#so i went off on him and hes a wee bit angry

[dolcegbaby]

somehow have a degree in making guys angry

[the-californicationist]

he opens the mail

Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen. The only cure? Your pussy, apparently.

Warning: sex pollen tropes, extremely dubious consent, attempt at satire?, angry john price

“We’re never going to make this deadline. Laswell’s gonna kill me,” you complained, burying your head in the pile of envelopes and packages strewn over your desk. 

“Did this to yourself, lass. Shoulda been keepin’ up with intel duty. Wee bit at a time, ‘s what I say,” Soap patted you on the shoulder, feigning pity. 

You spent hours combing through the documents, and by the time everyone had gone to bed, your fingers were covered in paper cuts, and your vision was blurry from squinting at the poorly scrawled Cyrillic words. 

You thought you were alone, and as you stood up to stretch and refill your coffee mug, Captain Price opened up the office door, scaring you half to death. 

“Oh, hey Corporal,” he smiled and then furrowed his brow, “What are you still doing here?”

You sighed, pointing to the piles of documents,

“Laswell’s intel backlog. I’m the only one with a Level 3 linguistics cert for Russian, so here I am. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

He closed the door and sat down across from your seat, digging into the pile, 

“I’m Level 3. Let’s finish it.”

“Captain, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’ve got more important things…”

Price shook his head, taking off his hat and hanging it on the chair back,

“Nah, tha’s alright, love. I’ll help ya. Get us a tea, yeah?”

You knew how he took his tea, and you hated that you did. Secretly, you were obsessed with him. He was always around, smelling like balsam wood and tobacco, looking like a gladiator, huge and capable in the most masculine way. It was hard to concentrate when he was nearby. Now that he had offered to help, you had to grin and bear it. 

You worked together for a while, chatting, even laughing. It was nice. You had so much in common, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself much more at ease. Finally, three packages remained. You opened the first one and found little more than phone records for a local library. Unhelpful to say the least. Price opened a water bill, and he recognized the address of a recent Konni base location. Any intel at this point felt like a celebration. Then, the final box. 

“Go on then. Show us the ending,” he smiled, handing it to you. 

“Couldn’t take the joy of ripping up the last letter, Captain. Be my guest,” you smiled. 

He chuckled, tearing into the envelope. In a flash, bright pink powder sprayed him directly in the eyes, and he writhed in pain, pinching them shut, his whole body going stiff. 

“Fuck me!” He shouted. 

“Hang on,” you ran over to the sink in the kitchenette, “Here’s some water. Get that shit out of your eyes.”

“Don’t,” he moved away from you like you were on fire, “Don’t touch me. Might be contagious.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your labored breathing, and you were immediately worried. You reached for your phone and called Laswell.

“Laswell, Price got anthraxed by one of the intel letters. What do you want us to do?”

She gasped, 

“What? Shit. I’m on my way.”

She hung up on you. You watched Price slowly try to open his eyes. They were stained hot pink from the powder. 

“You alright?” You asked him. 

“Yeah, love,” he sighed, “Doesn’t hurt anymore. Feeling strange though. Laswell said she’s coming?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, just in case.”

He nodded, running his hand along the inside of his collar. The captain was sweaty and a little pale. 

“Captain, are you okay?”

“Mmm, no,” he shook his head, “Something’s not right, love.”

He stood and went to the sink, washing as much of the powder off as he could. You moved away from him and stationed yourself across the room, praying for Laswell to hurry. 

Price was in a bad way. He took off his shirt, and he was still dripping with beads of sweat. You tried not to stare, but his temperature wasn’t the only thing heating up. His huge cock was making a prominent tent in his pants, but he was in too much pain to bother hiding it. You felt yourself blushing, and you willed yourself to pull it together. 

“…fuckin’ hell,” his hand went to his crotch to squeeze his length, trying to find some relief, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” you said politely, trying to breathe normally, but feeling the slick rush melt between your legs. 

“It’s makin’ me…feel…bloody hell. I can’t hold it off. Can…can you…? No! No, what the fuck am I sayin’? No,” he shook his head, rubbing his hands down his face, hot and very bothered. 

You inched closer to him,

“If I haven’t been affected yet, I’m sure it’s okay. How should I help you?”

“No! No, stay back. I’m not…I can’t think straight. My mind’s got one thing on it,” he shoved his hands beyond his zipper and began to jerk himself off, his dick making lurid noises with his hand. 

You hated seeing him so helpless. You moved to his side,

“Cap, it’s okay. Let me help you.”

His hand was around your throat in milliseconds. Price shoved you against the wall and began to kiss your mouth, furiously laving his tongue against yours. 

“No, no, no,” he whispered through his kisses, not bothering to pull away as he spoke his lamentations. 

You made the mistake of putting your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He moaned, trembling beneath your touch,

“Ahh, careful.”

“Sorry,” you pulled your hands away, still trapped in his firm grip around your neck, “did I hurt you?”

“No, doesn’t hurt.”

He said it in a way that darkly implied your touch was igniting a different kind of fire. You put your hands back where they were, and his eyes shot open, piercing through yours with a lustful rage. Unexpectedly, he ripped off your shirt and lay you down on the black leather couch in the corner of the office. He crushed you with his weight, kissing you deeply. 

Then, your phone rang. He didn’t allow you to pause, so it went to voicemail. It rang again. You were getting just as hot as he was, and you weren’t that interested in who was looking for you in the middle of the night. Until, however, the door to the office burst wide open and Laswell and Gaz burst through it. 

Price snarled. You’d never heard a man make that noise before. Laswell put her hands on her hips while Gaz tried to shield his face in shock. Laswell rubbed her forehead, frustrated,

“Are his eyes pink, Corporal?”

You escaped his jaws for a moment, 

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s a sex drug. Forces the user to fornicate as it is only passed through the body in seminal fluid, dissolving in the heat of another person’s body. Are you volunteering here? What happened?”

Her tone was so matter of fact, it was a little humorous, if Price’s length wasn’t rutting against you in earnest, you might've laughed. You tried to explain as much as he would allow,

“Got too close… just… happened. How…” you moaned as Price pulled down the strap of your bra and helped himself to your nipple, “How did you know?”

She sighed, typing something into her datapad,

“Checked the incident log from this afternoon. Four more cases of this have popped up in intel collections. Gonna have to screen for it next time.”

She turned to walk out of the office with Gaz, and you called after her,

“Hey, wait! How long does it - oh, fuck… how long does it last?”

Laswell had the audacity to smirk at you, raising her eyebrows and cutting her eyes at Price’s swollen cock, lolling out of his pants, scraping itself against you. 

“Eight hours. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, Corporal. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

Part 2

[munsonsmixtapes]

i’m wondering if i could put in a request about a fic with insecure! reader with eddie munson?? and it’s reader like hating how her body looks and she refuses to have sex with eddie with her top off and eddie starts to notice all these little things and he realizes what’s going on and he just worships her body😇😇

Eddie Munson x insecure!fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) nipple play, oral (f receiving) body worshipping, body insecurity, hurt/comfort, reader gets a hickey, wee bit of dom!Eddie

The door to the room you and Eddie shared bursted open as you both stepped into it, in the midst of a make out session. You had been going at it since you both stepped through the door and had absolutely no plans of stopping anytime soon.

Your hands found the buckle of his belt and he clanked as his tongue swiped back and forth along the seem of your lips. You let him inside as you continued to work on his belt before he removed his pants.

His shirt came off too along with his underwear while you just got rid of your jeans, making sure that your body was still covered. As many times as you had slept together, you still felt nervous to get completely naked around Eddie. He hadn’t said anything about it, but he had become worried about you. Worried that you were feeling too insecure to show what you looked like.

He didn’t care if you kept your shirt on, but he just wanted you to be comfortable. Wanted you to feel good. You were always enthusiastic when it came to sex, but he could tell there was still some underlying insecurity that always found a way to seep through.

It was in the way you would always close your eyes when he looked at you. The way they would shut tight like you were in pain and not the good kind. The way your shirts had gotten bigger as you were desperately trying to hide what your body looked like. How did you think he wouldn’t notice? He noticed everything about you.

“Hey,” he said, breaking apart from you, his Bambi eyes boring into yours. “What’s going on, doll?” He asked as his finger began to stroke your neck, something he always did when he was trying to comfort you.

“Nothing,” you replied, avoiding his eye contact, not quite ready to confess the truth.

“Hey, eyes on me,” he grabbed you by your chin so gently and forced you to look him in the eyes. “What’s going on, hon. You just don’t seem like yourself.”

“I’m fine, Eddie. I swear.”

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here when you want to talk. I’m more than happy to pick up where we left off, but I feel like we need to have a discussion first.” He let go of you then passed you to sit on the edge of the bed.

You kept your back to him, looking over your shoulder ever so slightly to see what he was doing. He was looking directly at you, that same warm smile on his lips. The one that was always reserved for you.

He patted his lap and you went over to him, sitting to his left instead. You didn’t want to put your weight on him. That was why you were always afraid to get on top when he offered.

“I-I always keep my shirt on because I’m afraid to show you my body,” you told him, your voice barely above a whisper. Admitting the words out loud just made them more true.

“Oh, honey,” Eddie replied, quick to take your hands in his. “I love you no matter what you look like.” You knew he was telling the truth but couldn’t help but feel like he was just saying that just to make you feel better.

“Really? So if I took off my shirt right now, you’d be satisfied with what you see?”

“Of course I would. And you know it’s the inside that counts,” he said, his pointer finger touching the spot where your heart was beating rapidly.

“Oh please! You’re just saying that!” Now you were getting angry with him and feel guilty for feeling that way because you knew that Eddie was just trying to help you navigate through a difficult time.

“I swear, I’m not. If you want to show me, show me. If you don’t, fine. It’s okay.”

“Fine, here,” you said, getting exasperated. You quickly pulled off your top, your body naked except for your panties. Eddie’s eyes widened as he looked at you. He had seen your body so many times before, but he hadn’t seen it in a while since you started wearing those big shirt all those weeks ago.

“Fuck, doll,” he said through a breath. “You’re just as beautiful as I remember. Maybe even more so.”

“You’re lying.”

“What do I have to do to get you to believe me?” He asked, standing from the bed. “Is this not enough for you?” He pointed to his rock hard cock that was tenting in his boxers. “I’m more than happy to worship every inch of your body until you believe me.”

Eddie took your bare hips in his hands, letting them run along your skin until they pressed against your back, pushing your body closer to his.

“Want me to show you how fucking hot I think you are?” His eyes were now filled with fire and you wouldn’t dare diffuse the flame.

“Please,” was all you needed to say before Eddie’s lips were in yours. It was a slow kiss, something that didn’t really happen often between the two of you. They were quick and messy as you tried to get each other to your climaxes since you always seemed to need to fuck each other in places that were public.

He turned you around so that you were facing the bed then backed you up to it, your calves hitting edge of it.

“Lie down,” he said softly and helped you do so, one of his hands holding your back while the other cradled your head. Once you were on the mattress, he lowered himself on top of you, his lips colliding with yours as he intertwined your fingers.

“Your lips are so soft,” he mumbled against them. “And I love how you always wear that chapstick that you know I love the taste of.” He pressed one more kiss to your lips then moved on to your cheek.

“I could kiss these all day,” he said. “Love how they feel underneath my lips. How they get so warm. Love when you blush for me, doll.”

You realized what he was doing then. He was kissing a spot on your body and telling you what he liked about it. He was so sweet that sometimes you didn’t think you deserved him.

Eddie then moved to your neck, peppering the spot with kisses, taking his time to really love on it. He then began to suck lightly, wanting to give it special attention to return the favor since that always seemed to be the spot on him that you gravitated to.

“And this. God, you smell so good. What is that?”

“You know what it is,” you replied, a smirk on your face even though he couldn’t see it.

“I do,” he took another whiff. “Wonder if you taste as good. Bet you do.”

You let out a gasp as he continued to suck on the skin, his teeth gliding across the spot, causing a moan to fall from your lips. He chuckled and continued, wanting you to make that sound again and again until you reached your orgasm. And then he’d go in for more until you orgasmed as many times as possible until you couldn’t take it anymore.

He licked and sucked and nibbled in your skin, eating up every single sound that fell from your lips. The way you were responding was exactly what he was wanting, hearing how much you were enjoying yourself.

Eddie then pulled back, a pretty bruise forming on your neck accompanied by his shin that was shining along the mark. He was hoping that you wouldn’t cover it up so everyone could see it, but completely understood if you wanted to.

He then got lower, nipping and sucking on your collarbone, his lips colliding with some metal as he did so. He pulled away from you just to see the little capital “E” hanging from your neck, smiling to himself.

“Still wearing this little thing, huh?”

“I always wear it, Eddie,” you rolled your eyes.

“Of course you do. So that way you always have me there wherever you go.”

“You’re so fucking cheesy.”

“But you love it,” he nipped at your bottom lip then moved back down, pressing kisses to one of your tits before taking your nipple into his mouth, licking back and forth across it before giving it a rough suck.

“God, I’ve been dreaming about doing this for weeks. Want you to feel good, doll. Do you feel good?”

“Yes,” the word came out like a moan and he swore it was the hottest thing he had ever hear. He then followed up by grazing your nipple with his teeth, biting down, causing an even louder moan to fall from your mouth.

He continued, biting down harder and you seemed to like that even more, your hands sliding into his hair and giving it a tug at his scalp. He gave one more bite before moving onto your other nipple, giving it the same attention. You were now screaming, wanting him to know just how good he was making you feel already.

Once you had come down from your orgasm, Eddie kissed all the way down your torso until he got to the spot right above your panties. He then spread your legs wide, draping your legs over his shoulders as he lowered himself onto the floor so the both of you would be more comfortable.

“You’re absolutely soaked,” he told you with a devilish grin. “But don’t worry, I’ll clean you up.” He then leaned down, his lips pressing against the fabric of your panties licking at the slick that had leaked onto it. He mouthed at it, his tongue doing pretty much all the work and he could feel you fidgeting under him, wanting him to get to it already.

But Eddie knew that this was your favorite thing that he did so he was going to make you beg for it. Even though this was all about you, he was still going to make you beg a little bit.

“Eddie, please,” you whined.

“Just a minute, sweetheart. Let me finish my work.” He continued to lick and suck on your underwear, wanting you to feel what was happening so you’d beg a little more. God did he love when you begged for him.

