#pride text prompt

[sollucets]

just yok things for @ahxu-laowen

[fallenaither]

Bugtober 2024- Day 7: Pride

Your pride will be your downfall...

and in complete contrast to the main image-

The Pride Bug itself. :)

[jmnxjmnx]

Ode to equality. Blooming. 2020

[oh-hell-help-me]

Day 8: Predator

Okay...

It might not look like much, and that's because I rushed this before I went to work (like, early 6am kind of shift).

I forgot to save it as a '.tiff' instead of a '.jpeg' file, and I didn't want to mess with the resolution so....

HERE'S A CLOSEUP!

[tornfromthestreet]

Pride and Prejudice vs. Bridgerton

[hoonatic]

emergency contact | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. pairing: non-idol sunghoon x implied female reader genre: angst with hopeful/happy? ending; second chance romance??; exes to lovers??? word count: 2800 note: i’ve had a cute fic idea that i wanted to write forever…but this is not it. the sad demons have visited me once again. hope y’all enjoy nevertheless and any feedback is much appreciated <3

sunghoon was miserable. 

it had been three weeks, five days, two hours, and thirty-two minutes since the two of you had gone no contact.

he wished he could say he was happy to be single, that he was no longer “locked down” and “whipped” as his friends had always called him. but the so-called “freedom” felt like hell since it meant losing you.

at first, he kept telling himself that time would heal the pain. “it’s natural,” he had repeated like a mantra, “she was your best friend and lover for years.” but no, this heartbreak was inhumane. his desire to see you, apologize endlessly, and spend days holding you until you could feel every ounce of his love was gnawing at his soul. if anything, it got worse by the minute.

he had tried so hard to balance work and the rest of his life, using the excuse several times that he was securing this future for your shared life with him. that one day, you’d be able to reap the rewards of his efforts and live comfortably together without stress.

but what was the use of all of that now? the future he had worked so hard to create was ripped out from his hands by no one other than himself. 

you had accused him of being too busy for you. dates canceled at the last minute, a birthday forgotten, and all the texts left on read had built up to the argument that ended it all. he was always good at fighting, a little too good. he had retorted that you weren’t being supportive, and he was never one to sugarcoat his words. his tongue was sharp, and he did nothing to dull its blade.

but there wasn’t too much yelling on your part, and he thought that that hurt more. he wanted you to fight back, to stand your ground because he knew deep down that he was being the asshole. his toxic thought was that by you fighting back, this meant that you were still fighting for your relationship. but instead, you just stared with silent tears and a blank expression. seeing the indifference in eyes that had previously held so much love was a sight that would stay with him forever. so, in fear of you leaving, he ran instead.

he was a coward, leaving your shared home to run back to the apartment he had still technically owned but hadn’t lived in for more than a year. he locked himself away for a few days, but the realization that you hadn’t attempted to contact him burned more than he could put into words. you were done with him. he had hurt you, had the audacity to be the one to run, and now he had lost you.

he had even run from his job. he couldn’t stand to walk into the same building he stayed in when he forgot dates with you. his coworkers wouldn’t stop asking what happened to him, why he looked so rough. he even found an empty container that had once held lunch you made for him. but his final straw was getting promoted. his first instinct was to call you, but he remembered the sad truth before he could dial. any ounce of pride was washed away with shame in that moment. that same day, he quit without notice.

so there he was: miserable, alone, and unemployed with nothing left to run from but memories. he had spent the last week going through his phone and saving your pictures together in a locked album. he wouldn’t dare delete them, but he couldn’t stomach looking at you either.

he wished he could get drunk and sleep away the pain. he had tried, he definitely did - but that night, he dreamt of you. you were smiling at first, eyes ever full of love. you were speaking, yet he couldn’t hear you. but he could see how your words started to gradually look sadder, and slowly, tears started to fall as your grin dropped. he woke up that next morning crying with the conclusion that he would have to face this heartbreak sober.

but another day of scrolling through albums had stopped abruptly when he saw the notification that changed everything.

SOS i called emergency services from this approximate location after my watch detected a hard fall. you are receiving this message because i have you listed as my emergency contact.

sunghoon had to remind himself to breathe.

he had purchased that watch for you as a “just because” present months ago. you had complained of bad sleep and he wanted you to use it as a way to track your slumber. he hated seeing you tired. he knew that the watch had a fall detection function, but it had never been used before.

his heart was in his stomach as he went to his favorite contacts page and selected your name for the first time in weeks.

“please,” he begged, all notion of running away from you leaving his brain, “pick up please.”

but you just weren’t answering. so he tried again and again and again.

for a moment while the line attempted to connect, he wondered if this was how he had made you feel for months - desperate for a sliver of attention from him. but instead, he was desperate for a sign of life.

finally, after about two minutes of trying to reach you, his body moved of its own accord. before he knew it, his car keys were in his hands and he was out the door.

the car ride there might have been the worst part. the speed at which he drove at almost defied the laws of physics. other drivers were cursing at him but he wasn’t registering anything except the thought of your safety. he just needed to get to you.

why did he run? why didn’t he try to talk it out? if he was so afraid of losing you, why did he do the one thing that would guarantee that? he should have been there like he promised to be from the beginning. you would have been safe with him.

when he pulled up to the house you had shared for so long, he suddenly felt the world slow down. why were emergency services there? you should’ve canceled them by now.

he had to double park as the ambulance was blocking the driveway. why were they here?

the emts and police had arrived at the same time as him, which both increased his anxiety and soothed him. for one, that meant he had been quick enough. but why did you need them?

“sir, do you know–” an officer had approached him as he stumbled to the front door. all he could understand was your name. why were they asking if he knew you? of course he knew you. you, the love of his life. you, his soulmate by every meaning of the word. you were you. and you were safe.

as if sensing his distress, he felt an emt worker pull him to the side as the same officer prepared to break down the door. seeing this, sunghoon finally returned to his senses.

“w-wait! sorry, i have a key.” sunghoon’s hands were shaking. the only way that door had unlocked was by pure muscle memory because he didn’t understand what he was doing at all.

as soon as the door opened, sunghoon tried to step in. finally, he was close to you. 

the officer, however, pulled him back.

“sir, you should wait here. we need to make an initial search before you can go in.”

“what, why? if she’s in there, i want to see–”

“sir, it’s just in case we find something we wouldn’t want you to see.”

all of sunghoon’s hesitation and fear went out the window at those words. his body flew automatically as he ran inside.

he screamed your name as he rushed in, ignoring the yells of the police officers who followed him in. as it had been for almost four weeks, his only thought was you. he just needed you.

he checked the ground floor first, eyes scanning the open space in less than a second as his body avoided an officer trying to grab him. sunghoon then moved to the staircase, long legs prepared to skip steps to reach you. then suddenly, he heard the voice his ears had been longing for,

“sunghoon?!”

his head shot up. there you were, finally. he saw the sadness, confusion, and fear all flash your face as you registered the emergency workers behind him. you looked exhausted and unruly, but he had never felt more in love.

he didn’t even remember climbing the steps, but suddenly he was at the top of the staircase and you were in his arms. 

you could feel him trembling as he held you. you took his face into your hands to look at him, “sunghoon? what’s wrong? why are you here? is it my parents? is someone hurt?” you watched as his mouth opened but no words came out. after a few seconds, one of the officers spoke from the bottom of the steps,

“ma’am, we received an alert from your device that a hard fall had occurred.”

suddenly, you understood everything. taking sunghoon’s hand gently, you led him down the stairs, afraid he’d fall from shock. he followed you silently, but his grip tightened seemingly with every step.

that’s when you noticed your shattered watch on the third step.

you let sunghoon go and you could hear his deep breath when you did. you picked up the watch and offered it up to the officer as an explanation, “i’m sorry officer, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding…”

the officer nodded in understanding, and dismissed the emts, “got it, ma’am. we will still need a formal report for our records since this was registered as an emergency call.” he motioned to your couch as he took out a pen and paper.

you reached for sunghoon’s hand once more and led him to sit with you. in the moment, you knew he needed you more than you would ever understand. so, as you explained to the officer, you held his trembling hand, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb.

“i was doing laundry here downstairs and had taken off my watch to prevent it from getting wet,” you recounted, “i put it on top of the basket of clothes that i took upstairs. i remember tripping a little going up the stairs - i didn’t fall, but that must’ve been when the watch fell."

"what about your phone, where is it? i'm sure your boyfriend must've tried to call you."

sunghoon slowly nodded at that, turning to look at you. you smiled sheepishly, "i left it upstairs and it was on silent while i folded the clothes. i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

after finishing up your statement, the remaining officer prepared to leave. as he walked out the door, he gave a soft smile to the both of you,

“glad to see it was a false alarm, ma’am. you had this gentleman quite worried - ran so fast i couldn’t even grab him!” the officer laughed, “you two have a nice day now! sorry about your watch, though!”

after he shut your door, the silence enveloped your home. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply to prepare to speak to your ex-boyfriend. but as soon as you opened them, sunghoon started to cry softly.

he hugged you tighter than he ever had, and soon enough, his face was buried in your neck. his cries were silent, but you could feel his body shaking as his tears soaked your shirt.

“sunghoon…” you started, stroking his back, “i’m sorry i worried you, honey.”

you knew you shouldn’t be calling your ex pet names, especially an ex that had run from you without properly ending the relationship. but your heart still held so much love for him that it flowed out naturally. and you knew he was crying from more than just worry, so you doubt he minded at all in the moment.

his crying slowed down as his arms took to loosely wrapping around your waist instead. he pulled away from your neck to rest his forehead on yours. from this angle, you could see his swollen eyes and red nose - a sight so rare in all the years you had dated. he was never a crier after all.

but memories of several late-night conversations rushed your mind. he always said his number one fear was your death, and now you could see he had never lied about that.

he could see your mind go elsewhere so he called your name softly, “don’t say you’re sorry. i’m so happy, these are relieved tears. and i just really, really missed you.” he croaked out. you knew he had more to say, so you just nodded, letting him go on.

