’s okay, still the same girly girl you met a month ago.”

wanda nods as you catch her up to speed with your niece— and how she keeps asking for her. in fact, it catches wanda off guard but she loves the idea of the little girl asking to see her again. after all, it gives her an excuse to be around you more often.

pulling the car into the valet area, she looks over at you with a grin. you groan, knowing that it only means trouble.

“let me take you and valerie out on a girls date.” her grin widens as she takes your hand in hers, her thrumb brushing over the top of your hand.

your brows raise, and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. the casual way she said it, like blending herself into your world is something she wouldn’t mind, makes your heart flutter.

“thank about it, okay?” she says with a teasing smirk as she gets out and hands the keys to the valet, “let’s just get through tonight first.”

her hand rests on the small of your back as she guides you into the building, the world moving as you walk in.

it’s overwhelming, the glamour of it all. high ceilings with glittering chandeliers, but the polite hum of conversations enveloping you reminds you you’re not alone in this room. everything feels so polished and poised, you’re not in your element.

wanda walks you around, holding some sort of physical contact with you and introduces you to a few of her colleagues. they are all lovely people who enjoy conversing with you about your line of work and passions. slowly but surely, you’re falling into an gentle rhythm— wanda’s hand on your back reminding you that you’re not alone.

she stays close to you and you cling to the warm comfort she brings— the way she looks at you with a soft smile. her steady and warm voice grounds you as she whispers words of reassurance, making the night seem entirely less daunting.

“you’re doing great,” she whispers into your ear as she squeezes your hip gently. somehow throughout the night, wanda ended up with her arm around your waist.

you manage a small smile as you adjust the straps of your dress while you glance over the room, watching everyone mingle with one another. you swallow hard as you take in the people in their tailored suits and effortless fashion.

wanda notices— of course she does. even with business going on, she’s got an eye on you. you’re her priority tonight. she steps closer to you, her fingers grazing your palm easily, a quiet gesture of reassurance.

“i’ve got you,” wanda whispers lowly so just you can hear, “i’m with you, okay?”

your heart aches at her words, you look up at her with a grin— you’re not alone.

before you can even reply, you’re cut off by a voice.

“well, maximoff, you’ve got… unique taste in company,” the sharp voice cuts through you and you immediately want to retreat.

your stomach drops and you hardly have the chance to even react before wanda instinctively pulls you closer.

her expression sharpens, the teasing and comforting energy you’ve grown so accustomed to immediately fades into something more firm and commanding.

“i would be careful if i were you when it comes to speaking about her.” her voice is laced with edge and sharpness.

the woman blinks, taken aback at wanda’s sudden shift in energy. wanda is known to be a firm but understanding boss, so for her to take on a firm authoritative role catches her off guard. wanda doesn’t give her a chance to recover, her posture straightening, a quiet but undeniable authority radiating from her.

“i’d think twice before making comments like that in my presence,” her voice is even, but firm, “don’t forget who signs your checks.”

the woman’s face pales and she blinks rapidly, muttering an apology, but wanda’s state has them taking a few steps back until they disappear into the crowd.

wanda’s hand finds your waist as she pulls you closer into her, her stern expression melting into something softer as she looks at you. “are you okay?” she’s speaking gently to you, her thumb rubbing against the fabric of your dress.

you nod, your stomach churning at the interaction, “i’m sorry, wanda. i didn’t mean to cause any—“

she shakes her head, interrupting you firmly. “don’t apologize for anything. don’t let anyone here make you feel uncomfortable.”

she leans in slightly, “you’re here because i want you here,” her voice holds a sincerity, “let’s step away for a bit, okay?”

you blindly follow wanda as she leads you with a hand on your waist to a more secluded area of the hall. she’s got you sat on a bench outside on a terrace. the lights on the railings add a sense of whimsy to the otherwise overwhelming evening.

“don’t pay attention to her or anyone else in this room.” wanda says as she brushes a strand of hair from your face. you two have yet to take any further steps towards a romantic relationship, but wanda knows you need to ground yourself with physical touch.

she scans your face as you take in her words, her eyes full of worry. “she doesn’t matter, i promise.”

nodding, almost absentmindedly, as wanda speaks to you with sincerity and patience. “thank you, wanda.”

her lips curve into a faint smile as she takes in the way you look up at her with doe eyes, “always.”

for a moment, she lingers and takes in the moment. in the quiet space between you, you realize that wanda isn’t just with you tonight, she’s standing for you.

wanda hesitates a bit before placing a comforting hand on your thigh, getting your attention. “i just..” she takes in a sharp breath, “i can’t lose.. this.”

her voice is quiet and steady, she doesn’t elaborate on what she means. you look at her face, the way you can see her mentally battling between wanting to say more and wanting to keep something to herself.

your chest tightens as you take in her vulnerability. wanda maximoff, the always composed, is now in front of you with a flicker of uncertainty hiding behind her eyes. your heart aches at how small she looks now.

placing a hand on top of hers, you move to where she can see you clearly, “you won’t, i promise.”

she nods, taking in your reassuring words. you rub your thumb over her knuckles in a way to help steady her, a gesture that’s just as comforting to her as it is to you.

she doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you— but in the space between you two, the air seems heavier and laden with something so precious and fragile.

[oceantornadoo]

ch7 the wrong john | masterlist | next

tw: minor violence in the last sentence

john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin

--

Simon might be a ghost on the battlefield, but you become the ghost on base.

Everyone’s gone. Your only company is your cat, and even Bubbles is starting to get sick of you. You can’t work, have nothing to contribute to the base, and it’s not like the military is going to recruit you for help. 

John and Kyle are gone for weeks. Five days into your abandonment, a nurse puts you out of your misery and recruits you as a medbay volunteer. You fetch supplies, talk to injured soldiers, and deliver food trays. It’s thankless work as most of the hospital occupants are too injured to talk or too caught up in memories of the battlefield. Occasionally, you can make someone smile, especially once you start bringing Bubbles in. Dogs might be favored for therapy animals, but in the grimness of the grey medbay, your cat does the trick. Those smiles keep you going, reminding you of the task force you’ve come to regard as yours. 

Volunteer work gives you time to think. To ponder John’s words and how, despite the idiocy of him just assuming you were together, they were what you’ve been wanting to hear. You’ve been straddling this line of jealousy and avoidance, wanting John to yourself while knowing you can’t want him at all. But is that really the case? If Johnny’s dating Simon, maybe it’s not out of the realm of possibility that you could be with John. You just need to approach the subject with caution, and give him time to warm up to it. He’s never met a boyfriend of yours, so you can’t show PDA off the bat. It might take a while, but optimism seeps through your veins.

It’s the feeling you can know so much without knowing anything at all. You have no clue how Johnny will react or if John will even want to date you now that you’ve hurt him. What will Simon and Kyle think? You’ve only met them a few times, but with how much Johnny trusts them, their acceptance means everything.

Of course, all of your plans include Johnny surviving whatever hell he’s in, and that realization quickly snuff the flames of your desire. You ride this seesaw of emotions for weeks, thinking of John one day and your brother the next. It doesn’t help you have no one to talk to except your cat and soldiers in comas. Your social life is really looking up.

Eventually, the nurses stop seeing you as a nuisance and more of a new fixture on base. It’s the nurses that keep medbay functioning, especially when doctors are focused on emergency patients. Someone finds out you’re Johnny’s brother and suddenly you’re hounded by two women asking if you know of one Kyle Garrick. They must be in that love triangle John mentioned. You warn them to not get attached, something someone should have warned you months ago.

Three weeks later, there’s an early morning knock at your door. It’s barely 5 am and even the sun isn’t awake yet. You trudge your way to the door, grabbing one of Johnny’s sweatshirts to battle the early morning cold. There’s a runty almost-kid at your door, shifting from foot to foot. He almost flinches when you open the door, head snapping up to look at your face, then back to his boots. It’s a bit unnerving, how scared he looks.

“Ms. Mactavish?”

“That’s me.”

“You’re wanted at the helipad. Captain Price is back.” You can’t help the gasp that escapes you, how the rookie in front of you almost jumps back in fear. “Did they say anything about Sergeant Mactavish? Soap or Ghost?” He shakes his head and your heart drops to your stomach. “No, ma’am. That’s all they told me. I’m here to walk you to the helipad.” You’re already moving, fumbling for the closest pair of shoes, shoving them on without socks. You close the door and wait for him to direct you. He stands there, almost twitching. “Well?” You adopt a forceful tone, reminiscent of your captain. The recruit jumps slightly, then starts walking down the hall, gesturing to you to follow. You’re speedwalking, leading even though you have no idea where you’re going. Finally, after minutes of silence, he brings you to a nondescript elevator. When you get inside, there’s only one button, an up arrow. You wring your hands as the elevator moves up, every worst possible fear coming to mind. What if John comes back empty-handed? Or with two body bags? They didn’t even mention Kyle. What if he got captured too? You shake the thoughts out, knowing you’ll get your answers in seconds.

The elevator stops, dinging as the doors open. It’s dark and cold outside, but you’re fixated on the doors of the helicopter in front of you. It’s opening and you’re moving, practically running across the roof. A figure with a shaved head is jumping out, the darkness hiding his face. You finally reach him and cry out in relief.

“Johnny!”

“M'eudail.”

His response is muffled by the hug you attack him with. He’s skinnier than usual, no longer built like a tank. It doesn’t matter as long as he’s here, arms wrapped around you. The tears fall unbidden and you think he’s crying too, something you’ve only seen him once at nine years old when he broke his arm climbing a tree. You rub your arms up and down his back, calming him like you would yourself. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.” He nods against you, tears slowing as you simply hold each other. “Thought you got the memo, you’re not allowed to leave me, Johnny.” You hate how long it takes for him to find a comeback as all he does is squeeze you tighter. “Won’t do it again, hen.”

You finally pull back to take a look at him. His usually bright eyes have dulled and his facial hair is shaved unevenly. And, like you originally thought, his mohawk is gone, replaced with a terrible buzzcut. You run your hands around his smooth head and hate the feel of it. “‘M sorry, Johnny. It’ll grow back.” He gives you a watery smile, hands finally relaxing their grip on you. He blinks back the remaining tears and you can see his soldier persona take over as his back straightens. You take one more moment to kiss his cheek, then pull back out of his grip. Over his shoulder, you spot Simon being handed a medical mask by Kyle. Once he puts it on, you approach him gratefully.

“Simon.” He scoops you up in a hug. “Bird.” You smile against his mask. “Thank you for keeping him safe.” He nods against you, releasing you from his grip. “Think he kept me alive, t’ be honest.” You grin and give him the same cheek kiss you gave Johnny.

Someone clears their throat behind you. You turn and let out a shout of relief. It’s Kyle. “You’re alive!” It’s another brotherly hug you dole out, squeezing him tightly. “Couldn’t leave ya alone, angel.” You giggle. “I’m glad you’re alive. I met some very lovely nurses while you were gone who had very interesting thoughts on you.” You can hear him audibly gulp for effect, a smirk written on his face when you pull out of his grip. “We’ve got things to discuss, then.” He winks and you wink back.