“Eddie,” you whined again and he pulled away. He always was a pushover. Especially when it came to you, so it really didn’t take much begging for him to completely give in to you. And that even went for things outside the bedroom.

He removed your legs from him then pulled your panties down slowly, watching you whine for him as he did so. If there was one thing Eddie loved, it was putting on a show. He got your underwear down your legs then tossed it to the side before draping your legs back over his shoulders.

He then grabbed hold of one leg and pressed kisses from your ankle, all the way to the spot on your thigh they was right next to your cunt. He took his time, wanting to love on you even more, whispering to you how much he loved your legs, how he loved when your wore anything short so he had an excuse to stare at them, wanting to place his head between them and make you feel so good that the practically crushed his head.

And then without warning, he buried his face into your cunt, going straight for your clit, sucking on it, but not as much as you were wanting. Just when you were about to whine for him, he went it with more force than he ever had before.

“Oh my god,” you whined and your hands found their way into his hair once again, giving it another tug and he licked and sucked on your clit, your ankles locking at the back of his neck.

“Just like that,” you urged and he did just that, moving lower to your slit, flattening his tongue against it as he licked a long stripe along it.

He then took his time there, doing the exact same thing to that spot, wanting to give it the same attention. But he went slower this time, wanting you to enjoy your favorite part of having sex with him.

Once he felt you yank his hair once more, he went on to the finale, sticking his tongue inside you and he could feel your thighs clenching around his head, another loud moan falling from your lips.

He swirled his tongue around and found just the right spot that made you scream, your back arching as you did so. He curved his tongue to encourage you even more and it did just the trick, another loud scream falling from your lips in the form of his name.

Eddie then pulled his tongue out of you, using it to lick up every last possible drop of your slick that he could, not wanting all of that good stuff to go to waste.

He then pulled away, licking off what he could from his face before using the bottom of his shirt to wipe up the rest.

Eddie collapsed onto the bed beside you and pulled you on top of him, pressing yet another kiss to your lips, this one more quick and messy than the others. His hand gripped the back of your neck as his tongue slid into your mouth, making you moan into his.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his hands sliding to your ass, giving it a squeeze which made you yelp. He then had you roll off of him as he got out from underneath you, taking off his own clothes and sliding underneath the blanket.

“I thought you were going to fuck me,” you slurred.

“Considering your state, darling, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he pulled you to his chest before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Ask me again in the morning.” He then rested his head on top of yours and the two of you fell asleep peacefully as you finally got the hint that he really did love you as much as he claimed to.

[theemporium]

a wee blurb based off this and a conversation with @scuderiahoney 🤠

.

Oscar Piastri never got drunk, at least not in front of his fellow Formula One colleagues. 

It wasn’t obvious at first. He was a rookie, a new kid on the grid, the new guy who kind of started off with a bang before he even sat in the car with all the drama surrounding his contract. It wasn’t out of this world to assume he was a little shy and didn’t feel all that comfortable getting drunk with people who had known each other for years. 

But the season progressed and friendships grew, and yet still Oscar Piastri just never seemed to get drunk. 

He would have a drink or two, maybe a bottle of beer on top if he had a big meal beforehand. But he never passed the point of tipsy, never passed the point where he wasn’t totally aware of what he was doing. 

Lando had cornered Logan Sargeant after one of the races, hell bent on trying to figure out what the deal was with his teammate. 

“So what’s Oscar’s deal with drinking?” 

The blond turned to him, brows raised in surprise. “What?” 

“What’s his deal? Why does he not go beyond three drinks?” Lando questioned, insistent and eager for answers. 

“I don’t think that’s in my place to say—” Logan started before he was cut off. 

“Is he a recovering alcoholic?” 

Logan blinked. “What?” 

“I’m not judging!” Lando quickly added, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’d just feel like a right dick if I was pushing him to do something he was recovering from, you know?” 

“And you went straight to alcoholism?” Logan shook his head. “Dude, did it ever occur to you that maybe he just doesn’t like drinking?” 

Lando narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Have you ever seen him drunk?” 

Logan paused, only for a few seconds but it was enough to make the Brit gasp. 

“You have!” Lando grinned when he noticed a flush spread across Logan’s face. “Oh god, that must mean it’s embarrassing! What’s the deal, huh? Does he start stripping after four drinks? Get angry? Turn into the Incredible Hulk?” 

Logan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Oscar would appreciate me saying, he gets shy about it.”

The Brit let out a huff. “You’re no fun to gossip with, Sargeant.” 

But as it would turn out, Lando and the rest of the grid would find out exactly why Oscar never went beyond his three drink limit in the Aussie’s second season. 

The season was young, the car was good and by some fucking miracle, Oscar had found himself on the podium at his home race. It was a thrill he never expected to feel, it was a buzz that he felt himself slowly becoming addicted to. And the fact there was a large group of people he called home cheering him on when he accepted his trophy definitely didn’t help. 

He was on a high and he didn’t want to stop—and neither did the drinks. It seemed like every driver he bumped into in the small club seemed eager to buy him a drink to celebrate, and Oscar was so high on adrenaline that he couldn’t bring himself to care about his limit. 

It was somewhere after his fifth drink and his third round of shots when Lando found him. He looked lost as he stood in the middle of the dance floor, his lips turned down (almost in a pout) and his wide eyes looking around the place. 

Lando frowned, making his way over as he clapped his teammate on the shoulder. “You all good, mate?” 

To his surprise, Oscar shrugged his hand off with a frown. “No.”

Lando blinked, something quite like concern bubbling inside him. “No? Did something happen?” 

“I—” Oscar paused as he continued to look around the club. “I want her.” 

“Huh?” 

“I want—” Oscar let out a frustrated noise, almost a bit like a whine. “I want my girl. Where’s my girl?” 

Realisation slowly dawned on Lando as he noted the fact you weren’t with your boyfriend. He knew you joined them at the club, the three of you had taken a taxi together but he hadn’t seen you in a few hours. 

“Uh, I don’t know, mate,” Lando answered honestly, which didn’t feel the right thing to say as Oscar began to push through the crowd. “Woah, Oscar—”

“I want my girl,” Oscar muttered once again, barely audible over the blasting music. 

Lando was quick to follow him through the crowd, aimlessly trying to help and make Oscar stand in one place so they could text you but the boy seemed hell bent on having you in his arms in that second. 

It took five minutes—five long, agonising minutes—before they found you. The second Oscar’s eyes landed on you, it was like the pouty boy from before was nowhere to be seen as a huge grin took over his face. 

“MY GIRL!” 

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as your boyfriend barrelled towards you, wrapping his arms around you and practically pressing every inch of his body against yours. 

Lando watched as you hugged him back, as your grin matched his whilst you pressed a kiss to his cheek. He waited for the two of you to pull apart, to stand shoulder to shoulder because that was usually as touchy as either of you got in public. 

But Oscar didn’t let go. 

“Baby,” you murmured, your voice soft and amused as Oscar nuzzled his head further into the crook of your neck. 

“Uh,” Lando couldn’t even help himself, the alcohol in his system fuelling his confusion and loose lips. “Is he okay?” 

You turned to the Brit, a smile on your lips. “Oh yeah, he just gets a bit…clingy when he’s drunk.” 

“M’not clingy,” Oscar grumbled but he made no move to pull himself away from you. 

“Of course not,” you mused as your hands fell to either side of his cheeks, lifting his head enough to press a kiss to his forehead before letting it fall down to lean on your shoulder again. You turned to Lando with a shrug. “We’ll probably head out now. You joining us?” 

“Nah,” Lando waved you off, still somewhat flabbergasted by what he was witnessing. “You think you’ll get him home alright by yourself?” 

You snorted. “He’s basically a big baby at this point, I’ve got him.” 

“M’not a baby,” Oscar huffed out. 

You only grinned in response. “C’mon, baby, let’s go.” 

Oscar lifted his head, blinking slowly with a hopeful look on his face. “Cuddles?” 

“Cuddles,” you confirmed, waving the Brit goodbye before you made your way towards the exit of the club. 

Lando stood there, mouth agape as he stared at your parting figures when Logan found him. The American was grinning from ear to ear, taking a long dreg from his beer bottle. 

“It would’ve been less of a mindfuck if he was an alcoholic, right?” Logan commented with a snort. 

“I feel…dirty seeing him so touchy,” Lando whispered. 

Logan laughed. “Yeah, just be glad you haven’t seen him when he’s high yet.” 

Lando’s head snapped around, looking both intrigued and alarmed. “Why? What is he like when he’s high?” 

The boy grinned wider.

“LOGAN, WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

.

[distressxox]

"Missed You"

Ohma Tokita x Afab!Reader

Synopsis: Ohma is back and better than ever. After years of waiting, you and him share a passionate night together. (Takes place during Kengan Omega)

Content: 18+, Smut, A wee bit of angst, Afab bodyparts, Marking, Cunnilingus, P in V sex(unprotected), Creampie

Word Count: 2,596

How long had it been since you'd seen his face? How long had it been since you'd heard his voice nonchalantly say your name? How it rolled off his tongue when you were chatting normally, or when he'd say it in more sensual settings.

You'd refuse to belive he was actually gone. Holding your face in the palm of your hands almost every night as you sobbed in the comfort of your bathroom. The other fighters couldn't know how badly you were still grieving the loss of your one and only Ohma.

And yet....here he was. Standing infront of you yet again. You'd almost fainted when you were on the couch next to Kaede, but...she took the role for you. Casually strolling in next to Kazuo, his eyes firstly settling on you. Grinning as you jumped into his arms while babbling like a child.

Yes, you were angry at the same time. How could he, no, the Kure clan AND him keep this from you? However, all the pain accumulated over the years had vanished as soon as he wrapped his arms around you.

Ohma and you had retired to your apartment for the night. God it felt like a dream watching him lazily take off his shoes and jacket. How his muscular shoulders rolled the piece of clothing off of his back. His wavy black hair swaying gently as he turned to look at you.

You gulped before starting a sentence "I-"

He grabbed the back of your head pressed your lips into his. Your fingers grabbed a fistful of his shirt as he pressed you against the wall. He sharply inhaled as your lips parted for barely a second before he went in again.

Breathless and panting into his mouth, your hands squeezed at his biceps as you groaned. Not even 5 minutes being alone with eachother, and Ohma was already desperate to get his hands all over you.

Fuck he missed this. All those lonely nights in the Kure village thinking about you were over. He had you here, in his arms. He had been starved too damn long of your touch, your smell, your taste. He didn't want to waste any time talking, it could wait.

His hands felt up your waist down to the backs of your thighs. He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his hips and carried you to the couch. Pressing you down into the cushions as his hand rested on the back of your head.

"Ohma-" You whined.

"Hm?" He stared at you with a half lidded gaze, eyebrows relaxed. His chest was pressed into your stomach as his chin was almost touching the dip between your breasts.

You almost choked on your words. This was a sight to behold.

"I missed you" Your fingers ran through his black locks. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. "Really?" His body snaked closer and up yours so he was face to face with you.

"Ohma...it's too early for teasing" You pouted, looking into his gray eyes that poured back into yours. He chuckled and lowered his mouth to your neck, grazing his teeth against the skin. Your body shuttered at the feeling of his fangs, escpecially his canines, delicately pressing into your skin little by little.

A deep sigh escaped your mouth as his own latched onto your neck. He remembered where your sweet spot was, enough do that memories of moments like this flooded your mind again. A twinge of pain ran up your spine as he clamped down harder. Whimpering, you pressed your body into his as your fingers tugged on his hair.

Ohma eventually let go of your neck before his teeth traced down to your collar. This time he nibbled all along the protruding bone, making sure there was still marks left but not biting hard enough to hurt you.

His hips shifted onto you as he groaned into your skin. You felt his bulge rubbing against your inner thigh. Your hips moved against his, making Ohma hiss and furrow his eyebrows.

"Missed me huh?" He clicked his tongue before sitting up and looking down at your form. Drinking it all in. He was noticeably a little sweaty, a thin layer of his glistening on his skin as the sunlight cascading from the window danced on his tan skin.

Your stomach fluttered as he stared you down. His chest rising and falling as the two of you sat in silence. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it over his head. Throwing it to the side without care. His chest and arms were still handsomely scarred as you remembered them being.

"You've got no damn idea how long I've been waiting" his calloused palms began sliding up your slides, pushing up your shirt to see your stomach. It tickled, so you let out a small giggle. But he didn't stop.

He pushed your shirt up and over your breasts. Staring at your bra as his thumbs pressed into its fabric.

"Ohma, please" You couldn't bear how long he was taking to finally touch you.

"So needy" he huffed and moved the cups of your bra out of the way before delving in with his mouth again. His hands cupping your tits so he could suck on them easier. Muffling your moan with the back of your hand every time his tongue danced over your nipple.

He hummed to your body's reaction, taking satisfaction in how much he could tell you wanted him. He switched to your other breast, giving it as much attention as the other one. Making sure your nipples were puffy and covered in his saliva.

The boner in his pants strained harder against his denim jeans. You could feel it twitch against your leg, so you grinded yourself into him. The pressure made the fabric of your pants rub against your entrance and aching clit.

Your eyes widened when you realized just how wet you had gotten just from this alone.

Ohmas mouth released your nipple before looking up at you.

"Moving your hips against me like that. Your body knows what it wants, huh" Ohma said lowly as his hand reached down to your waistband, snaking under it before pressing his digits onto your soaked underwear. You swore under your breath as one of his fingers felt around you clothed slit.

"Ohma- please use your fingers" You almost cried. You didn't care how desperate you seemed, all you wanted was for him to make you orgasm again.

"We're not doing that today" he took his hand out of your pants. Instead, he unzipped his pants and slid them down this thighs. You looked at his hard-on, and felt yourself throb with want.

"I'm hungry" he stood up and grabbed your legs, forcing your bottom half to slightly hang off the couch cushion.

"Wha-" you were caught off guard by his actions. He tugged the waistband of your pants down before sliding them off of your legs. He looked back at you and saw your underwear, getting down on his knees so that he was facing between your thighs. Taking both of his thumbs, he ripped the leg openings with a single swipe before using his teeth to rip it off of you.

You could feel his breath on your entrance as he panted. His arms wrapped under your thighs, placing them on his shoulders as his thumbs pressed into your hip bones, holding you in place.