“and i’m sorry, baby. for everything. i shouldn’t have run, i shouldn’t have tried to egg you on to fight me back. i shouldn’t have even fought anything you said that night. you were right. i didn’t prioritize you. in my attempt to secure you for life, i let you go instead. i’m so sorry, i never wanted to break up.” he was rambling in earnest now, afraid that no words would make you take him back.

you listened quietly as he went on for a few minutes after that, hand continuing to rub his back, “i know honey, i know.”

“baby, you need to understand that i almost died thinking you almost died today,” you could’ve laughed at how dramatically he spoke, “i couldn’t breathe right thinking that our last conversation could’ve been an argument. that you wouldn't have ever known just how deeply i love you and need you. i have so much regret for how i treated you, but if you’d give me the chance, i have all the time in the world to make it up to you…let’s go on that vacation i promised you. we can leave tomorrow if you’d like.” he smiled hopefully at you.

“hoon,” his heart soared at the use of his beloved nickname, “what do you mean? don’t you have work? can you really leave with such short notice?”

“i quit my job.”

“excuse me?”

“no job that made me work that much is worth it. i’ll find one with better work-life balance…after our vacation. if that’s what you still want of course…” he spoke more quietly, as if afraid of rejection.

you sighed. you really should be realistic with this - you two had been broken up for a few weeks at that point. you knew the love was still there, but was this a good decision?

while there was still some hesitation on your part, you couldn't help but notice how gingerly he held you. his arms were still around your waist loosely, yet there was something desperate about their hold. you knew he was holding back from hurting you - you could tell how tightly he wanted to hug you.

he was so shaken up at the idea of you being hurt that he rushed over there despite the two of you not being on speaking terms. for someone who had trouble communicating how he felt sometimes, you knew his actions spoke louder than words. he always acted brave, but there was so much he feared. and you knew losing you was always at the top of this list.

you could also feel how he was simply soaking in the sight of your face. his eyes were shy, yet determined. he wasn't going to risk missing another second of staring at you. a part of you grew conscious, but you knew he was just taking in what he had missed for weeks.

“what about…” you started and almost giggled at how he perked up, “we take it slow - another two weeks or so to talk everything out and relax? to get us to a good place again before you hold me hostage in some foreign country?”

sunghoon smiled softly, kissing your forehead. you leaned in naturally to his warmth, to his touch that you missed so much. “that sounds like a great idea, love.” he spoke, “we’ll get you a new watch too. and i’ll do all the itinerary planning and packing whenever you’re ready, okay? i love you.”

“okay. and i love you too. can’t wait to enjoy your unemployment with you for now!”

one smile and nod from you had him taking you into his arms once more, relishing in your being. he was back where he belonged. he had experienced the scariest reminder ever that he needed you, and sunghoon was never letting you go now.

[calder]

please reblog for sample size.

edit

good job dude

edit 2

i have been permanently banned from nukapedia for this post

edit 3

the following posts were screencapped and posted to nukapedia as the other reason for upgrading my 1yr ban to permanent

several patrollers have resigned in solidarity or disgust

you can read the bans and see for yourself, where admins repeatedly vaguely accuse me of presenting these messages under false pretense.

i was also harassed by a nukapedia admin on tumblr who attempted to delete the message before i could engage with it. when i mentioned it to the other acting admin, i was told to re-read the harassment so i might be a better person in a year.

further, a channel was collectively scolded last month by an admin who had been triggered upon being compelled to review the messages of the anti-Woke mod. during an argument, the mod had compared transness to blackface in defense of JK Rowling, earning him a 3-day ban. when i said i was traumatized from dealing with his targeted harassment of myself and my queer peers throughout pride month, i was accused of "emotionally manipulating admins"

all of this had begun two months ago when someone shared a personal anecdote about a racial microaggression they had experienced and wrapped it up with "such a white thing to say." for weeks thereafter, this woman was namedropped by the mod whenever racism came up, as an example of a racist. he would ultimately accuse her of being no better than a holocaust denier because she said "the far left is not associated with mass murder and bigotry."

during the mod's three-day ban he participated in the coordinated monitoring and harassment of a minor. the user sent five replies to the effect of "you are never to contact me in private" and "stop talking to me" before the mod stopped messaging him. this was not addressed when the mod was unbanned. however, the morning before this, the woman mentioned above was banned for leaving an incredulous emoji react face on a backhanded admin post targeting her.

the mod believes he is protecting the community from "reverse racism." he has also asked me if i "think hostility towards white people is justice" and when i excused myself from the conversation he asked if i was "triggered"

at one point i announced i would be absent for several days to attend a funeral. the mod invoked me by name and characterized me as a bad person while i was attending my grandmother's service

he remains on-staff, surrounded by silence. my 1yr ban was prompted by my confronting the community with proof of him stalking a minor, but that incident did not come up at all in the text of my ban

please reblog for public awareness. please show this to every fallout fan you know.

[752winters]

sure i’m non-binary but it doesn’t mean i’m genderless. i have plenty of gender. so much gender i don’t even know what to do with it. it all goes straight to my ass !!!!!!

[romugh]

SENSUAL FREQUENCIES - NR

ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER

october 5th — phone sex, praise kink, orgasm control PART 2 TO SENSUAL UNRAVELING

DAY FOUR || kinktober masterlist || 2024.

pairing- g!p!avenger!natasha romanoff x avenger!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, g!p!bottom!natasha, phone sex, heavyyy praise kink, orgasm control, orgasm denial, mommy kink (SHE/HER PRONOUNS USED ONCE FOR READER i think) edging, slight degradation, 6k of pure phone sex guys, the beloved fleshlight making an appearance! natty would definitely give it a name tbh

wc- 6.5k *proud face*

a/n- could be read as a standalone. have fun reading, hornballs!! beware of the warnings :) also!!!!!!!! yesterday's (4/10) fic was going to be dedicated to someone for their birthday, but since i didn't post it i'll dedicate both this one and the originally planned one (that'll be posted tomorrow!). happy (belated, sorry) you, sweet @godhatesgoodgirls !!

prompts- phone sex, praise kink, orgasm control

synopsis- natasha misses you when you're away on a mission, so she takes you up on that "i'm just a phone call away if you get stuck" (except she's not stuck, she's hard, and she needs you to make it better).

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches

Natasha groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t believe you...” “Believe it, Nat,” you teased, pulling her hands away from her face so you could see her flushed expression again. “I’m just a phone call away if you get stuck.”

Natasha had always prided herself on her control. She was composed, steady, able to focus under pressure no matter the situation. It was a skill she’d honed over the years, something that had kept her alive through missions, battles, and everything in between. But today, control was the last thing on her mind.

She had been throbbing all day.

It started as a soft ache, something she could ignore at first—just the usual longing for you, the way her body craved your touch, your voice, especially after so many weeks apart. You had been on an undercover mission for nearly seven weeks now. Seven long, lonely weeks without you by her side. It wasn’t unusual for either of you to be away for extended periods of time, but this mission had been different. She hadn’t seen your face in weeks, hadn’t heard your voice in days, and your last message had been three days ago, a short, cryptic text that gave her little reassurance. You’d told her this mission would be demanding, but Natasha hadn’t expected to miss you this much.

It wasn’t just the physical absence of you that hurt—it was the silence. The nights felt longer, the spaces between her texts to you emptier. She had filled the gaps with her own updates, sending you messages about everything and nothing. She sent you a good morning and goodnight every day, even if you wouldn’t reply. She told you what she ate, told you about the book she was reading (Tony had gifted it to her when he noticed her sulking, in that way he pretended wasn’t caring but totally was), and she told you about her workouts, debriefing you on everything she’d do. But now, after three days of silence from you and weeks of no calls, she felt a gnawing emptiness in her chest that matched the heat spreading through her body.

Her mind wandered back to you constantly, no matter what she did to distract herself. She had trained with Wanda earlier, sparred with Steve, attempted to cook with Vision (disastrous. She’s glad you weren’t there to see that chaos), even buried herself in the book Tony had given her. Nothing worked. All day long, the ache between her legs had only worsened, the throb of need pulsing stronger and stronger until it hurt. Every shift of her hips, every brush of fabric against her skin made her dizzy with want.

She had never been this horny in her life—not to the point that it was painful.

Natasha leaned back on the couch, letting out a frustrated sigh. She was a mess, and she knew it. Her thighs were slick with arousal, her body hypersensitive to every little movement. She tried to close her legs, to dull the ache, but it didn’t help. Nothing would help. Not unless it was you.

She thought about touching herself—her hand hovering over the waistband of her pants more than once. But she stopped herself every time. She knew it wouldn’t be enough. It never was. Her hand wouldn’t feel like yours, wouldn’t wrap around her the same way, wouldn’t tease her until she was dripping, desperate, begging for release. She didn’t want to do it herself. She couldn’t. Not when she knew how much better it would feel with you here, guiding her, taking control.

Her mind wandered to the fleshlight you had given her as a gift—a night she wouldn’t forget. She had been so shy about it at first, so unsure of how to use it without your help. That night had been the first time she had really let go, let you guide her, and the thought of using it again made her body ache even more. But it wasn’t the toy she wanted. The toy wasn’t you.

Natasha swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the cushions of the couch as she resisted the urge to move, to give in. Her cock twitched, swollen and painfully hard, straining against her pants. She had never felt this desperate before, not even when you were still just friends, dancing around your feelings. This need was overwhelming, consuming, and it was starting to drive her insane.

She had been on edge all day, her body vibrating with tension, her mind flooded with memories of you—your touch, your scent, the sound of your voice in her ear, coaxing her to let go. Her breath hitched just thinking about it, about how easily you could make her unravel. Her own hand couldn’t replicate that feeling, not even close. And her fleshlight? It wasn’t your mouth. It wasn’t your hand. Nothing was.

