#to show up on the zoom call without pants

[shittyutmv]

-3 to stealth. all of them nightmare by jokublog cross by jakei95 horror by sour apple studios killer by rahafwabas dust by ask-dusttale

[nanamiskentos]

THAT'S SO TRUE — toji fushiguro

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (e) and let the show begin !

prologue. → you vowed to yourself that you would rock toji fushiguro's world as a new year's resolution. but it's christmas eve already, and the year is almost over. by hook or by crook, you're gonna that gorgeous, buff older man in your bed tonight.

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader (reader uses she/her pronouns)

warnings. reader has never been chill a day in her life, áge gáp, dílf!toji, big díck toji (ofc), voyeurísm (sorta implied), másturbátion (f), jealous sèx, reader watches toji through binoculars, they match each other's freak, creámpíe, reader gets called 'slutty' and 'doll', orál (m and f. receiving)

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. that's so true — gracie abrams

a/n. incredible art by sakimichan 🍃 i had so much fun writing this 😁 reader is an adult!! i imagined toji to be 35-ish, and reader to be 22...? its christmas day for me so i'm a tad late 😩

mp3. bet you're thinking 'she's so cool' kicking back on your couch, making eyes from across the room. wait! i think i've been there too!

if your friends knew what you were up to right now, they'd skip the intervention and go straight to dragging you to the nearest police precinct.

forget a lecture, they would slap a pair of handcuffs on you first, citing charges of being horny to the first degree.

officer! she just can't keep it in her pants!

but did you care? not in the slightest.

you adjust the blinds, nudging them just enough to angle your binoculars a little lower. focus sharpened, lens zoomed in, and there he was. the object of your totally healthy, not-at-all unhinged plan.

the target in question? toji fushiguro.

your next-door neighbour, who also happened to look like he'd walked straight out of a naked biker calendar. leather jacket snug over his broad shoulders, a frame built for sin, and pectorals that were so sculpted, you often dreamed of bouncing walnuts off them. just to see if the nuts would crack.

months ago, you had made a new years resolution to yourself that you wouldn't end this year without bagging the man at least once.

yet here you were on christmas eve, a few days shy of the year's end, still plotting and scheming like a bond villain on how you could charm the socks right off toji fushiguro.

but you feared that tonight was beginning to deliver a cold, harsh slap of reality.

your heart suddenly gives an undignifed lurch as toji swings off his motorcycle in one fluid motion. but your smirk — yes, you had been smirking and you wouldn't deny that, vanished the moment your binoculars caught sight of her.

right behind him, a woman dismounted with all the grace and mature confidence that you wished you could summon on a good day.

you twist the focus knob, an unfamiliar figure sharpening into clarity. tall, polished, probably closer to toji's age rather than yours, and way too pretty for your scheming, heinous comfort.

she's hooking her arm through his like they did this all the time, and her cherry-sweet smile beams up at him like he'd hung the damn christmas lights himself.

and then, then! she leans in to press a kiss to his cheek, casual as a snowflake fluttering onto the concrete below.

your chest tightens oddly, though whether it was from jealousy or sheer mortification, you couldn't tell. and you didn't want to tell.

toji fushiguro, for his part, didn't seem fazed, at least, not outwardly. he turns his shaggy head away, smiling faintly with that gruff and polite expression he sometimes wore when someone cornered him into small talk.

not that it mattered. you couldn't stop the frown that tugged at your lips, watching the pair disappear out of view, the motorcycle keys still dangling from his thick fingers.

you sigh, setting the binoculars down with a little more force than necessary. tonight was supposed to be your night, the grand finale where you capped the year off with a big win in the shape of this six-foot-two man, with green eyes that could strike you dumb.

and you had even planned ahead! you'd been certain that there wouldn't be any pesky interruptions, particularly of the pint-sized variety.

not that you had anything against megumi fushiguro, he was a good kid — if a little unnerving with that brooding energy he carried around like a hefty backpack.

but still, you'd never really spoken to him much. call it morals or basic decency, but dragging a clueless kid into your schemes just felt a little wrong.

so when you had overheard toji casually mentioning that megumi was out for a sleepover with some friend, something about how nice it would be to have a night for himself, you had taken that as a sign from the universe. a green light.

fate herself waving you through the doors to make your move.

except now, traitorous fate had also thrown you a curveball in the form of the older, mystery woman who had been clinging to toji's back on the motorcyle. all expensive burgundy fur, and a darling blowout that was way out of a college student's pay cheque.

still, you're not the kind of woman who folds at the first sign of trouble. no, you think, squaring your shoulders. who would you be if you gave up now? perseverance is the backbone of triumph, or something like that.

the walls of this apartment are criminally thin, and you trust that the muffled thuds coming from next door are none other than toji fushiguro leading his...date up the stairs and down the hallway. the metallic jingle of keys confirms it, a sound that sends a pang of irritation prickling beneath your skin.

your gaze shifts to your desk, to the corkboard cluttered up with polaroids of your friends, random university flyers, and pinned up lecture schedules that you never follow. you press three fingers to your lips, in a respectful and solemn kiss, before tapping your photograph of aaron hotchner, in a promise for the near future.