There’s a pair of eyes that have been staring at you for a while now. John’s the last out of the helicopter, conferring with the soldiers around him before saying his hellos. A doctor is checking out Johnny and Simon, Kyle talking to them in murmured tones. John walks toward you quietly, stopping silently. The words of the last conversation you had float between you, bitter from weeks of overthinking.

When John opens his arms for a hug, your senses go haywire. The noises of the task force, of your brother, fade to the background as John gathers you into his arms. He smells like gunpowder and blood, that familiar scent of pine and musk nowhere to be found. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for what I said.” You murmur it into the crook of his neck. John stiffens slightly, knowing you’re referring to your last conversation. Where you told him you couldn’t be together. 

“‘M sorry f’r not communicatin’.” You shake your head against him like you won’t accept his apology. His hand traces the path of your spine and digs into the nape of your neck, gripping the base of your hair like a leash. “What’re you sayin’, sweetheart?” The hug has gone on far too long for this to be normal, for you to be having this conversation wrapped in each other. You pull back slightly to see his face, arms still wrapped around him. “I can’t not be with you, John. We’ll figure everything else out.” He pulls you in for a kiss, a short and sweet one that wraps around you like a warm blanket. The moment is perfect.

Well, it is perfect, until you remember your brother standing a few meters away. Johnny, recent captive and loyal twin, is red in the face watching his sister kiss his captain. You turn your head to see Simon put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, an attempt to calm him that does not work. Johnny’s charging the two of you like an angry bull, huffing and mad. He reaches you in quick steps, hands balled in fists at his side.

“Didnae ken who ta yell at first.” His eyes drop to John’s hand in your hair and his nostrils flare. John’s hands drop, pushing you around him and away from your brother. “Guess it’s you, Cap.” And that’s when Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, known spitfire, punches his captain.

- 50 points to anyone who can find the taylor swift lyric. hint it’s from Red and it’s an underrated song imo.

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@eyeless-kun

@bina-passion-fruit

@lilynotdilly

@lovenewfandoms

@tired-writer04

@sleep101

@konigsm

@mehjustalasshere

@alyssajofreitas

@thriving-n-jiving

@royalz658

@honestlymassivetrash

@krispymagazinepizza-blog

@just-a-harmless-potato-05

@vullzo

@rosallels

[joysansworld]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆ hey lovely’s! This is my first time ever writing so bear with me on this one! I would love any and all feedback so feel free to share! (I’m also still trying to figure out how to use tumblr so I’d love some tips for that as well ._.) anyways here’s a a quick little story of an idea I had earlier I hope you enjoy! ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Summary: You and Nanami Kento had been coworkers at jujutsu tech for a while. Overtime you had both developed a sort of friendship, you found that you both had a lot of the same interests and got along great, but your relationship never extended outside of just work friends. That was until everyone had gone out for drinks for Gojos birthday and he had a little too much to drink causing him to share some secrets he didn’t want shared.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

It was 7pm. I was getting ready to go to a local bar to celebrate Gojos birthday with everybody from work. I put on a simple black dress and some black boots with a brown overcoat since it was cold out being that it was December. Once I was done getting ready I picked up my phone to text Nanami to let him know I was good for him to come pick me up whenever he was ready. We had decided to carpool there together since we figured it would be easier for the both of us since we could only handle so much of Gojo at one time and figured we’d both end up leaving early anyways. My phone screen lit up as I read the message i received from him. “Okay I’ll head over now. -Kento”. I headed to the living room in my apartment and grabbed my purse, getting one last look of myself in the entryway mirror, smoothing out my hair and making sure everything looked right. As I waited for him to pull up I couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of nervousness. Not that I had any reason to, but I had to admit that I grown fond of Nanami. We had been working together for a while and although we continued to stay just friends, I couldn’t help but begin to feel something more for him. We got along great and shared the same interests, talking about whatever books we were reading at the time never got old. And the coffee breaks we’d take together or the fresh bread he’d bring me every morning when he stopped at the bakery, it all led to me falling for him. But I had long since shoved those feelings down, not wanting to ruin our friendship and also not wanting to jeopardize anything at work, our job was dangerous after all and the last thing anyone needed was unnecessary feelings getting in the way. Just as I was about to go further into deep thought, the sound of a car door shutting brought me back to reality. I looked out my window to see Nanami approaching my from door. I smoothed out my dress hastily before I heard the doorbell sound, I opened the door and was greeted with his familiar warm smile. “Hey, you ready to go?” He asked. “As ready as I possibly can be.” I said with a sigh shaking my head slightly, stepping out of the doorway and closing it behind me. “You can never prepare yourself for Gojo unfortunately.” He said with a light chuckle.

As we headed to his car, he walked over to my side and opened the door for me. I said a quiet thank you before sitting in the passenger seat. Of course I couldn’t help the feeling of butterflies in my stomach as he walked around to his side of the car, but I shoved all of that down as he got in. “So how long are we planning on staying tonight?” I asked him as he pulled out of the driveway and began the short drive to the bar. “Well i figured we stay about an hour, that gives him enough time to get drunk and allows us to make our escape without him complaining too much.” He said with a small grin on his face. I let out a laugh as I responded “yeah no that sounds like a great plan, let’s just hope it doesn’t make him more dramatic and then we have to pry him off of us while he wails dramatically.” I said jokingly rolling my eyes. Once we reached the bar, Nanami had gotten out of the car to open my door and provided a hand to help me out. As we walked into the bar together we immediately spotted the group. Gojo, Geto, shoko, and haibara were all already there. Shoko waved us over eagerly, as we walked towards them Gojo finally spotted us, turning around with his massive grin plastered on his face. “Well look who finally decided to show up! I thought you guys forgot about me there for a second!” He said sarcastically as he raised up his arms in false offense. “Oh don’t worry Gojo we could never, you’re too unforgettable.” I said with a smile, rolling my eyes. “Aw you’re too kind.” He said with a grin. I wished him happy birthday and took my seat next to Shoko. Nanami had sat in the other side of me where he sat next to Haibara. Both of us had ordered drinks and began talking to our friends. I wasn’t really feeling drinking that night so I continued to sip on my one glass of wine throughout the whole night. Despite that I still had a lot of fun, me and shoko gossiped about a little bit of everything while Gojo of course had too much to drink and began terrorizing everyone close by. Geto following close behind him practically babysitting him. Nanami had walked off somewhere with haibara awhile ago, so me and shoko continued talking.

I was just in the middle of saying something to her when I felt a hand on my shoulder, I turn around to see a man I didn’t know standing behind me. A sleazy grin on his face and very obviously intoxicated. “Hey sweetness, mind if I buy you a drink?” He said slurring his words slightly. I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and gave him a tight lipped smile as I replied, “no thank you, I’m actually all done for the night.” But that didn’t ward him off since his then leaned against the bar table and leaned in awkwardly close to me. “Oh come on, I’ve been watching you all night and you’ve hardly had anything, just let me get you a little something at least?” Scooting away from him, now visibly uncomfortable I grimaced at him as I replied. “Really I’m okay thank you.” I replied dryly as I turned back to shoko trying to ignore him. That was until he grabbed my shoulder again, harsher this time, spinning me around to face him. “Hey I don’t take kindly to being ignored especially by sluts like you.” He practically spat out in anger. Before shoko could even get words out of her mouth to defend me, there was suddenly a very large figure being shoved in between me and the creep. It didn’t take long for me to realize that it was a very upset Nanami standing in between us. “Hey what the hell man?” I heard being yelled out by the other man. Nanami had shoved him back, clearly infuriated. “You need to get the fuck away from her. Now.” He spat out in utter anger. “Listen I don’t know who the hell you are, but this isn’t your problem buddy so you need to get out of my way so I can finish the conversation I was having.” The creep said as he got in Nanamis face poking his chest. “It didn’t look like much of a conversation to me, so I think you should leave.” Nanami said almost too calmly. Wait was he drunk? The closer I looked the more I saw his flushed face, probably a mix of the alcohol and anger. He never acted like this either. “I don’t think you heard me clearly, I’m not done dealing with this bitch so you-“ he didn’t even finish his sentence before Nanami punched him right in the face. Everyone in the bar collectively gasping as they all looked over at the scene. “Don’t you dare fucking talk to her like that you piece of shit!” He yelled out as he towered over the man who was now on the floor with a very bloody and definitely broken nose, just as he was about to go for another hit, Geto and haibara got in between them and shoved Nanami back. Coming more to his senses after a few moments he turned to face me, placing his hands on my shoulders gently, looking me over. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He said his tone laced with concern. My eyes were still wide with utter shock as I shook my head. “No-no I’m fine. Kento why did you-?” He interrupted me before I could finish, taking on a more serious tone. “He disrespected you. And no one should ever treat you like that, you are an incredible woman, someone who is only worthy of respect, and I’ll be damned if someone treats you like that.” I felt the blush heat up my cheeks. His words caused my own to catch in my throat. I then felt his hand on my cheek, his touch light. “You deserve only the utmost respect, and you deserve a man who treats you like the kind, loving, angel that you are. You are too wonderful, too great to be treated as low as that. And I’m never going to let that happen to you.” He said as he looked directly into my eyes, emotion evident in them. I was at a complete loss for words and still in utter shock as my body stayed completely still. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol making him say all of this or what, but it made my heart race.

Just as I was about to say something back the owner of the bar had asked us to leave, and rightfully so. The man who layed on the floor was being tended to staring daggers at Nanami. As we all walked out of the bar shoko wrapped her arm around me and began laughing “you know I think after experiencing whatever just happened, I think it’s safe to say Nanami has a little bit of a thing for you.” I immediately looked over at him to see if he heard that, he was to busy being surrounded by Gojo and the others who were all praising him for what he did. “Shoko shut up!” I said elbowing her playfully. “Hey I’m just saying I think it’s painfully obvious.” And with that we all stood outside by our cars. Geto was driving Gojo home and haibara was leaving with shoko, so that left me to take nanami home, since I’d definitely be the one driving tonight. The walk to the car was silent, as we got in and I adjusted the drivers seat and started the car, I could feel him looking at me. “I’m sorry for causing such a scene tonight, but I couldn’t stand how he was talking to you.” He said calmly. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it I totally get it and if anything I’m glad you did it. He was a huge creep and I don’t know what would’ve happened if you wouldn’t have come when you did.” I said keeping my eyes on the road ahead. “I care about you, I really do. Maybe more than I should.” I heard him say, the last part almost a whisper. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as i pulled up into my driveway. “I care about you too Ken” I said looking down as I put the car in park, feeling incredibly nervous. “I know I probably shouldn’t confess this now but I’m going to do it while I have the courage. Over time, I’ve learned that I have fallen for you. I know we’re just friends and I understand completely if you don’t feel the same but I can’t help it anymore. You’re kind heart and beautiful personality, the way you brighten up every room you walk into. Whenever I’m having a horrid day at work and you magically come by to tell me something stupid you saw Gojo do, it makes me feel better in ways that it shouldn’t. The work we do is awful and draining, and for awhile I didn’t have a reason. But then you came into my life, with your witty sarcasm and love for classic books which still shocks me to this day. But you gave me reason, and it was then, when I realized I had fallen for you and there was no going back for me. And I understand if you don’t feel the same but I had to let you know.” And for a moment there was just silence between us. As we sat there looking back at each other. Until I finally spoke up, “Kento, you have no idea how good it feels to hear that. Because I do feel the same way, I have for awhile I just, never wanted to say anything in fear it would ruin our friendship. But you did the same for me, you’ve become a light in this dreadful job and I, well I feel the same way.” I said quietly. I could feel my heart beating wildly against my chest as we just looked at each other for a moment. He reached his hand to cup my face gently, rubbing his thumb across my cheek lightly. I melted into his touch immediately, as i continued to look at him I moved without even thinking. Closing the distance between us as I placed my lips on his own. It didnt take long for him to kiss me back. Our mouths moving in sync with equal fervor and emotion. Once we pulled away from each other he rested his forehead on my own. “I hate that this all happened the way it did but I am thankful it happened. But let me take you on a real date, let me pick you up and take you to a nice dinner no bars or anything like that, what do you say?” He asked. And I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my face as i answered him “yeah, id love that kento. How about tomorrow night?”