Her phone sat next to her on the couch, the screen black and mocking her with its silence. She hadn’t called you once during your mission, knowing better than to interrupt you, especially if you were in the middle of something crucial. But today? Today was different. She wasn’t thinking clearly anymore—her mind too clouded by the throbbing between her legs, the constant pulse of her need.

She had texted you countless times, but now her fingers hovered over your name, hesitating. Was it too much? Would you even be able to answer? What if you were in danger, or worse, what if her call put you in harm’s way?

Her heart raced as she stared at the phone, her thumb shaking slightly as she fought against the rising tide of desperation that threatened to take over. She bit her lip, trying to calm herself down, but the ache between her legs was relentless. She needed you. Now.

Before she could stop herself, her fingers moved on their own, dialling your number. The phone rang once, twice, and her breath caught in her throat. Each ring echoed in her ears, the tension in her body growing with every second that passed. Her hand clenched around the phone, her entire body trembling with need.

The moment your phone vibrated in your pocket, you felt your heart stop. You were just out of a tense situation—dangerous, even by your standards. You had barely slipped away, adrenaline still buzzing in your veins when you felt your phone buzz repeatedly.

Natasha.

It had been weeks since you last had her in your arms, and you hadn’t spoken on the phone in what felt like forever. But for her to call now, with no warning? Something was wrong. You didn’t even think, barely took the time to check your surroundings, before you ducked into a secluded corner and answered the call. Your voice came out in a rush, thick with worry.

“Nat? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, and your heart clenched in your chest. You could hear her breathing—shallow, uneven, almost... trembling. Your mind raced, picturing the worst. Was she hurt? Had something happened to her while you were away?

“Natasha?”

She almost groaned at the sound of your voice. Her body reacted instantly, a wave of heat flooding through her, the ache between her legs intensifying until it was almost unbearable. She hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath until it escaped her in a shaky exhale.

“Natasha?” you pressed, trying to keep your voice steady despite the panic bubbling inside you. “Talk to me, baby. What happened?”

Another shaky breath, then her voice, “I... I need you.”

Natasha pressed her thighs together, but it did nothing to ease the pulsing in her core. She clenched the phone tightly, her voice dropping into a whisper. She didn’t care about pride anymore. She didn’t care about anything except the fact that she needed you.

Your heart skipped a beat, your stomach twisting with concern. You had heard Natasha vulnerable before, but this? This was different. She sounded desperate, almost like she was on the verge of tears, and it made your chest tighten.

“Nat, are you hurt? Where are you?” you asked, your voice soft but insistent. “I’ll be there as fast as I can, just tell me what happened. I can finish up the mission tomorrow if you need–”

“No, I’m not—” Her voice cracked, and she took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. “I’m not hurt, I just... I can’t...”

You felt a wave of confusion wash over you. She wasn’t hurt, but something was clearly wrong. You pressed the phone tighter to your ear, your mind racing, trying to piece together what she was trying to say. She wasn’t making sense.

“Nat, you’re scaring me. What do you mean? Can’t what?”

There was another long pause on her end, the sound of her breathing heavy and uneven, like she was struggling to get the words out. And then it hit you—a soft, strangled noise that wasn’t a sob, but... something else.

Realisation flickered in the back of your mind, and suddenly the pieces began to fall into place.

“Natasha,” you said slowly, your tone shifting, softening. “What’s going on, baby?”

“I... I can’t stop thinking about you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “It hurts.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the concern from moments before slowly melting into something else, something warmer, something more. The tension in her voice, the way she struggled to say the words—it wasn’t pain. Not the kind you’d feared. It was something else entirely.

But she still wasn’t saying it. Not exactly. And as much as you wanted to rush to her side, to help her through whatever it was she needed, part of you couldn’t help but play along. You could almost picture her on the other end of the line, flushed, embarrassed, trying to find the right words but too shy to admit what she really wanted.

“Natty,” you murmured, letting a teasing lilt slip into your voice. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound... off.”

“I—I’m fine,” she stammered, but her breath hitched, and the lie was as clear as day.

“You don’t sound fine. You sound like you’re upset. Or... something.”

“I’m not upset,” she blurted out quickly, the words rushing out in a desperate attempt to save face. There was another pause, and then, quieter, almost like she didn’t want to admit it. “I just... I miss you.”

You let the silence hang between you for a moment, pretending not to understand her meaning. She was trying so hard to make you understand without saying the words. And as much as you wanted to be there for her, to give her what she needed, you weren’t going to make it easy for her.

“Miss me, huh?” you teased lightly, playing dumb. “Well, I miss you too. But you sound like you’ve been crying. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m not crying!” she snapped, more frustrated with herself than with you. “I just... I—” She broke off, the words catching in her throat as she tried to gather her thoughts, tried to figure out how to make you understand.

“Natasha,” you said softly, your tone firm but gentle. “Tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need.”

“I can’t—fuck, I can’t say it,” she groaned, her voice dropping to a whisper. She sounded so defeated, so completely undone by her own need, and it made your chest tighten. You could practically feel her squirming on the other end of the line, trying to hold it together, but barely hanging on.

You bit back a smile, leaning against the wall as your voice dropped lower, more teasing. “You can’t say what, Natty? Come on, baby, use your words.”

There was a long pause, and you could hear her breathing pick up again, more shallow this time. You could practically feel the tension through the phone, the way she was struggling with herself, so desperate to ask for what she needed but too embarrassed to say it.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she finally admitted, her voice shaky, desperate. “I—fuck, I need you so bad. It’s... it’s been like this all day. It hurts.”

The vulnerability in her voice made your heart ache. But still, she was avoiding the words, the real admission. And you wanted to hear it. You wanted her to say it, to surrender completely to the need she was so clearly drowning in.

“I’m here, Nat. I’m listening,” you said gently, your tone coaxing. “But you need to tell me what’s really going on. I’m not a mind reader, baby.”

She let out a frustrated noise, somewhere between a whine and a groan, and you could almost picture her clenching her fists, trying to find the courage to say the words.

“I’m... I’m so wet, okay?” she blurted out, her voice shaking. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s so bad, i’m so hard, I can’t—” She cut herself off again, her breath hitching. “I need you to tell me what to do. It hurts, Mommy. It really fucking hurts.””

Her admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, and she could almost hear your heart quicken on the other end of the line. There was a long silence, and Natasha thought she might burst from the anticipation, her skin burning under the weight of it.

Your heart had skipped a beat at her words, the raw honesty in her admission making your chest tighten. But still, you couldn’t help but tease her a little more. 

She had made you worry, after all.

“You’re wet?” you asked, your voice dropping lower, teasing. “Is that it? That’s why you called me?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper now. “Please, I can’t—fuck, I need you to tell me what to do. Please.”

You took a breath, letting her words hang in the air, savouring the way she had finally given in. And then, in a low, soothing tone, you said:

“Take off your clothes for me, Natty. Slowly. Let me hear you.”

There was a moment of silence after you told her to undress, and you could hear the hitch in her breath, the soft gasp as your words sunk in. Natasha’s mind was racing, her body trembling with a mix of need and nervousness, but more than anything, she wanted to be good for you. She wanted to please you, to do exactly what you told her.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “I’ll do it. I’ll... I’ll be good.”

Her words sent a thrill through you, but you kept your tone steady, soothing, teasing her just enough to push her deeper into that space where all she could think about was you.

“Good girl,” you murmured, and you heard a soft whimper in response. Natasha’s breathing picked up, her body already reacting to the praise, her mind slipping into that sweet haze where she craved more of it—needed more of it. “Take your time, baby. Slowly. I want to hear everything.”

There was a rustle of fabric on the other end of the line, the sound of Natasha obeying, of her fingers fumbling with the buttons of her pants, her breathing shallow and uneven. She moved slowly, like you asked, and you could almost picture her—her flushed cheeks, her trembling hands, her cock throbbing painfully as she stripped for you.

“Tell me what you’re doing, Nat,” you coaxed softly, letting your voice drip with sweetness. “I want to know how you look right now. Tell me everything.”

“I... I took off my pants,” she whispered, her voice shaky with both arousal and embarrassment. “I’m just in my... my shirt.”

“Good job, Любимая моя [Lyubimaya moya, my darling]. What else?”

Her breath hitched, and there was another pause, like she was hesitating, but the need to hear your praise drove her forward.

“I—I’m taking it off. My shirt.” There was a soft rustle, followed by the quiet sound of her breath, the vulnerability in her voice sending a rush of heat through you.

“Good. You’re doing so well for me, Natty.” The words were like honey, soft and coaxing, and you could hear her shiver in response.

“Tell me how you feel, baby.”

“I... I feel so... hot,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “I’m... I’m dripping, fuck... I need you so bad, Mommy.”

The admission slipped out before she could stop it, her voice shaking as she tried to keep herself together. But your praise was unravelling her, making her mind foggy, making her want to give in completely.

“Oh, sweet girl... you need me that bad, huh?” you teased, your voice soft but commanding. “Can you feel how wet you are?”

“Yes,” she whimpered again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I—I’m so wet. It’s all over my thighs. I—I can’t stop... I don’t know what to do.”

The helplessness in her voice made your chest tighten, but in a way that sent a surge of heat through you. Natasha was always so composed, so in control, but right now? She was unravelling, falling apart under the weight of her own need, and it was because of you. And you could hear how much she needed your approval, your guidance—how much she wanted to hear you say that she was being good for you.

“Touch yourself for me, Natty,” you said, your voice dropping into something firmer, but still gentle enough to coax her forward. “You’re doing so well already, baby. Just let Mommy hear you.”

There was a soft gasp, and you could practically feel her hesitation, her trembling hand hovering over herself, uncertain. You waited, your breath steady, listening as she slowly obeyed, her fingers brushing against her cock with a soft, desperate moan.

“Fuck,” she whimpered, the sound raw and needy. “I—I can’t... it’s not the same. It’s not you.”

