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

[partiallysame]

Being Price’s lil wife

-Task force 141 knew Price was married. Man wore his ring religiously, always putting it back on the second they were in the helicopter/plane/whatever after each mission

-He’d come to work with a lunch packed with a cute lil heart note

-To be honest they all assumed you were the same age as Price (old) He always said he’d been “married for years” (3)

-They never knew your name, Price only ever referred to you as The Missus

-Gaz swore Price had a photo of you in his wallet (he did) but they never knew what you looked like untilllllllll

-You called your husband simply to complain. The AC had gone out and the repair man wouldn't be able to get there for a couple days. No no this simply would not do, his perfect lil lady could not be uncomfortable in her own home he wouldn’t have it but fuck he’s out of the country for a few more days. His team however is not and while stupid, they do know how to do maintenance work (why? Just because.)

-He called his team for a very important mission. Gave them the address, accompanied with “I don’t want to hear a fucking thing about you causing any trouble or being disrespectful to the Missus you hear?” The boys were absolutely giddy to finally see the ever so important Missus.

-The second you opened the door Soap was apologizing for having the wrong house and oh so politely asked if you knew where the Price household was. This had to be the wrong one because there you stood, pretty young thing, big doe eyes. Standing in just a big shirt ending at the very tops of your thighs, lashes batting at the three soldiers standing at your door.

-“You’ve got the right place. John told me you were coming, please come in.” You had to hold in a giggle, watching all of their eyes go wide. Gaz immediately looking at the sky, the floor, anywhere but the wife of his captain that he was just undressing with his eyes.

-When you turned to guide them into the house they all saw PRICE printed on the back of the large tshirt just barely covering your ass (this is your own home pants are never required and its hot as hell without the ac). Now it was Ghost’s turn to look anywhere but at you.

-As they worked you’d bring them water or snacks. They now understood why Price kept you hidden from them. The perfect lil housewife. The woman of all of their dreams already taken.

-When they were finished they went to the kitchen to inform you they were done only to find a full meal set on the table waiting for them but worst of all? There you were reaching up to the top cabinet. On your tippy toes, your shirt (Price’s shirt) riding up enough to expose the bottom of your ass and lacey pink panties. Soap had to bite his knuckle to keep from groaning. Ghost grabbing the tops of his teammates heads, turning them away from the incredible sight in front of them.

-Price was right to keep you hidden from them

-They might just have to sneak in and break something every time Price was out of town if it meant this is what they got to see.

[lieutenantfloyd]

Do you know the trend where if you have a significant other in the military you say they can’t come into your house but amendment 2 or 3 which say “ no quartering of soldiers without consent”

That with cyclone or Bob

All Shook Up - Bob x Reader

Word Count: 1.0k

Summary: After seeing a trend where military spouses tell their loved ones they aren't allowed inside under the 3rd Amendment, you decide to play a prank on your sweet, returning husband Bob—that is until you get the words out, and he reacts in the only way Bob knows how.

Warnings: fluff, domesticity, husband! Bob, very mild accidental hurt/comfort.

Authors Note: This idea is so funny to me! I'm already working on Beau's version, and I'll definitely be posting that soon.

Read on AO3

The sun had just begun setting when you put your plan into motion. Grinning to yourself as you set dinner to cook in the oven, you check out the kitchen window for any sign of Bob's car. Your husband had been away on a training exercise all week and had just called you thirty minutes ago stating he was close to home.

Minutes later as you spare the driveway another glance, you see Bob climb out of his car, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. You couldn't mask your almost childish excitement as you left the kitchen and trod over to the door. Even after the years you'd been together you never got over just how handsome he was. But today you had other things in mind.

You hear the soft thud of his boots on the porch followed by the jingle of his keys before the door opens.

"Honey I'm home," Bob calls out just as you appear.

His brow furrows when you don't answer, instead just standing and watching him without an ounce of your expected warmth.

"Honey?" He tries again, "Is everything all right?"

You let another long second pass, his brows furrowing, before you answer.

"Oh, yeah," you say casually, "you just can't stay here."

Bob's eyes instantly widen behind his glasses. His gentle gaze fills with a look that is somewhere between confusion and heartbreak.

"I..What?" He questions.

You clear your throat, initial plan shattering but doing your best to follow through with your prank in light of his expression, knowing it'll be easier to explain in the end when you're both—hopefully—laughing. 

"It is my right as an American citizen to exercise whatever rights I have the liberty of holding--including the third amendment of the United States Constitution, no quartering of soldiers and related military personnel without consent," You say, still standing in the entryway opposite Bob and the half open door.

Bob blinks, expression leaning more towards the confused end of things. For a second it looks like he's about to say something, only to remain silent. He glances at his hand still holding the doorknob, then over his shoulder outside before slowly— slowly —backing out and closing the door all without a word.

You let the silence hang for a second before you yourself grow confused. You had expected him to laugh or maybe fight back, or...really anything except actually leave . Yet as you're left standing there, your first instinct is to chase after him.

Crossing the distance and pulling the door open, you see him about to get back in his car.

"Bob!" you call out, earning a hurtfully hopeful glance back over his shoulder from the man, "I'm just messing with you!" you continue.

Bob's gaze drops and a brief flash of regret goes through you. He looks genuinely bewildered, as if he's going back through and cataloging months and years' worth of interactions to figure out where all this was coming from.

With a sigh you close the door behind you and step off the porch, padding softly down the steps until you're close enough to wrap your arm around the waist of your hopelessly sweet husband.

"I promise, It's just a prank, Bob," you reassure his worrying mind, "I thought it'd be funny, not that you'd just…”

You trail off, gesturing vaguely at everything as a brief flash of knowing crosses his eyes.

"Oh," he says after a long pause, brows still furrowed but tone far less tense, "I was so confused."

He returns your embrace, setting his bag on the ground and slinging an arm gently around you.

"I thought maybe something happened I didn't know about."

You can’t help but let out a soft laugh as you look up at him.

"You thought I'd kick you out over something you didn't even know?” You ask incredulously.

"Maybe If I forgot an anniversary or didn't text you goodnight–" He stammers, raising his free hand to rub the back of his neck, "I don't know what you think is worthy of invoking the constitution over, but it felt serious."

By now a soft blush has risen onto his cheeks and you can't help but place a kiss there, his flushed skin warmed under your gentle touch.

"You are too sweet for your own good, honey," you muse with a laugh, "You thought this was it? Really?"

"Well, I...It sounded serious!" He defends again with a bashful smile.

You can't help but laugh again, looking up at him in near warm-hearted wonder.

"You're always welcome to quarter here, or anywhere else I stay, for that matter."

Bob lets out a breath of relief, whatever tension was still held in his body leaving as your words provide the last bit of reassurance he needs.

"I...really didn't want to sleep in the car.”

You pat his back with a laugh and guide him up the steps and back inside before closing the door behind you both.

"Welcome home honey," you try again, a hint of joking still in your tone, "A place you'll always have a bed."

"Good to know," he chuckles softly, "Please, don't scare me like that again."

"I promise," You smile, pulling him in for a proper kiss this time, "I'll make it up to you."

"Yes please," he sighs, only to be distracted by the smell of roasting chicken coming from the kitchen.

"You...made dinner?" He asks gently, always so surprised by the little things even when they're a part of your daily routine.

"Of course I did. Can't have you going hungry, now, can we?"

Bob blinks then nods faintly in agreement.

"Good, go get changed while I finish up down here."

At that Bob practically melts in your arms like he does every time he comes home, never more relaxed than he is in your presence—even if it's your attempt at a prank that shakes him up to begin with.

Taglist: @rosiahills22 @marchingicenotes7 @bayisdying @princessofglitterland @callsignaries @blue-aconite @oliviah-25 @luckyladycreator2 @shakira-sasha @eliseline @xoxabs88xox @lisedanie @alexxavicry @madamemelancholysstuff @dozcan123 @withakindheartx @teti-menchon0604 @sass-masterkittenmama @kmc1989

[86espresso]

CONGRATULATIONS! Could I please have:

crashing their date with another person purposely

^ and it all was definitely out of spite. not because they were jealous. never. totally not.

with Quinn Hughes please!

thank you so much!! and ty for requesting <3

There is not one person on god’s green earth who makes your eye twitch more than Quinn Hughes.

The only tie you have to him is being his coach’s daughter, which means you’re not supposed to see each other a lot, but you have to because you live in the same building.

On the same floor. Across from each other.

It’s been snarky remarks and banging on each other’s doors with noise complaints ever since.

You would think he’d respect you because of who your father was to him, but no. He just couldn’t stand you the same way you couldn’t stand him.

Your day was going smoothly; you got off work, came home and took a nice bath, and got ready for your date. He seemed like a lovely guy and things were going well.

You checked the time to see that you were late and hurriedly shoved your necessities in your purse and speed walked out of your apartment, quickly stopping in front of the mirror to fix your hair. You fumbled with the keys while locking your door, breathing out in relief when you heard the lock click.

The elevator doors opened up to reveal Quinn. His hair was damp and falling onto his forehead, his black shirt stuck to him in the right places, and his gym shorts were short. As fuck.

He gave you a sideways once-over, taking in your appearance without shame as he walked out of the elevator. “Nice kicks.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, looking down at your stilettos. “Thanks?”

He laughs as he walks away and the doors close, and it should feel ridiculing, but a weird part of you was convinced that he tried to give you a compliment.

Key word: tried.

[•••]

The date was going fine. It wasn’t great, since he was a little cold with you because you were five minutes late, but it got better as he had a few glasses of wine.