(This was terrible lmao, posting it because I spent way too long on it, feel free to flame me for this😭)

[otomes-world]

Lucid dreaming

I haven't been the most productive writer this year. I'm also late with the congratulatory gift, but I'll continue anyway. This isn't exactly a New Year's themed work. I wrote it as unexpectedly as I posted it today. Thanks to everyone who's been with me this year! P.S. You can put here any of your favorite characters. Happy holiday my dear 0/

The sky was light purple with clouds running past, always hurrying somewhere. There was silence all around, broken only by the sound of footsteps on the stone-paved road. On the sides there were statues of various villains from different fairy tales. Why your consciousness decided to choose them was a question you would like to know the answer to.

This was not the first time you have found yourself in this place. Sometimes the locations were cut out illustrations from a fantasy book, and sometimes they seemed so real that sometimes you were surprised to wake up.

You remembered the very first one from the dream best. It was dark, the source of light was only the lanterns glowing green. Except for the full moon - because, of course, it had to be full - which was burning, a bright noticeable spot, already at this stage not boding anyting well. The road led you through a landscaped park and, it seemed, there was nothing unexpected in this. Until it turned and before your eyes appeared an ornate metal gate, the wicket door standing open. As if inviting you to enter.

In the distance, a castle stood proudly, its sharp towers piercing the sky.

Hearing a horse neighing behind you, you turned around abruptly and woke up. Blinking and trying to catch your breath after the sudden awakening, you replayed such a real scene in your head. As if you had already been there, which was a stupid statement. You were not the type of person running around abandoned buildings and shouting into the void with a flashlight: "Give me a sign!" However, dreams are dreams, and work and getting ready in the mornings were still necessary.

The cold water finally drove away the remnants of sleep, and the amazing dream would have been forgotten in the routine, if it had not been repeated the next night.

And the next.

And the one after that.

Throughout the year.

The bell caught your attention, and you looked up to greet the new customer. It was raining outside, and many people were rushing to hide under the shelter of the roofs of small coffee shops and stores. Yours was no exception.

Well, the cafe wasn't exactly yours. You just worked there as a barista, because, firstly, it wasn't difficult. Secondly, the pay was pretty good. Thirdly… you started working there as a teenager, and now the small establishment had become an integral part of your life. A second home, no matter how saccharine it may sound. You loved this place, and that was only thing that matters.

Usually, the hustle and bustle took up all possible free time and there were no thoughts for unnecessary reflections, but on such a melancholic day with an equally thoughtful accompaniment, it became an exception.

Despite the fact that dreams, against your will, also tightly merged with your everyday life, you could not deny how real they felt from time to time. The texture of objects, the wind on your skin, and even the banal emotions of what was happening. The only thing that kept you afloat was the next awakening after the invisible timer ended. Whatever you saw, whatever place you visited this time, in the end you opened your eyes in your apartment. You walked to your favorite job along familiar streets. You saw the same faces of passersby running through the shop windows to their business.

Everything was as it should have been.

However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slowly starting to change. You no longer felt lonely and restless in the world of dreams. As if you were being thrown into moments when someone was nearby. Even though you couldn’t see each other, the suspicion in the subcortex of your consciousness made itself known.

You first noticed this while sitting in the library, whose shelves with books stretched as far as the view could reach. It was quiet and, taking the first manual on flying on broomsticks that came to hand, you opened it to a random page and dozed off, propping your chin up with your hand. Sleeping in a dream was ironical but the sun shining through the window made you sleepy.

The chair next to you creaked, and you instantly opened your eyes. There was no one nearby. Frowning, you left the book, stood up and walked around the seats, peering around the corners. It was definitely a chair. As if someone had moved it to sit at the table. When you returned to your place, you discovered that the book was closed and put on the edge of the table.

Ghosts didn't exist, you repeated to yourself. Although you were actually asleep, so in the world of your consciousness they could be as real as, for example, you. The realization made you shudder unpleasantly, but not from the cold. The desire to return to the previous place disappeared and, casting another wary glance at the book, you turned to hide in the depths of the library. While away the time until you woke up.

From that moment on, you constantly began to notice someone's invisible presence. Moreover, you could swear that this someone noticed you. You simply did not have direct evidence of each other's existence.

Doubts gnawing from within deprived you of peace during the period intended for rest. Until, finding yourself in the library, you walked to the nearest table to grab a piece of paper and a pen. It looked and sounded stupid. Trying to find an explanation for the oddities in a dream was like asking unnecessary questions in a computer game.

"Are you here?"

Leaving a piece of paper and a pen nearby, you stepped away, turned on your heels and left. If the pen suddenly flew in and started scratching something, you couldn't promise that you wouldn't fall over on the spot. The anticipation was driving you crazy, but it was a necessary decision to try to calm yourself down.

After making a few circles, forcing yourself to read the spines of the books, trying to distract yourself, you walked back slowly. The items were where you left them, only next to your inscription there was another one.

"I'm here"

You dropped into a chair and not taking your eyes off the paper, afraid to touch it. You sat there until you woke up again.

A sigh escaped against your will, forcing your eyes shut and open a couple of times, you tried to straighten up. You probably weren't the best employee today, but the work shift flew by unnoticed. It was time to close. Stepping out into the hall and sitting down on one of the soft chairs, you rubbed the bridge of your nose. That incident wouldn't leave your head and although you never repeated such experiments, it was enough to turn your whole understanding of the dream world upside down. It was one thing to travel to an unknown place and quite another to realize that you were not alone.

The bell on the door rang - someone had arrived. Damn it, you forgot to close the door and turn the sign over. Pulling yourself together, you raised your head to meet an unknown man. Although he was outwardly calm, you noticed how interestedly he was looking around.

"Excuse me, sir, we are closed," you addressed him, drawing his attention to you. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar, but you definitely hadn't met before. You remembered most of the cafe's customers. "You can come in tomorrow, we are open from 8 am."

You looked at each other for a while. This gave you another chance to look him over. He was dressed in some sort of uniform: a black jacket and pants, a colorful vest, a white shirt and a striped tie. Then he closed his eyes and answered more cheerfully than you expected.

"Oh, that's too bad," his expression didn't match the bad - for him - news. "I was hoping to get out of the rain."

You glanced at the door behind him, and sure enough, the rain didn't seem to be letting up. A sentence you would never have uttered to anyone in your right mind was out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

The stranger's eyes narrowed slightly, revealing a happy glint in his eyes. For some reason, the unexpected remark rang in your head like a bell, even though no one was coming in. Without waiting for his answer - your intuition told you that he would not refuse - you went to the door and turned the sign over to "Closed".

"I need to close and clean up, it'll take me," you glanced quickly at the clock by the counter. "Half an hour or so. You can wait there until I'd finish but after you'll have to leave."

You did not believe in fateful meetings, but perhaps this was one of them? It sounded cheesy even to you, so you ignored the man who had settled down on a chair near the display case. Of all the places, he decided to choose this one.

With sheer willpower, you forced yourself to get down to work, already regretting your words. It was too late to take them back and throw him out into the street.

Surprisingly, he did not try to start a conversation with you, limiting himself to rare glances, for which you were grateful. If he suddenly decided to continue the dialogue, you would have caught a nervous overstrain. Enough impressions from this day.

You walked over to where he had been sitting, seemingly a moment ago, to wipe down the surface. Then you froze. There was a white paper napkin with just three words on it,

You finished wiping the tables and looked around the hall. As you got to work, you completely forgot about the man's presence. Turning to the counter, you found that he was no longer there. When did he leave and why didn't you hear? It saved you from unnecessary interaction, though.

"I'm here."

[strikexlightning]

Ryan Howard x Male Reader

notes: this might not be show timeline accurate, I'm not even gonna lie :'), it's supposed to take place in season 6, I had the wiki open the whole time so hopefully it's at least passable, also sorry if the characters are ooc a little, I'm still in the process of rewatching the show.

cws: mention of ryan being into pain, fucking at work, they don't use lube

Your head falls into your hands, overwhelmed by whatever bullshit Jim was doing to Dwight today. Sometimes you found it funny, but on days like today, it made you question why you accepted the accounting position all those years ago. You at least wished you could work in the annex, or in that cozy little closet Jim put Ryan in.

You push back your chair, getting up and walking into the kitchen, deciding to get more coffee because you couldn't possibly think of going back into that area of the office without any sort of caffeine.

“Hey.” Someone behind you says. It makes you jump and almost spill scalding hot coffee all over your hand, and you turn, wondering how you didn't hear anyone walk in before you remember Ryan's “office” is directly behind you.

You give him a little nod in return, not in the mood for listening to his pretentious bullshit. The last time you came into the kitchen, the closet door was open and he made you look at the…interesting pictures he's been taking, trying to be artsy. He literally made you stand there for 30 minutes straight while the phone on your desk rang.

As he looks through the fridge, it's clear he's just pretending, using it to hide the fact that he keeps glancing over at you, trying to see if you acknowledge his presence. As you finish up making your coffee, he shuts the fridge, realizing it's not gonna work.

He passes behind you, leaning against the counter as you clean up the small amount of coffee you spilled. He's too close, his elbow almost touching yours.

“Got any plans after work?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I think everyone's planning on going out for drinks.” You answer, taking a sip from the mug. You weren't really interested in talking to him but you didn't want to be rude.

“Well I was asking about you specifically…silly.” He says, with a weird, awkward laugh. He added the “silly” at the end in a way that made it sound like he was debating on whether or not to say that, and you can tell he instantly regrets saying it as he awkwardly glances towards the film crew when you don't respond and then retreats back to his closet, shutting the door.

You squint at the door before slowly walking back to your desk, Dwight now back in his seat and Jim nowhere to be found. You work for a little bit before you start to get bored, switching tabs to a random game. When lunch comes, a few people leave together, leaving the break room empty because the few people still there were up to other things. You didn't really care, all you heard was ‘empty room all to yourself’.

You grab your food and get comfortable, being the only one in there. You read as you eat, some random fantasy book you had picked up somewhere. It was peaceful, without any shenanigans, no camera crew because they were off filming the interesting stuff.