You smiled at the frustration in her voice, the way she was already slipping into that headspace where all she could think about was you. You leaned back against the wall, your own arousal building at the thought of her coming undone, of her needing you this badly.

“I know, baby,” you murmured, your tone soft but firm. “But you’re doing so well for me. Keep touching yourself, just like that. You’re so good, Natty. Mommy’s good girl.”

The praise hit her like a wave, and she moaned, louder this time, her breath hitching as she stroked herself, her hand moving slowly, trembling with the need for more. But she didn’t want to go too fast. She didn’t want to disappoint you.

“I can’t—fuck, I’m so close already,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, I—I can’t come yet, I need you.”

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, the warmth in your voice making her whimper. “You’re doing so well. But I think you can wait a little longer for me, don’t you? I can’t make you come yet, can I?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her body shivering at your words, at the way you teased her so sweetly. She wanted to come, needed to come, but she didn’t want to disobey you. She wanted to be good for you.

“Я знаю [Ya znayu, I know],” she whimpered, her voice soft, almost pleading. “I won’t. I’ll be good.”

“Good girl,” you praised again, and she shuddered, her body trembling as she tried to hold herself together, tried to keep from spilling over the edge. Her mind was yours now, clouded by the need for release, but your words—your praise—kept her tethered, kept her from giving in.

“Does it feel good, Nat?” you asked, your voice smooth and coaxing. “Do you like being Mommy’s good girl? Letting me hear you fall apart?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice thick with arousal. “Yes, please... please tell me more. I need... I need you.”

Her desperation made your heart swell, and you let the teasing lilt in your voice drop lower, more commanding, more intimate.

“You’re doing so well for Mommy, baby. I love hearing you like this. So desperate, so needy... you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she moaned, her body arching, trembling with the effort to hold back. “I’m... I’m your good girl. Please... I don’t know if I can...”

“You can,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm, coaxing her back from the edge. “You’re so strong, baby. You can wait for me. You want to be perfect for me, don’t you?”

“I do,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “I—I want to be good for you. I’ll wait, I promise.”

The praise, the control, the way you spoke to her—it was driving her mad. Her mind was slipping further into that haze, the only thing keeping her grounded was the sound of your voice, the warmth of your words. She wanted to make you proud, wanted to hear you tell her she was good. She needed it.

“You’re so good, Natty,” you cooed, your voice dripping with praise. “So perfect for me. I want you to keep touching yourself, but don’t come. You have to wait for Mommy to be back.”

She moaned again, her hand trembling as she continued to stroke herself, her body shaking with the effort to hold back. She was so close, the heat in her belly coiling tighter, but she wanted to be good. She wanted to wait for your permission.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, I—fuck, I really don’t know if I can...”

“You can, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re doing so well. I know it hurts, but I want you to hold on just a little longer. For me, for Mommy.”

Natasha whimpered, her body trembling with the effort to stay in control, but your words were like a lifeline, keeping her grounded, keeping her focused. She wanted to make you proud, wanted to be your good girl.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice shaking. “Please... please, can I...?”

You smiled, hearing the desperation in her voice, knowing she was teetering right on the edge. 

“Not yet, baby,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing. “You need to wait for Mommy.”

The streets of Budapest were eerily quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your boots on the pavement. You were slipping through the shadows like a ghost, your focus razor-sharp despite the chaos you’d just escaped. Yes, the mission has been rough—rougher than you’d like to admit—but the adrenaline in your veins was now blending with something else, something far more potent.

Natasha was falling apart on the other end of the line, her breath shaky, thick with desperation. The sound of her voice—strained, needy—made you quicken your pace, eager to get somewhere private, somewhere you could finally give her your undivided attention. The safehouse was just a few blocks away now, nestled in a quiet corner of the city, secluded enough for what you had in mind.

“Please,” Natasha whimpered, her voice trembling. You could hear the slick sound of her hand stroking herself, painfully slow, just as you’d ordered. She was holding back, her body strung so tightly with need it was almost unbearable. “I need it, please… I can’t—fuck—I can’t hold it anymore.”

You smiled to yourself, weaving through the darkened alleyway. You could practically see her in your mind—Natasha, laid bare on her bed, her face flushed, her chest heaving, her cock swollen and leaking as she desperately tried to obey you. She was so close, right on the edge, but she was yours. And you weren’t going to let her have it.

“Natasha,” you murmured, your voice low, teasing. “You sound so desperate, baby. Is it really that bad? Are you really that needy for me?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her breath hitching. Her hand faltered, her muscles tightening as she tried to hold back. “Yes, I—I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about you. I—fuck, please, I need to come. Please.”

You hummed, letting her hear the amusement in your voice. “But, Natty… you want to be my good girl, right?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Yes, I’ll be good, I promise, just please—”

“But you’re not being good, baby,” you interrupted, your voice sharp, commanding. “You’re being a slut, aren’t you? Look at you, touching yourself. You keep begging Mommy to come like that. That’s not what my good girl would do, is it? Mommy’s good girl would listen after the first time, am i right?”

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, a soft, broken whine slipping from her lips. “N-no… yes, I want to be your good girl, I—”

“But you’re not,” you said, your tone dripping with condescension. “You’re being a slut right now. You can’t even control yourself, can you?”

A choked sob escaped her, her hand trembling as she tried to keep going, her body shaking with the effort to hold back. The degradation stung, but the praise was still there, woven through your words, and it only made her need you more. She wanted to be good, to be your best girl, but the way you were talking to her—so condescending, so cruel—it was driving her wild.

“I—I’m sorry,” she gasped, her voice thick with desperation. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise. Please, I don’t want to be your slut, I want to be your—”

“My princess?” you finished for her, your voice softening just a fraction, laced with sweet, saccharine praise. “You want to be my good girl, my best girl, right? Not my needy little slut?”

“Yes,” she cried out, her voice barely holding together. “Yes, I want to be your princess, I want to be your good girl, I—fuck, please, I’ll do anything, just make me come.”

You grinned, stepping into the small, darkened safehouse. The lock clicked behind you, the space around you dim and secluded. You’d finally made it, alone, safe for now.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, your voice softening as you heard her soft, broken sobs through the phone. “I know you want to be my good girl. But right now? You’re acting like such a desperate whore for me. You don’t even deserve to come, do you?”

Natasha let out a choked whine, her entire body shaking as she balanced on the edge of control. Her hand was trembling, dripping with pre-cum as she tried to keep herself from going over the edge, but it was torture—pure, sweet torture. She needed you. Needed you to tell her she was good, to let her have that release, but you were holding it just out of reach, dangling it in front of her like a cruel tease.

“Please,” she whimpered again, her voice cracking. “Please, I’m—I’m trying so hard to be good. I’ll be good, I promise. I can’t… fuck, I can’t take it anymore.”

You sighed softly, walking into the office in the safehouse, your legs spread as you leaned back, relaxing into the chair by the desk. “Natasha, you’re such a mess right now,” you murmured, your voice low, soothing, but with that familiar edge of command. “But I know you can take it. You’ve been so strong for me, haven’t you? Holding back for so long…”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice raw with need. “Yes, I’ve been waiting, I’ve been so good for you, please—”

“So be my good girl, princess,” you murmured, your voice softening as Natasha let out another soft, broken sob. “You’re doing so well, baby. I know it hurts, but you’re being so good for me.”

You could hear her breath hitch, hear the way she was barely holding on. She was so close to breaking, so close to losing herself completely, and it was all for you.

The sound of her ragged breathing, the way her voice shook with every word, sent a surge of heat through you. Natasha was hanging by a thread, teetering between pleasure and desperation, and you could feel the weight of her need through the phone. You knew she was doing everything she could to be good for you, to wait, but she was unravelling faster than even she realised.

“Tell me what it feels like,” you demanded softly, your voice firm but sweet, pushing her further into her own torment. You could imagine the way her hand must be moving now, slower than she wanted, the way her hips twitched involuntarily as she edged herself at your command. “Describe it to Mommy, Natty.”

“It—” she choked out, her voice faltering. “It feels like I’m going to break, Mommy. It’s… fuck, my hand, I—my cock hurts, I can’t… I can’t breathe.”

Her voice was soaked with frustration, and you bit your lip, letting out a soft, pleased hum. You could hear her trying so hard to be obedient, to control herself despite the overwhelming need coursing through her, and it only made your smirk grow.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” you teased, a sadistic edge creeping into your voice. “Your cock’s aching so bad right now, huh? I bet it’s leaking all over you, isn’t it, baby? Tell me how bad you need to come.”

“It’s—oh, god,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “It’s leaking so much, I can feel it all over my stomach. I’m throbbing, I’m so fucking close—fuck—I can’t take it, please make me come, I can’t do it, I need you, please Mommy–.”

You could practically see it—Natasha, spread out, her cock flushed red and swollen, slick with pre-cum that smeared across her trembling abdomen. Her eyes would be squeezed shut, biting down on her lip to keep herself from crying out, her right hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into her palm as she fought to hold on.

Your grip on her was total, and the realisation sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through you. Natasha Romanoff—deadly, lethal Natasha—reduced to a trembling, desperate mess by just the sound of your voice. You could feel her helplessness, her submission, and it thrilled you to no end.

“Good girl,” you purred, your voice soft and encouraging. “But you’re not going to come yet. You’re going to hold on, Natty. Hold on just a little longer for me. You want to make me proud, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, her voice raw and strained. “Yes, I want to make you proud. Please, Mommy, I’ll do anything, just—”

“Go faster.”

You felt the excitement thrumming through your veins as you pressed Natasha further, enjoying the control you held over her. “Go faster, Natty baby,” you instructed, your voice low and teasing. “I want to hear how badly you want me to make you come. Let me hear you.”

A soft whimper escaped her, and you could almost hear her heart racing. “I can’t… I can’t go faster. I’m so close, I’ll…” she stammered, her voice thick with desperation.

“Stop whining, baby. You can do this for me,” you replied, relishing in her struggle. “I know you want to make Mommy proud, you can make me proud. Just a little faster. I want to hear you begging, to feel that need spilling from you.”