“What a coincidence.” Your eyes bulged out of your head when you heard Quinn’s all-too-cheery tone. Both yours and your date’s eyes traveled to Quinn, who materialized in del t of your booth.

“Quinn, what the actual fuck are you—”

“I was hoping to catch you somewhere around here, you left too early y’know.” He fakes a pout.

“What is he talking about?” Your date directs the question at you.

“Yes, Quinn, enlighten us, please.” You glared daggers into his unfazed eyes.

“Nah, that’s not important. What is, though,” he pauses to pull something out of his pocket, “is this.”

Your jaw drops as he pulls out one of your rings from his pocket. You must’ve dropped it during your rush to leave.

And just when you thought it wouldn’t get worse, “you left it at my apartment, thought you’d want it back.” He laid it in front of you as your date’s face slowly contorted to anger and he slammed his napkin down on his plate.

“Listen—” you start. Your date holds his hand up.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Quinn watches triumphantly as he stomps out of the restaurant like a child. You put your head in your hands. “It gets to a point, Quinn.”

He shrugs and flops down to where your date just sat, picks up a breadstick and takes a bite. “Damn, these are good,” he swallows, “and I saved you by the way. He had bad juju or negative aura or whatever the kids say these days.” Another bite. You feel it. The undeniable twitch of your eye.

You see his point, though. The man made you feel lesser than for being a few minutes late and was quick to storm out without giving you the chance to explain yourself.

“That still doesn’t mean you can just crash my date, Quinn— how did you even find me?”

“I followed you after I found your ring.”

“You’re so—” you sigh, unable to find the words.

There’s a beat of silence.

You groan loudly, all of a sudden, startling Quinn and making him pause mid dip. “What?”

“I’ll have to pay for all of this.” You gesture at the food in front of you.

Quinn waves his hand once. “Nah. I got it.” You’re confused for the second time that night, your mouth open but no words coming out. “What kind of guy takes someone to Olive Garden for a date, anyway?”

“The kind that’s classy enough to not compliment me with ‘nice kicks’.” You smirk, leaning back and crossing your arms.

He rolls his eyes. “Be grateful, being nice to you for free is painful.”

You laugh for the first time that night, slipping your ring on your finger.

“You do look pretty nice, though.”

[its-luna-noel]

bellesa house

episode 1, satoru & you (sensual)

"Welcome to Bellesa House, where we let performers tell us who they want to have sex with and why." pornstar!jjk men x pornstar!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, pornstar!au, older reader & younger gojo (like mid-30s and mid-20s respectively), based on bellesa house, sensuality, sensual porn

word count: 2.8k next: episode 2, suguru & you

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi there, here's another fic idea i just couldn't shake, based on bellesa house, a porn project w/ the above description. most scenes are split into one of three categories: sensual, passionate, or rough; so, each chapter will also be labeled as such! (if you're a porn person and haven't checked out bellesa, this is my psa). next up is geto:) thanks for reading!

You’re propped up in a bed with half a dozen pillows, dressed in blue lacy lingerie, staring down a camera on a tripod.

It’s something you’ve done hundreds of times.

You give the camera your performer name, offering a coy little smile that’s become your signature. You’ve been doing porn for years now, and when the production team came to you to pilot a new concept – to play house with another performer of your choosing – you, of course, chose Satoru Gojo.

A young buck on the scene, he’s only been in a couple dozen videos total, but he’s already the new heartthrob at the studio, with his big, charming smile and pretty blue eyes. You’ve heard he’s good, too, fantastic on camera and a sweetheart off it.

Satoru chose you because he thinks you’re hot.

Hey, he’s always had a thing for older women, and he knows you’re not that much older than him, but it still makes him hard to think of what you could do with all that experience. It also feels good to know you want to fuck him too as he climbs into the bed for his own interview.

“So,” begins the director, smiling past the camera to the young rising star on the bed, “how are you feeling, knowing the first time you meet your co-star will be here on camera?”

Satoru shrugs his muscular shoulders, smiling a little. “It’s not that different from what I usually do; most of the time we meet on set and an hour later we’re in the middle of a scene. So, I’m not too uncomfortable with it.”

“How does it feel to be working with an industry favorite?”

He chuckles, then, his smile growing as he lowers his eyes, playing almost bashful. “That’s a little more intimidating, I guess. Obviously I’ve seen her work; I just hope I can live up to the great stuff she puts out.”

The video cuts to your interview, to your teasing smile at the camera as you lean back casually against the pillows, looking decadent in your lingerie. The director speaks again from behind the camera, “So, when we bring him in here, do you think you guys will talk, will you get straight to it…?”

You hum thoughtfully, that same smile still curling your lips as you tilt your head. “The young ones are always so eager to get started and skip the awkward introductions, so I’m guessing we’ll just dive in. But who knows! Maybe he’ll surprise me.”

“Alright, well, the next time that door opens, he’ll be coming in, and you guys can do whatever you want!” Your director gives you a supportive thumbs up from behind the camera; she trusts you to make whatever you do together good. You’ve never let her down before. Then, “Action!”

The sleek white door swings open, and there stands Satoru, feigning a casual air with his hands in the pockets of his joggers. He’s got that smile on his face, and you can’t help but return the expression as you wave him in encouragingly. “Hi!” you greet enthusiastically, propping yourself up on your knees on the bed.

Your comforting air seems to put him a little more at ease; he walks in, easing himself onto the edge of the bed beside you. His pretty blue eyes take in the set of lingerie you’re wearing – something that matches those eyes. You look amazing, so fucking sexy he’s already growing hard at the sight of you. Then he looks back up at your face, finding you still smiling, and he smiles back before leaning in slightly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says softly, and you both giggle a little, clearly letting your nerves run a little higher now that you’re meeting each other for the first time.

You lean in, too, still laughing softly, until your nose brushes his. “Nice to meet you, too,” you whisper, and then you part your lips, inviting him to meet you halfway.

He does, his lips pushing against yours, already hard and desperate. You can tell he’s still a little nervous, diving right in instead of pacing himself for the camera, and so you put a gentle hand on the side of his face, fingers stroking the strong line of his jaw. You’re trying not to intimidate him, but that’s hard when you have over a thousand videos under your belt and he has maybe 20. He feels your touch and understands, wants to follow your lead, so he tries to shake himself and slow down.

It’s just a scene, doesn’t matter that she’s the sexiest and most experienced co-star he’s ever had.

His lips slow against yours, now taking the time to taste your mouth, your minty fresh breath and the berry chapstick you have on. Your tongue is phenomenal, slipping against his with practiced ease as you lick into his mouth, and he licks right back with the vitality and enthusiasm of a young performer.

You’ve almost forgotten what that spark feels like. A similar one, after years of being dormant, flares to like deep in your belly.

You kiss for a couple minutes before you let your hand wander from the side of his face, down his neck, to his torso. His chest and belly are muscular under his t-shirt, and you can feel every subtle tightening of those muscles while you touch him. His hands follow, coming to rest on your bare arms, bringing you closer to his body. You arch your back, curving into his chest while he continues to kiss you, and then you move your touch from his belly down to the hard bulge in the front of his sweatpants.

You can tell by feel that he’s one of the bigger men you’ve worked with.

He lets you touch him unhindered for a few moments before he brings his own fingers down to stroke between your thighs, feeling a spreading wetness on the thin fabric of your panties. You both focus on heavy petting for a while, getting each other aroused while your mouths continue moving against each other.

You have to hand it to him; he’s good at what he does.

Once you’re finally wet and feeling ready to take the scene further, you gently push him backwards onto the bed, crawling over him until you’re straddling his hips. You pull away from the kiss enough to smile down at him, and he smiles back, seeming dazzled by you as you dip your fingers into the elastic waistband of his joggers. You pull those down first, and he helps you get them free of his ankles before you toss the fabric aside onto the floor.

You can see the imprint of his dick against his boxers, and now you’re pretty sure he’s one of the biggest you’ve seen. It’s a pleasant surprise; no wonder he’s a rising star on the scene.

You lean forward, pressing your cheek to his thigh, nuzzling playfully and grinning up at him. “You ready?” you ask, for his benefit, knowing it’ll be edited out in post.

He chuckles quietly, and your tummy flutters at the sound; he’s got a good laugh, too. He brushes your hair into one hand, gently guiding your mouth towards the straining bulge of his cock. “Ready,” he confirms.

You grip the waistband of his tight, Calvin Klein boxer briefs and slowly, achingly, pull them down his legs.

You let yourself take a good look as you toss aside the fabric, assessing how much work you’ll have to put in; a lot, is the answer. He’s massive, long and pink and beautiful. Mouthwatering. You’re practically drooling as you settle between his legs and, glancing up at him through your lashes, let your tongue slip out from between your lips and take a taste.

He lets out a soft sigh, eyes watching your every move as you start licking his tip, short little laps that drive him crazy. His hand tightens in your hair, just enough to signal to you that he’s ready.

Or, he thought he was.

When you lean in and take him in the hot, wet cavern of your mouth, he’s already seeing starts at how fucking good your tongue feels swirling around his head. You bring your hands up and grip the base of his cock, squeezing lightly, before you take him a little deeper.

Satoru can’t hold back moans so whiny it’s almost pathetic; you’re sucking him off so well, both hands stroking his length slowly as your mouth bobs over his blushing tip, cheeks hollowed like you want to suck him dry. Then you move your hands and dive down until he’s shoved as far down your throat as you can take, staying there for a moment as your throat closes down around him on every side. His head drops back to the pillows as he lets out another whine, and then you pull back, hands coming back to his base as you suck the tip.

It feels so fucking good that he’s scared he’s gonna cum already.