And you jinxed it, because the second you start to enjoy your lunch, Ryan himself comes striding in, straight towards you. You didn't know exactly why you disliked him so much. He wasn't really that horrible to you, though he did kind of suck, and you didn't really care much about the others’ to hate him for any personal reasons. Part of you wondered if it was some kind of sexual frustration, because he was kind of hot and clearly didn't have anything against sleeping with coworkers. Maybe it was the sex dreams you had of him when he was VP, you just really wanted to put that man in his place, but he kind of did it to himself when he got arrested so after that the dreams kind of just stopped.

The fact that you found him sexually attractive freaked you out, not because he was a guy, but because it was Ryan of all people. The last thing he needed was another ego boost.

He stands in front of the table you're sitting at, staring at you until you look up at him. He sits next to you, getting comfortable and once again, way too close. He's practically on top of you, his hand squeezing your arm tightly, probably so you can't get up and leave.

“Listen, man. I found this new…business venture, let's say. I figured you'd be interested.” His voice is a low whisper, like he's telling you some mystical secret or something, and he stares at you expectantly.

You have literally no idea what the fuck he's talking about.

You stare back at him, a confused look taking over your face. “...you’re not doing coke again, are you?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. I just think you and I should…discuss…business strategies. After work. Tonight.”

You're pretty sure he's just trying to fuck you and can't come up with a better reason to get you alone other than straight out asking. You're not completely opposed, so you shrug.

“Sure, I guess.” You glance over and see someone from the camera crew recording you through the window from outside of the door. There goes your undisturbed lunch break.

He grins, letting go of your arm and patting your back, his hand lingering for a little bit. “Sweet.”

You nod in response, not knowing what to say. Now that you're aware of what he's doing, it just makes it weirder that he's doing that rather than coming right out and saying it. You saw how he was with women usually, so you figured he just didn't know how to flirt with men.

He stands back up and stops in his place when he sees the crew filming the both of you, and then he continues to leave. You can see him saying something to them, but you can't hear it. You sigh when you check the clock, realizing your lunch is over and you barely got through the first ten pages of the book. You retreat back to your desk, finishing out the rest of the day playing computer games and avoiding doing actual work.

When it's time to leave, you grab your jacket, relieved that the day was over. You were actually intrigued to see where Ryan was going with his horrible attempt at asking you to come over. You knew it was some kind of sexual advance just by how see through he is to you, but you didn't exactly know how it would play out and it was a little exciting.

“Are you coming to the bar with us?” Meridith asks you as she comes up next to you. You shake your head.

“No, I'm…going straight home. Gonna get some rest. You have fun though.” You respond in a suspicious manner. Luckily she doesn't care and says goodbye to you before leaving with everyone else.

You see Ryan out of the corner of your eye, and you turn your head, not expecting him to be staring directly at you as Michael is trying to talk to him. Michael sees that Ryan is looking in your direction and he waves you over. You give him a small smile as you walk over.

“I was just telling Ryan about that new Mexican restaurant that just opened, we should check it out one of these days. You know, just us three guys. Hangin’ out.” Michael tells you. He seems really excited at the idea of that so you nod along, not wanting to decline.

But Ryan isn't even paying attention, eyes still locked on you. He's basically just eyefucking you, running down your body and back up to your face. He doesn't look away when you stare back at him. The two of you stay locked in a sexually charged staring contest, and neither of you notice when Michael realizes you aren't paying attention to him and leaves.

You make the first move, lightly pushing him against Jim's desk, to which he leans back immediately. That one action seems to awaken both of your urges, urges that were held back for the sake of being professional. He pushes a few things out of the way to fully get onto the desk, pulling you closer by your tie as your hands fall to his waist.

He presses his lips to yours in a heated kiss, letting you get in between his legs as he holds a hand in your hair and the other gripping your arm tightly. You unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie, hands grabbing at his waist and torso underneath his shirt. He wraps his legs around your waist, pulling you even closer as you make out while he bucks his hips up against you, moaning into your mouth. He pulls away, hands unbuttoning your shirt and then sliding down to your belt.

“I've always wanted to do it here.” He says, his face slightly flushed as he catches his breath.

“Why?” You ask. It didn't surprise you that he wanted to though.

Ryan shrugs as he gets your belt off. You do the same for him and he ruts his hips against you again, groaning softly.

“It's one thing you're not supposed to do, obviously I'd want to do it.”

You make a short humming sound to acknowledge what he said as you grab his hips again, grinding your clothed erection against his, straining against his pants. He moans, looking up at you with the most desperate look you've ever seen from him.

You lean forward, lips brushing against the man's neck. He lets out a soft sigh, moving his head to give you access to his neck. You kiss down to his shoulder before biting down, pulling a moan from him. One of your hands comes up to the back of his head, tangling itself in his hair as you kiss and suck at his neck and shoulder, trying not to make marks in spots that could be easily seen.

“Fuck..you can do them wherever, I don't care if people see.” He says, his voice breathy.

You raise a curious eyebrow and then move upwards, your hand sliding up to the side of his head and pulling it to the side more, which he softly moans at. You leave a mark in a very visible spot before you can tell Ryan is getting impatient.

Your fingers loop around the waist of his pants and you pull them and his underwear down, his painfully hard cock springing out. You do the same for yourself, your dick against his thigh. He stares down at it, biting down on his bottom lip. You stop what you're doing and he looks up at you.

“We don't have lube. Unless you have some.” You say. He looks off towards where the closet is, thinking for a minute.

“There's some in my desk.” He responds, but he grabs your arm to stop you from going to get it. “Just leave it, it's fine.”

You raise an eyebrow again. “Are you sure? It'll hurt.”

He looks away from you, grip on you loosening and moving to rub at his eye. “I don't, uh. I don't mind.”

You instantly understand and you even laugh slightly. You wrap a hand around the base of his dick, rock hard and dripping. It throbs when you slowly start to move your hand, pumping it up and down a few times. Ryan bucks his hips into your hand, letting out breathy, desperate moans.

You lift your other hand, spitting into it and wrapping it around your cock. Moving to hold his thigh, you guide yourself into him, making him suck in a sharp breath. He presses a hand to his forehead, and once you're fully in, he releases a high pitched moan. You're about to comment on it but decided against it, slowly starting to thrust in and out.

Ryan's eyes are shut tight, his mouth open as breathy high pitched moans escape him every time you push back in. You start to speed up, your hold on his hips getting tighter as you groan. One of his arms reaches out behind him, looking for something to grab onto and knocking over a cup of pencils and pens in the process. He grabs onto the edge of the desk, the whole thing rocking with you, things falling over and being knocked onto the floor.

You dig your nails into the man's skin, and his head falls back as he cums, landing on his chest and stomach. His cock twitches from the sensitivity when you only speed up more, pounding into him. He moans loudly, not caring if there's anyone still in the vicinity.

His legs squeeze tighter around you as he loudly begs you not to pull out with a lot of expletives. You groan out a “fuck” and bury yourself in him, releasing your load and riding out your high before slowing to a stop.

You both are silent while trying to catch your breath. Eventually, you pull out slowly, and back up, letting Ryan hop off the desk. He stumbles a little bit, his legs weak underneath him. He pulls his pants back up.

“I'm gonna go clean up, I'll be back.” He says, going off to the bathroom. You readjust your clothes, buttoning your shirt back up, and tying your tie back on the right way.

You try your best to fix Jim's desk, picking up all the stuff you knocked over and hoping he doesn't notice something is off. While you wait for Ryan, you think about the fact that you had sex with a coworker. In the place you work at. On top of your other coworkers desk.

You kind of understand why Ryan wanted to now, it was fun.

He comes back out, tie still loose and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, but his hair is fixed and he's less flushed. The two of you walk outside, walking past a few cleaners you did not know were in the building yet. Some of the camera crew are standing outside when you walk out the door and you almost jump. You and Ryan are silent before awkwardly going your separate ways to separate cars, the cameraman zooming into Ryan's marked up neck.

They had a lot of interesting questions to ask on Monday.

[romeo-fiore]

23 December 2024 - Rome, Italy

Romeo paced across his living room, rubbing at his forehead in immense frustration. His one hand was balled up in a tight fist beside him, while the other held his cellphone to his ear.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there," he hastily promised the caller, before snapping. "I said I'll be there, alright?!"

Just then, three knocks were heard on his front door. Romeo whipped his head around, momentarily tuning out of his current conversation. Who could that be? he wondered. He wasn't expecting anyone. Was it...? He looked at his phone, then out the window. Could they be watching him right now?

"Remember Fiore," the caller warned him. "You need us more than we need you." Before he could reply, he was met by a dead dial tone.

And another knock on the door.

For a minute, Romeo stood perfectly still. His mind reeled with the possibility of who it could be. He'd told his family he had gone on a work trip and wouldn't be back for a month — his convenient excuse as to why he wouldn't be coming home for the holidays. So, who would know he was home?

"Ro?" A familiar voice came from behind threshold, and for a second, Romeo didn't know whether he was annoyed or relieved. Dragging his feet, he pulled the door open.

"Chi."

Sure enough, his older sister, Chiara, was standing there with a small, hopeful smile and a small carry-on luggage.

"What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly.

Chiara's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, frowning. "I think the phrase is 'would you like to come in?'"

Romeo stared at his only older sister, irritation scratching lightly at his skin. She spoke so softly, yet her eyes promised no nonsense. It gave Romeo no choice but to step aside, allowing Chiara in.

"I know why you're here," Romeo said as he locked the door behind them. He passed Chiara to head to his mini bar, making them drinks. The pills he'd taken shortly before she arrived would not be enough for whatever conversation awaited him.

"Then why ask what I'm doing here, silly?"

With his back to her, Romeo rolled his eyes and continued to pour Campari in one glass — Chiara's preferred spirit, and his favourite whisky in the other. Once he was done, he handed her his drink and sat across from her with a drink of his own. He chugged the whole thing before she could continue.

"I know you told Gemma that you'd be working this Christmas," Chiara started, sitting cross-legged on the leather couch opposite him. The brilliant red-orange drink in her perfectly manicured hand swirled lightly with the ice he'd put inside. "But you never said when. So, I thought I'd try to see if you're still home."

Romeo eyed his sister. Chiara wasn't the type to be suspicious, but she's known to be very thorough. Her businesses depended on it. Still, Romeo said nothing, quickly wishing he'd gotten himself a bigger drink.

"Now, I know the holidays have never been your favourite but," she paused to drink. The whole thing, too, to Romeo's surprise. Placing the now empty glass on his sleek coffee table, she looked him in the eye and said, "If I could go through near bankruptcy, betrayal and divorce in one year, you can pull up your big boy pants and join us for Christmas."

Romeo swallowed. Just minutes before, he had every excuse in the book ready. But given what Chiara had just said, his cards held no such value.

Stumped, he watched his older sister stand to refill their glasses. Again, another surprise. It wasn't Chiara to drink so much. Concern crossed his face. Was she okay? She looked so put together, no one would've known she was going through any hardships. How does she do it?

"One condition." Romeo spoke at last. Chiara turned, crossed the floor, and handed him his drink. She said nothing, simply and patiently waiting for him to name his condition. "No one is to bother me on my birthday."