With that, you could hear her hand moving more frantically now, the slick sound of her strokes filling the silence between your breaths. “Oh god, Mommy,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “I need to… I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Not yet,” you said firmly, a wicked grin forming on your lips. “You need to hold it. Your orgasm is mine to control, Natty. You’re too much of a dumb slut, too much of a beautiful princess to be able to decide for yourself, okay?”

The sound of her breath hitched, a soft sob escaping her as the heat of your words washed over her. “Please,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I’m trying… but it hurts.”

“Good. It should,” you replied, savouring the pleasure of her torment. “You’ve been so good for me, waiting all this time. I want you to suffer a little longer. Just keep going. You can do it, Natty.”

“Please,” she whimpered again, voice trembling with need. “I’ll do anything, just please make me come.”

Your tone softened, just slightly, “But you’re going to stop. I want you to get the fleshlight.”

There was a pause on the other end, and you could practically hear her heart racing. “Mommy, I—”

“Natalia,” you interrupted, the command in your voice unmistakable. “You’ll get it, or I’ll hang up right now. I mean it.”

The sound of her breath caught, and you could hear her scrambling, rushing to get her toy. “Okay, okay! I’m getting it!” There was a flurry of movement, and you could hear her panting, urgency lacing her every sound.

You chuckled softly, the thrill of her obedience sending a rush through you. “That’s my good girl. I like hearing you move for me.”

Moments later, you heard the unmistakable sound of the fleshlight being picked up. “I have it,” she gasped, her voice strained, and you felt a wave of satisfaction wash over you.

“Now, I want you to use it. Let me hear how bad you want this, Natty, how bad you want your toy to be Mommy.”

You could hear her hesitation, a soft tremble in her breath as she wrestled with her desire and the embarrassment of using the toy you’d given her. But you weren’t going to let her hesitate for long. “I said, use it. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

With a breathless whimper, she complied, the sound of the fleshlight enveloping her cock mixing with her desperate gasps. “Oh god, it feels so good Mommy,” she moaned, her voice thick with pleasure, yet still straining to maintain control

“I want you to feel every second of this. You’re going to edge yourself, baby. You’ll love it.”

With a whimper, she complied, the sound of the fleshlight gliding along her cock blending with her ragged breaths. “Oh god, Mommy, it feels so good,” she moaned, voice thick with pleasure and frustration. “I’m so close, I can’t hold back. Please, don’t make me stop.”

“You know you’re going to stop, Natty,” you replied softly, your voice a mix of honey and steel. “You’re too beautiful, too precious to be allowed to come just yet. You’ve been such a good girl for me, waiting all this time. Hold on. I need you to wait for me a little longer. I want you to remember this, every moment.”

The sound of her whimpering filled the air, the ache of her need palpable through the phone. “Mommy, please,” she sobbed, the emotion raw in her voice. “I’ll do anything—just let me come.”

“Tomorrow,” you said suddenly, a wicked grin spreading across your face. “I’ll finish the mission tomorrow. But for now? You’re going to edge yourself again and then put your toy away. Do you understand?”

“Yes! I understand!” she cried, the desperation spilling from her as she fought against the need clawing at her insides. “But Mommy, you just told me to use—”

“Stop talking, Natasha,” you ordered, your voice firm but tinged with a softness that only you could offer. “I want you to feel everything. I want you to ache for me. You’re mine to control. Just breathe and remember Mommy holds your pleasure in her hands.”

As the tension in Natasha's voice grew, you felt a rush of power coursing through you. “Natasha, put the fleshlight away,” you commanded, each word dripping with authority.

You heard her whine, the sound both obedient and pained. “Mommy, please! I can’t, I just want to—”

“Do it, now,” you pressed, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I want you to put it aside and bind your hands together. You’re not touching yourself anymore. I’ll take care of you when I get back, but right now, you need to obey Mommy, sweet girl.”

With a shuddering breath, she complied, the sound of the fleshlight being set aside echoing in your ears like sweet music. You could almost picture her trembling hands, slick with anticipation and frustration, as she moved to find something to bind herself with.

“Such a good girl,” you murmured, pride swelling within you as you heard the rustling sound of fabric or some material being looped together. “I want you to bind your hands tightly, so you can’t reach for anything. No distractions. Just you and your dirty thoughts until I return.”

“Okay, okay…” she whimpered, the strain evident in her voice as she obeyed. You could hear the soft sound of the material twisting around her wrists, the way she wrapped it securely, trapping herself in a state of helplessness.

“Now, lie on your back,” you instructed, your heart racing at the thought of her vulnerability, the image of her sprawled out, completely at your mercy flooding your mind.

“I’m— I’m lying back,” she gasped, her voice shaky as she followed your command. “Mommy, please…”

“Shh, just relax. You’ll be okay. I want you to breathe, to feel every ache in your body, every ounce of need that courses through you,” you soothed, the intensity of your voice wrapping around her like a warm embrace. “I’ll be back when you wake up, Natty, and I’ll take care of everything. Until then, just let yourself feel. You’re so beautiful when you’re like this.”

Mommy…” she breathed, the sound almost reverent, full of emotion and need.

“Yes, baby?” you prompted softly, sensing the weight of her vulnerability in the frequencies.

“Promise you’ll be back?” she asked, her voice laced with longing.

“I promise,” you replied, your heart swelling with a mix of affection and desire. “Now close your eyes and sleep a bit. I will be back tomorrow to take care of my perfect girl.”

As she lay back, bound and waiting, a rush of vulnerability washed over Natasha. She was utterly yours, her body tingling with need, every sensation heightened as she surrendered to the moment.

Her heart raced as she felt her shaft pressed against her stomach, still hard and aching, leaking pre-cum that smeared over her skin. The fleshlight lay next to her on the bed, abandoned, a reminder of the torment she had endured. Her left hand dripped with her own essence, a tantalising testament to her desperation.

She was yours, completely under your control, even continents away. And you were hers, no matter what.

With that thought, you let the connection linger in the silence, savouring the anticipation of what was to come. Natasha was utterly yours, and the game was far from over.

The urgency coursing through you now had little to do with the objective, and everything to do with the aching desire Natasha had ignited in you. You were ready to be done with it—tonight.

You quickly mapped out an aggressive approach, planning to cut through the final obstacles with swift precision. There was no time for calling Fury or Maria for backup or a Quinjet. That would only delay things. Instead, you booked the first available flight from Norway to the U.S., ready to handle it yourself, eager to get back to her.

As you confirmed the flight, a smirk crept across your lips. Natasha would wake up in a few hours, still tied, still aching for release. But she wouldn’t have to wait much longer. You’d be there soon enough to take care of everything—and her.

[thepromptfoundry]

For July 2024 we're keeping the party going here at the Prompt foundry, celebrating diversity, solidarity, and triumphs won in the fight for rights as we roll right from Queer Pride in June to Disability Pride in July with Pride 2 Disability Boogaloo!

If you use this list, please tag me here @thepromptfoundry, I’d love to see your writing and art!

Feel free to combine different days' prompts with each other, or combine them with other seasonal events! Use your OCs, your favorite characters from media, your own experiences, whatever tickles your fancy.

Respond to as many prompts as you want or as interest you, don’t worry about missing or skipping any. Remember, this is supposed to be fun!

If you have any questions or musings, check our FAQ, and if you don't find your answer, shoot me an ask.

Plain text list below the cut:

1 We’ve always been here 2 Growing up disabled 3 Mobility aides 4 Curb-cut effect 5 Memory loss 6 Dignity 7 Limb difference 8 Sensory sensitivity 9 Autonomy 10 Invisible disability 11 Family 12 Nonverbal 13 Communication 14 Deaf or Hard of Hearing 15 Support 16 Technology 17 Pain 18 Rest 19 Facial difference 20 Space for us 21 Neurological disability 22 Neurodiversity 23 Becoming disabled 24 Allergy 25 Chronic condition 26 Genetics 27 Skin difference 28 Maintenance 29 Respecting limits 30 Solidarity 31 A future for us

Have fun!

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #148

Danny didn’t want to go to the gala but since all of his friends were busy with their own soulmates there wasn’t much he could argue. Vlad invited his family and him to a gala out in Gotham and his parents jumped at the opportunity to show their madness with some of the elite. Danny couldn’t wait to get home, yes he knew he had a soulmate but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pursue them or not.

They could feel each other’s emotions and his soulmate was an angry person. Danny’s whole life his soulmate acted mad and strangely prideful. But those didn’t compare to his fear, they seemed to have gotten themselves in trouble in the past and maybe even had a few close encounters with death. They also seemed to bottle feelings up from what he could tell his soulmate might not have had the best childhood but Danny couldn’t really say much on that.

Damian knew his soulmate was kind of soft. They seemed to get annoyed at his family typical for a teen. Of all the things he noted about him his dislike of Christmas was a little odd but not everyone has to like the holidays he supposed. His mother Talia imparted on him that he should protect his soulmate with his life when he finds him so he was very determined to find them. Of course galas we’re the best place to look so he desperately asked every time his father hosted one.

Parts:

[korrasamiweek2024]

Korrasami Week Prompts

Thank you all so much for your submissions and votes!! So excited to share the winners and the finalized event schedule:

Day 1 - Sunday December 15th:

Sparring ☆ Jealousy ☆ Rivals

Day 2 - Monday December 16th:

Tattoos ☆ Bi Pride ☆ Disability

Day 3 - Tuesday December 17th:

The Beach ☆ Festival ☆ Spirit World

Day 4 - Wednesday December 18th:

Domestic ☆ Hurt/Comfort ☆ Cooking/Baking

Day 5 - Thursday December 19th:

Dancing ☆ Marriage/Wedding ☆ Poppin Bottles

Day 6 - Friday December 20th:

Band AU ☆ Bodyguard ☆ Period Piece

Day 7 - Saturday December 21st:

Car Trouble ☆ Gay Bar ☆ FREE DAY

There are three prompts to choose from each day–you can pick just one, or combine them in whatever way makes sense to you! They're meant to be inspiring, rather than restrictive. Can't wait to see what you all come up with💖

Rules and guidelines for the event are below the cut, and as always, if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask!