So he pulls you off of him, guiding you down onto your belly on the bed. “Arch for me,” he murmurs in your ear, and you do, back arched so beautifully that he can’t wait to watch the tape on his own time and screenshot this pose for him to keep. He grabs the back of his shirt and yanks it off, leaving his muscular body on display for the cameras as he pushes your lacy blue panties to the side, arousal already drenching the thin fabric and sticking it to your pussy.

He hums in delight at the sight of your gorgeous folds, and he leans in, pressing a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your lower lips, like he’s making out with your cunt from behind. You let out a moan into the mattress, arching further to force your hips back into his face. He grins against you before grabbing the flesh of your hips, holding you in place while he pushes deeper, past your outer folds to lick a line of heat from your clit to the lower corner of your pussy. Then he moves his mouth back to your clit, his nose bumping against the wet entrance to your cunt while his tongue laps greedily at it. His hands move down to grab the fat of your ass, thumbs spreading you apart to expose you more to his mouth and eyes while he eats you out from the back.

You’re making such delicious noises, not just for the camera, but because his mouth is just that good. He hums again, this time with your clit against his tongue, before he takes the swollen bundle between his lips and sucks softly. Your hips jolt against his face, and he lets go with a lewd pop, before flicking his tongue over your clit again, taking his time to work you up towards your orgasm.

“Oh my god…” you breathe, lashes fluttering as your eyes close to the ecstasy. “Feels so good…”

“Yeah?” he mumbles into your cunt, eyes closed, too, as he tastes how fucking sweet you are. “Want something to cum on?”

You moan at his words, hips bucking backwards again, like you’re trying to chase down your high… He pulls away before you can get there, grinning cheekily when you whimper. “Aww,” he croons, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before grabbing your hips and rolling you over onto your back, “it’s okay. I’ll make you cum; I promise.”

“You better,” you tease back, reaching up to slide the straps of your bodysuit off your shoulders and down your arms, pooling the lace around your waist, “or I’ll be very disappointed in you.”

He takes the fabric the rest of the way off, still grinning as he looks at your perfect body, one he’s seen in dozens of videos with his hand wrapped around his own cock, making himself cum to the sound of your moans. It’s a dream come true to be filming with you, and he lets himself remember that fact before he leans over you, reaching down to align himself with your dripping, fluttering entrance. He glances into your eyes for a moment, checking that you’re alright, and the look in your eyes is such a clear affirmative that he can’t hold back anymore.

He pushes inside you slowly, both of you letting out soft, broken moans in unison as he sheaths himself in you.

Then, once he’s fully seated inside you, your cunt squeezing around him, so wet and warm and fucking perfect, he pulls back and starts to fuck you slowly, sensually.

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his hips, and your heels press into his ass with every thrust, holding him that much closer, that much deeper. He groans, lips parted as he pants softly, his hips rocking in smooth, fluid motions.

Your lips are parted, too, as you reach down to rub your clit with the pads of your fingers, drawing aching circles– Satoru bumps your hand away and takes over for you. “Let me,” he pants, watching your reaction as your head falls back against the pillows with another moan. He groans at the sight and leans in, placing soft, adoring kisses to the column of your throat, to the edge of your jaw, to the curve of your cheek… All the while rubbing those perfect circles on your clit.

Your pussy is starting to clench around him. “Oh my god,” you whine, throwing your head back, and the performance isn’t even for the cameras anymore, it’s for him, to let him know how good he’s making you feel. Every thrust puts him right at your g-spot, and his fingers have the perfect pressure on your clit, a catastrophic combination of sensations that’s quickly sending you towards the edge. “Please don’t stop.”

He keeps kissing towards the corner of your mouth. “Cum for me,” he says, and then he presses his lips to yours, claiming your tongue with his as he fucks you through your orgasm. You moan and whine into the kiss, your cunt clenching and spasming around his cock, and he groans against your mouth at the feeling of you sucking him even further inside you.

Fuck, he’s not gonna last like this.

So he rolls you over onto your tummy again, even though your legs are still weak and shaky from your climax, and presses you down into the mattress with gentle hands. He spreads your legs for you, angling your hips right where he wants you, and then he leans over your body, palms planted firmly on either side of your shoulders to hold his weight above you before he starts rocking back into your perfect fucking pussy.

His shoulders are heaving with the effort to hold back, to not cum after two seconds like this, but his eyes are trained on how your ass conforms to the shape of his hips with every thrust, and the curve of your back looks like the perfect bullseye for his cum–

He groans, pulling out before he can accidentally empty himself inside you. Then he strokes himself, his hand pumping over the wet, sensitive head of his cock as he stares at your fluttering pussy, wishing he could’ve cum there– maybe next time– With a choking sound and breathless moans, he watches pearly ropes of his seed shoot out over the smooth skin of your back.

When he catches his breath, he can’t help but pull up short. Wait, next time??

~

Once you’re showered and dressed in street clothes again, walking out of the studio with your bag over your shoulder, you hear a familiar voice behind you. “Hey! One sec.”

You turn, a smile already on your face as you recognize Satoru’s voice. His hair is still wet from his shower, too, hanging damp in front of his shining eyes. “Hey,” you respond, smiling as he walks over. “Great job today. You’ve got a great career ahead of you, you know.”

“I know,” he says, not arrogantly, just as a fact. But he doesn’t want to talk about that now. He looks a little nervous as he shifts from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to say thanks for…choosing me to work with you today. I had a lot of fun.”

Your smile spreads a little wider. “Me, too,” you tell him, and then you turn your back, because you’re already late for dinner with your friends. “See you around!”

“Wait!” he calls again, and you stop, surprised. You turn and blink up at him.

“Uh, this might sound dumb…but can I get your number?”

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3 | next: suguru & you

[prettylynnpup]

The Neighbor

You'd been hearing tale on and off about someone moving in to that empty house across the street. These tales weren't new though - it seems like there'e been at least one "rumor" per year, and they've always been wrong.

At least, they used to be wrong. Until xe moved in.

9:30 PM, you'd just gotten off of work and finally made it home when you got a knock on your door. "Who the fuck would knock at 9:30?" You pondered to yourself. Because, as far as you remembered, nobody in this neighborhood would knock so much as past 6.

You walk to your door, not knowing what to expect, and you open it. On the other side of the door is a girl you've never seen before. Long black hair, a black dress, chains, some green accents, and a collar were the things you thought most notable about xer. You weren't sure why, but you were especially taken in by that collar, almost like it was stealing your vision away from xer beautiful-

"Hey, neighbor. I just wanted to stop by because I'm still meeting everyone in the neighborhood. Name's Fern."

*click*

Fern... You couldn't stop repeating xer name in your head, no matter how hard you tried. You could swear that you heard a click when xe said xer name, but you elect to ignore it. The name kept repeating and repeating, making it harder to think. At least, until xe waved a hand in your face.

"Hey! Earth to uh, whatever your name is, are you doing okay?"

'Yes! I'm splendid actually!' You wanted to say in response, but found yourself letting out a gentle bark.

"What was that? I think I misheard you?" Fern probes.

You bark again, more confidently.

"I guess I didn't mishear you then, did I?" A glimmer seems to appear in Fern's eye when xe realizes that, yes, you did just bark at xer twice.

"How about we operate like this: one bark for yes, two for no?"

You bark once in response. If you're not going to be able to use your words then goddamn it will you find another way to communicate with the gorgeous owner woman standing on the other side of your door.

"Do you know why it is that you're barking?"

You bark twice. No clue.

"So you didn't notice?"

You turn your head in confusion. Notice what? Did xe do something while you weren't paying attention?

"And you 100% don't remember me at all?"

You bark twice. 'No.' These questions were starting to get really strange. What did xe mean, remember xer? This is xer first time over to your door, right?

"Good. Good puppy."

*click*

A shock went down your spine as you felt yourself get turned on at that phrase. You were painfully embarrassed to be turned on in front of new company, and even more so by the thing that turned you on. Being called a good puppy? You'd never been into petplay - you tried being an owner for your last partner and it just really didn't work out.

Fern walks into your house, heading straight for your kitchen.

'Hey! What are you doing in here? Get out of my house!' Oh right, all you can do is bark. So, you follow xer around your house and bark and bark and bark while xe rummages through your cabinets.

"Puppy, sit."

Your body obeys. You're now on the floor, entirely against your own will. You try to get up, but your arms are so heavy and your paws hands feel so stupid.

"There we go!" Fern loudly announces as xe finds whatever it is that xe was looking for. After a few seconds of fiddling, xe moves behind you and your tail starts wagging gently.

Wait, you don't have a tail, right? How would you be able to feel wagging if you don't have a tail? What the fuck is going on?

*click!*

You feel something tighten around your neck... Your owner put your collar on! Yay!!! You love your owner and you're so glad that xe's back!

Wait... N-no, you don't... That's not right... Something's wrong...

"There we go, that's my sweet pet~"

You start panting... Owner's words feel so good... Maybe you should just fully give in, but only this once right? You won't submit any more after this...

*click!*

You feel a tug from your collar... Owner leashed you today! Thank goodness, you wouldn't want to get lost. Owner picks up a set of keys from the ground and locks that old house, and you and owner start the journey to xer house.

"Finally, fully my little puppy~"

Support me on Ko-fi?

[deadhands69]

Hitching a Ride there's only one bed?

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader  Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Reader [separately]

Choose your own adventure with Shig//Dabi routes. Lightly suggestive, but no smut.

previous - this is part 3 - next (coming soon) [series masterlist]

As you walk through the parking lot to the door of the motel, you realize you’re about to spend the night alone with a man who you met jumping into a stolen van less than 48 hours ago. On its face, this should be a red flag but, thus far, it hasn’t felt like it. If anything, he looks more nervous about being in a room alone with you than you are. 