Chiara made the tiniest reaction, as if to argue, to which Romeo shut down immediately. "That's my only condition."

Minutes ticked by, and for the life of him, Romeo couldn't read the expression on Chiara's face. It was a gamble, he knew, because although his father's yearly present for him was a healthy reminder of what a failure he was compared to the eldest, Giovanni, Romeo knew that missing his birthday would break his mother's heart. But at least she'd be getting Christmas, right? he thought. And he really needed to be in Rome by New Year's. Recalling his phone conversation earlier, it was imperative he be in town without question, and without bother.

"This year." Chiara raised her drink, finally agreeing to his terms, but with a condition of her own.

With one deep breath, he clinked their glasses together, sealing the deal. Lump stuck in his throat, he promised the only leverage he had.

"This year."

* All conversations are in Italian.

[birdmenmanga]

hour 20 of being awake means I can't actually articulate what is going on in my head. I know I'm right though.

[chastiefoul]

jjk men coming home and finding you crying

ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji fluff and comfort

gojo satoru

you wiped your eyes quickly as you heard the door opened. you took a deep breath, making sure your voice didn’t come as shaky as you said, “welcome home, toru.” with a big grin and the usual paper bag filled with sweets on his right hand he planted a kiss on your head. “i’m home baby.”

you were just about to let out a sigh of relief when satoru suddenly knelt in front of you who’s on the couch, blindfold off as his blue eyes stared as if seeing right through you. “what’s wrong?” he said softly, his knuckles brushing over your cheek with such a careful gesture. “what do you mean?” you tilted your head, cringing inside at the bad feign. “you can’t fool my six eyes, baby. also what kind of boyfriend i’ll be if i can’t even notice when my girl is sad?”

you tried to form a sentence to say as an excuse but the kisses he peppered across your face wasn’t really helping. you chuckled as you whine softly, “toruu.” the white-haired man cupped your face, a gorgeous smile on his face. “my favorite sound, baby,” he said, kissing your lips. “tell me? pleaseeee.” you laughed once more at his emphasis at the last word. “it’s really nothing, toru.”

“i love listening to nothing. we even have some sweets here as snacks,” he said, opening the paper bag excitedly. “i think you just want an excuse to eat it at 8 pm,” you raised an eyebrow, as he grinned. “nonsense, baby. now c’mere, let me hold you while you tell your story.” he put you between his legs, your back resting on his broad chest comfortably. you sighed out of wonderment, thinking how you could be so lucky, being this loved by the man.

“here, pick whatever. this one is my favorite,” he rummaged through the bag that’s on your lap. you looked at him with fondness as his face leaned in beside you to see better. “yeah? you’ll give me your favorite?”

“there’s nothing in the world that you can’t get, baby.” he kissed the side of your face. “now start from the very beginning.”

geto suguru

“if you thought you were doing a great job hiding those tears i have some news for you sweet girl,” geto’s voice was gentle on your ear as he wipe the wet residue underneath your eyes with the inner sleeve of his robe. “i wasn’t really hiding it,” you frowned, somehow not liking the fact that he noticed your little moment of weakness. “yeah? so you were just rubbing your eyes all rough like that for no reason?” he gave you a little smile.

yeah, it was a battle you had lost from start.

he put his arms around you, rubbing your back in a soothing pattern. “what’s wrong baby, everything okay?” you melted right into his touch, resting your head on his chest right on the calming beating of his heart. “yeah, it’s not really a big deal,” you mumbled, your low spirit was really affecting him more than he would ever let you know. his hand kept moving as he once again kissed the side of your head, a low chuckled escaped him. “you’re cute when you think you have a choice on telling me what had upset you.”

you laughed softly at his playfulness, knowing full well to you’ll end up telling your boyfriend everything. “you’re right. but can i tell you later?” you asked, wanting just this peaceful moment to last just a little longer as you held him tight.

“’course baby, got all the time in the world for you.”

nanami kento

nanami already knew that something was off when the house felt a little quiet as he arrived. and then he found you hunched over as you stood behind the kitchen counter. “honey?” you wiped your eyes with what you thought was the speed of sound but it was clear to both of you that you had been crying. “hi ken, how was work?” you replied with a small voice, a smile nanami didn’t particularly like plastered on your face; only because it seemed forced.

“oh no, we’re not breezing past it. come here my love.” and his embrace enveloped you like a dream, all warm and perfect. he stroke your hair ever so softly as he whispered sweet nothings. when you calmed down a little he sneaked a hand under your jaw, rubbing his thumb on your cheek gently, a gesture with amount of love you could only guess. “what’s wrong, hm?” he questioned you, his eyes shone with adoration; there’s only you in that moment.

“i’m okay, ken. more importantly aren’t you tired from work?” there’s a deep crease between the blond’s man eyebrows he heard you say this, as if that was the most offensive thing he had ever heard from you. “’more importantly?’ there could be nothing that’s more important than you, dear,” he said, knowing that concern was from a good place, like he was worrying over you, of course you would fuss over him who just came home from work.

“still…” you hesitated, but he kissed it out of you quickly. “want me to prepare you a bath, love? you know i can get the perfect temperature for you,” he whispered, coaxing you. and he was right, even sometimes he would get it right more often than you. before you could even mumble out another excuse he continued. “and while you do that i’ll prepare dinner, okay? i’m sure there’re still some ingredients left to make that nice meal you like.”

“no, i couldn’t possibly let you do all the work ken-“

“love, i’m here. you can relax, okay? you always do so much for me, let me do this for you,” he reassured you, cupping your face as he trailed your cheeks with soft kisses. you’re still not convinced, as he smiled over your great concern. “do this for me, please?” he tried once more and there’s no way you could refuse that. you nodded, feeling another wave of tears coming out of gratitude for your boyfriend., “thank you ken, i love you so much.”

“i love you too. and when you’re ready to talk, i’m here okay? always.”

toji fushiguro

he lifted you up, your leg instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist as he grabbed both of your thighs to support you. you tighten the hold of your arms around his neck, resting your head on your shoulder, nuzzling closer to his neck; not wanting him to see your post-crying face.

he sat you on the kitchen counter, putting both of his hands on the hard surface, on either side of your body practically refraining you to run away. “what’s wrong pretty girl?” he asked you who’s currently staring at the fingers on your lap as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. he kissed your shoulder blade, intentionally lingering a little long to hopefully calm your nerves. “nothing, i guess,” you answered nonchalantly, like detaching yourself. “you’re shit at lying babe, you know that right? look at the frown that you’re wearing right now, it’s almost touching the floor,” he said as he kissed your neck next. “mean,” you meant to frown, and you realized you were already doing that for the past hour. fine, maybe he had a point, so what?

“nah, what’s mean is when my girl won’t even tell me what made her upset,” he said, tilting his head confidently, his big hand on your waist as he rubbed your side. the look on his face was enough to make you relent. “fine… you’ll force it out of me sooner or later anyways,” you mumbled as he smiled, knowing that you needed a little push is all to sound your worries. “atta girl.”

“tell me all ‘bout it yeah? don’t leave out a single detail. then maybe if you’re up for it, i can show you that i got many ways to cheer you up,”

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[shotmrmiller]

military issued wife but you didn't know that using the "dating app" your friend brought up once in idle talk would end with you in an office with a (signed) marriage license on the desk, actively not looking at your 'husband', the burly lummox with a skull mask who's dwarfing the chair he can barely fit in.

you'd thought it'd be like tinder. a potential dating site. as in messaging on the app, getting to know each other, exchanging personal numbers before going on a date. not marriage. not opening your front door expecting it to be your door dasher and instead it's him with a rucksack in one hand and duffel in the other.

he'd looked down his thick nose at you, grunted a quiet, "not bad", and pushed past as if you were a swinging door to a saloon. what the fuck had he been doing there? you'd only spoken a couple of times with him and left on read for the some of it. you'd chosen to move on, try to match with someone else but the app had stopped working (you couldn't swipe right or left anymore) so you'd just put it on the back burner. you had better things to worry about than another disappointment of a man then.

except now said disappointment of a overly large man is taking up most of the couch and his legs aren't even all that far apart. and he's at your house. the house you'd never sent him the address to. as a matter of fact, you'd received a text from an unknown number earlier that had said someone would be home in a few. you'd ignored it thinking it was a wrong number situation but now you're sure it was him. how he got your phone number is also a mystery.

you'd tried to argue. to threaten him with the cops. to get him out and away, far fucking away, but he'd only scooped you up and let you pelt his broad back with your fists. chuckled low in his throat while he smacked your arse to keep still. "i'd hate to drop m'wife."

whatever fight you had he ate right out of you with the heels of your feet digging into the large curve of his shoulders and his hands curled around the back of your thighs. maybe it's because it'd been a while but he'd played your body like an instrument and had you bucking your hips against his tongue, slick coating his face in minutes. (your cheeks burn furiously hot when you think back on what he'd said then. "tight little thing 'nd you've only taken my two fingers." it's flattering, sue you.)

he'd lapped at your sodden cunt until you had overstimulation clumping your lashes together, inner thighs tender from the bristles of his shorn hair and unshaven jaw, your palm on the crown of his head having both pulled him to you and pushed him away.

and then he'd wiped your release with the back of his hand, thumbed the swollen flesh of your bottom lip and rumbled that it's time for bed.

which eventually led to you being here. in front of a man he calls Price, a marriage certificate unlike any you've ever glanced upon, a large gloved hand curled snugly around your leg, fingers grazing a little too close to where he'd left aching and swollen just yesterday.

you're reading the terms and conditions of anything from here on forward. even the fine print.

and then soap comes around and plants a seed in his head of him planting a seed in you :/ at least you can tell your nosy ass aunt that at least you've got a man while she's on her 4th divorce on thanksgiving 💅🏼

[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni Enemies to lovers with some massage therapist Bucky. Breeding kinnk, aftercare, Bucky is a secret softie, all that.

Imagine Rival Biker Bucky x f reader. A smutty, slutty little concept while I add the finishing touches to another fic, just getting this out of my system first. I just love the idea of a sexy, bad boy Bucky getting his hands on the one girl who won't give him a second glance because she's too good for him and they're from opposite worlds. Since childhood. Now he's a biker. Covered in black ink. He works in an auto shop. Owns the bar that brings in chaos. He's smoke, whiskey and leather.

She, however, is soft, pretty, smart and does not have the time to entertain someone like him. She has her degree. Working on a second. She has a career. She does not associate with the likes of him, not as the police chiefs daughter. She'll be damned if she has to even breathe the same air, especially when his gang is the cause for half the problems in the town that her father has been trying to get rid of.

Now, imagine that hours of working on her notes and papers leave her with unbearable knots and kninks in her back. She doesn't want to take a break but the pain only gets worse as the week goes by. It doesn't take long for her to shoot her regular massage therapist a message to book the very first available appointment.

-

You unclasped your bra, folding and setting it off to the side while waiting for Wanda in the warmly lit room. You could have sworn she was a witch with the way she made pain disappear; she’d also become a good friend after your many visits.

The knock at the door interrupted you as you slid your shorts off, leaving you in your panties, not rushing to jump onto the table considering it was just Wanda anyway.