His nose nudged against your clit, making you squirm.

"Relax a little, I wanna make sure you remember this" Ohma turned his head so that his mouth was on one of your thighs. He bit it gently, his nibbles growing closer to where you wanted his lips to be.

You exhaled through your nose, not knowing when he'd actually do something. But enjoying it nonetheless. Then it caught you off guard.

His hot mouth was now flush against your aching entrance, lapping up your wetness and licking at your folds. You almost lept out of his grasp with how harshly you jolted at the sensation. It had been a while afterall...

You choked out a mewl as he ravaged you like a starved man. Everytime his tongue bumped your clit your thighs squeezed his head tighter.

"Oh fuck" you moaned, both of your hands going down to grab his head for some sort of leverage. Ohma was too caught up in eating you out to care about how much you were pulling his hair. The way you tasted to him had his cock already dripping with precum.

Your juices ran down from his lips to his chin. He relished in all of your noises that he had missed over the years. But most of all, he just wanted to see you cum. His mouth mouth slightly upwards from your folds and to your clit. Where he began to suck on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You felt yourself rapture in bliss. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let out an erotic sob. He groaned at your reaction but didn't stop.

Thighs twitching, a coil inside of you was about to burst. Your heart started to beat out of your chest as you neared your peak.

"Look at me" Ohma commanded. Your sight was slightly blurred from the tears of pleasure, but you looked at him anyways. He looked up at you with lustful and carnivorous intent.

That alone was just enough to have your back arching as you came on his mouth, crying out his name. Your hips twitched and your back fell onto the cushion again, coming down from your high as you looked at him.

"That...was..." You paused to catch your breath "Amazing"

He separated from your clit and licked his lips. His chin glistened with your arousal, he wiped off what was left with the back of his hand before standing up. You sat up as well, taking his wrist. Guiding it so that he'd sit down next to you, which he obliged surprisingly.

"Let me take care of you now" you said softly as you straddled his lap. He placed his hands on your hips, raising his eyebrow. You took the liberty of pulling off his underwear, seeing his cock spring out of its restraints. It slapped against his stomach, which made you quietly chuckle.

Your hand wraps around the girth of his cock. It almost caught you off guard with how warm and hard it was. Reminding you again how long it had been since you'd had sex with him. You rubbed your slit against it, feeling the head of it slightly nudge your swollen clit.

Ohma closed his eyes, gritting his teeth when he felt your slick, wet entrance.

"Gonna make you feel good...missed you" You guided his tip in, feeling it just barely stretch your walls. Fuck you were in for it now. Your hips lowered slowly, his dick stretching you out. Your mouth hung open as you felt him hit your g-spot, thighs meeting his own.

He grunted, the grasp on your hips getting tight enough to leave bruises. "So fuckin' tight" he rasped, controlling the urge to move his hips.

Your hips began to rise again, feeling him slowly slide out made you huff in relief before slowly sliding down again. Your arms wrapped around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder as you whimpered. You picked up the pace a little, this time settling for more grinding motions.

Your spine arches again as you begin riding him. Feeling his cock stretch you out repeatedly with every motion you took. Another tear slipped down your cheek again as pathetic excuses for moans began slipping from your mouth.

Ohma was in the same boat, mind almost going blank at feeling your pussy tighten and flutter around him. His nails punctured your skin as he let out a low groan in your ear. He wanted to buck into you so bad, but it was just as hot seeing you milking his cock for him.

Your knees chafed against the couch cushion whilst you lifted your head to look at his face. His eyes darted to look at you, his mouth slightly open while his eyebrows contorted in concentration. You rested your forehead on his, closing your eyes and letting your body do the talking.

With every movement you made, waves of pleasure washed through you. But with every motion your thighs began to grow sore and tired. You weren't sure if you could keep up with chasing another orgasm. Your movements became staggered and slow, which Ohma took notice of.

"You need some help?" He asked with a cocky smile. You nodded weakly.

His hands grabbed the underside of your thighs and picked you up, making you squeal in surprise. He was still inside of you as he carried you, pressing you against the wall. "Hold onto me"

Your legs wrapped around his hips as his hands released your thighs to cage your body in. Your own hands held onto his large trap muscles.

"M'gonna move" he began slowly thrusting into you, rocking your body into the wall behind you. Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head as his cock stuffed you slowly.

"Faster" you muttered under your breath sensually. Ohma let out a groan as he slightly adjusted himself before picking up his pace. You cried out as he rutted into you, your nails raking down from his shoulders to his chest. Desperately trying to cling onto him.

The sound of his skin slapping softly against yours echoed through the room along with various noises emanating from the both of your mouths. Your inner thighs became sticky with your spreaded wetness that dripped down from you.

"Shit- Ohma" you mewled as one of your hands went down to rub your clit in figure 8's. Your fingers felt his pubes repeatedly connecting with your mound, almost tickling it as he pounded into you. He gave you another lustful kiss, silencing your moans as his movements got sloppier and more desperate.

"Gonna cum in you" Ohma said feverishly "Been too long since this pussy's been filled." You fluttered around him at hearing his words. His fingers clawed into the wall, puncturing the drywall as he passionately thrusted into you.

You almost threw your head back as your writhed on his cock, orgasming again. Ohma cussed, feeling your walls clamp down on him as you came. "Too damn tight" his forehead rested on the wall next to you.

"Cum inside me please" You sobbed into his ear. Your face felt hot and your hair stuck to the sweat on your face. You could've been cockdrunk at this point. He let out the throatiest and guttural moan you had ever heard as his hips snapped into you one last time.

His cock twitched inside as you felt your stomach grow warm with his seed. It spilled out of you and dripped on the floor the deeper he pressed himself into you. Ohma and you were both breathless and panting. His head slid down to your shoulder as he slightly lifted you up, pulling out of you. You laughed at the current state of Ohma and yourself.

He wrapped his arms around you, embracing you tightly. Pressing his nose in your shoulder blade and inhaling your scent deeply. He definitely missed you, too.

"Promise to never leave me again?" You asked in a hushed tone.

"Mhm" he hummed into your skin.

"Good. Let's clean ourselves up then"

[mxstellatayte]

can you do oscar and quote 15?

oh. oh my god. everything about this. (i accidentally inserted myself a wee bit too much into this one bc i'm autistic and this is something that i need in a partner soooo... enjoy me not being able to find a partner that understands my brain being weird)

you're fuming as you step through the door, trying your hardest not to slam the door and opting to throw your shoes as aggressively as possible into the closet. oscar immediately knows that something is off when he hears the clatter of your shoes as they're thrown and the subsequent sounds of your socked feet stomping down the hallway and towards the kitchen. he knows that when you arrive home in this emotional space, it's best to give you some space for around ten to fifteen minutes as you calm yourself down from what is likely a combination of sensory overload and emotional turmoil before even considering approaching you.

he can hear you shuffling around in the kitchen and living area, the clinking of dishes and silverware indicating that you're probably making yourself some kind of snack. eventually, a chair scrapes on the floor and you sit down, probably munching on whatever you made yourself.

fifteen minutes or so after you've settled down, oscar hears you shuffling around again, ultimately finding your way to his office. "osc?" he looks up from his computer and he can immediately tell that whatever's bothering you has made you more sad than angry now.

"yes, baby? what's going on?"

"work was shit," you mumble, leaning against the doorframe. "work was shit, a bunch of my files were lost because the power went out last night, and bruce made me break my work routine. overall, nothing went the way it was supposed to today." as you're talking, oscar rolls backwards in his chair a little bit and stands up, opening his arms to you.

"c'mere. i've got you, baby. nothing's gonna go wrong here. you know why?"

"why?" you say, your voice muffled by his black hoodie. hugging him always calms you down, and you can't figure out why. maybe it's the proximity and the feeling of his body on yours, reminding you of what's real and what isn't, maybe it's the way he wraps one arm around your shoulders and one around your lower back, holding you close, and maybe it's the way the smell of him fills your senses. heck, maybe it's a combination of all three. whatever it is, it helps you immensely every time you find yourself in a state similar to your current situation.

"because now, you're home, it's my turn to cook tonight, and we don't have to do anything tomorrow so we can watch as many movies as we want." you grin, already feeling much more at ease than when you approached his office.

"that sounds amazing, osc. thank you." you pull back ever so slightly, enough to look up at him.

"you're welcome. anything for my girl. you feel a little better?"

"yeah... not 100%, but i'll manage."

"would a kiss help?"

"absolutely." you stand on your toes, pressing your lips to his, and everything falls into place. you're safe.

[theyanderespecialist]

Striker's Moxxie Girl (Headcanons) Yandere Striker X Female Moxxie Reader (Helluva Boss)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back with another chapter, this one was requested from Tumblr. It is Yandere Striker with Reader who is in the place of a female Moxxie. The Headcanons for it! I hope that you all enjoy it, also at the time of posting this! I hope you all have a great holiday! 

(Disclaimer: Reader is taking the place of Moxxie and is Female so she/her pronouns. Striker is not yandere for any Moxxie in canon and is not yandere in general. This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all. Simping for and Shipping characters is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! You know who you are! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life. Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon!) 

Thanks!] 

-Yandere Headcanons With Striker X Female Moxxie Reader- 

.Striker at first was taken back by the wee little lady you were. 

.He wanted to say you were vermin, but man were you a cute as can be vermin. 

.He fell for you right away and wanted to show off to you how strong he could be. 

.Though it came off as him being an asshole. 

.He hates your wife, Millie, she is NOT good enough for you, and he wants to kill her. 

.When he first choked you it turn him on, you were just so damn little and he could crush you, the power he had over you made him want to fuck right then and there. 

.Of course, that whore Millie had to get in the way. 

.He was not going to kill you because he planned to come back for you. 

.When you went up against him he was angry you were rejecting him and he swore he would have you. 

.Mark his words, he would have his darling little lady. 

.Later when he meets you again this time he is going to kill Mildred or try to. 

.He is pissed at himself that he missed. 

.He is even more pissed that he had to run away without you his darling future wife. 

.But he will not stop he will make you his wife and have you. It is just a matter of time. 

.Striker is the type of yandere that starts as confident, calm, cool, and collected. 

.He knows that he is the best choice for you and that you and he would be an unstoppable husband and wife duo. 

Of course, you are being a VERU disobedient future wife, so when he does get you. 

.He is going to have to break you like a horse and build you back up into the perfect wife and partner in crime. 

.Although each time he loses you he becomes more and more unhinged and unstable. 

.He is only a few loses away from snapping, breaking into your home, killing your wife, and fucking you next to her corpse. (Let's hope it does not come to that...) 

.He would be the yandere to snap very much so. 

.He will kill anyone who gets in his way. 

.When he does confess to you, it will most likely be when you are kidnapped. 

.He most likely will make you go into Stockholm syndrome. 

.Possibly even putting a baby in you. To keep you in line and under his thumb. 

.He would love to kill with you, but the idea of you being a housewife and doing as told is a nice thought to him too. 

.It could go either way with you being his partner or staying home as a housewife. 

.He is the type of yandere that KNOWS he is the best and knows EVERYONE Else is not good enough for you. 

.So if you were to lower your standards and let yourself be with others he would have to punish you. 

.You are the ONLY One good enough for him, so that makes you his and his alone. 

.He is also a very controlling and demanding yandere. 

.As well as very possessive in the way he feels like he owns you, and that you have to do what he says when he says. 

.He also may or may not be a bit sexist. 

.The one thing for sure, you are his darling and you do not get a choice. 

"Come here, Darling, y` better be a good girl, or I have to punish ya~" -Stirker

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS finally got another one done, I hope that you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins! BYE!!!] 

[puwog-ilyg-iwa]

𝓑𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓗𝓲𝓶...

synopsis

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You have a boyfriend. When you first started dating, he was such a gentleman, but after a while of dating, it wasn't the same anymore. Satoru has noticed this. He's quite a close friend.

info

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Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Content: fem! student! Reader, student! Satoru Gojo, angry(ish, not really) Satoru Gojo

Warnings(?): Not proofread, implied relationship abuse, swearing

a/n: I got this idea bc I have had Boyfriend by Dove Cameron stuck in my head for DAYS, also in the fic it says Gojo is ur best friend, I ignored Geto for now, bc it would interfere with the scenario, just so y'all know :)

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You were running through the hallway, on the way to your boyfriend's classroom, you were so excited to tell him about class, your friends had done something funny, and you were dying to tell him. You both have been dating for nearly 5 months, when you both started dating, he would do everything for you, he was a gentleman, he would help you with school, and he was so romantic. Recently though, as in about 2 months in the relationship, he stopped doing anything romantic with you. Anytime you went on a date, it would be at his house, and you would just fuck, at school, he would just brag about you to his friends, but he would barely even make eye contact with you. You wanted to end it, but you loved him... at least, that's what you kept trying to convince yourself of.

As you got to his classroom, you went over to him, grinning, he looked over to you, rolled his eyes, and went back to talking with his friends. You went next to him and grabbed onto his arm "Baby!" you said, excited to tell him, "What do you want?" he said, clearly annoyed, "I wanted to tell you about something my friends did! So, my fri-", "shut up." he looked down at you, and shook his arm to get you off, "If it's not important, then let me be." he went back to talking with his friends. "But-" you sighed "Ok, I'm sorry" You ran back out the door and walked through the empty hallway, and you felt your eyes start to sting, tears starting to roll down your face. Suddenly, you bumped into Satoru, your best friend!

"y/n? What's wrong?" You looked up at him, your eyes a bit red, then you jumped onto him and started crying in his arms. "There there..." he said, petting your head and encouraging you to vent to him. "Do you wanna go outside and talk about it? I have class off" he offered, and you happily accepted, nodding your head, still clinging to him. You two sat on a bench, and you started to vent, "He doesn't care about me, he used to be so nice to me, but he only uses me as a cumdump!" Satoru's heart stopped with that, he was so angry he could have blown up that jerk in an instant, but he decided to stay calm and be with you, he embraced you quickly, giving you all the comfort you needed. "Break up with him." he said suddenly, "No, I-" you started, but got interrupted "Why? You don't love him, he uses you" some time went by, "Date me instead...", he said softly, looking at his legs, he said it so softly you could barely hear him. But you definitely heard him.