You slide the keycard four times before the light flashes green and beeps. Shoving open the door, you flick on the lights and -

“There’s only one bed?”

Tomura Shigaraki ᝰ⛐ 

“At least I only have to share with you,” Shigaraki shrugs, “the last hotel stop there were three of us in each bed and Twice kicks in his sleep.”

You laugh, feeling a bit less nervous about the situation. Your laughter also hides the grumbling you feel in your stomach. You wish there was room service, or even a restaurant close. The lackluster dinner you had did nothing to stave off your hunger. As if he could read your mind, Shigaraki walks to the door.

“I think I saw a vending machine earlier, I was about to head over there. Want me to get you anything?” he asks.

“I’ll go with you!” you exclaim, a little more excited than you intended to sound. “I need to move my legs a bit after sitting all day anyways.”

The two of you wander back into the dimly lit parking lot and around the building. Snack and drink vending machines glow side by side like an oasis in the desert. 

“Watch,” he says, hitting the machine with his hip at just the right angle to make a drink fall out. He repeats it again, and another drops. You try the same on the snack one to no avail. Everything seems to be tucked solidly between the metal coils. Without thinking, you pull a semi-large bill from your pocket and shove it in the machine.

“Pick whatever you want,” you say to him, stepping aside. 

“You don’t have to pay for everything,” he mumbles, hitting C6 to send a bag of chips plummeting to the bottom. 

“Yeah, but I want to. You’re the only reason I’m not-” in prison right now, you think. “I definitely owe you. For the ride.”

“It’s fine,” he mutters as the two of you alternate picking more snacks until you each have an armful.

After dropping some gummy candies while you try to get the keycard to work, you’re back in your room dumping your haul on the motel comforter. 

He gives you the first turn for the shower. Dragging your bag in there, you open it to find not much that will be helpful in this situation. You try to clean up the best you can, but at the end of it all, you’re still putting your dirty clothes back on. After looking in the mirror for the first time in months, you decide this is the best it’s going to be and walk back out.

“You’re carrying around a giant bag of money, but no clothes?” Shigaraki asks.

“Wait, how do you know-”

“We picked you up by a bank robbery and you’ve been paying for everything, I put two and two together.” He doesn’t seem phased by this, barely bothering to look away from the motel info sheet he’s reading his way through. “You can’t sleep in that. If you want, you can borrow one of my shirts.”

You nod, thank him. He throws you a shirt from his backpack before heading to take a shower. With the time he’s in there, you fiddle with the remote. Trying to find something worth watching but it’s three cable tv channels and static.

Not ten minutes later, he comes back out in a t-shirt and underwear. You try to keep your eyes glued to the tv, but fail miserably. He’s very attractive, you decide. Every bit of fabric hugging in exactly the right places. Through the corner of your eye, you catch a slew of scars over his legs. Some are scratches, others look like bullet wounds. No wonder he didn’t bat an eye at sharing the room with a bank robber.

“What,” he muses, climbing under the covers by your side. “Still going to sleep in pants?”

Admittedly, you wanted to be comfortable but weren’t sure if you’d make him feel weird by sleeping in your underwear. But if he is… You slide your pants off under the covers, feeling relieved already.

“I’m not a perv,” he asserts, while flipping through the channels and finding nothing you didn’t already skip. “I won’t touch you or anything.”

Before you can stop yourself you find your mouth mumbling, “but what if I want you to.”

He laughs and before turning off the light you notice his face has darkened a few shades of pink.

Ten minutes later he asks, “wait, were you serious?”

After that, you end up talking for half the night while watching infomercials. While you couldn't quite place when it happened, by the time you're falling asleep both of your legs are tangled up together under the covers.

[scroll to continue the story] 

Dabi/Touya Todoroki ᝰ⛐

“It’s fine,” Dabi mumbles, “still more space than sleeping in that van.”

“Yeah,” you remember how you woke up with his arm around you this morning and hope that’s his default sleeping position.

“We’ve been crammed in that thing all day though, I’ll give you space.”

You think to yourself how unnecessary that is, but appreciate the gesture. Unpacking what you do have, you bring your toiletries into the bathroom to brush your teeth. When you come back out, Dabi's wandered off somewhere already.

Not up for much but still not tired enough to go to bed yet, you look at the hotel info sheet to see what’s around here. There is a pool and hot tub on the other side of the building, with seemingly no hours. You strip down to your underwear, everything covers as much as a swimsuit would which is close enough for you. Grabbing a towel and your keycard, you head out the door.

Arriving at the pool, you see you’re not the only one there. Dabi is already sitting in the hot tub, staring up at the stars. 

The area is dimly lit, a humming light above casting a warm tint over everything, but at least the water looks well-maintained. You unhook the metal gate fencing the area in, drop your towel on a broken plastic lounge chair, and climb in. The bubbles tickle your legs as you sink into a spot across from him. He flashes you a smile in acknowledgement but stays quiet.

Looking up at the clear night sky, it really is beautiful. You get lost in it until the jets slow to a stop.

“I’ve got it,” he says, already half out of the water by the time you look up.

He’s in his underwear as well, the wet cotton clinging to his body as he walks to the control panel. You try not to notice the way the thin fabric gives you a view of everything. Water drips down his back, over the scars which you now know cover most of his body. The bubbles resume and you promptly look up, pretending to have been staring at the sky the whole time. 

When he gets back, he mentions how nice of a night it is and how beautiful it’s been getting out of the city. Small talk turns to more, and before you know it at least an hour has passed, your skin is pruney, and you’re laughing hysterically. Shigaraki Someone yells out of one of the windows at you to be quiet. Glancing at each other, you laugh even harder while grabbing your towels and heading back inside.

You let him take the first shower, knowing it’ll take you a while to scrub the chlorine off your skin. When he comes back out, he’s wearing nothing but his underwear again. Knowing he’ll be sleeping next to you in that hits differently than sitting with him in a hot tub.

“What,” he taunts, walking past you to climb into bed, “nothing you haven’t already seen.”

You hoped he hadn’t noticed you checking him out earlier, but based on the look on his face he doesn’t seem to mind. He makes himself comfortable while you take your turn washing off.

One issue.

The small hair dryer attached to the wall does a slow job of drying your underwear, leaving small damp patches all over the fabric. At some point, you decide it’s good enough and pull them back on along with the shirt you’ve been wearing all week. 

Dabi laughs, “I take it there aren’t clothes in the bag.”

“That is correct,” you walk past him, shoving the massive sack under your side of the bed. “But something tells me you already knew that.”

“I had a suspicion,” he smiles and the world melts around you. “Grab one of my shirts to sleep in, you don’t have to dress like a bank robber 24/7.”

Your jaw drops at the bluntness, but he’s not wrong. You go back into the bathroom, changing into the shirt he let you borrow. When you come back out, the lights are off and he appears to be drifting off to sleep. You climb in next to him.

His arms wrap around you and this time you think it’s on purpose.

⛙ Continued ⛙

According to the alarm clock by the bed, 9:14. Checkout is at 10.

Begrudgingly, you extricate your entwined limbs from his to let him get a few more minutes of sleep. He looks so peaceful and you’d hate to interrupt it. You throw your pants on to see what a free continental breakfast looks like in a place that doesn’t even have wifi. 

Making your way through the parking lot, you think back on the conversations you had last night. Life wasn’t necessarily easy prior to this, there’s a reason you’re on the run with nothing but a stolen bag of money and the clothes on your back. He could have pried more when you declined to talk about it, but he didn’t and you’re grateful for that. Honestly, being on the run with the group has been an amazing break from life, feeling more like a vacation than anything else. 

That’s partially why you offered to share some of the money (that and the fact that you involuntarily made them all accomplices when they picked you up so you felt like you at least owe them some portion of it.) When you brought it up last night, you could tell he wanted to say no but knows that everyone needs it.

The breakfast is exactly what you expected, but at least it’s a meal. You throw a few pale orange slices on a plate with a pastry and whatever else looks edible. Sitting next to Compress and Magne, you begin eating as everyone else slowly trickles in. There’s an occasional knowing glance at you wearing his shirt, but no one says anything until Toga shows up.

“Ooooooooohh,” she starts before Magne kicks her leg under the table.

After everyone eats their fill (and fills their pockets,) you quickly pack up, and you’re all back on the road again.

series masterlist - bnha masterlist

taglist: @kitkat13001 @bitchyfestivalbouquet @shigarakislaughter @idkidk32

[tactical-jellyfish]

The Mistakes That Have Been Made

Part 2.5 (bonus for the people. I think you guys need some good soup, from moi <3)

Warnings!: Angst, angst, and more angst. Reader will be MAD sad for most of this. Poorly-practiced, unhealthy polyamory. Reader will experience a LOT of gender and body dysphoria over the course of this (though I will do my best to keep it gender-neutral throughout, bear with me), but there WILL be comfort over that.

The team dynamics of the 141 have always been messy, ugly things, but this is ugly. You wouldn't wish it on anyone, really.

When you'd walked back to your own room, you'd heard Soap railing the daylights out of Gaz, cussing your name beneath his breath as the other sergeant groaned, high and throaty.

As awful as this feels, at least he's not doing that to you.

Johnny's always been a bit of a... rough bed partner, you know that, he's so eager to get into the heat of it that he never gives himself the time to warm up or cool down. Tends to be so enthusiastic that he doesn't offer much aftercare before he falls asleep, either.

Still, walking past Gaz's room brings back memories of that nasty, sick feeling that follows every intimate experience you've ever had.

It's the feeling that your body is somehow wrong, too tight in some parts and too loose in others, like the very existence of your form is a contradiction that just can't stand a second longer.