“Come in!” You smiled, making your way to the massage bed as the door clicked open- “Oh my God!!” You nearly shrieked seeing Bucky walk in, a shit eating from spreading across his face as you scrambled to grab the tiny towel to cover yourself though it was a futile attempt. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

"You have an appointment, don't you?" He quirked an eyebrow as if it was clear as day why he was there.

"Yeah, with Wanda, why are you here, did you get lost on the way to jail?" Your face scrunched in a mix of confusion and disgust ignoring the roll of his eyes while you snatched your shirt to better cover up.

"Well Wanda couldn't make it in but she sent me" He said with a shrug, sighing when he saw your less than impressed face, "Don't flatter yourself, I'm just training under her as part of my physiotherapy internship"

"I'm sorry, you're trying to tell me you of all people are learning how to give massages? Please"

"Physiotherapy" Bucky corrected, "You're not the only one who has a degree, princess" Bucky watched as you groaned realizing you hadn't put your bra on, opting to stuff it in your bag instead of putting it back on in front of him.

"You are NOT laying a finger on me-ow!" You hissed, feeling the knot in your back tug at the rest of your muscles.

"You're not gonna be able to do a whole lot with that much pain" Bucky smirked, only half joking. He wasn't wrong. The pain was worse than before and you needed this an you really didn't have the time to reschedule.

"Fine" You mumbled, turning away from him so you could take your shirt off again, glaring at him when you noticed he hadn't turned away. "Could you at least give me some privacy instead of lurking in the corner like a pervert"

"Whatever you want, princess" He bit his lip as he faced the wall, hearing your feet pad across the tile to lay down on the massage table.

"Alright" You huffed after covering your lower body with the towel, now laying face down, immediately second guessing yourself as he walked over.

"Let me know if anything's uncomfortable or if you want me to stop" His voice was no longer snarky; in fact he sounded professional. "Where do you feel the most tension?"

"Um-shoulders and-lower back" You mumbled out the last bit, he was going to massage you there anyway so there so no pointed hiding it. You tensed at the feeling of his oiled fingers starting to work at your muscles, he had no right to be that good. At all.

“Shit” you hissed trying to keep your voice down, ignoring the clench of your stomach feeling his rough fingers press down on the areas that were tight. Little did you know Bucky was struggling far more than you were.

It went against every bit of professionalism he had. Every moan you tried to silence went right to his cock, his hands making their way lower before trailing up again. Fuck, you sounded so pretty...

"Better stop making those sounds"

"Or what" You challenged back before you could even stop yourself.

"Princess..."

"Your attitude is what needs fixing" Bucky growled, professionalism be damned, "fuck this"

-

You have no idea how you ended up here. It didn't matter though, not when there wasn't a single cohesive thought in your brain as you wailed letting Bucky absolutely rail you. Your back didn't feel an ounce of pain as he took you on all fours, pulling your hips to slam back against him, gripping your ass with enough strength to leave you sore.

"Feel better now huh baby, not trying to stay quiet anymore, are ya" He let out a low chuckle which melted into a groan feeling you tighten on his dick, "Such a good little princess like you letting me put my dick in you, dirty girl"

You hate to admit it but the clench of your cunt betrays how much you love this. It was so wrong. You had no business fucking someone like him and yet where you were letting his precum paint all over the inside of your walls.

"What would your daddy say princess, if he knew where you were right now, what you were doin'? Thinking you're studying when you're actually all pretty and naked, letting me rub that gorgeous body up and down, bet you'd let me put my cum in you too, huh? Bet your dad would love that, his perfect little girl all knocked up with some bikers baby"

You could have said no, stayed silence, just about anything but nope. You screamed feeling his fingers reach around the massage your clit, your orgasm wasting no time hurling towards you.

"Ja-Ja-JAMESSS"

"MMMPHH I love the sound of that baby, could get used to hearing you sayin' my name, say it again princess, say my name with my cock in you, c'mon, that's it"

"Fuck-James-I-James" You were a mess and loving every bit of it, tears starting to flow down your cheeks, all the pent up stress you were feeling finally releasing. You felt your throat tighten, a sob escaping your lips as you let go, your arousal making a creamy mess on the dark curly hair on the base of his cock.

"God, you're milkin me, you want my cum that bad huh baby, want a little biker baby in that tummy of yours, I'll give it to you, give you so much I might even put twins in there-FUCKK"

-

"Shhhh" Bucky cooed, wrapping you up in a fluffy towel while cuddling up your limp body, wiping away any remnants of tears while you stayed floating in a subby, post sex haze. "I got you, you did so good princess" You only manage to let out a weak whimper, giving into his warm, thick arms that rock you.

"You alright angel?"

"Mph" you mumble against his chest and he reaches over for a glass of water that's nearby, bringing it up for you to take a sip. You're surprised at how sweet he's being, drinking up before snuggling into him again. Damn him for being so warm and comfy.

"Y'know, there might be a little Bucky in there" He whispers with a playful smirk in his voice, fingers tickling your lower belly, chuckling when you narrow your eyes at him.

"You wish" You sass back, ignoring the butterflies you feel.

"I do" He admits, biting his lip, his previous cocky demeanor replaced with a shy one, though he tries to mask it. Poorly. His cheeks are pinker than the time you threw paint on him for pulling your pigtails. When you were both 4. "I'd want Bucky jr. to have your brains though"

Imagine that incident sets off a very interesting chain of events. A confession of feelings. You both couldn't be happier, meanwhile your father is grumbling about how he knew this fuckin' day would come, God damn it.

"I never liked that boy" He struggles to keep a scowl on his face watching you giggle like you were 4 again, running to the door as soon as you hear the rumble of his bike.

"Shut up, you love him" Your mom chides, watching Bucky swoop you up for a loving kiss, heading you a bouquet of yellow flowers as he always does.

-

"I still don't like 'em" Your dad says while you roll your eyes, your arm linked with his as he walks you down the aisle.

"Is that why all the files you had to build a case against him all suddenly went missing?" You tease and your dad shugs.

"Wasn't me"

-

just an idea.

[boowritess]

very mild 18+ simon riley x reader

lmaoo i can't breathe Simon Riley is just a man.

atleast to you.

when he's home, all he is to you is dry humor, a couple beers every night, sat in front of the tv on his spot on the couch, the game is playing - some soccor or rugby match. he doesn't wear his mask, his clothes are a simple t-shirt and some pair of shorts he just threw on.

he uses your shampoo and conditioner, as much as it pisses you off because it's expensive and for some reason he uses half the fucking bottle everytime he's home, but when he does the groceries he still comes home with '2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner' he would’ve got the '3 in 1' but the last time he did that he got no head for 3 weeks.

he'll go to the pub, take you out, pushes the trolley, holds your bag, let's you dress how you want it, belly gets a little soft because he eats food like he's never ate before, buy you anything you want even after the 'do you really need it though?' talk.

he's bit lazy on workouts only goes on the occasional run, but will fuck you whenever you want; always vanilla and only gets rough when you ask.

he will say he'll fix whatever appliance needs tending too but won't do it right away, starts the occasional handyman job at odd times.

it's just - he's so mundane and normal that you'd never know just how dangerous he is ???? like he so carefully hides that side from you. seriously. when he's home, he throws his gear in the bottom of his closet in a box, locking Ghost away and just existing as Simon.

even when the rest of the task force come around on the occasion. they're so normal and are just... men. yelling at the tv during a sport match. teasing each other. stealing snacks and helping with cleaning. they never speak about work and when you ask them, it's always a smile and shrug, "just another day really." "little boring and slow." "oh not too bad." their answers are so half-assed, that you don't even ask anymore; which is what they want.

but you really aren't missing anything. not when you don't even know what you're missing out on.

it's crazy, because he even keeps Ghost hidden when you're being harassed by men. whether that be when you're shopping or just going for a walk.

he'll loop an arm around your waist or over your shoulder, look at the guy with a grin - that's more of a sneer, "can i help you, mate?" he'll drawl. his stature and stare is enough to make the man who had been harassing you back off.

"what a freak..." you mutter with a roll of your eyes, letting Simon guide you away as he presses a kiss to your temple, a deep chuckle leaving him.

around midnight you wake up to Simon in the laundry room washing his hands. he doesn't blink or hesitate when you wonder in and wrap your arms around his waist. "what're you doing?" you mumble, sleepy eyss dropping to the sink.

Simon's hands are red, and you would be alarmed, should be alarmed. but how could you when Simon hums softly, a sound that rumbles deep from his throat, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. he's so warm and casual that you don't even do a touble take seeing the blood.

"caught a rat. right pest they are. the trap i set snapped it clean in half." Simon's mutters, he raises a bloodied hand to you, sniggering when you crinkle your nose up in disgust and step away from him.

"ew, i'm going back to bed." you huff, yawning and leaving him to what he was doing.

Simon laughs softly as you head off. "just be a sec, love." he says as you go. all he receives is a yawn and a tired 'mhm'.

he cleans his hands and then his phone chimes. he pulls it out and it's a private message.

'getting rid of your pest now, LT.'

image attached

Simon opens the picture and sure enough there's the man from earlier in the boot of a car. all bloodied like Ghost left him.

Simon heads back upstairs to your shared room, you quietly snoozing away. you don't steer or wake as the closet door opens and Simon's putting his mask back in with his gear. No. Ghost is too quiet to let you wake from such a warm and sweet sleep.

he turns from the closet after putting everything away and changing clothes. he crawls into his side of the bed and wraps his arms around you. letting your body nestle back into his side. limbs tangling together.

just you and your simon.

a/n: inspired by a tik tok video on how he is just a man lmaooo

[starkeyisthelastname]

I need apology sex with dealer!Rafe x reader. Oh I would just know he would go beyond to make his girl forgive him. He wouldn’t be able to handle causing her any type of hurt and he PUTS IN THAT WORK

#ovulationweek 😏

he can’t have his pretty girl be upset with him. 😩

You didn’t even remember why you had been upset with him in the first place. The frown you had when he had come through the door now gone as he buried his handsome face in your pussy. He couldn’t stand to see you pout and all he wanted was for you to forgive him. You were too goddamn pretty to cry, and he had to show you how sorry he was. He had never been one to see the point in eating pussy as he had always been selfish. With you though, he would gladly devour your sweet cunt until you creamed all over his tongue. You were so fucking beautiful, and he couldn’t wait to put his dick inside you.

Your whines above had him going, his pert nose buried perfectly against your clit as his tongue lapped up your leaking juices. “You know daddy’s sorry, yeah?” He’d mumble between licks, his blue eyes never leaving your face as he watched it contort in pleasure. “So… so… so… sorry baby.” He’d whisper in a tone that made your core flutter.

You wanted to protest, be mad again all over as he pulled away. You already missed the warmth of his head between your thighs, but knew you were about to feel warm in a completely different way. You watched with heavy eyes, lash extensions fluttering as he stood up straight. As much as you loved seeing him on his knees for you, his massive frame in all its glory was something else. His large hands came to the back of your thighs, gently pulling your hips down further towards the edge of the bed. “Come here mama, daddy’s gonna show you how sorry he is.”