Rules & Guidelines

1. What's allowed? Pretty much anything! Artwork, fanfiction, gifsets, headcanons, analysis/meta, memes, etc. are all welcome, as long as they're your own work and are Korrasami-focused.

2. Explicit content is fine, but the characters need to be adults, and everything depicted MUST be consensual.

3. Please abide by Tumblr's guidelines about explicit content, otherwise there's a chance Tumblr might delete your submission! If you're not sure, you can always post your work to another site (AO3, twitter, etc.) and then link to it here. All explicit content posted and reblogged here will be tagged "nsft" so be sure to block that tag if you'd like to filter out such content!

4. No whitewashing, racism, misogyny, transphobia, ableism, or other bigotry of any kind. Content that explores these themes is ok, but they shouldn't go unchallenged in the piece, and they should be tagged with the appropriate warnings.

5. When submitting visual or audio media, please include a description either in ALT text or in the body of the post itself.

6. Other characters and relationships from The Legend of Korra are welcome, but your submission should be primarily about Korrasami.

7. Be kind. No criticism ("constructive" or otherwise) of other people's work unless the creator explicitly requests it. If you don't like something, just keep scrolling!

8. Follow the prompts if you can! They're meant to be helpful, but if you get inspired by something else entirely, please feel free to submit whatever you make!

9. Tag for content warnings if you think something might be triggering. Use your best judgment, but if you aren't sure whether a CW is needed, it doesn't hurt to ask!

10. Submit your fanwork either by mentioning @korrasamiweek2024 in the body of your post and using the #korrasamiweek2024 tag, or by submitting it directly to this blog. You can also add it to the Korrasami Week 2024 Collection on AO3. All submissions for each prompt will be reblogged or posted by the end of the day.

11. There's no such thing as a stupid question, so if you're unsure about something, feel free to ask!

[minisugakoobies]

I Know | KSY

Pairing: Hoshi x GNReader (no agab)

Genre: fluff, established relationship, dancer!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: drunk hoshi, grumpy woozi, hoshi is absolutely whipped for reader, this is honestly just very soft and sweet!

Word Count: 816

Disclaimers: none, other than I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: Even when he's passed-out drunk, Hoshi still manages to amaze you with his love.

Text Prompt: boyfriend texted me "my love I am intoxicated" and then five minutes later, his best friend sends me a photo of him, passed out, phone in hand, and zoomed in on one of my selfies - tweet from himbowithnofear

A/N: I'm back with another installment of my "texts from svt" series. At some point I'll make a masterlist, but for now, please enjoy this short lil' fic about my favorite affectionate drunk, Hoshi. Fun fact, I've actually had this one finished for a while, but couldn't resist posting Mingyu first!

Unbeta'd as usual. I'd love to hear what you think (but please be kind I'm fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

“Please come get your man.”

Jihoon’s grumpy request is the first thing you hear when you answer your phone. 

“Hey, Jihoon, how are you?” you laugh, unsurprised by his opening plea. Ten minutes ago, you’d received the following message from your boyfriend:

LOML: my love, i am  intoxicatedd

And had been waiting to hear from Jihoon ever since. Though you were a little surprised that he was video calling you instead of just calling or texting.

“To be honest with you, I’m not great right now. And it’s all your boyfriend’s fault.” 

You can’t help but laugh loudly. Jihoon scowls. 

“Why are you upset with Soonyoung? I thought you guys were celebrating tonight.” 

“Because.” Jihoon flips the camera. There’s your man, all 178 cm of him, snoring his ass off in the corner booth. “He’s driving the other customers out of my bar.”

If you’re being honest, you’d been expecting this moment long before Jihoon called you. Soonyoung had gone out for drinks with several of his friends to celebrate one of them getting a new job, and you knew your lightweight boyfriend would feel compelled to try to keep up with those lushes as always. Not at their insistence, but out of his own desire. It was a point of pride for him. 

“Don’t worry. I’m on my way.” 

“Thank you. Please hurry.” Jihoon winces. “I know he calls himself a tiger, but he really snores like a damn bear.” 

You laugh again, about to disconnect, when Jihoon makes a sudden noise of delight. 

“Hold on,” he chuckles, and the screen zooms in on the phone still clutched in Soonyoung’s hand. “Do you see that?” 

It’s you looking back at you. From a photo, one that you recognize immediately as one of Soonyoung’s self-proclaimed favorites, from the weekend you’d spent at the beach last summer. It’s actually a wide shot of you standing in front of a gorgeous sunset, soft pink light dancing on your skin, and that knowledge makes you smile right now. Because it means that your drunk sap of a boyfriend zoomed in on your face, right before he passed out. Probably to dream about you. 

Soonyoung never did anything by halves. Not dancing. Not drinking. 

And definitely not loving you.  

“Come get your simp.” With a grin, Jihoon disconnects.

Tossing your phone into the front pocket of the oversized hoodie of Soonyoung’s that you’re wearing, you grab your keys and head for the door. 

It’s not a long drive to the bar. Inside, you make a beeline for the booth in the back, familiar with the space around you. It’s basically your second home, between being best friends with the owner, and dating (though he’d never admit it) his favorite patron. And, speak of the devil, there he is, the love of your life, head on the table, mouth open, rattling the glasses on the table with his powerful exhalations. 

Something else Soonyoung doesn’t do by halves - sleeping.

Jihoon nods at you from across the bar. All of Soonyoung’s other friends are nowhere to be found, likely having gone home once Jihoon reassured them you were on your way. 

Ignoring the common advice regarding sleeping tigers, you slide onto the bench and gently lay your hand on Soonyoung’s back to shake him awake. 

“Soonyoungieeeee, time to get up,” you trill sweetly into his ear, brushing his dark hair out of his face.

He cracks an eye open. “Baby?” he asks groggily. “Is it time to go to work?” 

“No, dingdong, it’s Saturday. And you’re at Jihoon’s, remember?” 

“Oh.” Soonyoung sits up, looks around. “Right. Oh!” His eyes get wide. “Baby! Those hyungs got me soooo drunk!” 

Laughing, you brush some chip crumbs off his cheek. “I know, ‘youngie.”

“Yeah.” Soonyoung’s eyes slip unfocused as he smiles. “Wait. You weren’t here and now you are.” He hiccups himself into a confused frown. “Why are you here?” 

“To take you home, dingdong.” Running your fingers through his hair again, you grin. 

Soonyoung looks at you and you swear you see his pupils turn into hearts. “You’re taking me home? With you? To your home?” 

You shake your head, gently tugging his beanie down over his ears. “How many shots did they make you take? Yes, you’re coming with me. To our apartment, where we both live.”

“We live together!” Soonyoung’s eyes disappear behind his cheeks as he grins. “You love me!” 

“Yes, I do,” you laugh, yanking on his arm to get him onto his feet. He wobbles slightly, so you duck under his arm, trying to steady him, but he interprets this in another way, cupping your face to pull you in for a slightly clumsy but rather passionate kiss. 

“I love you, too,” he whispers, nose bumping repeatedly into your cheek as you start to lead him towards the exit. 

“I know, ‘youngie,” you repeat with a soft smile. “I know.” 

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

do you think solomon would be able to survive a week of not being allowed to call mc adorable? no or no

NO. Big no, lol.

Although this does lead me to wonder why he'd need to stop calling MC his adorable apprentice for a week. Like does the rest of the cast make a bet with him to see if he's capable of going a week without the petname or does Purgatory Hall have an intervention about his excessive use of it?

--

"And then, listen to this! My adorable apprentice used the spell I taught them to whisk the demon away like it was nothing. You should've seen it," Solomon gushes while everyone around him seems to groan and roll their eyes.

"There he goes again with the "my adorable apprentice" thing," Asmo sighs.

Mammon pipes up next. "Yeah! And it's gettin' pretty damn annoyin' too!"

"They're not just your apprentice, Solomon," Satan scolds.

Solomon can't help but chuckle at the stink everyone seems to be making. "What, I can't be thrilled by how MC is exceeding under my supervision?"

"No, you can," Simeon starts, "it's just...you refer to them as your "adorable apprentice" a lot."

"A lot, a lot." Luke adds.

Solomon sits there in silence, soaking up what his roommates are saying. He hadn't realized how often he called MC that, though now that he thinks about it, he can't deny it. When he speaks about them he can't help but be proud.

Belphie then brings up a point mid-yawn. "I bet he couldn't go a week without saying it."

"I second that bet!" Mammon interjects with dollar signs reflected in his eyes.

Lucifer sighs next to him not wanting to entertain this more then he should, but he had to admit that this was probably a bet Mammon could win. "I have to agree with Mammon. You do say it an annoyingly often."

"Ah, so we're betting on this, are we?" Solomon grins, not passing up the opportunity to prove himself while having a little fun. "Fine. I bet that I can go a week without calling MC my "adorable apprentice"." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the Devildom equivalent of twenty dollars and throws it on the table.

"You're on!" Mammon exclaims.

"I believe in you, Solomon!" Luke cheers.

Everyone else follows suit, pooling their money in the middle while declaring their bets. Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Belphie, and Barbatos all betting he'll lose. Leviathan, Asmo, Beel, Diavolo, Simeon, Luke, and himself betting he'll win.

And so the games begin.

Through the week, he does find it difficult to hold back from using the petname. There are several instances when talking about them almost slips him up, though he's always able to catch himself before saying it. It was a term so used to sitting on the tip of his tongue that it was hard to let go. Everyone goes around to check in with each other and him to make sure he hadn't lost the bet yet. All of them stay surprised at his determination to get through the week, but remain skeptical in his ability to actually see the week through. MC, while oblivious to the bet, has even caught on to the absence of Solomon's petname praise.