The way you hold your laptop shifts, pressing the metal into your chest to somehow remedy this ill. How? You're not sure. It doesn't work very well.

You try to shake it off as you open your door and sit on your bed, but the moans still breach your walls.

God, since when did Gaz sound like that? It feels like it's choking the air out of the room.

You put your best effort toward minding your own business, but you felt like you were losing your mind a half-hour into that endeavor, and instead thumped your fist on the wall, loud enough to send the message. Learning how to sign and trying to ignore... that was simply not a feasible task.

The moaning and creaking stops shortly after, and the sigh you heave is like no others, though you know damn well those two will definitely be pissy with you tomorrow.

Finally.

Plastic buzzing against the "wood" of your nightstand (shitty plywood painted white, as is standard issue) draws your focus away from that, if only for a second.

Heyhey! Do u wanna train together tmrw?? I think you'd do good if you took it easy w/me 😊 <33

The rubber and plastic of your case isn't all that comfortable in your hands, but you hold the magical little glass box in your hands anyway, peering down at the screen before chuckling to yourself.

Why should I?

Is your reply. It doesn't strike you that it might have been a bit on the nose, or that Gary might have read it differently, until the text bubble appears and disappears several times in a row, and you re-read it.

Oh no, you sound like an absolute asshole.

Sorry. I do want to, I just wanted to tease.

He's typing for another few seconds, before the bubble disappears one more time, and it starts to make you panic. More than you want to be panicking over him.

Don't be mad please, I'm sorry. I want to train with you.

How the mighty have fallen.

Look at you, desperately prostrating yourself before a rookie because you're absolutely moronic, praying that he'll offer you a reply. Whatever happened to four times the love?

Fuck. Don't think about that.

im not mad, ur fine just thought you might be a little grouchy from the meds or smth, wasnt sure if i should ask

You breathe a real sigh of relief at the returned messages, already more than tired by the day, but slightly soothed as you look down at the blue light of the screen, and send your last message of the day.

I'll see you at 0630. Goodnight.

A little red heart appears over your message, in the top left corner of the rounded bubble.

You plug in your phone and try to ignore how something in your chest squeezes at being deemed worthy of making plans more than two hours in advance.

It's a shockingly new thing, but goodness does it feel good, even if it brings on a sting of a more somber feeling.

Gaz and Soap sure as fuck didn't do this. Ghost either. You never expected Price to do that for you in the first place. Did they just... not think you were enough to make plans for? Was this pity?

You try to shake off the feeling as you bunch your blankets around your body, allowing your tired form to sink into the mattress and rest. The morning will clear your thoughts.

First | Previous | Next

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 68

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,380ish

Summary: A memory comes up that has you thrown into a bad place.

Notes: Please send in reactions!  HELP PLAN MY NEW LOGAN SERIES HERE.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

A few months pass with you and Logan going on more dates and spending a lot more time together than you had been previously. The two of you still haven’t kissed as you are still getting used to the idea of dating and the two of you haven’t make anything official yet. Logan respected your need to go slow. You had been in a relationship with your dead husband for decades and both of you knew going into this that this wouldn’t be easy.

Logan made his usual route over to your bar, where you were looking busy wiping down the counter. His help tilted in concern as you didn’t appear to sense him as he came closer. You usually did and lit up his whole world with that smile of yours. 

“Hey, darlin’,” he greeted with a smile, hoping that it would wash away whatever was wrong.

“Oh,” you glanced up and then went back to your work, “hi, Logan.”

His brows pinched together. He couldn’t remember the last time you called him that. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Just a long day. I’m going finish up helping the last of the customers.”

“Hey.” He reached over and gently grabbed your wrist, only to gasp. “Doll, how long have you been that cold?”

You pulled free from his grip. “Not now, Logan.” Then you rushed off.

Logan’s eyes followed, trying to see any signs that more was wrong than you just being cold. As you finished up helping customers, Logan got to his usual closing duties. He kept his eyes on you as you did your duties. You still wouldn’t look at him. After the bar was locked up, Logan threw his jacket over your shoulders and pulled it tight around you.

“I told you I’m fine,” you grumbled.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied. “It’s my job to make sure.” You sighed, letting him pull your arms through and zip you up. “There. Better.” You folded your arms across your body, wishing that you could simply disappear. Logan put an arm around you, immediately noticing the way you tensed as he pulled you into his side. “Doll, I’m worried—“

“Can we just get home? I just want to be home.”

Logan nodded. “We can do that.”

~~~

Logan went to open the apartment door but you quickly swatted his hand away.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you said, keeping your voice as even as possible. You couldn’t look at him. “I’ll give your jacket back in the morning.”

“Y/N,” his hand gently grasped your elbow. “Please look at me. Tell me what’s wrong. Your skin is cold and you aren’t acting like normal… At least call me, Lo. Please, darlin’, talk to me.”

You sniffled, growing emotional as you pulled from his grasp. “Goodnight, Logan.” Then you slipped into the apartment, quickly locking it behind you.

~~~

Logan couldn’t sleep. Too worried about you. He got up in the morning and went to the nearest bakery and flower shop. He hoped that he could help you have a better day today. When he reached your apartment, Logan’s heart cracked a little when he found it locked. He knocked, grip tightening on the items he was holding. He didn’t know how to feel when Laura opened the door.

“Hey, Logan,” she looked sad, too, and concerned.

“I brought these for your mom,” Logan said. “Is she around?”

Laura sighed. “It’s a bad day.”

“In what way?”

“Every way, but it’s really not my place to tell you. I have to go to work and school but I don't want to leave her alone.”

“I don’t work. I’ll stay with her.”

“I don’t know, Logan. She’s… she’s really struggling today.”

“I can handle it and I’ll call you if anything happens. I promise… I just want to be there for her, whatever it is.”

Laura hesitated before nodding and opening the door wider. Logan stepped in and looked around, hoping to see you appear. The only thing he noticed was that he jacket had been tossed onto the couch with some burn marks on it. It was breaking his heart to know that you were struggling and pushing him away.

“She may remain in her room for most of the day,” Laura stated as she gathered her stuff. “She…” She glanced down the hall. “She’s only had a few days like this since I’ve been with her. But, they haven’t necessarily been this bad and having an effect on her powers like this.”

“But you know why she’s acting this way?”

“I do,” Laura nodded. 

“And… are you okay?”

Laura was taken by surprise. No one had ever asked her that on your bad days. “As long as she is, I will be.”

~~~

When you finally appeared from your room, you looked like you had been crying. It broke Logan’s heart. He was sitting on the couch, tense, as he watched you move around like you didn’t see him. You glanced at the pastries Logan had set on a plate on the table. Logan could hear your stomach rumble before you took the plate and disappeared back into your room. It should have made him feel better that you were going to each something, but it didn’t. You were looking like the whole weight of the world was on you and Logan wished that he could carry it with you.

It wasn’t long before Logan could hear your sobs from your room and he began pacing. He had to do something. He paced for a while before he began to clean everything he could. 

Lunch time rolled around and he grabbed some waters and made you an easy meal before heading to your door. He knocked it lightly.

“I brought you some food and drink, darlin’,” he said. He could smell a tinge of your smokey scent, causing his heart to drop. “I’m worried, doll. Please let me in.”

You didn’t answer, sobs spilling out of your room. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to stop himself from busting down the door.

“I’m just gonna leave the food out here, okay?” He continued. “I’ll be in the living area if you need me.” He bent down and left the food there before sulking away.

Logan counted the minutes until you opened the door to grab the items and disappear again. Seven minutes. At least he knew that you were getting something in you.

It was late afternoon when Laura texted and said that she would be home late. Logan told her that he had everything under control. He made dinner and set it outside her door before going back to the living area. He turned on the tv and tried not to fall asleep in case you needed him. His eyes end up winning and he falls asleep for a little while. When he does wake up, he sees you sitting at the table, tears sizzling down your face, with a bottle of whiskey you usually kept for him against your lips.

“Doll?” Logan immediately shoots up and heads for you. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you cry. “Please, just go home, Logan. I’m fine. I’m okay.”

Crouching down beside you, he placed a hand on your thigh. It’s warm compared to last night, but it’s not as warm as it should be. “But you’re not okay. You’re crying and you’re sad… I’m worried. Please, darlin’, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I— I— Today— I don’t want you to leave.”

“What? I’m not going anywhere, doll. Why would you—“

“Today’s the day I lost him.” The pieces click instantly for Logan and he now wishes that he had done something more for Laura as well. “It’s— It’s stupid because it doesn’t actually happen for another four years, but to me…”

“No, no, baby,” Logan shook his head. “It’s not stupid at all. You lost him, no matter what year it was. You lost him. And you have every right to be sad about that.”

“I miss him… I miss my James. Oh gosh!” You scrambled back out of the seat. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that to you! I’m sorry.”

“Darling, baby, it’s alright. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Without warning, random objects around the apartment begin to go up in flames. “You don’t deserve that… You deserve better, Logan… I’m sorry that I can’t give you that.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he came closer, watching as fire spread around your body. “Please stop that, darlin’. Stop saying those things and… and please stop burnin’ yourself.”

“Are you going to leave because I miss him?”

“Never,” he shook his head. “No… I am so grateful for your James. He took care of you and loved you and got you to me… without him, I wouldn’t have you or Laura in my life. I would have walked away from Wade and never turned back… I would never leave because you miss your husband.”

“Really?”

“Really, darlin’. You’re stuck with me.”

You dropped to your knees on the floor, fires burning all around, as you sobbed. Logan moved to mirror your position, right in front of you. 

“Baby, please, I need you to try and control your powers.” He couldn’t help but notice how you were trembling and how burns were forming on your skin. “You’re hurting yourself, doll.”

“Lo… I need help…”

Logan lunged forward, flames be damned. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him. “I’ve got you, darlin’… I’ve got you.”

“I smelt smoke!” Wade said, bursting into the apartment. “What’s going on?” He looked around to see various small fires everywhere. “Shit!”

“Wade, I need you to try to put the fires out. I’ve got to put her out.”

“On it!”

Wade began rushing around while Logan picked your flaming body up and carried you into the bathroom. He turned the shower on cold and climbed in under the stream, still holding you close. Your flames died and were quickly replaced with you shivering.

“Lo—Lo— I’m c-c-cold…” you stammered.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He stepped out of the shower and pulled you out of your clothes before wrapping you in multiple towels. “I’m gonna get you warmed up, baby.”

He stripped himself of his own clothes, leaving him in only boxers. He wrapped you up in his arms and carried you to your bedroom. He got you tucked in and cuddled you close to try and use his body heat to warm you up.

“All the fires are taken care of,” Wade said, peering into the bedroom.

“Thanks,” Logan responded. “Can you get me some clothes and gather supplies to take care of her burns?”

“Can do! I’ll be right back!”

“Lo…” you rasped.

He quickly shushed you. “Rest, baby. I know it hurts. I know you’re cold. I’m gonna take care of ya.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m gonna fix this.”