He stood up and turned around, back facing you. "If you want to keep getting hurt, go ahead, but when you're ready to live the way you deserve, you know I'm always here for you." and with that, he left you there. You knew you loved Satoru, but you couldn't just leave your boyfriend, you were scared of what he would do to you. Whenever you rejected something he said or went against him on something, he would threaten you. He had hit you multiple times before, and you were scared of what he would do if you broke up with him, especially to be with Satoru, who he had made clear he hated ever since he started dating you.

The next few weeks, you didn't talk much to anyone, you stayed in your room apart from going to school, and you ignored everyone. Naturally, Satoru got worried about you, so he went to your house and invited himself in, he was your best friend after all. He went to your room and opened the door, "y/n." he said sternly, walking closer to your bed, where you were completely covered in a blanket, scrolling through your phone, you groaned and answered "What Satoru" You felt him sit on your bed and you uncovered your face and looked at him, he was moving on top of you. "W-What are you doing?!" you asked, watching him over you. "I miss you y/n", he said, and lowered himself on you, but he just hugged you, his head moved to one side, and you heard his breathing in your ear, he moved his hand behind your head, and whispered "I miss talking to you, I miss your smile, I miss your voice, I miss your laugh" he waited, "I miss when you didn't suffer because of that dumbass", you noticed he sounded truly worried, you felt his arm around your waist, and you placed your hands on his back, squeezing him closer to you. "Help me Satoru" and with that, your tears rolled down the sides of your face, and you sniffled a bit, he lifted his head up, looking concerned, "With what?" he asked, and got up a bit more, with his hands on the sides of your body. "My boyfriend has h-hit me before, and I'm really scared about what he could do if I broke up with him", you said, your lips trembling as you spoke. His face filled with rage, and he said "Let's go", pulling you up from your bed and out of your room, running outside. "Where are we going?!" you said, and he answered immediately, "To that dipshit's place.". When you both got there, you were quite embarrassed, although you kinda liked this side of Satoru. "You are going to look that dipshit in the eyes, and tell him you're breaking up with him." he stayed turned towards the door, waiting for it to open.

You were very grateful for his help and care, and even though you were nervous, like, really nervous, you were sure nothing would happen to you because Satoru was right there with you. It was an immense relief.

Suddenly, the door opened, and he was right there looking at Satoru, as angry as he could've been, "What are you doing here!?" he yelled, you started to talk, "I'm breaking up with you.", his face got red, and when he was about to start yelling, Satoru gave him a death glare. He shut up. "I'm breaking up with you to be with Satoru." you blushed, but you knew Satoru wouldn't say no. Satoru looked back at you and smiled, but then turned back to your ex, and closed the door while saying "And don't you ever think about getting anywhere near her ever again.", and with that, he slammed the door in your ex's face, and turned back to you with a grin, he went over to you and lifted you while hugging you. He spun you around, and whispered in your ear "Thank you, princess~" , he said sending a shiver down your spine, then, you held onto him even tighter and wrapped your legs around his waist.

He kissed you, and when he pulled away, you saw, probably the happiest face you had ever seen in your life.

He truly loved you.

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OMG I LOVE ITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!! I hope you enjoyed, I've been getting a ton of likes, well, not really a ton, but it feels like a ton, and I'm suuper happy! Anyway, I kinda figured out the color thing, although I still fumble it up sometimes, anyway, luv y'all have a great day!

[palmtreesx3]

Watching your friend, Steve Harrington, go on Kamakazi Mission dates over and over again was getting kind of old. You're always there to listen, comfort and pick up the pieces but what if this time it's just too much? What if this time you've had enough and something that feels a little bit like jealousy rears its ugly head?

(3k) Warnings: 18+ Smut okay? Failed dating, angsty friendship, jealousy, unfaithful/cheating adjacent, physical altercation, female fingering, public hookup 

Just a wee one-shot after someone (🧱) had to come in my inbox and talk about being jealous and defensive about Stevie instead of the other way around.

—

Steve's an honest to god, good fucking guy, so it should be no surprise to you when you find out he gave Heather a ride home after her car broke down outside of Family Video. He doesn't even do it for the praise - not anymore at least - which makes it all the more infuriating. 

Watching her jump out of his car. You roll your eyes at how she maneuvers just the right way so that her hair literally bounces when she giggles. The way she has her arms crossed in front of her, hands clasped - innocent enough - but you clock how she bats her eyes a little more than necessary and how her arms dig into her sides, pressing her tits up just a little more out of her dress than before. 

It's enough to gag. 

He sees you staring, eyes locked on her all the way from his driveway. Gives you a wave from across the street and you wave back. Can you wave sarcastically? If it's possible, you just did it. Giving him a thumbs up, he narrows his eyes at you before turning to go inside his house. 

Later at the house party you find yourself at that night, you're 3 beers in when you stumble into the kitchen. She's there hanging all over him. Trying hard to get him to cash in on a thank you for that favor earlier. Steve's not leaning into her, but he's not pulling away either. He's holding back, but the look on his face is hopeful and the smile on his lips is actually goddamn genuine. 

You know he's been on endless dates lately, trying to find one girl that'll be enough, stick around for at least a few dates, be interested in more than just a fuck. He recounts every one of them for you and Robin in excruciating detail. And then lingers and festers in the details of how it went wrong for twice as long. Self deprecating commentary that is nowhere near the truth and you can't bear to hear one more time will bring up the rear. 

So Heather fawning all over him tonight because he carted her off in his chariot in her moment of need sounded just about right. As did the slug trail of his broken, bleeding, lovelorn heart that was bound to show up after she stopped calling, was always busy, or just flat out told him she was done with him. Whichever it was gonna be this time, you already saw the writing on the wall. 

You're quick to move to the counter, right next to where they stand, and slam down a shot glass, filling it to the brim with whatever amber liquid you reached for first. When Steve reaches out to make sure you're okay.. suggest you slow down even, he touches your hand to stop you and you're taken aback by the shudder that runs up your body at his touch. You look at him, and then over to her and all you snap out is some comment about how you're just pre-medicating. When this blows up in your face I want to be ready. You gesture between the pair. 

You're not sure why you're being so mean today. Sure you're sick of the same old song and dance with him, but today you're angry about it and that's…new. She doesn't even notice your little outburst, fingers aimlessly toying with the tufts of hair brushing his neck while she stares off into the distance of the party. Steve, however, notices and is left to wonder why you're being such a bitch about it tonight. Wonders if your problem was with him… or Heather. 

Another hour later you're leaning against the brick of the house out back, hot cigarette held between your fingers, smoke billowing in the air around you. The sickly sweet sounds of a giggle coming from between the hydrangeas caught your ear. A giggle straight from the mouth of that blonde haired bimbo you could pinpoint from a mile away. It sucker punched you in the gut knowing how this was going to all go, and the disgusting slurping sounds of her tongue down Steve Harrington's throat just a few feet away made your eyes roll. 

Here we go. 

Making sure you loudly push through the opening in the bushes, full with browning gloves of delicate petals, you scoff at the sight of the back of Heather's head, lips now tucked into the crook of his neck.

Jason's neck. 

Not Steve's. 

There's absolutely no reason for you to do what you do next. Not one that makes logical sense, really. Because you open your mouth and can not help but tell Heather where to stick it. You call her a few names, some of them not very pretty, before turning on your heel and swinging the sliding door open to go back inside. 

Your mild annoyance with Heather's antics is suddenly festering into a blind, boiling rage, which made the fact that she decided to follow you a really, really bad one. 

What is your problem? She asks me. 

And at first you don't know what it is. Sure she's acting like a sloppy girl throwing herself on Steve…or apparently anyone who might just fuck her even more stupid than she already is. But she's not the first girl you know to act like that. Not the first or the last Hawkins Hot Shot who thinks they're too pretty for this hometown. 

But then the words spew out and it's pretty clear why there's a fire lit inside you. Each step closer you get to Heather you're giving her hell.

My problem? What's yours? I'm so damn sick and tired of girls like you acting like this. 

Girls like me? What does that mean, huh? 

Yeah, like what? You wonder to yourself. 

Like Steve is some fucking goddamn pet that you can lead around on a leash. Pet when you want something. Tie up when you don't.

Oh. 

You're just another one of these stupid fucking girls. It's disgusting how you treat him. Disgusting, you know that?

You continue on with a drunken dissertation about how Steve Harrington deserves more than these stupid vapid girls and how not one of them deserved him. 

There's a small crowd growing, drawn to your loud voice and colorful language. And she's clearly tired of the show. Never really caring all that much about Steve, more about the hookup, now that she's got Jason in her grip Steve is an afterthought. 

Until he's standing right in front of her.

Heather. He says. Big brown doe eyes looking sad and disappointed… again. Makes your gut fucking churn. 

Pushing your way through the crowded living room you're out the front door before you know it, not wanting to stick around to hear whatever she had to say to him. You didn’t want to watch his face fall and realize it’s over before it even started

Leaning against the first car you see, you tisk your tongue as you realize that the one you landed on was his. Has to be, doesn't it? 

There's an odd silence there.The thick sounds of the music muffled by the walls of the house are there, but you pay them no mind. There’s squeals and drunk laughter and chanting, but they all feel so distant. It’s a silence that doesn’t actually exist. One you created. But then, what does crack through your bubble - the thing that breaks the silence…

What you said… did you mean that? 

You don't even look up. You nod your head. You explain that you're sick of it. Sick of hearing about all of these girls walking all over the nicest guy you know. Sick of the games they play. Sick. You didn’t look up from your shoes once. 

It's fine. Really. I deserve it. I used to be no better than them. 

Shut the fuck up, already! Don't you say that. 

Maybe. Maybe that's true. You demand that he stop beating himself up. Punishing himself for something - someone - who's been dead and long gone for years. You tell him how you can't stand these girls making a mockery of him when he's genuinely trying. Tell him how you're gonna fuck up the next one that thinks it's all a game. 

Shit. Well .. thats …  

What? Confusion clouds your brain. Not sure what he's trying to say. 

Steve. I just don't want anything to hurt you. Not a demodog… or a stupid girl. It's always the same and I'm sick of seeing you think you deserve it. Like, sometimes I think you fuckin do this on purpose to yourself. 

What do I deserve then, huh? What am I supposed to do? Because I don’t fuckin' know.

Steve…just stop it. You scoff. 

Gravel is kicked up behind you and the footsteps you hear are drawing closer to you, a smarmy and whiney voice comes out to greet you Well well well, thanks for that show in there.

Jason, I swear to God, you need to keep it moving. Fists curling at your sides without a thought. 

Didn’t know you got this little thing to fight your battles for you now, Harrington. Real cute. Total fall from grace, huh?

You’re on him quicker than he knows what to do. The last thing he expected was for you to wind up and clock him dead in the face. Jason falls backwards a few steps stumbling as he grabs at his face, covering the tender spot where you knocked him, the left side of his nose and just below the eye. He's not bleeding, per say. But you take note of the deep purple stain already pooling in the dip of his eye socket, so you know that mother fucker is gonna feel it for weeks. 

He doesn't need me to fight his battles, Jason. You say his name dripping with sarcasm. 

Then why'd ya punch me, you bitch? Sure looks like it. 

You hear him step forward. You just know the tense look in Steve's face and the way his jaw is set and clenched without even turning around. You know the blind rage he gets when he feels like he needs to defend one of his friends - someone he cares about. You're certain the muscles in his lips are ticking and twitching with anger. And you don't have time for his theatrics tonight. You've had enough of it already, so you reach your hand out and backwards, stopping him by his chest so he stops his advance. 

Instead you step forward. Not scared in the least of Jason fuckin' Carver and his buttercup yellow polo shirt. You smirk as you see a drop of crimson blood has fallen from the tip of his nose and onto its front, just knowing how he's going to have to ask his Mommy to get the stain out for him. 

I punched you because you're annoying me. Your face is stupid, you talk too much and you don't know when to mind your own goddamn business. Where's Heather anyway? You two are perfect for one another. 

You turn on your heels and walk to the other side of Steve's car, leaning against the side and not looking back at Jason and his idiot stuck up friends as they stumble down the neighborhood road away from the party.

Steve comes around the back of the car, looking at you. He hasn't said a word, so that's been great. Probably thinks you're certified insane tonight with the way things are going. 

Steve, I'm good. Jason is clearly not an issue anymore. You should go find Heather - 

But you're cut off before you can finish, because in a few long strides he's in front of you, grabbing at your shoulders to bring your eyes up to his. Telling you how it's hot when you defend his honor. 6. Talking about how hot it was when you were looking at him all jealous of another girl's attention and affection. About how he never noticed it before but now it makes so much sense. 

I don't do that. I didn't - 

Now it's his turn to scoff. 

You ask him what's so funny? And he literally doesn't answer you, just laughs some more with a shake of his head. Eyes roaming around your surroundings. He hasn't moved away from where he's standing in front of you. Somehow HE looks annoyed with YOU now and you're ready to pick a fight about it. 

Instead, all of the air is stolen from your lungs when Steve Harrington leans down and crashes his lips onto yours.

What was that for? You shove him back a little, but his feet are planted and he doesn't budge. 

The smile turning up the corner of his lips is irritating. Irritating because you don't know why he's smiling, but doubly so because it is really fucking cute. Oh nothing, just wanted to show my girl how much I appreciate her. 

Your girl? Steve, you are sorely mistaken. Did you hit your head? Heather is -.

Honey. Stop. Let's not do this.

He argues with you. Tells you how it all makes so much sense. About how none of the girls are you, so of course they didn't work. About how of course you're frustrated and feel protective. About how those dagger eyes you were wielding all night were, in fact, jealousy. Because you both feel the same way and neither was smart enough to notice. 

I'm done with Heather, honey. I'm done with all the Heathers. He waves his hand at the house party, still booming with noise and energy, but only focused on you.

The feverous press of his lips back on yours happens before you can even process what he's said. Pressed against the side of his car, his hands quickly slide up your side, finding a warm and comfortable home under the hem of your sweater. Cold fingertips dancing up your sides, thumbs squeezing where it's soft and dips into your tummy, knee sliding between your legs all in one smooth motion. 

He pulls his lips away to look at you, both of you panting deep breaths, chests rising and falling and eyes darting around one another's faces, trying to process what's unfolding for you both right now. 

Sorry. 

He huffs out an apology. Says he shouldn't have. Says he wasn't thinking. Says he's never thinking straight. Goes to pull away. 

You grab his wrist as he tries to retreat.