It's Thursday during their after school lesson with him when it happens. He'd been quizzing them on the different types of magic and they had correctly named each one. They were even able to identify their own and his without extra prompting. Solomon was so caught up in his pride and love for them that he said it without thinking.

"Fantastic! Just what I'd expect from my adorable appren-" he trails off, his eyes widening as his heart sinks.

He just lost the bet.

MC stares at him, worried as to why he cut himself off like that. "Um...are you okay?"

Solomon stands there silently in defeat before replying solemnly, "I need to go make some phone calls..."

--

"Solomon! Just the sorcerer we wanted to see." Simeon greets once Solomon enters the common room after receiving a text from the group chat calling for an emergency meeting.

Solomon glances around to see Simeon, Luke, and Raphael dotting the room in the sofa and chairs. The odd thing is that they all seem relatively calm. Simeon pats the cushion next to him on the couch with a smile, and Solomon immediately obliges and sits down.

"So, what's the emergency?" he asks.

"Oh, this isn't an emergency," Luke says while swinging his legs. Simeon finishes for him, "it's an intervention."

A brow cocks on Solomon's forehead. "An intervention? Is this about me spending too much time in my room again?"

Simeon chuckles. "No. Although we may need to talk about that sometime soon."

"It's about MC." Raphael says, cutting to the chase.

"MC? Are they alright?" Solomon glances quickly between his friends as worry gnaws at his heart.

"MC's fine! It's about you and your obsession with calling them your "adorable apprentice"." Luke explains.

Solomon pauses, almost tempted to laugh at such an asinine reason to call for an intervention. But he sees the seriousness in everyone's eyes and realizes this is actually happening. "Is this a joke or..."

Raphael shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. You use the term so much that we thought maybe it was time to talk to you about it."

"I don't use it that often," Solomon says, slightly offended by the notion. "I praise them accordingly."

"And accordingly would be...all the time?" Simeon asks with a knowing grin.

"Well, I..."

Simeon got him. Okay, so maybe he had a problem, but it's not like it's a big deal. "Why wouldn't I want to praise them for their hard work as my student? I'm sure you all would do the same."

"Maybe so," starts Raphael, "but there's a difference between being proud and being obsessed."

"Yeah, we're just concerned about you, Solomon," Luke adds.

He sees the worry in the little angel's face and sighs, having no choice but to endure this "talk."

"This is barbaric. A man can't even gush over his apprentice anymore..."

The whole of Purgatory Hall laughs at Solomon's pouty joke before continuing with their intervention.

"They say it takes a month to break a bad habit. From this point forward, when you're speaking about them just assume everyone knows MC is your adorable apprentice," Simeon suggests. "You can praise when praise is due, but you don't need to overdo it."

"Fine, I'll give it a try." Solomon mutters, not happy with the compromise. Deep down he knows he'll be lucky if he lasts a week.

[chiyuuchu]

sharing is caring <3 (4th August 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! Bakugou and Y/n gets their laundry mixed up

It was a Friday night, and the Bakugou Squad—comprising Bakugou, Y/N, Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, Jirou, and Sero—had decided to hang out in Y/N’s room for some much-needed relaxation after a tough week. Y/N had texted everyone earlier, inviting them over for snacks, movies, and some casual chatting.

As everyone gathered, the room quickly filled with laughter and conversation. Kirishima and Kaminari were arguing over which movie to watch, while Mina and Jirou were busy setting up a makeshift snack bar on the floor. Sero was lounging on a beanbag, already munching on some chips.

Bakugou, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, was watching the chaos unfold with a small, almost hidden smile. He enjoyed these moments with his friends, though he would never openly admit it.

Just as the debate over movies reached its peak, the door swung open, and Y/N walked in. Bakugou’s eyes widened when he saw her. She was wearing one of his old t-shirts, slightly oversized on her smaller frame. His brain short-circuited for a moment, taking in the sight.

“Where the hell did you get that shirt?!” Bakugou barked, his face turning an interesting shade of red.

Y/N looked down at herself, then back up at Bakugou with a casual smile. “Oh, this? I found it in my laundry. Must have mixed up with my clothes. I can give it back if you want.”

Bakugou’s mind was racing. Inside, he was definitely simping, though his expression showed only flustered annoyance. “That’s mine, you idiot! How could you not notice?”

Y/N giggled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Relax, Bakugou. I’ll give it back. It’s just a shirt.”

Mina, catching the interaction, burst into laughter. “Looks like Bakugou’s got a favorite shirt thief!”

Jirou smirked, nudging Y/N. “Nice fashion choice, though. It suits you.”

Kirishima, ever the supportive friend, added, “Yeah, looks cool on you, Y/N.”

Sero chimed in with a grin, “I’m just glad Bakugou isn’t blowing up over this... yet.”

Bakugou growled in frustration, his glare now directed at his friends. “Shut up, all of you!”

Kaminari, trying to diffuse the situation, waved his hands. “Alright, alright, let’s calm down. It’s just a shirt. Let’s get back to the movie.”

Y/N smiled at Bakugou, who was still fuming but trying to hide his flustered state. “Seriously, Bakugou, I’ll wash it and give it back. No big deal.”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine. Just… don’t make it a habit.”

As the night went on, everyone settled into their usual banter and activities. Bakugou, despite his earlier outburst, couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N. She looked so comfortable in his shirt, and a part of him couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride seeing her in it.

The following week, Bakugou had been looking for his favorite pair of sweatpants. After checking his room and the laundry room with no luck, he decided to ask Y/N if she had seen them. He stomped over to her room, knocking firmly before entering.

“Hey, Y/N, have you seen my—” Bakugou started, but his words trailed off when he saw her. Y/N was lounging on her bean bag, comfortably reading a book, wearing his sweatpants.

Bakugou’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious?!” he yelled, making Y/N jump a little.

She looked up at him, blinking innocently. “Oh, hey, Bakugou. What’s up?”

“What’s up?! What’s up is that you’re wearing my sweatpants!” he barked, pointing at the offending article of clothing.

Y/N glanced down at the sweatpants, then back at Bakugou with a sheepish smile. “Oh, these? I found them in my laundry again. They’re super comfy. I thought they were just mixed in with my stuff.”

Bakugou was fuming, his face turning red. “How do you keep mixing up our laundry? Are you doing this on purpose?”

Y/N giggled, closing her book and sitting up. “Maybe I just like your taste in clothes. They’re really comfy.”

He crossed his arms, trying to maintain his stern expression despite the fluttering feeling in his chest. “You can’t just keep taking my clothes! What’s next, my hoodies?”

Y/N shrugged playfully. “If they’re as comfy as these, maybe.”

Bakugou groaned, rubbing his temples. “You’re impossible. Just give them back when you’re done, alright?”

She smiled up at him. “Sure thing, Bakugou. Thanks for letting me borrow them.”

He grumbled under his breath, turning to leave her room. “Yeah, yeah. Just… don’t do it again.”

As he walked away, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of frustration and something else—something he wasn’t ready to admit to himself just yet.

The next week, Y/N headed to the common room, a perplexed expression on her face. “Hey, guys, has anyone seen my white shirt with a strawberry on it?” she asked, looking around at her friends.

Everyone looked at each other and shrugged, except for Kirishima, who was stifling a laugh. “Uh, Y/N, you might want to look over there,” he said, pointing to the corner of the room.

Y/N turned to see Bakugou standing there, wearing her white shirt with a strawberry on it. The shirt was clearly too small for him, stretching tightly across his broad shoulders and chest.

Bakugou crossed his arms, attempting to look nonchalant despite the obvious discomfort. “Oh, this shirt?” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Found it in my laundry. Thought I’d give it a try since you seem to like wearing my stuff so much.”

Y/N stared at him in disbelief for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Bakugou, you look ridiculous! That shirt is way too small for you!”

He huffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts to remain serious. “Yeah, well, maybe now you’ll think twice before taking my clothes.”

She shook her head, still giggling. “Alright, you win. You can have your sweatpants back. Just give me my shirt, please.”

Bakugou uncrossed his arms and started to pull the shirt off, struggling a bit as it got stuck. “Fine, but this is the last time you take my stuff without asking.”

Y/N stepped forward to help him, tugging the shirt free. “Deal. But you have to admit, it’s pretty funny seeing you in my shirt.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in them. “Yeah, yeah. Just keep your clothes out of my laundry.”

As Y/N finally managed to pull the shirt off Bakugou, she looked up at him with a grin. “Thanks for the laugh, Bakugou.”

He grunted, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Whatever.”

A few days later, Bakugou found himself wandering into the laundry room. As he sorted through his laundry, he noticed a pile of Y/N’s clothes on the counter, waiting to be washed. An idea formed in his head, and he smirked mischievously.

He quickly rummaged through his laundry basket and pulled out his favorite hoodie. It was a little worn but incredibly comfortable. With a final glance around to make sure no one was watching, he casually tossed his hoodie into Y/N’s pile of clothes.

A couple of days later, Bakugou was lounging on the couch in the common room when he heard someone approaching. He looked up and tried to hide his excitement as he saw Y/N walking in, wearing his hoodie.

“Hey, guys!” Y/N called out, plopping down on the couch next to him. “Is anyone missing a hoodie? I found this in my laundry, and it’s super comfy.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Nice hoodie, Y/N. Looks familiar.”

Bakugou tried to keep his cool, giving a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, that’s mine. But you can keep it if you want. Looks better on you anyway.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, giving him a suspicious look. “Oh, really? You’re just giving it to me, huh?”

Bakugou avoided eye contact, pretending to be interested in the TV. “Yeah, whatever. It’s just a hoodie.”

Mina, who had been listening in, burst into laughter. “Wow, Bakugou! Didn’t know you were into sharing clothes now.”

Y/N giggled, pulling the hoodie tighter around herself. “Well, thanks, Bakugou. It is really comfy.”