~~~

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Logan asked as Wade returned with the asked items.

“What? This beauty?” Wade questioned, showing off his ‘#1 Ember Fan’ shirt.  You huffed out a barely there laugh, fluttering in and out of consciousness. “Don’t worry, Peanut, I have one here for you and one for Little Wolf.”

Logan rolled his eyes, before slowly pulling himself away from you. You whined. “I’m sorry, doll. I’ve got to deal with these burns of yours before they get worse.”

“Don’t fret, Buttercup!” Wade came over and sat down beside you. “I’ll hold your hand.” He took one of your hands and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

You pressed out a smile for Wade and barely squeezed his hand. He shot you a smile before shooting Logan a concerned look. Wade never thought you could feel this cold. Logan looked away, trying to pull himself together as he slipped on the sweats Wade had brought him. He arranged all the items to take care of your burns on the nightstand at got to work. You whined, cried, and whimpered as Logan took care of your burnt skin. Both Logan and Wade told you encouraging words as it continued. But the time Logan was done, you were unconscious.

“She’s getting worse,” Wade stated as he helped Logan clean up and leave you alone to rest.

“I know,” Logan mumbled.

“How long as she been that cold?”

“I just noticed yesterday.”

“Yesterday? That happened in one day?”

Logan nodded. “Thanks for your help. I’m going to stay here in case she needs anything and wait for Laura to come home.”