They're all fuckin' stupid. Steve, they're all stupid. I've been telling you every time. Every single goddamn time. 

He looks back at you, still unsure. Eyes a little sad - wavering. Guard down further than you've seen it in years. 

And if any one of them got their head out of their asses, they'd have been so fuckin' lucky. 

He goes to speak before you stop him - Don't. Don't say it. Don't do that bullshit again. Just … 

Back against the side of the BMW he's pressed into you tightly. Hands wrapped around your hips, fingertips digging into the denim covering your ass as he squeezes. It really was like… the hottest fuckin' thing to watch you punch Jason Carver… for me. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles where they're sure to be sore tomorrow. 

Can I say thank you? 

He asks you with pleading eyes. You ask him Didn't you just say it? He shakes his head. Tells you that's not how he wants to say it. Tells you that's not what he means. That he wants to show you instead. 

And once you nod your head at him, theres no time for anything. No time for thinking, moving, rational decision making. Because you're just there, in between Steve's car and some janky van parked next to it, as he's tugging at your button, crooking his fingers in your belt loops, making it just so he can slide his hand inside your underwear and maneuver his fingers to your core. 

He's so fuckin' gentle it makes your head spin. Featherlight touches around you, gently playing with the folds and petals of your lips, a slippery waltz on and around your clit, dancing with his fingertip. Eyelashes fluttering with your head tilted back and resting on his car door, unable to formulate words or phrases or noises - rendered utterly frozen and useless..

What stupid fucking assholes. Those girls took a pass on this? On this boy who just wants someone to be with. On all this care, and attention and - oh my God. 

You're pulled from your blissful thoughts by a deep pressure, a fullness you didn't expect from Steve's long and thick fingers entering you briskly. Mouth open and gasping at the twist and turns of them until he finds a spot that makes you twitch, a spot he likes. A juxtaposition to those gentle caresses, he's driving his fingers deep into your pussy now, reaching and rubbing. 

Still soft and careful but deep and forefull. He's not driving his fingers into you like the last guy who used his hand like a jackhammer. No, Steve is caressing your pussy and following through with a deep roll of his fingers on the upswing. Pushing back, pushing upwards, making your hips buck up towards him uncontrollably. You cry out when he scissors his fingers just a bit and then follows up with the quick addition of a third finger.

As abruptly as he's inside, he's back out again, rubbing and circling over you with his four, flat fingers, satisfying pressure on your clit making you forget about how you missed them being inside you for just a moment.

Shit, Steve…I-  someone's gonna see.

Let them. Fuck… let them. I hope they do. Then they'll know. 

Slipping those fingers right back inside, slick and squelching, toying with you, making you suck all of the air out of the world around you, he brings himself right next to your ear, pressed up against you. Cheek to cheek. You feel the muscles on his forearm tensing and flexing as he pumps into you ruthlessly. White hot pleasure swirling deep in your stomach, staccato breaths brushing past his ear, eyes squeezed shut your orgasm ripples through your body - tummy to toes, tingling running up your spine and back down again as you exhale from a breath you didn't know you were holding.

He hasn't pulled away yet. Hadn't looked at you. Fingers still inside, palm pressed up against the car just beside your face as he whispers They'll know I'm done with them now. Cause I've always had you. 

[bunnyreaper]

speak now—pt 2

pairing - john price x f!reader wc - 3k warnings - wedding (left at the altar), exes to lovers, post-break up/getting back together, swearing/insults, wee bit of angst!! notes - this genuinely went off the rails but, here it is!! pt2!! read pt 1 here! have a request? drop it on me! or read this fic on ao3!

Bullets fly all around you, whipping past your ear in a cacophony of death. You're pinned down, too many rifles trained on your position just waiting for you to break cover—and none of the rest of the 141 are around to help you out.

It feels like one peek will have you staring death in the face, and your heartbeat roars accordingly. Yet still, you expected it to be worse, you didn't expect to be as calm as you are.

You close your eyes for a moment, just to think. Your fiancé's waiting for you at home, and you have to get back to him. You can't die here, have to think of a way out, John would be so mad if you died under his watch. The crash of metal and the sound of ragged breaths pull you out of your thoughts, the Captain himself slams beside you, rifle in hand.

"I'll cover you, run."

The last thing you want to do is leave John behind, but the look in his eyes is so commanding, so certain. You've always been able to trust him—always will, even after everything.

Maybe that's why you let him walk away, because you trusted he knew what was best for you—otherwise, why else would he leave you?

With an even calmer resolve, you focus, nodding at your captain one more time before you bolt for the building's exit, firing off bullets where you can.

The adrenaline coursing through you now is incomparable.

You have no training to deal with this, no guidance to help face it—especially when your guiding light is now a blinding problem.

You watch, frozen, heart beating out of control as John stands. Maybe he remembered he left the oven on, maybe he's going to hand you a tissue or something…

His eyes are fixed on you, they're your unknowing something blue, the one thing you couldn't do this day without. You search his gaze for answers and see the swirl of emotion within as he speaks.

"Y/N, don't do it."

The strain in his voice almost sounds painful, like the heartache is slowly strangling him from the inside. And yet, you're frozen. 

John just stopped your wedding, and there's only one reason why. Looking into his eyes now, it's plain as day—he never stopped loving you, and in the final moments as you slipped through his fingers, he decided he couldn't let you go. 

You feel your mouth open as if words are going to come, but nothing does. 

Not from you, not from your fiancé, not from anyone else in the church. 

For a moment, everything is still. Just you and him, a moment of understanding, of reconnection. 

Simon's gruff whisper severs the moment clean in two, as he stands, looming over John. "Captain, with all due respect, sit the fuck down."

More voices flood in, your fiancé's voice going shrill and obnoxious, his mother all but screaming, whispers among the crowd. 

Your fiancé moves first, the tension finally snapping as he lunges for John, a clumsy attempt at a punch dodged effortlessly by the captain. John pushes off the hands now grasping at his lapels with ease, and turns to face you once more. 

Your stony, impassive expression makes his stomach drop. 

"Outside, now." You hiss, before charging forward and pulling him by his arm past rows of scandalised faces—ignoring the commotion behind you. 

You march to the room in which you just got ready—the room where your bridal makeup was perfected, and you had slipped into this beautiful dress, and you slam the door shut behind you both. 

"John, what the fuck?" You seethe, not actually angry, but not exactly calm either. With all the feelings whirling around you, it's hard to settle on one emotion. 

The man takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring, lips thinning. A tense cord pulls between the two of you, stretching and fraying. "I know you didn't want to marry him." 

His eyes are filled with something severe, the sense of internal conviction it took for him to do something so monumental. 

"You knew, did you? How did you know that?" The pitch of your voice climbs rapidly, a choking feeling building in your throat and crushing your windpipe. The tears are right there, just waiting to fall. 

You're still in denial, still so completely overwhelmed that all you can do is process, in real time—and you know John will still be there by the end of it.

His chest rises and falls steady, resolutely calm in the storm, when he speaks, his voice is now steady. He's trying to soothe you by protecting a sense of serenity, that natural protective aura of him seeping through every pore. "I could see it in your eyes." 

Your eyes, you were never good at hiding how you felt from John, or maybe he was just so adept at seeing through you. You look away, mumbling out works you don't really believe. "Maybe you were just seeing what you wanted to see." 

Underneath it all, your plea is clear, convince me. Show me the truth, guide me to the light. 

"I know you, love." His voice softens, and in the corner of your averted gaze you can see his posture shift—you notice the way he so clearly wants to reach out to you. 

"Better than I know myself?" 

Say yes, you whisper in your head. 

"Better than he knows you, at least." John's words cut, but they're heavy with truth, and that tips you over the edge, the tears bursting from you. 

"I hate you right now, John." You say, wracked with sobs, yet you throw yourself into his arms, clinging to him like he's your salvation. His arms wrap around your waist, his warmth seeping through the fine material of your gown. 

He holds you close, tight, like he's not going to let you go again. The crush of him against you feels like home, the anger you felt ebbing away. 

His face buries into your neck, his next words a mumble. "'m sure everyone out there feels the same right now." 

His dry, self-deprecating humour is just his usual, as deep down, John doesn't actually care that he just made a room full of people hate him, if this is the resolution. He only cares if you do, if you still will, when the dust has settled. 

You continue to cling to him as you sob, you'd sniffles breaking the silence of the room. "You ruined my wedding day." 

"If you really wanted it, you'd be out there getting married, not here with me." He sighs, but his arms tighten protectively. "Tell me I did the right thing." 

You pull away slightly, meeting his eyes and searching for the answers you desperately need. You've felt so lost, unmoored without John, and this situation has only added to the swirl of uncertainty. "But... you were the one who let me go." 

A sad smile finds its way to his face, his eyes crinkled and pained. "Regretted it every day since, sweetheart." 

"Why didn't... why didn't you say anything sooner?" 

Why didn't you bring me back to you?

"Thought you'd be happy, wanted to be right, but I know what I saw up there." His hands caress your waist as he talks, his thumbs rubbing over your bodice in soothing sweeps. "Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong."  

You know that if you did, he'd drop it, march you back out there, and send you off with a sad smile. 

But he's not wrong. The only time he was ever wrong was sending you off in the first place, and he won't make the same mistake twice. 

His eyes are fixed upon yours, waiting for an eternity for your answer. 

"You... you're not wrong." With the words spoken aloud, a sense of peace washes over you, and you press yourself into John's chest for a moment, letting it all wash over you. 

More tears come, and his hold is unwavering throughout. Soft touches and sweet whispers try to coax you through, coax you back to calmness once more. 

"I'm so fucking confused, John, and it still hurts." You sniffle. 

More than anything, you're wracked with a deep sense of guilt. Because while your fiancé is likely out there heartbroken and suffering, your heart actually feels more whole again than it has in the longest time. 

And that makes you feel like a terrible, selfish person, something you've never thought of yourself as being—but then John hadn't thought of himself as the type of man to lose his self-control. 

Here you both are, but you know everything will be fine since you're here together. 

John's words remind you of such—a quiet whisper in your ear. "I know, sweet girl. We'll figure it out. Whatever comes next can be fixed a lot easier than a divorce, love." 

You nod solemnly. 

Your fiancé and his family can still enjoy the reception and the food, and he can go on your honeymoon and have a blast—you hope it won't all go to waste, at least. You'll move out of your shared flat and split the furniture, and at the end of it all you'll get to fall asleep in John's arms—something worth more than any fancy wedding day or 5-star set meal or holiday to Bali. 

Worth more than the life you almost went and lived with the wrong man.  

"I wish I didn't let it get this far, but I never thought... that you felt the same." You whisper. 

"You still love me?" His sapphire eyes sparkle at the thought of you yearning for him all this time too. 

"Never stopped, but I tried to understand. I tried to assume that you were right and I'd be happier with someone else, but..." The intensity of the moment makes your eyes flutter shut, as you take a moment to gather yourself. "It's not the same, it never has been." 

"I wish I'd stepped in sooner, too. Could've saved you all this heartache." John admits, voice unusually subdued. One look in his eyes tells you he blames himself for this mess, that he's trying to pull you out of the pit of guilt and throw himself in instead.

"What am I gonna do?" 

Tell me what to do. 

"What we're gonna do is take a few deep breaths, but you need to make a choice." He wipes away the wet tracks still coating your cheeks, soft thumbs sweeping adoringly over you, his eyes still burning with intensity. 

"You or him? It's not a choice at all, John." Your laugh is choked with a sense of disbelief. After all this, John would have to summon all his strength, and that of the rest of the task force, just to pry you away from him.

"I'm so happy to hear you say that." His smile is beaming, reflecting your own and shining with the euphoria he feels within. Everything is falling into place, the desperate leap he made was worth it, and both of you are thankful. "But you know what comes next." 

"Yeah..." You nod, dread seeping in as you think of having to go tell a room full of your fiancé's friends and loved ones that the wedding won't be happening, and that you've wasted all this time and money for nothing. 

"I'm happy to play the villain if it helps." There's a half-hearted smirk, and yet John's offer is serious. For you, he'd go throw himself on a metaphorical sword if it meant shielding you from the judgment and hatred.  

"Hah. Think we're both the villains now." You sigh.

The banging of the door forces your attention firmly back to reality.

"Open the fuck up, John, you bastard!" Your fiancé's enraged voice calls out from the other side before he bursts through anyway. 

John instinctively steps in front of you, his arm shielding you from the man's rage. They stare each other down, just as they did earlier. 

"Sorry, sir, I tried to stop him." Kyle appears behind him, panting and panicked. 

Your fiancé does not take kindly to that, his rage continuing to bubble over. "Tried to stop me? She's my fucking wife." 

The word you'd looked forward to hearing now makes your stomach turn. You're not going to be his wife, you're not going to be his anything anymore. 

It takes all your strength to look him in the eye, though the barrier of John between the two of you feels like a blanket of safety. "No, we're not going through with the wedding." 

The words are out, no taking them back now. 

"You've got to be kidding me, really?" His voice grows even louder, and a fit of anger seeps out of him that you've never seen before. "You led me on all this time just to fuck me off at the altar for your coffin-dodger ex?" 

"Woah now, lad." It's Soap now that cuts in, trying to coax your fiancé away from the brewing tension. 

John stands firm in front of you, unwavering, unafraid—though why would he be?

You don't have the same resolve in the face of a man you loved looking at you like you're shit on his shoe. "I'm sorry." You sob, the tears flowing once more. 

"Sorry? For being a fucking whore?" The venom he unleashes makes everyone flinch. Kyle's mouth pops open in shock, Johnny grits his teeth. John's protective stance deepens. 

"Don't talk to her like that." John snaps, nostrils flaring as his chest puffs up and his captain voice makes an appearance.

"You're welcome to her, mate." Your fiancé, ex-fiancé, laughs bitterly. "Thanks for doing me a favour, don't have to watch her make fucking goo-goo eyes at you for the rest of my life." 

"I never meant for any of this to happen." Tears continue to roll down your cheeks, the emotion of the situation, of your guilt, of everything overwhelming you.

"Ignore him, love." John turns and whispers, his hand settling on your back in a comforting gesture, already falling back into the old routine of soothing and protecting you. 

"Oh, you fucker—" The other man snarls, and is about to swing for John once again. In an instant, Simon is behind him, the behemoth soldier showing up just in time to pull him back through the door.

"That's enough." 