Oh and he was as the sounds of his sculpted hips smacking into yours filled the room to mix in with the same sounds as your gushy hole and cries of pleasure. Your fresh set dug into the soft sheets, pretty toes curling against his muscled back from him pounding you out with his thick pipe. His expensive chain dangled in your face as he laid into you, his buzzcut already damp with sweat as he was absolutely drilling your shit in.

“Yeah… can’t have my pretty girl upset. Can I? Daddy loves you so fucking much mama. You know I’ll do anything for you. Give you whatever you want.” His said in a raspy voice as he stared down at you.

You knew you were about to make a mess and there was no stopping it. You tried to find the words to warn him, but only could get as far as tapping the tips of your glittery acrylics against his abs. He looked down just in time to watch your pussy spasm around his fat length as you began to squirt not only on him but on yourself as well. He let out a breathless laugh, being covered in your sweetness and watching you shudder against the mattress only riled him up more. “Fuck…daddy’s gonna nut all up inside your pretty pussy.” He groaned, jaw falling open slightly as he felt his lower stomach tighten.

It was hard to stay mad at a man who looked like that, calling you pretty while he filled you up with his hot cum. Not to mention once he caught his breath, asking you to pull up the Chanel bag you wanted on his phone.

[yameoto]

RUSSIAN ROULETTE. CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

piltover / zaun civil war

tw; dark!caitlyn, prisoner!reader, blowjob, gunplay, gunjob? gunfucking, drastic power dynamics, degradation, humiliation, bondage, hate sex, bratty!reader, noncon. dead dove. rape. wc; 1.9k ao3 vers.

WHEN Piltover's oh, so fearless leader strides into your humble abode, you can already tell she's having a bad day. Caitlyn's eyes are bloodshot. Hells, she’s still in her uniform. The tresses of silken, inky locks are no longer taut ponytail—stray strands dangling, tangled, cheeks nicked with dried blood. You doubt it's her own.

Your first instinct, as a prisoner chained to the wall and completely at her mercy; is to act like a right fucking brat. Because that’s been working out so well for you, thus far.

“Rough day?” not that you could give a single fuck. “All tired out from gassing out children on the streets? Poor baby."

Caitlyn remains silent as she dismisses the guard with a flick of her wrist, and you're still talking. Yipping away like a dog snapping at her heels. "There are other ways to solve wealth inequality than killing all the poor people, you know." Her stare is glacial.

God, the mouth on you.

She’s considered moving you to her family’s personal prisons. Though, keeping Zaun's lauded revolutionary locked-up in the Kirramman's basement would draw a couple eyebrows. The dungeons under the council-room you so lovingly blew up, along with her mother, suffice.

“Paint a portrait,” You sneer, like the little shit you are. A bloodstain clinging to her sole, that she hasn't scraped off yet. "How 'bout you shoot a gloryhole and fuck that instead, princess."

So you do see the bulge she's packing. Good. She's been aching to unload in you, all day.

"I'm not in the mood for talk." Caitlyn says, coolly, shoving the cellblock door open and stepping inside. Clearly. Her cock is pulsing. She hasn't even made the effort of the usual charade, in drilling you with that perfunctory interrogation sequence—for the benefit of the enforcers stationed at your cell. (Shame. you take your petty joys in turning up your nose and spitting in her face, like some structured caricature of foreplay).

You have such tight lips. Caitlyn delights in prying them open.

“Knew you couldn’t resist. Come back for another round, already?” Somehow, you manage to sound cocky, even though there's a smear of her dried cum streaked just below your brow, from just this morning.

Caitlyn tries to be good. She really does. You just make it so hard.

“Hold this for me.” She orders, like you're one of her little soldiers waiting on her hand and foot. A snarky reply about the shackles around your wrists is on the tip of your tongue. No matter. Caitlyn forces the barrel down your half-open mouth anyway, before you could so much as say bang.

“Mmf—“ Cold metal forces your mouth apart. your eyes widen, pupils swallowing up your irises. This is new. For a moment, blind panic seizes your body, because there is a gun in your mouth. It's not like you don't know there's a guillotine with your name inscribed. (All, 'cut the head off the snake', or whatever eloquent, prissy-spun bullshit Caitlyn spits in your ear as her nails scrape the walls of your cunt).

It's been too long. The war could be over, for all you know. Though, you wouldn't put it past her to keep you past your expiration date.

Speaking of, Caitlyn doesn’t even bother to hush you. She only thrusts, further—far enough to bruise your throat and stop your incessant, muffled whining. Your gag reflex triggers. Unbidden, tears sprout, to burn behind your eyelids. Silently, you buck.

“Oh, don't be so dramatic. You’ve taken worse.” Caitlyn rolls her eyes, languidly pushing the pistol in, and out. In, and, out. She guides in smooth, composed motions—never letting up enough to allow you more than seethe, breathing harshly through your nose. “It’s good practice."

The fiifth time you gag, she finally lifts the barrel out. You were never one to waste the opportunity to snark, even if you really should be saving your breath.

“Holding a dress rehearsal for my public execution? I'm. You must really like me, doll.”

“Oh, no,” Caitlyn drags metal, over your lips. It's warm, from the time it’s spent crammed down your throat “for gagging on my cock.”

Even though you’re expecting it, you lash out—momentarily ripping the veil off your faux swagger. Caitlyn tuts, though she gets a vivid lick of satisfaction from seeing you, bare, for once (and goodness, how much effort you take), before shoving the gun back in place. You fix her with a glower that seeps with pure, divine, hatred—chapped lips puckering goadingly around its muzzle. Screaming for her, to just fuckin' do it, already. Caitlyn almost admires how you haven’t lost your rage, your viciousness. It's the one thing you have in common.

She swiftly upticks the revolver, and jerks it out, callous. The roof of your mouth snags on its sharp-whetted sights, and blood sluices down your throat. You can’t tell the taste from the metallic tang of metal. A string of pink saliva connects its spitsoaked barrel to your sputtering lips, chest heaving.

“Don’t have the balls to take the shot, huh?” You spit, as if there isn’t enough of that smeared over your chin, pooling helplessly into your collar.

“Should you be so lucky.” Caitlyn smiles, the bitch, as she swoops downwards, markedly unblemished hands grasping your jaw. Of course, you think, lividly. Of course Piltover’s own general doesn’t get her hands dirty.

Although, she makes an exception for you. How sweet.

Caitlyn foregoes further fanfare, pushing you downwards. Your limbs fold in on themselves—a lion, declawed. The feeble thrash of your arms, bound at the wrist and hastened to the iron-wrought wall—are no match for the demanding brace of Caitlyn’s thighs as she slides gracefully to her knees, elegant hand seizing you by the throat.

"But I’d make such a pretty martyr," You wheeze, hyperaware of the click of Caitlyn’s belt unbuckling. All of a sudden, you miss the cool sensation of a pistol in your mouth.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, adores this angle. How your eyes sear. Jaw clenched, hollows sucked in rage and hunger—as if you would blow the brains out her head if you could. Seething, at how she has the opportunity herself, but denies you the satisfaction.

Instead, you get this. She untucks herself at a leisurely pace, almost marvelling at the way her cock descends in a mighty shadow, darkening your face. You scowl. Her free hand shoots out to smush your cheeks, the moment you bare your teeth and open your mouth to talk back. So predictable.

“Perhaps if you didn’t spit your food out at the guards, you’d have the strength to put up at least a little fight.” Caitlyn teases, too lightly for the context, as she lines up her flushed, swollen tip against your furiously jammed lips. A gob of pre-cum spouts from the slit, marring your cheek

"Maybe I was saving myself the trouble of hurling it up after we're done."

Caitlyn rolls her eyes. Pushes her head up against your pursed lips. “What are you? The world’s most grating ventriloquist?” She remarks, snide. She's weary of playing games. She needs it, now.

How she's grown so painfully hard, over this whole ordeal. You'd think she’d feel shame over it—so turned-on by something she sees clearly beneath her—but who wouldn’t get off on using their worst enemy like this? You'd do the same, if you were in her position.

At least, that’s what she tells herself when she shoves her cock down your throat.

"Ah.." Caitlyn shudders, the same time muscle memory has you sucking. Her neck arches back in open relief, hips bucking as she presses you, nose flush against the trimmed strip of dark pubes.

Her strokes are torturously slow. The most humiliating thing is the plap, plap, plap sound of her balls slapping against your chin, resounding in the empty dungeons. there is no audience—probably because nothing about this screams Noble House of Kiramman—or even legality. then again, neither does launching nukes into Piltover's place of governance. Tomayto, tomahto.

She withholds her moans for your own benefit, just so you can listen to the obscene sound of yourself, suckling along her dick. Caitlyn’s drags are lazy, relishing the beautiful suction of your lips. Slips herself far enough down your throat, for your swallows to turn to audible gulps, as you try not to choke.

She's not quite yet done. Her fingers dart downwards, twisting your panties aside.

“I don’t even know why you bother wearing these. They’re disgusting.” Rock-hard, a sore reminder of how routine this has become. She hooks them on her pistol, before promptly flicking them across the room, revealing the miserable, glistening wetness of your cunt.

Fuck. Your pussy is sodden like a cat left in the rain, dripping all over the carpet—much to your self-loathing. Caitlyn’s smirk is unrepentant.

“You're getting off on this? You're even dirtier than i thought.” She muses, as you glower hotly upwards, cheeks full of her. “I do hope you used your tongue.”

You're briefly confused by the comment, because, well—you are using your tongue and more—until the slick heat of your pussy swallows cold steel, and you gasp—walls straining, clenching around the foreign intrusion. Caitlyn eases the revolver in, with surprising gentleness. not that it does you any good.

Your spine arches off the wall, mangled noise ripping from your throat. Caitlyn shoves her length in, deeper, an impromptu silencer. “Don't whinge, darling.” she husks, knowing you loathe the pet-name. "It's unbecoming."

She never hurries, despite having places to be. Is it her fault that it feels so good to fuck your throat, like this? To pulse her gun in your cunt, almost playful, as she watches with the hooded eyes how your pussy greedily slurps the pistol to its hilt, before coming out again, glazed with the evidence of just how filthy she knows you to be. Her finger slides over the trigger, voice coming out in a breathy murmur.

“Bang.”

Caitlyn cums in thick, gooey spurts down your throat. Her head lolls back, shoving your head to practically kiss the sharp angles of her pelvis as you take it. Of course you take it. All your bravado, and still, you swallow her load like a beaten dog lapping at water, all the while, her pistol stretches you open. You don't plan it. God, it's like your body has a life of its own—a Pavlovian response, to the taste and feeling of Caitlyn trickling down your throat—but you orgasm like your life depends on it. Maybe it does. Your legs quake, limbs jerking, shoulder-blades scraping against the gritty brick walls as your entire being yanks itself upwards, like a marionette on strings.

When she pulls the revolver out from your cunt, this time; it is creamy white that strings from your helplessly pulsating folds to its hollow. You hiss, cheeks burning, panting—scrabbling back. An animal backed into a corner.