“Alright, Peanut. I’ll be need door if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

~~~

Laura came home about an hour later. She was immediately on alert as she smelt the smoke still in the air.

“What happened?” Laura fretted. “Is mom okay?”

“She’s fine. She told me what today was and freaked. Wade and I handled it.”

“So, you know?”

“I do… and I’m sorry. What can I do for you, Laura?”

Laura shook her head, tearing up. Logan came closer and pulled her in for a hug. Laura broke into sobs as Logan held her close. He kissed her head and remained silent, willing to follow her lead. When she pulled away, she quickly wiped her tears.

“Thank you, Logan,” she rasped. “For taking care of me and my mom.”

“Of course,” he replied. He glanced down the hall, eyes locked on your door. “I… I love her, you know… I never thought I would fall in love again, not after… But your mom, she just—she does things to me. She forces me to be a better man than I ever was before and it scares me. I know that I’m not good enough for her, I can’t save her from what’s coming… All I ask is that she let me love her. Let me take care of her and share this burden. That’s all I ask of her… that she let me love her.”

“She loves you, too, Logan. She just may not know how to tell you just yet.”

“She doesn’t ever have to tell me. I don’t need that from her.”

Laura nodded, finally noticing his shirt. “Ember’s #3 fan, huh?”

He rolled his eyes. “Wade has one for you too. Yours is #2.”

She scoffed. “He wishes.”

next chapter >

[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.

[rafesdollette]

— ୨ৎ sleepover with secret bf!rafe

authors note: i got a request for this a few weeks ago but the ask deleted itself so I'm so sorry to whoever sent that! and i'm trying to get out of my writers block so enjoy...whatever this is. (not sure how I feel about this) not proofread!! content warnings: contains smut, 18+

“come over? just for a little bit?” rafe asked as he looked at you through the facetime camera. it's been a rough day for him and you were really the only person he wanted to see right now. but it was past midnight and you weren't supposed to be out of the house around this time, let alone going to his house.

you've been told by your parents to stay away from him—countless times, actually. rafe knew he had some...things to work on, but in his mind, he wasn't that bad. at least towards you. “dunno rafe...'m already in trouble for skipping school yesterday.” you frown, tapping your manicured finger on the side of your phone. rafe sighed, sitting up against his headboard “please? it'll be quick. i'll sneak ya in and out.”

you were hesitating and that's something rafe could see clearly, but he was desperate. you were one of the only people he actually cared about these days and he didn't want to be alone right now, especially not at night.

“please..? you're the only person i want to see right now.” he pleaded, almost begging in a way. he was never one to beg, but it was the only thing he could think of that could convince you to come.

you thought it over as you bit the inside of your cheek. you knew how it would end if your parents found out you snuck out of your house. “isn't sarah home though?” rafe was silent for a moment, his hand running through his hair “no...she's out. won't be home 'til morning” he murmured. that was one less obstacle so it was one good thing. but you still weren't sure. rafe was your boyfriend and you cared about him, but sneaking out wasn't the best idea right now. “but my parents said-”

“i know sweetheart and i'm not tryna get you in trouble, but i swear it'll be like thirty minutes.” he cut you off, his tone almost desperate. you bit your lip as you leaned back against your headboard. “rafe...” you trailed off with a sigh. you weren't saying no right away, but you weren't saying yes either. it was clear you were conflicted as you hesitated before adding, “okay, fine. but just for thirty minutes. not a second longer.”

rafe's face lit up as he heard you agree. he knew he could be convincing if he wanted to and he was so glad it worked this time. “thank you baby, be outside waiting. i'll come get you.” with that, he ended the facetime, standing from his bed as he grabbed a jacket and his keys. it didn't take long for you to change into some shorts and a hoodie and put your shoes on. you carefully crept out of your room and out into the livingroom, pausing to listen for any noises. once you were sure your parents were asleep, you opened up the front door and slipped outside, shutting the door quietly behind you. by the time you were out of your house, rafe was already parked outside.

rafe was leaning against the door of his car as he waited for you. he heard the door open and shut, looking up and seeing you walking towards him. he could see you were nervous, but it didn't stop him from pulling you into a tight hug. “hey,” he greeted, his voice tired but he felt better with you in his arms. you returned his hug, leaning into the embrace. “hey...” you murmured back, your tone almost equally as tired. you could feel the exhaustion in him as he hugged you and you felt the need to ask, “you okay?”

rafe let out a sigh against your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze before leaning back “not really...” he mumbled, releasing his hold on you reluctantly. he opened the passenger side door for you, waiting until you got in before shutting the door and walking around to get into the driver's side.

you got into his car, leaning back in the seat as you looked over him. you could tell something was bothering him by the look on his face and his tone of voice. it's been a long time since he sounded that exhausted. “...rough day?”

rafe ran a hand over his face, looking over to you wearily “rough life.” he mumbled, starting up the car as he pulled out from the curb. “seatbelt.” you hummed quietly as you reached out to grab the seatbelt, buckling yourself in. you decided not to ask more about what exactly was bothering him; in time, he'd probably talk about it.

the car ride was silent as rafe drove back to his house. you didn't mind though, figuring that he needed the silence in order to calm his head for a bit. a few moments passed before he parked in his driveway, unlocking the doors and getting out. he came around the side and opened your door for you, offering his hand to help you out of the car.

you slipped your hand into his, letting him help you out of the car. walking through his yard, he quietly unlocked his front door and let you in first. “wheezie's home so we're gonna have to be quiet” he said as he shut the door behind him, locking it again.

you followed him inside “gotcha” you whispered as you looked around. “is she awake? i don't wanna be the reason she doesn't sleep.”

“she's asleep.” he mumbled, nodding towards the stairwell. “come on..” he took your hand again, quietly leading you upstairs to his bedroom. once inside, he closed the door and locked it before turning on his bedside lamp and walking over to his bed.

you followed him to his bed, crawling onto it and moving to lay back against the pillows. you could still see the exhaustion in his body as he laid down next to you, his head resting against your shoulder as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “wanna talk about anything...?” rafe was silent for a moment, almost as if he was thinking about your question. he really didn't wanna talk about anything at all. all he wanted was to lay here with you, which he thought to himself as he shook his head. “nah”

you nodded once he answered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you closed your eyes. you could tell he didn't want to talk and you were okay with that. you both laid there in comfortable silence, no sounds besides the sound of your breathing and the occasional passing of a car outside. “can i do anything to help?”

it felt good to lay here with you. it was the only real peace he's felt in weeks and it helped calm him a little. when you spoke again, he lifted his head to look at you, his tired eyes meeting yours.

he moved a bit closer to you, his arm around your waist tightening as his head rested on your chest. “this is more than enough for me, sweetheart” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your side. “i do have a request though”

you looked down at him, your fingers lightly running through his hair as you waited for him to speak. you could tell he was still thinking about something and you waited patiently before finally speaking, “what is it?” rafe's eyes closed as your fingers ran through his hair. he loved when you did that and it relaxed him greatly

he was still silent for a few more moments before finally speaking. “i need to relieve some stress.” he murmured, his fingers gently brushing against your waist once more before suddenly resting right above the drawstring of your shorts.

────୨ৎ────

“a-ah shit, rafe” your hands clench by your sides as rafe glides his tip between your drenched folds, looking down at you with this tongue between his teeth. “mmh...this wet already, darling? barely even touched ya yet.” rafe hummed, smirking down at you. all you can do is nod and let out a whimper as he tapped his cock against your cunt. “nuh-uh, words. none of that whimpering shit”

you were already a stuttering, whimpering mess as he ran his fingers over your clit. you needed more from him, wanted to feel more of him, but you knew that he wasn't going to give that to you until you answered.

you let out a shaky breath as you looked up at him, eyes wide. “yes!” you quickly whimpered, “been thinking about it all night. please, please rafe...” you whimpered, your hips bucking up in an attempt to get more from him. “i know baby, i know” rafe murmured, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he teased your clit with his thumb again “been so long since you've had this cock, yeah?”

you nodded rapidly, eyes pleading him to do something, anything. you wanted him so badly and you could tell he was just teasing, which was driving you absolutely insane. “rafe..." you murmured, your voice trembling a little. rafe chuckled softly, shaking his head “come on. don't get all shy with me now. tell me what you want” he said with a smirk, his fingers still moving over your clit, barely applying pressure. he could feel you shaking beneath him, which encouraged him to tease you a little more. “tsk tsk i want an answer. i know you know how to talk, baby. i just wanna hear your pretty little voice say it.”

you swallowed hard as you looked up at him from under your lashes; he looked so damn proud of himself. you were almost positive he got off on teasing you like this, and the last thing you wanted to do was give him that satisfaction. but your patience was wearing thin and you were getting desperate. you just wanted him to touch you already, but he was always so stubborn. you ran your tongue over your bottom lip as you met his gaze again, your voice shaking a little as you finally spoke up, “n-need you rafe…please...”

“mmh, that's my good girl. i knew you could do it baby.” rafe murmured, finally pushing his cock into your aching hole, causing both of you to let out simultaneous moans. “a-ah fuck” you gasp, gripping onto his biceps as he pushes all the way in, making you groan at the feeling, his cock slowly slipping all the way down, filling you to the hilt, “so fuckin' tight” he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his member.

you whimper as he remains motionless, denying you the much needed friction. “mmh what do we say after i give you something, baby?”

you could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he murmured the question into your ear. he knew what he was doing. he knew exactly how to get you to say what he wanted you to say, knowing how well he filled you up and how he wasn't moving. you moaned quietly, hands moving to grip onto his back as you looked up at him with watery eyes, “thank you.”

rafe hummed and nodded against your neck, lightly kissing just under your ear as he lifted his head, “good girl.” he said “you're welcome, my love. anytime.”

he finally pulled his hips back a little, thrusting back into you “you feel so damn good, baby.” he breathed before beginning to thrust into you harder, repeatedly hitting your cervix deliciously “been too long without having you.” he murmured, his hand gripping onto the back of your thigh, lifting your leg up over his shoulder. the change of position caused his cock to slide even deeper, making you gasp.

you whimpered at the feeling of him hitting your sweet spot, unable to speak clearly “oh...oh g-god rafe” you tried, your eyes already shut as you tried to move your hips in time with his. he could feel your nails digging into his shoulders, leaving red indents. “look at me.” he murmured in your ear, his hand reaching down to grab your chin, turning your face towards his “look at me while i'm fucking you, sweetheart. ” your mind goes a little blank for a moment when he says that, only able to focus on the feeling of him inside you. it takes a few seconds before you manage to open your eyes again, meeting his gaze. rafe's eyes are focused on you, a small smirk on his lips as he sees you staring “there you are.” he hums, biting down on his lip once he feels you start to clench around him “shit, you gonna cum already?”

“yeah...mmh, so close ray.” you moan, struggling to keep your eyes on him as his hand reaches to press his thumb against your clit, rubbing tight circles. “so fast, sweetheart?” rafe murmured with a smirk “been that long, huh? gonna make a mess all over my cock already?” you don't even have time to respond before your orgasm hits you hard, your body shaking as the coil in your stomach snapped. eyes squeezed shut, walls clenching around his twitching shaft. the way your pussy cinched around him is all rafe needed to go over the edge, spilling his seed deep inside you.

“mmh ray?” you murmur, looking up at him with your glossy eyes. “hm?”

“think 'm gonna stay here tonight.”

taglist: @bunbun-3 @drewscoquette @untitled10351 @rafesweetie @meetmebehindthemallrafe @supercutelovergirl

© rafesdollette

[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 💅🏼

[shouyuus]

mma!bakugo who just so happens to train at the gym that you part-time at on the weekends (front desk stuff, bookkeeping, etc) and has always been a bit scary from afar bc he's got this constant scowl as if he's got a bone to pick with just about anyone and anything who crosses his path, but his coach (also ur boss) assures you that he's a big softie once you get to know him. you tell him in no uncertain terms that you think you're good, thanks.

mma!bakugo who's always the first one in and the last one out on your shifts, who's got shit manners but always holds the door open for you and sometimes you swear you can catch him watching you as you go about cleaning some of the equipment but goes tomato red whenever you catch him in the act and immediately yeets off to work on drills for about half an hour before he'll glance at you again.

mma!bakugo who doesn't know how good he looks when he's wiping sweat from his chin or chugging water from his massive 2-liter water bottle, a trickle of cold water dripping down his chin to run down his neck, his adam's apple bobbing as he gulps down the water, smacking his lips as he wipes his mouth on the back of his bandaged hand; doesn't notice the way that every girl (and a lot of the guys tbh) are staring at him, but he'll glance towards where he saw you last, standing helping a new guy sign up for the gym membership, smiling and laughing, and he knows it's what you're supposed to do but it doesn't stop the way his gut twists or the way he goes way too hard at the punching bag, hard enough for his coach to hike an eyebrow and ask what's gotten into him today? it's not like him to "lose control" like this

mma!bakugo who never calls you by your name where other ppl can hear, always says like "hey sweetcheeks, can you hand me a water?" or "dollface, can you do me a favor?" and you'd always roll your eyes and remind him that "that's not my name, bakugou-kun," even as you're doing whatever thing he asked for anyway.