He finally glanced at her, a small, satisfied smirk on his face. “Yeah, whatever.”

Y/N playfully nudged him.

As the rest of the squad joined in the laughter, Bakugou couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant. Maybe sharing wasn’t so bad after all.

[railingsofsorrow]

Dress

[emily prentiss x reader]

summary: you're dressed in red, her favorite color. and emily has a hard time wrapping her mind around that or around the fact that she wants to kiss you senseless tonight.  pairing: emily prentiss x f!reader  w.c: 2K   warnings/content: morcia & their antics; flirting; suggestive content (no smut); kissing; fluff; friends that want to be more than friends but haven't had the guts to say that to one another trope.

A/N: here is my entry for the @imagining-in-the-margins's CM Pride Challenge! The chosen prompt was “Are they... flirting?” “Big time.” with the pairing emily prentiss x reader slightly inspired by taylor swift's dress. I hope you like it! I had so much fun writing this. 

[part of “the taylor swift anthology”] 

navi masterpost 

cm masterlist 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ say many name and everything just stops,

I don't want you like a best friend.

only bought this dress so you could take it off. ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Are they... flirting?” Derek squints trying to see you and Emily's figure angled towards one another in the bar. His sight isn't perfect but he can't be imagining things.  

Penelope huffs out a laugh, giving him a look of that's your question? “Big time.” 

"It was about damn time." He mumbles, sipping into his whiskey as a gasp beside him makes him direct his attention back to his favourite blonde in the whole world. She was staring at him wide-eyed as if he had just described the secret path to Atlantis. "What?" 

Penelope slaps his chest, causing him to protest in disbelief.  

"Baby girl, what the hell?" 

"You know something!" She points her perfectly done long nails at him, earning a raised brow. "You know about... them." And then, as he follows to where she's pointing attempting to be discreet, Derek finally understands. "Yeah, yeah, spill the beans. Now." 

Derek takes another sip of his drink to hide the smirk stretching out on his lips.  

"We all know they're completely head over heels for one another, that's not news." 

"But you know more and I don't need to be a profiler to notice that in your entire handsome face. Derek." She presses impatiently. "Did Emily say something to you? Is she finally gonna make a move?" 

"Oh, please," Derek chuckles, patting her shoulders sympathetically. "The move already happened. They are just attempting to pretend it didn't. And they are doing a poor job at it. Just look at that." He mentions the pair across the room from them. You were currently brushing a dark strand of Emily's hair behind her ear, a sideways smile dancing on your lips.  

━━━━━━━━━ 

Emily hadn't been in a party mood. Or a little gathering, as Rossi likes to call it. But she was convinced to leave her house by a very compelling text that came from you, who was the only person who could really convince her to do anything, even knitting, which is something she had no idea how it even worked, but if you asked for a knitted beanie, she would buy the materials right this second. 

Joy Rossi. That is who the gathering in Rossi's fancy place is for. Emily is currently celebrating you and the dress you picked for this event because that proved to be more important.  

"Red looks really good on you, did you know that?" 

The disarming smile you send her way is enough to make her falter on her feet.  

"Yes, I do." You step closer. "And... did you know that I'm only wearing this one because I know it's your favorite color?" Her breathing fails for a long minute and her eyes fall on your red lips. It's like you're taunting her with that smug grin.  

“Really?” Emily tilts her head to keep staring at you as she takes a sip of her drink, her lips pursing around the reusable straw. She watches as your eyes travel downwards to her mouth and satisfaction bubbles inside her chest. Clearly, she's not the only one being affected tonight. “So you're wearing it for me? I feel special.” 

A smirk stretches across your mouth as your hand lifts to brush back a strand of her dark silky hair behind her ear. Emily tenses up when your fingers graze the back of her neck, but you quickly draw your hand back and she almost frowns in disappointment. 

“You are special.” You gently bump your elbow with hers when you rest back to stare at the enormous area in the backyard of David Rossi's mansion. Small groups of people shared conversations and the kids played around without a care for their sleep schedule. Alex waves at you from across the room and you watch as she starts walking over. “So special that I only bought it so you could take it off.” 

As expected, she chokes up on her drink and you caress her back tenderly while holding back a laugh. “You good, Em?” 

She gives you a look that can only be interpreted as a glare mixed with lust as she glances up and down your frame.  

“I'm— I'm perfect.” Emily clears her throat when Alex gets to where you are. She hugs you first and then Emily, you're smiling like a Cheshire cat probably. You love it when you successfully get what you want: tease Emily.  

“Oh, look at the two of you. I've missed this.” Blake comments, sipping on her champagne.  

“We missed you,” you say truthfully, squeezing her arm with a soft smile. It is the truth, Alex Blake was an important addition to the team and you will forever miss her on your daily routine at the BAU.  

She offers you a grateful smile and the conversation follows for a few minutes until Alex has to go and you and Emily are left alone. Again.  

Somehow, you don't find any complaints about that. 

“Hey,” you nudge the back of her hand to call for her attention. She had already been looking at you, when you take notice of that you feel the side of your neck warm-up. “Dance with me?” 

Emily finally diverts her attention from you and it settles on the empty makeshift dance floor.  

“Nobody's dancing.” 

You hum, dragging your hand towards hers to pull her softly with you. She follows with a groan, feigning annoyance which you know couldn't be farther from the truth. An annoyed Emily would have a permanent scowl on her pretty face and lips pulled downwards. But now she's displaying one of her award-winning grins and there isn't one single limb in her body that holds tension. Not as you're here, anyway. Not as she's in your presence. 

“We are,” you inform, guiding both of her hands to your waist and placing both of your arms around her shoulders, your fingers immediately reaching the back of her neck. “You look beautiful tonight. I forgot to say that before.” 

She pulls you closer carefully and you feel her hands move upwards, fingers drawing circles on your back.  

Emily suddenly doesn't care that she's in the public eye not trying to hold herself back from something she's wanted for years. She's been so used to hiding that whatever it is that the both of you are doing is frightening and freeing at the same time. It might be the alcohol —she hasn't had that much of it — but you're showing interest and she doesn't feel as if this is one-sided anymore.  

“Thank you.” 

“Of course,” you caress the baby hairs on the back of her neck. “It's not like you ever get out of my mind and you look beautiful every day so...” 

Emily looks away and laughs and you feel your brain burst in flames because yes, she really is beautiful and I can't think straight right now with her laughing.  

“You should stop that.” Emily warns. She's teasing you and you decide to play into her antics by pretending to be completely innocent. 

“Stop what?” 

“That.” She lowers her hands to the small of your back, tightening her hold there as you sway to the slow song. “I'm trying really hard not to kiss you right now.” The way her breathing tickles the side of your face, makes you immediately close the gap between your lips but you refrain from doing so. There's still some common sense left in your slight inebriated state of mind.  

“Why are you trying,” you croak out, voice rough, lifting your thumb to her jaw, outlining the thin scar she earned when she was a kid. You lean back a bit to be able to look her in the eye so there's no breach in your communication. “Stop trying, Emily. I'm here.” I want to kiss you too. You've no idea how bad I want that.

Her eyes fall to your lips, “are you sure?” The warmth of her hand is grounding and it is possibly the only thing keeping you upright at that moment.  

“Yes.”  

But she takes too long and you're the one who closes the small distance left between the two of you. Her arms wrap around your middle and she brings you closer to her body when your lips connect.  

It's a damn loud whistling that splits you apart. Your brows are pulled into a frown of confusion when you take notice of your friends gathered together laughing. You caught Penelope shushing Derek and this is what you need to know what's going on. All eyes are on you. Not all of them, most people had left already and now it's only whoever is part of the BAU and their partners. Even Rossi's daughter, who the party was for in the first place, had already left.  

“You couldn't have done that a month ago?” Luke Alvez whines from his table beside Spencer, who's outstretching a hand towards him. When the money is placed on top of his palm, he winks at Luke in victory.  

You hide your face in Emily's neck, cursing under your breath. She attempts to comfort you by rubbing her hands up and down your back. 

“Cut it out.” Emily rolls her eyes at her friends.

“You bet on us?” You exclaim in disbelief, disentangling yourself from her to place your hand on your hips. Emily watches you get ready to put everyone in their place and she can't even be mad about anything else when the scowl on your face is one more thing she wants to kiss. Though what you say surprises her and everyone who's waiting for you to yell at them. “Who won?”  

Derek, JJ, and Spencer raise their arms as a trio of toddlers admitting they did something wrong.  

“We bet something was going to happen tonight.” Derek wriggles his brows. “But I think I can say for everyone that we all knew you're completely whipped for each other.” 

JJ groans loudly, “yes. It's embarrassing.”  

Thanks to your friends, your face must be the same color as your dress. 

“I think half of that money should be ours.” Emily tugs you closer to her again, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders. “We technically made you win.” 

“But you had no idea,” Spencer interjects, shaking his head. “Technically, you weren't even going to come tonight. She convinced you. So she should get half of the money, not you— Ow!” 

“Pretty boy,” Derek hisses. “Shut up. There are no technicalities, we won!” 

“Well, I'm just saying—”  

You block off the rest of their bickering to realize Emily's dragging you away from all the attention, something you're very grateful for.  

“Sorry about that.” Emily gives you a guilty smile as you finally get inside the house.  

“Are you sorry for kissing me, Emily Prentiss?” 

Her eyes widen comically, “wha—No! I just, I was saying sorry because of that whole thing they did—” you cut her off with a peck to her lips, chucking at her bewildered expression.  

“I'm messing with you. And don't be sorry, cause I'm not.” 

The grin plastered on her face is contagious. When she kisses you again, it's more urgent, needy, desperate.  

“My apartment or yours?” You ask breathless when your back hits the kitchen counter and she starts kissing down your neck.  

“Mine. It's closer.” She pulls you in for another passionate kiss before you drag her to exit the house. 

“Great, cause none of us is in any condition to drive and I can't wait for you to take this dress off of me.”  

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