Caitlyn holsters her revolver, dripping with your sweat, your blood, your cum. Always on her person, yet as uncocked as the day it was minted—chamber still full. It’s only purpose is to fuck you stupid. She stands, buckling her belt back up, as you lie there.

“I'll break you, yet.” She promises.

Blood rushes between your ears, back scratched to all hell, bruises at the back of your throat. She’s splattered all over you. You grin.

“Should you be so lucky.”

Caitlyn scoffs, and iron bars screech shut behind her. You know you'll see her again, come sunrise. Or; you’ll know sunrise, come Caitlyn, again.

Tomayto, tomahto.

[evie-sturns]

21 - Chris Sturniolo

summary: when you recieve a unusual call from chris, you realise he’s got blackout drunk on his 21st birthday. you’re forced to go pick him up and take care of him in his interesting state..

contains: fluff, mentions of alcohol, bestfriend!chris, mentions of throwing up (no detail whatsoever), a lot of chaos

————————————🔸————————————

11:36pm

i yawn as i shuffle around in bed, my warm covers wrapped around me as i scroll through instagram,

suddenly my phone starts to ring,

‘incoming call from ‘chrizzzzyy’

i pick up the phone, pressing it to my ear as chris instantly starts,

“you know you’re so beautiful, like soo gorgeous.” he mumbles into the phone, his words slurred.

there’s faint chatter in the background, along with heavy music.

“chris? you okay?” i ask, my eyebrows knitting together with confusion.

“i need you- like how a baby bird needs its mama” he groans, followed by a loud laugh.

i giggle, “chris what is wrong with you!”

the realisation hits.

chris turned 21 today, i couldn’t make it to his party due to work, but for fucks sake, this kid is drunk.

“oh my god- chris you got drunk? i thought you said you wouldn’t!” i say frantically,

“uh factually i am not drunk- i think you’ll find.” he fumbles over his words,

“can you come.” he follows up.

i scoff, “christopher- it is midnight, where are you?”

he pauses for a moment, before i hear him chatter to someone else,

“yo- where am i, my girl wants to know” he mumbles to a friend i assume,

he shortly gets back to me “i’m at home, but i want to be at your home.”

i nod with a small huff, “god, i’ll come get you now, just wait on the curb and don’t go on the road whatever you do.”

he almost giggles, “you sound like my mommy.”

i groan before hanging up,

i heave myself out of bed, knowing i’m about to have to collect my best friend in his state.

i grab my keys and fix my hair before walking downstairs, creaking open the door.

the cold night hair hits me hard, i shiver as i jog up to my car, swinging open the car door.

i instantly speed off down the street.

-

10 minutes later i arrive at his street, the pebbles crunch under my tires as i slowly drive to his house.

chris shoots up from his sat position on the side walk, giving me a huge grin.

i pull up beside him, reaching over and opening the door.

“hey baby.” he grins, flopping down in the passenger seat,

“chris.” i warn, reaching over and buckling him in.

“how much have you had to drink?” i ask, looking over at him.

he hesitates before shrugging, “shit- ‘prolly like 20 or something.”

i pause, “20 of what.”

he shrugs again, “couldn’t tell ya sweet cheeks.”

i throw my head back, with a small laugh.

“come- come sit on my lap” he grins, his eyes half shut, patting his lap.

“chris! i am not your girlfriend.” i remind him, his face drops

“you’re- you’re breaking up with me!?” he raises his voice

“we were never dating” i point out, his eyes water.

“are you seriously gonna cry?” i laugh,

he nods with a small pout, “my girl, my one and only is dumping me-“

i lean over the centre console and give him a hug,

i hold back laughs as i pull out my phone, putting it on 0.5x and holding it up.

“tell me what’s wrong chris.” i grin,

“you- you’re breaking up with me!” his words are slurred as he throws a mini tantrum.

“you’re my babe, my hot little babe.” he sighs,

“oh my god chris”. i laugh, putting my phone down and starting the car,

i roll down the windows for him as i attempt to explain that fact that i am NOT his girlfriend, and never had been.

he sits up on his knees and attempts to make a break for it out the window, he sticks his arms and head out the window.

i reach over and grab his shirt, pulling him back in before rolling up the window

“chris! no!”

he mumbles something vaguely before looking over at me,

“we hooking up tonight right?” he blurts out so causally.

“shit i bet you could give me the best-“ he starts but i clamp a hand over his mouth.

“chris.. anything you say tonight you will regret.” i warn him with a smile.

“but- but you’re so pretty!” he protests,

i pull into my driveway, hopping out the car before walking over to chris’s side.

i open the door and he jumps out, stumbling over onto the grass.

“oh no chris.” i sigh, grabbing his underarms and picking him up.

he wraps his legs around my lower back and burys his head into my shoulder.

i carry him up the driveway with small huffs,

i fiddle with my keys before unlocking the door, chris is practically a koala bear, clinging to me as i heave us upstairs.

i finally enter my room before dropping him on the bed.

i switch on the light and take a good look at him,

“like what you seee.” he grins with a stupid lip bite,

he looks white as a sheet, my eyes widen as i grab his hand.

i run him into the bathroom.

“i’m gonna throw up.” he mumbles,

“oh god oh god.” i whine, helping him into the shower.

i stand outside the shower as i frantically try to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off of him.

i unbuckle his belt and tug it off, discarding it out the bathroom floor.

i unbutton his shorts for him, guiding them down his legs, leaving him in his boxers.

“look- you get your boxers off and just try not to throw up for another minute.”

he giggles as he tugs his boxers down, i slide the shower curtain across and take a deep breath as i sit on the toilet lid.

he reaches a hand out of the shower curtain, holding his boxers.

“just drop them i’m not touching that.” i groan,

he drops them in the pile of clothes before i hear a small-

“oh shit.”

i reach into the shower and turn it on cold, trying to drown out the sounds of chris..

i hear some deep breaths from behind the curtain,

“y/n!!!! i threw up!!!” he calls out,

“that’s okay! just get clean in the shower for me!” i tell him,

he sounds panicked, “hey, the alcohol is better out then in sweetie.” i tell him,

he laughs in response, “you’re righhhtt!”

i scoff, waiting for him to finish up,

my eyes widen as chris goes silent, “chris! you better not be peeing in my shower i swear to god-“ i start but he cuts me off with a loud giggle.

i throw my head into my hands,

“oopsie daisy’s.” he doesn’t stop laughing.

-

after 45 minutes of chris yapping my ear off, i finally got him changed and in my bed.

“and then guess what he said, he said that he was gonna fight me if i didn’t give him my drink, like just admit you’re a alcoholic!” he rambles on about his night.

“lay down for me.” i tell him as he sits on my matress.

he flops down on my mattress, his head hitting the pillow.

i lean over the bed and tug up the covers over him.

i move his hair off his forehead with my hand then place a kiss to his forehead.

he yawns loudly before whining,

“where are you going!”

i scoff, “i’m gonna sleep on the couch chris.”

he huffs, “but we sleep together all the time!”

i roll my eyes, “that’s when there’s no risk of you throwing up on me”

he kicks his legs, “i promise i won’t!”

i hesitate before giving in, jumping into bed beside him.

he smiles stupidly before wrapping his arms around me, tugging me into his side.

i usually wouldn’t let him cuddling me slide, but i guess he’s not gonna remember it tomorrow.

-

10:23am

i stir awake, chris’s arms still wrapped right around my waist.

he groans, waking up aswell.

“why am i cuddling you” he laughs tiredly,

“do you remember anything that happened last night?” i ask, sitting up in bed.

“not really.” he smiles, rubbing his eyes.

i reach over him and grab my phone, opening up the camera roll.

“you had a long love confession to me.” i giggle, his face drops.

“what?” he asks panicked, i give him my phone

he presses play, letting the video play outloud.

“you’re breaking up with me!? you’re my babe, my hot little babe”

-

@jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathando-64 esgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 9 9 @sturnthepot t t @zayyluvz z z @realuvrrr r r @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs s @riowritesitall l @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney y @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry y @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees enxtrees @certifiednatelover r r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t t @yomamaslays4lyfe e @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 9 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc c c @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz z 0 @ratatioulle @sturnsforlife v @mattsonly @justalittle47 7 @sunsetsturniolos

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

So Danny is older, and lives in Gotham as a mechanic (he could be a We mechanic, a JLA mechanic, whatever) and eventually, he starts dating Bruce Wayne.

Now, Danny knows the Wayne at the bats, it’s kinda hard to hide your vigilantism from a former vigilante. But Danny doesn’t mention it, he knows the dangerous of telling your loved ones.

Jazz is alive and a therapist is Coast City (Jazz x Hal? Could that work? Idk too much about the green lanterns). Dan is undercover to investigate pools of corrupted ectoplasm that’s guarded by an assassin cult, and Dani is still traveling the world, not for pleasure, but for the Realms.

Dani doesn’t age. It’s a side effect of being a clone. She destabilized one to many times and now her ghost half won’t let her age so she won’t die.

Dani can’t exactly settle down in a city likes the others. She looks 12. And while her siblings would take care of her in a heartbeat, she needs to fill her obsession of history and adventure.

So, she starts hunting for old artifacts, especially the magic ones. It’s a great way to learn about history and get a sense of adventure.

She’s been doing this for a couple years, building a name for herself and she gotten very good. (Keep in mind she only looks 12, but she’s actually like 33 mentally and intellectually)

Eventually, she crosses paths with a bat while searching for an artifact. (Even better if its Duke. We need more Duke. Probably won’t work with Cass, we’ll use Duke for the prompt, but can be switched out)

Obviously, Duke is kinda confused as to why a 12 yo is going after a dangerous magic artifact in the middle of but-fuck nowhere and offers to take her to Gotham and drops her off there after taking the artifact.

Dani knows better, she was going to refuse, but the realized she could take this as a free ride. So she agrees.

The reach Gotham and go their separate ways, and Duke goes home immediately, didn’t even take the time to tell anyone about the girl. but when Duke is at home hanging with their civilian stepdad, Danny gets a call and says he’s inviting his younger sister over

Bruce: Jazz? Jazz is older that you

Danny: nope! I have another sister!

Everyone: ???

Bruce: how comes we never meet her?

Danny: you have! She was at the wedding! But you’ll see her again don’t worry! She doesn’t visit often so I’m excited!

They arrives, the bat opens the door and Dani walks in.

Danny: Dani!!

Dani: Danny!!

So people are confused, Duke is like omg my aunt is an artifact hunter?? while everyone else is like omg my aunt is younger than me??

Eventually, Danny opens her backpack and goes:

Dani: so I was in *insert random place in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere* and found this! *pulls out artifact* I thought you would like so I brought it for you!

Danny: aww, thanks Dani, you shouldn’t have

Duke, who put that artifact in the cave for study: 👁️👄👁️

And Dani gives them a wink.

Duke isn’t going to take that lying down and attempts to find out Dani’s secrets while shes thwarting him at every turn.

Dani stays at the manor for a while, but nobody believe Duke when he tries warning them of Dani, because Duke didn’t tell anyone about the artifact

Things become even more alarming when Danny also start thwarting him, despite not know the family secret. (Danny thinks that Duke is onto the family secret.)

Cue crack, angst, fluff, whatever your heart desires.