There's more shouting as Simon wrestles him away with Kyle's help, leaving the rest of you standing in an awkward, stifling silence.

Johnny's concerned, confused look only adds to the tension in your chest. You worry you've disappointed him, ruined his perception of you. 

As if sensing your distress, he's by your side in an instant, rubbing your shoulders and soothing you. "Everything will be a'right lass, promise."

You struggle to suck in breaths, unable to face the idea of going out into the ceremony room and having more abuse hurled at you. "Johnny, will you... handle things for me?" 

"Aye, of course." He nods, taking his man of honour role very seriously. 

When your breathing returns to normal under the gentle touches of both men, John turns to the younger man beside you.  "Can we have a minute?" 

Johnny simply nods before taking his leave.

The door clicks shut, and the room settles into silence once more—but strangely, a lot of the tension is gone. 

A weight feels lifted from you, at least a little. It's over, even if there's still an aftermath to deal with. 

For now, it's just you and John. 

John pulls you close to him, his arms enclosing your waist as he holds you tenderly. His large arms cradle you once more, and the feeling of safety and comfort and just John rushes through you. 

"Hard parts over, at least for now." He whispers. "'m not going anywhere ever again, love. We'll get through this together, yeah?" 

John takes a moment to just hold you before he continues. "We'll invite him to our wedding he can ruin it... and then we'll have a do-over, call it even." 

"Not funny, John." You say, yet snort a laugh anyway. 

Our wedding—the words stick in your head.  

Yours and John's wedding, where you get to wear the dress you want and do the things you want to do, and just have your boys there to witness your bond. The idea is far in the future, and yet it feels like something certain. 

"Too soon, sorry, love." He mumbles, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head. "Johnny'll sort everything out, and you can get out of here." 

You pull away, startled for the briefest of moments. "We can get out of here, together. I'm not leaving you trapped in a room full of people all gunning for you." 

"Appreciate it, darling." 

John's smile is soft and earnest, full of love as his eyes flicker down to your lips, and he stops holding back. 

His hands cup your face firmly before he pulls you in, your lips melting together in a soul-searing kiss. 

It's both desperate and tender—breathtaking in the way it joins you and sends relief flooding through both of you. 

John's lips nip at yours, tasting you and re-familiarising themselves with your sweet plushness. You can both feel your deep hunger for the other, once that's been swirling inside you for years. 

His hands slip from your face, trailing down your bare arms in the gentlest of caresses—the look in his eyes has you completely entranced as he speaks.

"Take my hand, we better run." 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...The Boys Not Realizing You’re A Hunter

Pairing: Dean x cop!reader

Oh, this was guy was all bull and you knew it. They both were but at least the taller one was making a better effort at hiding it. If these two were FBI you were the Easter bunny.

If he wanted to treat you like the dumb local cop too, he had another thing coming.

“We’re gonna need to go in-“

“You both realize it’s pouring out,” you said.

“It’s rain,” said the shorter one, Agent Plant he’d said his name was. You had to force yourself not to roll your eyes at that one. “I need-“

“Well you’re going to freeze to death. You look like you just stepped out of the shower,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Oh you’d know the difference,” he said, an angry smirk on his face. A snarky comment settled on the tip of your tongue but you held it back.

“No going in the woods. I see either one of you in there, I arrest you,” you said. “Understand?”

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you,” mumbled the shorter one, his hair spiked up and dark from the rain.

“No woods.”

You nearly rolled your eyes when you saw these two walking around in the woods that night. Idiots were going to get themselves killed. They probably thought it was some strange Wendigo or something.

You snuck behind them, the taller one moving ahead to check out a noise that truly was just a rabbit. You went up behind the other, his whole body stilling when you pressed your gun to his neck.

“You two,” you said, the guy you had holding up his hands, the other spinning around and pointing his shotgun at you. The one with you tried to break away but you grabbed the nape of his neck and adjusted your gun, the guy taking a few deep breaths. “Put it down.”

The tall one glared but did as told and dropped his weapon, the one next to you starting to relax a little.

“Starting to get the picture?” you said, gently releasing him. He nodded but tried to reach back. You groaned and hooked your boot around his, nearly tripping him until you grabbed him again. “I got all night if you’re gonna keep this up.”

“Told you the hot cop was into me,” he said, the other one scowling. “Listen. This sounds crazy but the thing that’s doing this ain’t an animal.”

“I know. I also know two hunters when I see them,” you said. You lowered your gun and took your hand off him, the men exchanging glances. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“No shit,” said the one beside you, absolutely beaming now. “We heard you’re a bit of a lone wolf, always have been.”

“Ever since I was a wee little hunter,” you said, giving him a smirk.

“I’m Sam,” said the tall one. “That’s Dean. We’re-“

“Winchesters. Wondered how I haven’t run into you two yet,” you said.

“So are you actually a cop?” asked Sam.

“Eh, sort of. I help out when the local chief wants to take a vacation. Saved his kid about five years back. Nice family,” you said. “I thought I told you two to stay out of here.”

“We don’t listen well,” said Dean, giving you a smile.

“You assholes didn’t listen to me about the rain, did you,” you sighed, pointing at your hood.

“It’s a little water, Y/N,” said Dean.

“Did you notice attacks only occur on rainy nights? The rain gets in your hair and that’s how it tracks. It’s blind but that weird combo for some reason lights you up like a Christmas tree to it,” you said.

Both of them immediately put a hand on their wet heads.

“Yeah, that won’t work now. We got to get you two out of here before it comes after you,” you said.

“What’s is this thing?” asked Dean. “We thought-”

“Cursed witch. It’s a long story,” you said. “Best guess is kill it with a blade to the heart.”

“Yeah,” said Dean, spinning around when you heard a rustle in the trees. “Witch?”

“Yup. Get ready.”

“So you boys going to be alright? Took a hard fall there,” you said when you got back to your cars.

“We’ve had worse,” said Sam.

“Want to grab a drink?” asked Dean as he tossed his bag in his trunk.

“Sorry. Lone wolf and all,” you said.

“You did just work a hunt with two other hunters and all,” said Sam, giving you a smile.

“I’m not big on the getting attached thing,” you said.

“You could learn to like it,” said Dean. “One drink on me. Not letting you say no.”

“Alright. Maybe I’ll have a drink or two,” you said.

“Two? Told you she had the hots for me, Sammy,” laughed Dean.

“In your dreams, Winchester.”

[novashelby]

Evelyn & Jeremiah Drabble

Summary: Evelyn is a new mother and it isn't as easy as it seems. Her father in law helps her out and teaches her a valuable lesson.

Word Count:

Warnings: Motherhood? Stress on motherhood?

Thank you @evita-shelby who submitted this request. Juli asked for a drabble showing Evie's relationship with her father in law. Please enjoy!

He was nothing like her father. Actually, he was somewhat a breath of fresh air, but Evelyn could never say that. Or he would just…get…more…suffocating. She held Zara to her breast, wincing. Motherhood was not pleasant or beautiful like they said. Quite frankly, it was anything, but….It was nasty, disgusting, and painful. She leaked everywhere from her tits to her bits, and her lower half felt as if it was run through by a train. 

And the baby would not stop crying.

She would not latch…..

She wouldn’t fucking sleep. 

Evelyn had been zombified at that point, walking the halls, looking dead and defeated. “Please, please, Zara. Please.” She bounced the fussy one in her arms, but she just refused to stop crying. She placed the little one in the hand carved bassinet, and looked over the bundle of ‘joy’. A chubby little one, with a toothless smile, and wiggly hands who looked more like Isaiah than her. “Why don’t you like me?” Evelyn asked, desperately. “Why?” 

The baby stopped crying for a split second, goobering and gurgling little balls of spit from her cute lips. If Evelyn was any more ignorant, she would have assumed the baby gave up. That her little Zara understood mummy couldn’t take it anymore. But she was a wee little thing, still navigating the world. Evelyn knew when the baby crinkled her face and closed her eyes, she was going to start crying again. 

“No!” Evelyn slid to the ground and held her face in her hands, sobbing. “I birthed you! Labor of love…twelve whole hours with your fat head probing out of me…. Twelve hours!” She looked back over the side of the bassinet. “You may not like me,” she said. “But you know, you aren’t so easy to deal with, either…You cry a lot, poop a lot, puke a lot…You are so fussy…nine whole months with acid reflux and you hate me.” She knew the baby couldn’t understand a single thing. She also knew that she was simply venting. Zara and Isaiah were her life, and she loved Zara more than the air she breathed. I just want to sleep. 

She was taken out of her moment when there was a knock at the door. Evelyn slid up to her feet and took a look out of the curtain. Her father in law was standing there, a package in his hand. She unlatched the door, and wiped her eyes, trying to look put together. “Isaiah is at work-”

“Let me just leave this here, then,” he said, nodding and tipping his hat when the baby started crying again. Jeremiah cocked a brow. “Being fussy today?”

Evelyn laughed. “Today? Just today? She’s….” She trailed off. “She hates me.”

Jeremiah gave her a look before walking over to the bassinet, taking off his hat. He smiled down at his grandchild. The one that, despite living so close to, he didn’t have many opportunities to hold, kiss, and cuddle. He went to scoop up the crying ball of cuddles when he paused, looking over his shoulder. “Your father here-”

“No-”

“Oh, good.” He scooped up the baby, who when immediately being cradled in his chest, stopped crying. He gently smiled down at the baby, and hummed, his thumb wiping away the drool. Evelyn watched, lost as he so easily handled the child and made his way to the rocking chair. 

Evelyn uncomfortably twitched, itching the back of her neck. “H-how did…you know, how did you do that?” She pointed. “She hasn’t stopped crying and she’s being difficult, not wanting to latch or sleep.”

“You could start by giving yourself some grace,” he said, eyes looking up over at her, smiling. Evleyn Joined him, sitting on the sofa next to him. Evelyn watched, in a daze, how the older man so easily eased her child. “Babies can sense a lot. They can sense when we’re stressed, angry, upset…she’s upset because you are-”

“But she doesn’t do it to Isaiah!” Evelyn accused, sliding down in pout on the sofa. “Falls asleep for him. He has managed to bottle feed her. Never, ever cries when he has to change her diaper…all the things I’m supposed to do!”

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Evelyn,” he said, moving next to her on the sofa handing her the child. “Have you asked your family for-”

“No,” she said, all too quickly. She took Zara, who immediately tensed in her arms, and looked at him. “They’re…I just…. Can I confess something?” He nodded. “They’re too much sometimes, and I just wanted to do this on my own-”

“But can you? Can anyone?” Jeremiah wiped Zara’s nose with his handkerchief. “Many men wouldn’t say this, but motherhood is the hardest job one can have. You can’t do this completely alone, and frankly, it’d be stupid. You have people who love you. You have the support-”

“They’re just always so-”

“I understand, but you also have another family you can ask,” he said, smiling. “It takes a village to raise a child and you alone are not a village. Now give me the child, your father is-”

“Possessive?”

“I was going to say a control freak, but yes,” he laughed. “I don’t get many moments with the little one. Why don’t you go take a bath and a nap? I’ll take care of her for the afternoon.” Evelyn looked at him as if he was God.

“Really?” 

The older gentleman nodded. “Now go before I change my mind.” Evelyn gave him a hug before kissing Zara on the cheek.  “Thank you.” With that, she disappeared into the bedroom, not even bothering with a bath. She just wanted sleep. 

[redheadspark]

hi i wanted to request from the august prompt list, i think number 8 would be absolutely great with Azriel from acotar! thank you love your writing always :)

A/N - AWWW This is so sweet! Thanks for the request, Anon!

Pace

Summary - Azriel was and will always be willing to go at your own pace.

Warnings - Nothing but fluff

“You doing okay back there?”

“Oh sure…you know….hiking was the best idea at the time,”

Azriel had to chuckle as you were trying to catch your breath while he was up head on the wide trail path.  The war sun was on your back and making you sweat into your tank top and workout pants, the cooler wind coming along from the high peaks to give you come kind of relief, but of course you are struggling immensely. 

Although it was a great idea at the time, you were not mentally kicking yourself.  What were you thinking?

You loved being Azriel’s mate, you truly did.  But the fact that he was constantly working out and staying in shape would seem like a chore to you in comparison to him.  He had to be in tip top shape as the Spymaster of Velaris and Night Court, his own physique was amazing to stare at.  You weren’t gong to lie and say you didn’t like gazing at your mate, you did.  

Yet at the same time, you were no workout fiend.  

A good hike or walk a few times a week was good enough for you, Azriel never had a problem with that.  He preferred you to be happy in your own skin and with how to felt about your body and your health than to try and keep up with him.  You loved cooking food that was hearty and filled with amazing spices and warmth, Azriel devoting every mela you made him and he would leave no scrapes behind.  You would prefer to lounge in bed or on the couch than join him in the wee hours in the morning for a training session at the Illyrian camps, yet that never bothered him.  You both were so in tuned with one another after 200 years of being mates and being married.

You suggesting hiking to a small river bank to go swimming together, it was both a blessing and a curse.

“Hey, you okay?” Azriel asked as he looked over his shoulder at you.  You waved him off and perhced yourself on a large boulder that was on the side of the trail, needing to catch your breath for a long moment since you were loosing your momentum.  You were only 1 mile away from the riverbank, already walking for 2 miles at a decent pace.  

“I just need to catch my breath,” You reasoned as he walked back over to you briskly and took off his backpack to find his water bottle and spare cloth in his bag, “It’s been awhile since we’ve hiked—“

“Drink, baby,” He said to you as he placed the water bottle on your hands, you draining in long drinks as he rubbed your thighs and arms calmly, “We can slow down, we don’t have to go this fast, okay?  I can even carry you the last mile if you want,”

Shaking your head and taking the water bottle off of your lips, “Az, I’ll be fine for the last mile..”

“I don’t mind at all,” He said to you as he swatted away some of the sweat from your forehead and pushed the hair from your eyes, “This hike was great idea….but maybe on a cooler autumn day and not during a heatwave,” 

You had to grin, knowing that it was true as Azriel went on, “Plus, I can feel it in the bond,”

It was both a blessing and a curse that you two were connected through your bond.  You sensed when he was tired after training at the Illyrian camps for hours on end, when he was frustrated or angry after dealing with the Inner Circle during an intense meeting.  He also felt it in you when you were pushing yourself a bit over the edge and within limits.  Azriel knew you were stubborn and you held your ground at times, and he knew when to calm you and bring you breath again.  