mma!bakugo who keeps quiet and watches when a guy tries to hit on you (unsuccessfully) bc he knows you can handle yourself, but the moment the guy reaches out to try and put hands on you, he's on his feet, stalking across the gym to shove his way between the pair of you like "oi. she ain't interested." and by now, everyone's gone quiet, their eyes trained on him and the guy and you; the guy sizes bakugou up, puffing out his chest for a second, but the next, he seems to notice the thick cords of muscles braiding down bakugou's arms, the expertly wrapped knuckles on both his hands, and he puts two and two together fast enough to know that this really isn't a fight he should be picking.

so he scoffs and makes as if he weren't ever really that interested anyway, turning around and muttering beneath his breath that you weren't even that pretty to begin with.

"thanks," you say, but bakugo just frowns and cocks his head.

"don't let anyone talk to you like that, got it?" and there's still that signature grit to his voice, the sharpness to his eyes, but something about it is different today -- it's ever so slightly softer than he usually is. he opens his mouth like he's about to say something more but pauses at the last second and turns around, shoulders a little hunched, and you could swear you can see the tips of his ears go red.

mma!bakugo who, after you get him an omamori from a shrine visit that says "certain victory", can only stare down at his, mouth open, a lil speechless, until he looks up to find you blushing just as hard as he is, purses his lips, clears his throat and glances off towards the side, tucking the charm into his training shorts like "thanks. now i've really got no excuse huh."

mma!bakugo who when he wins (as you knew he would), throws up his hand, the charm you gave him clutched in his palm, catches your eye in the crowd, smirks and jerks his head; when you squeeze your way up to the barrier, he boops your nose with a gloved hand before tugging it off with his teeth, letting it drop to the ground, bending down so his eyes are level with yours, his chest still heaving, his skin flushed from the recent fight, there's a cut on his lip and a bruise blossoming high on his right cheek but neither of you seem to care -- all he can see is you.

he tugs on a loose strand of hair, cocks his head, you smile and glance at the omamori clutched in his hand and say, "guess the lucky charm really worked."

mma!bakugo who hikes an eyebrow at your words before his eyes track down to your lips and he sighs, leaning against the soft barriers, not caring that there are just about seven different cameras trained on the pair of you right now, runs a finger down your jawline till he can tip your chin back --

"or..." his voice is just a little hoarse, his normally bright eyes dark, his pupils nearly completely blown out, a total eclipse of the usual ruby red of his gaze --

"maybe my lucky charm is just you."

[blackdykegirlblogger]

birthday sex with abby!

a/n: this is pretty sloppy tbh but i'm horny and felt like jotting smth down. she's a capricorn bc i said so.

thinking about how you wanted to surprise abby for her birthday. you had it all set up: breakfast in bed (her favorite: four slices of french toast, scrambled eggs and a large cup of black coffee), reservations at this new italian restaurant she's been dying to go to for weeks now, and your personal favorite: sex.

now granted, yall tended to go at it like rabbits on a daily basis, so it wasn't like fucking was anything new to your relationship. but, it was usually abby who took the reins. and as much as you loved her being in command under you...or above you...or from whatever position she decided on that day, you figured such a special occasion was the perfect time to switch things up a bit.

you gently tiptoed into your shared bedroom, easing the door open with your hips while you balanced her plate and mug. she was the prettiest sight you've ever seen, her usually meticulously done braid all fuzzy and askew as she snored gently. and luckily for you, she refused to ever wear shirts to bed, so her perky tits were loudly and proudly on display. you would honestly take a a picture if your hands weren't so full.

"abs? abby? time for breakfast, baby."

she grunted slightly as her eyes began to open, blinking a couple of times before landing on you. she pushed herself up on her elbows as she took everything in, the largest grin appearing on her face and making you giggle. "well good morning to you too, pretty girl. what's all this for?"

her tits bounced slightly as she adjusted herself into a sitting position, and your eyes were momentarily distracted before you acknowledged what she just said. "...it's your birthday? don't tell me you forgot again." you asked incredulously.

"my...? oh!" she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and checked the date, finally noticing the blaring January 7th on the screen. "well would you look at that?"

you rolled your eyes as you pressed a sloppy kiss on her cheek and handed her her meal. "happy 22nd visit around the sun, dumbass. i love you."

"fuck mama! s-slow downplease-"

if you had a nickel for every time you managed to make abby beg, like genuinely beg for you, you would only have a handful of nickels. as obsessed as she was with you, she was someone who prided herself on maintaining control at all times. it was a rare treat to see her all worked up and desperate (maybe you would get lucky if she was high, but that was a solid maybe), and you engraved the thought in your mind the best you could, knowing damn well this was never happening again..

"nuh uh, birthday girl. let me work, yeah?" you were grinding back against her, bouncing yourself on her strap as you put on a show for her. each movement put an immense amount of pressure on her engorged clit, and she couldn't help but drool at the sight granted to her as she ran her hands up and down your ribs in agony. your pussy was dripping on top of her, trickles of cum staining the silicone attached to her hips.

she swore on her life and everything she loved that she can feel you squeeze around her, your rhythm faltering slightly as you tightened around the base. you had already cum twice, but she always took a bit longer to get there, and you refused to let up until she did. for a second, a split, split, split second, you actually thought that you might've been able to get away with this. yeah, you were definitely going to be punished for it later, but hey! you were feeling good, she was feeling good and that was all that you could register in your cockdrunk mind.

the vibe shifted entirely as you felt her grip on your waist tighten, lifting you off her and turning you around so that you were staring her dead in the eye. despite her flushed cheeks and blown pupils, you could tell that underneath all the lust and desire, she was not pleased. uh-oh.

"who....the actual fuck do you think you are, huh?"

and with that, she began to do what she did best, pumping you up and down like you weighed absolutely nothing. and to her, you truly didn't. her thumb rotated across your clit as you whimpered, the brutal pace making your eyes meet the back of your head.

"nuh-uh" she gleefully mocked your earlier rebuttal, marking your skin with little crescent shaped indents as she rammed you, hard and fast and dizzying. "i want eye contact. and what the birthday girl wants, she gets."

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ teddy’s notes: so basically i know next to nothing about photoshoots and stuff and this is just something i imagined and tried to convey in words. also im using my lil hc that bakugou has piercing holes in his ears, occasionally wears some small hoops or just dots just so they dont close. enjoy!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ contains: sexual tension? i guess?? masturbation, bakugou discovering his praise kink through reader. gender neutral reader. i think that’s all. not proofread!! im too tired sorry babes

part two!

just a thought on timeskip! bakugou where he begrudgingly agrees to do one photoshoot for some jewellery brand he doesn’t care about. since beat jeanist kind of forced him to do this and threatened to make him the face of his new clothing line, katsuki thought “fuck it”. and he is very well used to people looking at him in awe, as smug as that sounds, and he expects a huge set with dozens of people running around and whispering between each other, like he’s seen happen when he was visiting kirishima on his shooting.

he’s seen the obnoxiousness of the photographers, the over the top extravagancy of the designers and panicked makeup artists and other workers, and he despises the atmosphere that settles in studios, so of course he doesn’t wanna fucking do a shoot. but best jeanist assures him that the photographer/designer/whatever the fuck is a friend of his and a professional, and this shoot will be very different from any of the things he’s seen.

and it is different indeed.

the studio he goes to is a penthouse on top of a building; and as soon as he steps in he is met with a big ass room and windows that circle the said room, opening up an immaculate view from ceiling to the floor. and he counts only 3 people roaming in and out of the doors that lead to other rooms, which is a fucking surprise. him and his manager exchange a suspicious look before you finally emerge from one of the rooms, so busy setting your camera that only a timid call of your name from his manager is able to bring you back to the world.

a warm smile appears on your face as you extend a hand to his manager, which he shakes a little too excitedly for bakugou’s liking, enamoured smile stretching on his lips as he introduces himself. after slapping the back of his head, katsuki also shakes your hand and grumbles about getting this over with as he strides forward to the makeup artist.

he observes everything while his face is being touched with different brushes and powdered to the point of him sneezing it all off; one guy works on the lighting around the centre of the room where the shoot is going to be filmed, one girl runs around with a rack of clothes, gathering the stuff he will be wearing— mainly the jewellery he will be wearing since this shoot is supposed to be focused on that. and you occasionally chat with his very obviously crushing manager and continue to lead your small team, managing to build something out of nothing, and bakugou finds the atmosphere uncomfortably intimate.

there is no constant muttering around, a background noise he’s used to hearing even outside of the studios and all that; there is no arguing and no stress and no drama, which katsuki finds to be very weird, but somehow pleasant. a soft tune plays in the background after he gruffly declined an offer to put his own music if he wanted because no, music is indeed personal, and while you hum under your breath, oblivious to his staring, bakugou finds himself allured.

soon he is seated on the lonely looking stool: for the first round he’s got a couple of earrings in his ears, all rich looking gold and not as simple as he thought they would be, all carefully chosen by you. you stand extremely close to him, your hands coming up and down as you imagine how every piece would look on him and choose the best ones, the ones that fit only him, and at some point katsuki notices that he waits for your approving, pleased expression to appear with baited breath.

you don’t press him about posing a certain way, more focused on directing the lighting’s guy, most of your face hidden behind your camera as you angle it to capture the radiance of the stones and the way they compliment his skin tone. you gently order for some of the curtains to be opened and closed while you change sides and katsuki’s sure that he is doing literally nothing, just looking the way he thinks he looks good and relaxing when you smile down at the pictures on the small screen of your camera.

he is very much infatuated at this point, though. with how your soft voice guides everyone, guides him to sit a certain way, place his hands a certain way, asks him if you can touch him before you hang your camera on your neck and your soft fingers hover over his skin, scared to touch as if he’s made of porcelain yet gentle in the way they tilt his head to the side, effectively showing off his neck and the gold necklace that rests over his exposed collarbones.

“you’re a natural,” you mumble under your breath appreciatively, nimble fingers styling his hair, as you nearly stand between his spread legs. “nearly every shot is perfect.”

katsuki fucking prays that his chest isn’t turning red because the red will then crawl higher and reach his face too, and looking like a blushing schoolgirl in front of you wasn’t an option, not at all. he is used to being praised, unresponsive to it because frankly he couldn’t give a flying fuck about what people thought of him, however you’re so close and so soft and so sweet with that silky voice of yours and your charming smile.

you touch his cheek, wiping something off with an attentive gaze and pursed lips, and inquire if he wants to take a break or anything, but katsuki refuses. he honestly doesn’t even know if he wants this to be over, yet he knows that he will have to find your number one way or another, no explanation needed. everyone leaves to eat or whatever and he is finally left alone with you, waiting for you to come back from the makeup stand.

“bakugou-san?” you ask him and he snaps his head up, noticing a black pencil in your hand. eyeliner, he recognizes. “mind if i put some on?”

he nods and your free hand cups the side of his face, tilting it to your pleasing, moving him around any way you want because he lets you. while you apply and smear the liner over his lash line and lids, thumbs moving softly over the skin, katsuki is wondering: is he that touchstarved that fleeting touches, professionally required even, from a stranger he met a couple of hours ago make him want something he doesn’t even know he needed before? it’s fucking pathetic, awfully stupid of him, but when your thumb slides down to rub the corner of his bottom lip bakugou is pretty sure you aren’t just giving him some extra attention.

he isn’t a baby who needs someone to do things for him, you could’ve asked him or the makeup artist to do this stuff, yet you figured out that he isn’t opposed to your close proximity and stepped in, thighs brushing against each other and minty breaths mingling with his.

katsuki’s losing his mind by the end of the shooting, hoping that the loose pants that he is adorning are able to conceal the half hard dick he’s been trying to get down for the last half an hour.

and when he is finally home, alone, he shoves his hand deep in his pants, fist getting a hold of his fully hard, raging boner, a relieved groan escaping his throat as he strokes it up and down, thinking about the way you smelled so pleasantly and smiled at him like he was a gem, a precious stone you found, just like the real ones in the expensive accessories he’s worn today. dozens of cameras flashing in his face from different angles couldn’t compare to the attentiveness of your gaze that never left him during the photoshoot.

and while he is getting closer and closer to release katsuki thinks of the praises you muttered under your breath, how you appreciated him, told him how good he did for you and how pretty he was.

“doing so good f’me,” you whispered, looking at him through the camera while he slowly threw his head back to show off a necklace, careful to not stumble off the small stool, and he acted like the mesmerised tone of your voice didn’t make his dick harder. “wonderful, angel.”

fuck, when was the last time someone’s words had such impact on him? feels like a thousand fucking years, but katsuki’s too fucked out to think about that, gasping as he convulsed through his orgasm, his hand unable to slow down as spurts of milky liquid covered it.

“good boy.” rings in his head and his phone vibrates along with it.

a message from his manager containing your number.