When you wanted to rush, he would slow you down and make you pace yourself.  When you wanted to go at a snail pace when making a decision, Azriel was right at your side and took your hand whole heartedly.  He would never leave you ahead or behind, not without him.  You both were each other’s better half, through the good and the bad.

“Sorry for slowing us down,” You were about to apologize, when Azriel was now the one shaking his head.

“Nope, you’re not going to say you’re sorry.  Nothing wrong with stopping and taking a break, right?  Come on, hope on my back and let me carry you,” He reasoned as he took his backpack and threw it over your shoulders to have your arms go through.  

“That’s not necessary,” You started to argue.

“You and I both know I can carry you since your light as a feather to me, or do I need to remind you of our honeymoon?” He teased with you with a wink, having you blush crimson as he then turn to show his backside to you.  His wings tucked in tightly against his back, you rolled your eyes and hopped on his back with ease.  As your legs were around his waist and your arms around his neck, his wings snug between you two while he stood up gracefully, he started walking with your plastered to his backside. 

“I feel like a monkey right now,” You grumbled as Azriel chuckled and kept his pace going along the path, as if you weight no more than a pebble on his back.

“And yet you’re sexier than a monkey,” He replied, pinching your thigh around his waist as you squealed and smacked his arm playfully.  Azriel loved going at your pace, no matter how fast or slow you were willing to go.

The End

August Prompts

[callmissrogers]

That's My Girl | Part 1

Summary: A mission goes horribly horribly wrong, and Y/n knows it's her fault. Captain Rogers wants to be there for her, but she won't allow him to. But the team believes that there's more to this than simple hostage casualties. What is Hydra hiding?

Warnings: Angst, death, grief, and a wee bit of fluff stuck in there somewhere.

Word count: 3,527

(Only proofread once, so apologies for any mistakes)

Part 2

Y/n sat, face in her hands, leaning against her door.

It was all her fault.

They died because of her.

She had blood on her hands.

Try as she might to send her thoughts elsewhere, they still roamed back to what had happened the night before.

The street lights went out in an electrical burst, one by one.

Y/n looked around anxiously. The house had gone dark too. "we didn't have Intel on charge weapons." She barked over the comms. "Dang Hydra cockroaches!" Tony yelled. "They're trying to block our locators. I have a feeling that these are part of what the Shield x Hydra agents stole from headquarters." He finished. They could feel him pacing and moving his arms about wildly, as he always did.

"Well, let's recalculate. Charges or no, the doctor and his family still need our help." Natasha interjected.

They had come here after getting Intel on the kidnapping of a Doctor Cedric Bon. He had been a leader in black market plastic surgeries. Only his work had little to do with face lifts and tummy tucks, and so much more to do with attempts to actually turn the clock back on a person's age. Before, he had only managed to turn out some really messed up and damaged people, who could never undo what had been done to them. But a lot of chatter recently indicated that he had finally managed something akin to Steve's serum. But for youth instead of strength. 

Right after that, he and his wife vanished. One of Natasha's sources told them that Hydra had gotten them. They could only imagine what they wanted them for.

"OK. So, not being able to tell where everyone is presents a problem." Sam said worriedly. Now they'd be going in blind. They were going to relay on some of Stark's technology to help them locate where they were being held and go from there.

"It's a problem, but we'll find a solution. Sam you keep cover from the skies. Tony, you're in charge of entry points and keeping anyone else from coming in.  Buck, Nat, and I will handle whoever is waiting for us on the inside. Y/n, you gotta get'em out of there, ok?" Steve said, taking on the tone of voice he always had when he was in what they called Cap mood.

Y/n knew why he had asked her to handle that aspect. Her ability was mental and emotional manipulation. She could make someone believe a lie, calm down, get angry, or think whatever she wanted them to think. Not huge things, but simple things like "I should trust her" or "I should give her this key card." These thoughts and feelings never lasted and were always followed by a headache that resembled a hangover.

Even tho she could fight, frightfully skilled in martial arts, Steve must have figured her skill would be useful in helping the hostages relax as she moved them out of there. How wrong he was. . .

But martial arts also came in handy if one wanted to move about unseen, which y/n did.

It didn't take her as long as she thought it would to find them. They didn't have them in a cell, basement, or anything like that. They were locked in a bedroom on the second floor. It had two twin beds and a bathroom. For a hostage situation, this was pretty comfortable. Y/n put this off to the fact that Hydra thought they lulled them into a false sense of security so the doctor would do what they wanted.

That was her first mistake.

"I found them," She tried to say over the comms, but all she got was static. Only then did it occur to that she hadn't heard anyone say anything since they entered the house. They were probably jamming the comms.

She felt for her backup earpiece for such situations. It wasn't there. Why wasn't it there? *because you forgot to replace it after you last used it. the one time you hadn't used your checklist as you suited up. Steve would surely give you an earful. This was why that man loved checklists.*

She decides to press on anyway

Second mistake.

"Who are you?" The Doctor asked, his accent thick. "Just think of me as your rescue, Doctor Bon, Mrs Bon. I'm y/n, I'm a member of the Avengers and I need you to come with me. Now."

"Those men told us that they were part of shield reborn." Mrs Bon said doubtfully. "Shield reborn? There's no such thing."Well, then if you say we can't trust them, how do we know we can trust you?" Mrs Bon asked doubtfully.

Y/n turned and looked at her, her eyes changing from her usual green to a bright violet and then back again. Mrs Bon blinked a few times and then said, "we should trust her." "What did you do?" Doctor demanded. "Later, Doctor. She'll be fine, tho. You'll all be fine if you follow me." She said firmly.

She had stupidly been confident that she could do it all without any backup or any knowledge of what was happening down below.

"Do you know of a back way out?" She asked. "Um. Yes. They took me on a tour just today." The Doctor said nervously. "Why? Actually, no time. Just tell me where to go, but I lead." She said, exiting the room.

The Doctor told her how to find the servants' stairs, which were hidden behind a rather large painting.

She tried her comms again but nothing.

The stairs seemed to curve on forever until they opened up to a large kitchen. It was empty aside from men laying about with knives sticking out of their chests. 

Upon a quick scan of the room, y/n was sure it was safe for them to go.

After a quick dash to the backdoor, she pulled it open, stepping out into the night with them following close behind her. The yard was empty, dark, and soundless. It was now or never.

"Time to go!" She ordered, yanking them along with her as best she could. They would make it. They could duck into the woods. The others would clean up and find them later.

Mission accomplished.

Third and final mistake.

They were nearly there, just about to cross from the manicured lawn into the unkempt woods. But the moment the Bons attempted to cross, they jolted uncontrollably, and then they fell down, dead. . .

Y/n's eyes widened, dropping down, she frantically tried to give them cpr. First one and then the other. Tears stinging her eyes. "Come on!" She screamed. Hands trembling, she felt their necks. They were gone.

Hydra had implanted them so that if they tried to escape, they'd die. But why?

She just besides them until the others found them.

Nobody said anything on the ride home.

5 am.

The moment the jet landed, y/n jumped up, running out before anyone could stop her.

She went to her room slamming and locking the door behind her. Sliding down against it, she gave into the sobs.

Present moment.

Y/n had been sitting in the place since the night before. She didn't care that her legs had long since fallen asleep, that her back ached, her head pounded from crying. A heavy and sour feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Miss y/n," FRIDAY said, "Go away."Mr Stark says that there is to be a team meeting in five minutes."

She would be sick.

She knew she had no choice but to go to the meeting. It was mandatory for the official mission file before they filled out their own paperwork. It was a manner of protection for themselves as well as a record.

But that also meant that she'd have to go out there and explain to everyone just how she had failed, how she got them killed.

It was all her fault. All her bloody stupid fault.

"Miss y/n," FRIDAY said as a means to hurry her along.

"Fine." Y/n spat, pushing herself off the floor.

Get it over with.

The walk to the meeting room never felt so long as it had just now. Seeing everyone there, waiting for her to join them, made her blood run cold.

But, she was a part of this team. She had to be held accountable just like they did.

Steve was standing at the head of the table. Scrolling through a tablet that was projected onto the larger screen behind him. He glanced at her when she sat down, a mix of emotion on his face.

"OK. Well, you all know the drill by now. We need everyone's account of what happened last night." He said, sounding almost regretful that he had to ask.

One by one, they went around the table, each describing their movement in the mission. "I stayed on guard duty. No one came in or went out until y/n came out with the hostages. Then I flew to help, when I heard screaming and found that they were, in fact, deceased -" Tony said in a monotone voice. "I stayed on yours and Becky's six. We took out about 80-90 guards and agents before we made it outside and found out what had happened to the Bons." Nat said, choosing not to use the word decased, dead, or anything else remotely related to it. She was friends with y/n she knew how something like this would be to eat you alive from the inside out.

Then, the room grew quiet. Y/n knew it was her turn. They were nice enough not to all stare at her expectantly, but she still felt them pressuring her to tell them what went wrong, what she had done wrong.

She'd probably be put on leave for her stupid recklessness.

Her mouth was dry, heart pounding, and she finally looked up. Eyes meeting Steve's. He, unlike the rest, had been staring. His brows now knit together like they always were when he was thinking. She braced her hands on the table and slowly pulled herself up.

"Last night I was reckless. I forgot my other comm, so when they jammed, I couldn't get in contact with anyone. I didn't pay attention to any of the signs that told me it was too easy. I led them outside, and then they died right in front of me because I didn't even think to check for a chip!" She said, her voice increasing as she went along. "It was all my bloody fault. You can put that in the report, and I'll fill out my paperwork later." She spat and then stormed out of the room.

"Oh, she's not in a good place." Sam commented, sounding concerned. "She can't blame herself for the psychopathic nature of monsters," Bucky said, sighing. "There's no way she would have known about those chips. None of us would." He continued.

"What I want to know is why they were willing to kill them. Those chips have a kill switch. Somebody pressed a button to do it. Why didn't they want them alive?" Stark questioned. "There's something that's more important to keep hidden than having them alive." Steve commented almost absently, his thoughts distracted by something or someone rather. "They took them for a purpose, so they must already have all the schematics on the serum he created." Natasha added.

"He was a fast talker to give them everything in 24 hours. This isn't something you find in a textbook, " Bruce said.

"I want more information on where they were holding them and the agents we found there. Nat, can you head that up?" Steve asked before excusing himself without waiting for her reply.

"FRIDAY, Y/n's whereabouts?" He said once he got in the elevator. "In the kitchen, sir."

Y/n was pouring herself into a cup of coffee. She didn't drink alcohol because well she couldn't. Something about alcohol potentially making your heart stop makes one think twice about it.  So she would overload herself with caffeine instead.

She had just picked it up, allowing the mug to warm her hands. Suddenly getting the feeling that she wasn't alone in the room.  The last thing she needed was a speech about how it wasn't her fault and that the team was behind her all the way. Because she knew at least the first part of that was a big fat lie.

Finally, the person standing behind her cleared their throat. Steve. Of course. It had to be him.

Slowly, she made herself turn around, but she wouldn't look at him.

"What do you want?" She asked, forcing her voice into a monotone, hoping that he would get the hint and leave her be.

She knew what he wanted. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to reassure her that this didn't change anything.

He stared at her a moment before answering, "y/n, would you look at me, please?" He asked, his voice gentil, nothing at all like his Captain America voice.

She just shook her head, eyes locked on her coffee.

He took a few steps towards her.

"Y/n . . . I know you think that -" "That what? That this all my fault? Check. That you're all disappointed in me? Check. That I'm the reason that the mission failed and two people are died? Check and check. We've established how I feel now." She snapped angrily.

Steve's expression shifted from one of pure concern to slight hurt. Not that she could see that, still refusing to meet his gaze. But he wouldn't allow himself to get offended. He did know how this felt and knew that she didn't mean it.

Carefully, he took a few steps forward and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Feeling her instantly tense up. "You can yell, cry, get angry. . . Just don't go inward on me." She said nothing, biting her lower lip, looking away, determined to push away what he was offering now. He sighed, not out of frustration with her but worry, "Shortcake, please say something." Shortcake, the nickname he had given her after they first met at that WW2 convention.

"Steve. Just stop being a hero for one second and leave me alone!" She yelled, slamming her coffee down on the counter, making it spill, and storming from the room. "Y/n!" He called.. He wanted to go after her but he respected her wishes and left her alone.

Once she had made it back to the safety of her own room, y/n collapsed on her bed, allowing herself to break down again.

Why had she done that? She knew that he genuinely just wanted to comfort her. But what did she do? Screamed in his face. Right.

She didn't move a muscle and eventually slipped off to sleep. A sleep that made her relieve the day the man she had just yelled at became a part of her life.

It was a cool day in May, y/n was walking around the WW2 convention. Her grandfather, grandmother, great uncles, and great aunts had all served. She grew up on the old stories, the old records, the old newspaper clippings, and books. Her parents had brought her to this convention every year since she could walk, and now that they were gone, she came alone. This time period was a part of who she was. So dressed in period appropriate dress reminiscent of Andrew Sisters' famous uniform, she took in all the sights.

Finally, stopping by a tent set up to be an old fashioned drugstore, complete with ice cream, sodas, lemonade, and sandwiches.

"I'll take a lemonade," She said with a smile. Noticing the man leaning against the other end of the counter.  She knew who he was, of course she did, just as she was very aware of who he worked for. Technically she was a colleague of sorts.

He quickly noticed her staring. But instead of looking bothered, he smiled. Slowly, he inched his way closer until he was standing next to her. "Which Andrew sister, are you?" He asked with a grin, making y/n blush. "Well. . Not technically supposed to be any of them. I just like the style. It has a bit more class than modern-day dress blues." "You served?" "Airforce. That is until..."Shield picked you up?" "How did you know?" "I might or might not have seen your file." "Sneaky." "I like to think I'm observant." y/n couldn't help but smile. They weren't lying when they said Steve Roger's was quite the charmer. Finishing off her lemonade, y/n turned to pay for it only for Steve to hold out a five dollar bill to the shop owner. "I - why did you do that?" She asked, baffled. "Because I'm a boy from Brooklyn in the 40s, and we don't let ladies pay for themselves." "Oh. I see." Steve couldn't help it. He was very intrigued and spoke before he could talk himself out of it. "Are you going to the show later?" He asked, referring to the bands and performers who would be performing 40s music that evening.

"I was planning on it." "Uh," He cleared his throat. "Would you like to watch it together." "Mr Roger's are you trying to ask me out?" He nodded, "Yes. Yes, I am." his cheeks tinged with pink. "Well, in that case, yes." He looked at his watch, "We still have about an hour before it starts..." "That we do. . ." She said, almost having pity on the poor man. Here he was, Captain America, and he was actually nervous. "Would you like to walk around with me?" She asked, deciding to make things easier for him. "Sure." He said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. They walked around the field, sharing stories and just getting to know each other. The more they talked, the more Roger's lossened up. The hour flew by before they knew it, so they made their way over to the field. Most of the chairs were already taken by the early birds, so they stood further back. Y/n being only 5 feet tall, struggled to see over the crowd that had also found their way back there. Steve tapped her on the shoulder, "May I?" He asked, gesturing to a stand behind them. She nodded, and he gently picked her up and placed up on it, pulling himself up next to her. They could easily view the show from here. "Thank you for that," she said with a smile. "No problem. You can't help being a shortcake." He grinned. And the nickname just stuck from that point on.

Just a mere three weeks after that, y/n was asked to join the Avengers.

Y/n shot up in bed, room dark, glancing at the clock beside her bed. 3 am. Her heart was pounding, eyes puffy from crying. Her room felt suffocating and oppressive now. "I can't be here." She whispered aloud to herself.  Quickly changing her clothes, she made a beeline for the gym, determined to clear her head.

Steve, whose room was on the same floor, heard a door opening and shutting and then the ding of the elevator.

Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He had a feeling as to who might be up and about at this late hour. There were only four of them on this floor and none of them were nightowls. So he knew exactly who it was.

Down in the gym, y/n was in the midst of the wing chun arena. Dodging, then getting in a few hits before leaping to avoid being struck in the legs. Steve walked in and just stood there for a moment, watching her. She was ripping them apart. Tho Steve was sure Stark wouldn't hold it against her.

With a scream, she kicked another apart and kept going. Steve was beginning to worry she'd soon take herself apart too. So, with another sign, he walked towards the arena. Leaping over the wall, making his way around the carnage toward the center where she was, just three more dummies to go.

Stopping just behind her, he said

"Y/n... that's enough. " She ignored him and kicked the top off of the dummies. "Y/n." He said a tad firmer, only to be ignored again.

He cared about her too much to allow her to completely self-destruct in front of him. So he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to turn around. Hands still on her shoulders, he looked down at her, hoping that she could see just how worried he was about her. How much he cared for her.

"That's enough." He tucked hair behind her ear.

"Do you hear me? None of this was your fault. I promise you that we will figure out who did this. We'll find out why. But Shortcake, it's not on you." He said hurriedly, his voice cracking as he pulled her into a crushing hug.

Part 2

[giggly-squiggily]

okay prompt. uhh tokyo revengers

okay mitsuya brainrot so let’s see if i can come up with something ummm

he’s trying to do something, like sew or embroider or read or whatever. draken and mikey are screwing around and being loud and mitsuya gets a wee bit annoyed (very rare, he’s so Chill) and is like ARE YOU FIVE and draken and mikey are like, sassy mitsuya???? so they start poking him and annoying him on purpose and it turns into them just tickling him so he stops pouting lmao

as per usual, just delete if you aren’t feeling it!! <3

I blame @ticklish-n-stuff and @duckymcdoorknob (lovingly) for this- their Tokyo Revengers love has infected me and made me wanna rewatch/finish the show kjakjrekjarjkejkr I adore Mitsuya- this is so much fun! I've gotcha covered, friend!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @cupcake-spice13

“Say that again, shrimp- I dare you!”

“Ooo, that’s so scary coming from the BFG!”

“You wanna die today, Mikey?”

Mitsuya felt his eye twitch, the pattern of his latest project seeming to blur with each exchange going on around him. He was never going to get this done!

“Balk, balk balk! Mother Ken is angry!” Mikey made chicken noises, crossing his eyes and flapping his arms before taking off running, Draken in toe. The room wasn’t that small, but somehow these two managed to make it feel smaller. Pillows flew, a notebook Mitsuya forgot he even had gone soaring high, along with a handful of pens Mikey attempted to throw like ninja stars.

When a spar pin cushion bonked him in the head- thankfully lacking any pins in it- Mitsuya had enough.

“Are you two FIVE?” He snapped, twisting in his seat to glare. Mikey and Draken were in a sort of crouch, the bigger of the two’s hand around Mikey’s ponytail and said boy’s hand pulling Draken down by the side of his mouth. Both blinked owlishly at him. “Calm your asses down! This isn’t the playpen at a nursery!”

With that, he twisted around in his seat, returning to his project. Silence fell upon the room following it, something charged in the air. For a brief moment, Mitsuya wondered if he went too far.

A poke to the ribs told him otherwise.

“Oo, someone’s mad.” Mikey cooed, his face unnervingly cheeky. “We pissed off Taka, Kenny!”

“So we did.” Another poke to his other side made him jerk back, leaning away from the devilish look in Draken’s gaze. “Can’t have that, can we?”

“Go away! You two are pissing me off more now!” Mitsuya tried to stay mad, but each prod and poke tapped away at his mood, forcing his arms against his sides as he struggled not to smile. “Stop poking me, I’m working!”

“Oo, he’s working, Kenny! Better stop it now!” Poke poke poke.

“Don’t look at me, Mikey, you’re the one egging him on. Look, he’s getting red!” Poke poke poke.

Mitsuya was slightly flushed, the efforts to not burst into giggles right there proving difficult. “G-Go away! Bo-oth of yo-ou, sta-ahp thaht!”

“Oo, he’s laughing!” The pokes came to a halt. Mitsuya let out a sigh of relief. Behind him, Draken raised an eyebrow to Mikey. The shorter man nodded.

The next thing Mitsuya knew, twenty fingers were attacking his sides.

“AH! Ahehahahahahahha! Nohohohohoho, dohohoohn’t you dahhahahahahre!” Mitsuya squealed, flailing forward before sinking back in his chair, trying to curl up against the vicious attack. “Dohohohohn’t tihihihihihickle mehehehehehehehe!”

“Oo, why not? We’re only wittle five year olds! We don’t listen!” Mikey cooed at him in his best baby voice, snickering when Mitsuya cackled. “I wanna juice box!”

“And some animal crackers.” Draken added, moving his fingers up to the silver blonde’s belly, making him spasm. “Though that just sounds like a normal thing for you, Mikey. Sure you’re not secretly five? You pass for it being that short.”

“You know what, Kenny-”

“Guhuuhuuhuhys pelhahahhahhahahase!” Mitsuya howled, kicking his feet some when Mikey switched to his neck, pressing in all the sensitve spots. “Ahehahahahaha, dohohohohon’t! Iihihihihiihhm gohoohhoohohnna kihihihiihll yoohohohohohohou!”

“Threatening Toman’s leader? How bold.” Draken snickered, squeezing his hips. “You’re lucky we like you, Taka.”

“Yeah! And you make good brownies in a mug. I suppose I can let it slide.” Mikey nodded in agreement, snorting when the taller boy squealed, voice near silent. “Are you still mad?”

“NOHOHOHOOHOHOO!”

“Gonna forgive us?” Draken grinned, squeezing Mitsuya’s knee and making him kick.

“YEHEHEHEHEHS!”

“...Can I still have a juice box?”

“FIIHIHIHNE NOW STAHHHAHAHAP!”

The tickles finally came to an end. Mitsuya groaned through residue giggles as he sank further in his chair, nearly falling out. His vision was slightly blurred, and his body felt both light and exhausted- tingling from the tickles. Above him, Mikey and Draken laughed and cheered, high fiving.

“Jeheherks.” He groaned, shooting his hands out to jab them in the pits. Mikey all but flailed backwards while Draken jerked with a snort. “I hahahte you!”

“No you don’t.” Mikey recovered, ruffling Mitsuya’s hair until he was laughing once more. “So, where’s my juice box?”

“I don’t have any on me.” He confessed, earning a small pout from Mikey. “But I’ll buy you one. We can go down to the convenience store a few blocks from here.

“Whoo-hooo! You hear that Kenny? Juice!” Mikey cheered, already running out the door like a little kid. Draken laughed, standing up and pulling Mitsuya to his feet. 

“He really does act like a child. Heh, you good Taka?” The taller of the two looked around, wincing at the clutter. “Sorry about your room.”

“Don’t worry about it. You two can clean it up when we get back.” The silver haired teen shrugged, smacking Draken on the back as they headed out. “Hey, when I poked you-”

“Want round two?” Draken’s hand squeezed his hip out of nowhere, making the other jump back with a squeak.

“N-Nohoho!”

“That’s what I thought.”

Thanks for reading!

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 23

Jaskier had glanced up at the eave of the garden shed, and there it was.

F**k me running, that's huge! Good gods, look at the size of it! I've got to get Geralt!

Geralt is minding his own business, hiding from Yennefer hanging out in Van Roach, when Jaskier bursts in. The bard is pulling at his arm and excitedly demanding that Geralt come see this huge a** hornet nest.

It's seriously huge!

Really big!

Bigger than Yennefer's a**!

Geralt: *raises one eyebrow*

Yeah, I know! It's hard to imagine that there can be anything bigger than her a**!

Just come look at it!

Geralt sighs and gives in, allowing himself to be pulled out of his Mobile Man Cave. He's dragged to the garden shed, and there, on the eave, near the point of the roof, is indeed the biggest d*mn hornet nest he's ever seen.

The Urge made the primitive part of his brain itch like a poison ivy rash. "We should, uh, get rid of that nest. Someone could get stung." Geralt said slowly and carefully, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"Yeah..." Jaskier said just as carefully, "Wouldn't want anyone to get stung. Especially Wee Roach. We're going to have to get rid of it."

Geralt was silent for a minute as he looked up at the nest, then said, his voice trembling only slightly, "How should we, uh, get rid of it?"

"Burning it would be great fun-- I mean -- great. It would be great.

"Yennefer said no fire after we burnt that big patch of grass last week getting rid of that ant hill." Geralt said.

They both looked at the round, bald patch in the yard where the grass still hadn't grown back yet.

"Blow it up. We should definitely blow it up." Jaskier replied, voice humming like a bowstring.

"Yeah, " Geralt agreed, trying to sound nonchalant, "Wouldn't want to end up setting the grass on fire, or anything."

They were both still, staring at each other mutely for almost a full minute, then Jaskier blurted "I'm getting the M80's!", and skedaddled into the house.

The Urge was demanding to be scratched, and they were going to scratch the h*ll out of it!

Several moments (and one close call with Yennefer) later, and Jaskier was helping Geralt tie an M80 to a long pole. They kept looking nervously over their shoulders every few seconds, jumping at every sound like a couple of convicts trying to coordinate a prison break

The firecracker was successfully attached to the pole and everything was ready.

A whispered argument (and a tug of war) ensued when Geralt tried to walk off with the pole.

"I want to do it!"

"I found the nest, I should get to blow it up!"

"I dont' care if 'yOu'Re a WiTcHeR aNd hAvE fAsTeR rEfLeXeS' !"

"I know how to handle a pole!"

"That was a vague 'Hmmm.' What are you implying, Geralt?"

"Now is not the time for jokes!"

"I'm NOT going to get stung-!"

Jaskier gave a sharp tug, trying to wrest the pole from Geralt's hands, and the end of it tapped the hornet nest. Both men froze as hornets buzzed agitatedly around the nest. After a few moments, the insects settled down and went back about their business.

Geralt glared at Jaskier.

Jaskier raised his middle finger.

A hornet, seemingly offended by the obscene gesture, swooped down.

Jaskier yelped in lowercase and fumbled the pole as the angry little f**ker stung him on the palm of his right hand, which just so happened to be the hand he was using to flip the bird with.

Geralt used Igni to light the fuse on the firecracker, and quickly shoved the ignited explosive into the nest. There was a loud crack!, and the nest blew apart. Chunks of paper, dead hornet bits, live hornets, and charred larvae rained down.

The few surviving hornets were now very, very angry, and went on the attack, blindly stinging anything they could find. Geralt was hit three times on the back before he could drop the stick and throw up Quen.

The hornets didn't look like they were going to give up anytime soon, so Geralt grabbed Jaskier and they fled to the house.

Yennefer was just getting off the couch to go see what the loud popping sound had been, when Jaskier burst into the living room, clutching his forearm and wailing about having been stung by a 'big a** motherf***ing hornet.'

Geralt had waved off Yennefer's help for his hornet stings. They were only hurting a little now, and the itching was mild. His body was already fighting off the venom and healing the damage.

Jaskier was not so lucky. While blowing up a hornet nest had scratched The Itch in his brain, it did nothing to scratch the itch from being stung.

48 hours later, Geralt was perfectly fine, the three sting marks on his back looked no worse than mosquito bites, and they didn't even itch anymore.

But for Jaskier, things had only gotten worse.

He'd woken up that morning, convinced that he was having a terrible allergic reaction and was going to die.

He'd run, screaming, into Yennefer's bedroom and jumped into her bed to start rather ungently shaking her awake.

"Yen, Yen wake up! Wake the f**k up!!!"

"What the h*ll, you f***ing plum!"

"Look at my f***ing hand!" *Shoves hand in her face* "I'm allergic to hornets! The swelling's gone up to my d*mn elbow! It's going to go up to my throat and I'm going to die!"

Not only was his hand swollen up like a blown up latex glove, but his whole forearm was as well.

"Get your ballooned up tw*t ticklers out of my face!"

"Look at my--!"

"You aren't allergic! It's just a generalized reaction! It's normal, for chrissake!"

"It's normal for it to look like a f***ing Mickey Mouse hand?" Jaskier asked sarcastically.

Yennefer burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. The comparison was just too perfect. It was exactly what his hand and arm looked like.

"Yes, you n*b jockey!", she said, her expression softening as she reached over to play soothingly with the hair at the nape of his neck. "You're going to be fine, I promise." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Now get the f**k out of my bed!"

Fears assuaged, Jaskier went downstairs to get some breakfast, and spent the next few days terrorizing Geralt with his Mickey Mouse hand after he found out that the way it looked and felt gave the Witcher the Ick when it touched him.