"i won't give up, hotch," you murmur, the solemn, printed face of thomas gibson crossing his arms — gazing back at you, a beacon of motivational determination.

and with that, you grab a notepad and the first pen you can find, even though it's half-dried and it can barely write. you flip the pages open, and begin dotting down your back-up plan on how to score toji fushiguro tonight.

you're pretty sure it's been an hour since you started furiously scribbling on paper. five dried-out pens and a mountain of crumpled drafts later, each one titled with variations of how to get toji fushiguro in my bed, your notepad is starting to look like a pathetic manifesto.

you sip idly at your grape soda, the fizzy sweetness staining your tongue a violent purple. and listen, to be clear, you're absolutely a feminist. truly. you're not the type to believe in pitting women against each other. that's messy, unsophisticated, and frankly it's far beneath you.

but sadly, here's the other thing. desperate times call for desperate measures. and as much as you hate to admit it, toji fushiguro, your brooding and hulking neighbour with shoulders that eclipse the sun, has your resolve teetering right on the edge. the wanting and lusty human spirit is unbreakable, and the idea of losing is as appealing as licking sandpaper.

the sound of a low thud breaks through your plotting, as you drop the end of the pen out of your mouth. your ears perk up at the faint creak of a door opening. you recognise the gruff voice, muffled through the thin walls.

"damn heater's out again. 'm just gonna go check the switch downstairs."

uh-huh. that's what you thought. this was just act one of the stage play.

see, about forty five minutes ago, inspiration had struck. you'd realised you needed to get toji out of his apartment, and given his bear-like simplicity: eat, sleep, grumble, repeat, it wasn't exactly that easy.

but every man needed his rest, and no man could rest on christmas eve when the snow was sticking to the window pane from the cold.

so, you had snuck downstairs and flipped the heater's breaker to his apartment off, leaving the rest blissfully untouched. setting an ideal trap for the vast man.

you crack your door open, just enough to watch him lumber off towards the left staircase.

it's one of two routes down to the basement, and the fastest, if you hadn't intercepted fate. about twenty minutes into your plan, you had grabbed a handful of out of order signs (printed with comic sans, the true villain of typography) and plastered them halfway down the left flight of stairs.

you dart towards the right staircase, your knee-high socks skimming the concrete steps in a frantic descent. as you reach the halfway point, you hear the telltale grunt of a frustrated toji.

"damn management can't even warn people about closures," he's muttering to himself, heavy footsteps falling in line behind yours.

right on cue. by the time he reaches the basement, there you are, innocently peering at the big, clunky switchboard. like it wasn't you who had just broken into it to render toji's apartment a freezing chill.

your sweater's been strategically tugged off one shoulder, and you're pretending the icy air isn't slicing at your bare legs, left exposed by the shortest pair of shorts you own.

"what brings ya down here?" toji grunts, his voice low and rough like gravel underfoot.

you count it as a small victory when his eyes sweep over you, slow and deliberate, before the older man coughs and shifts his focus back to the switchboard. you sidle closer under the guise of curiosity, so close that the fabric of your sweater brushes his arm. the steel biceps flexing under the tight, black fabric of his tee.

"i don't know," you sigh, feigning innocence with a touch of melancholia, "it jus' got so cold of all a sudden." you cross your arms over your chest, pretending to shiver just enough to catch his attention without looking concerningly ill.

toji glances down at you briefly, his brow furrowing, "mhm. yeah," he mutters, before turning back to the labyrinth of switches, "can't believe how these clowns the place."

you watch as the man leans in, studying the panel like it's some kind of ancient artefact. his expression is set in that serious, furrowed way men always get when faced with the unfamiliar terrain of household maintenance.

cute. almost.

you, of course, had done your homework. a quick google search of the model number earlier had led you to the manual, and you already knew it was the purple switch on the top right. but why rush, eh? if toji fushiguro wanted to play handyman, who were you to deprive him? especially when you needed a little more time to set the mood, to give him some ideas.

every time his fingers hovered closer to the correct switch, you leaned in, cutting him off with casual chatter. enough to have the man's eyes drop over you once more, before flicking away before he could break the bounds of propriety.

"so, are you doing anything tonight?"

"what?" his gruff tone reverberates through the dim basement, bouncing off the concrete walls.

you flutter your lashes at him, meeting his sharp, verdant gaze, "i mean, it's christmas eve. got any fun plans?"

he straightens slightly, his hand falling from the panel as he looks right at you, "nah. just stayin' in." but toji tilts his head and throws the question back at you, "why aren't you?"

"why aren't i, what?" you tilt your head to mirror the man, feigning confusion, "staying inside? i was, but then i got cold. y'know, busted heater and all."

toji exhales through his nose, and you watch mesmerised as the scar twitches over his lip, "no, doll. i mean, doing something fun. you're young. got your whole life ahead of you to be old and boring."

the faintest flicker of a genuine smile tugs at the corner of your glossy lips. if only he knew. you clear your throat, "i guess," and you shrug, the movement subtle, but just enough to let your sweater slip a little further off your shoulder, "it's just not my...taste."

your gaze trails over him, deliberate but not obvious enough to tip the scales out of your hand. you hope that you're not wide-eyed taking in how his broad shoulders ripple, almost tense?

"ah." toji fushiguro, everybody. a man of great wit, and even greater vocabulary.

he's tapping a knuckle against the switchboard, frowning at the rows of colourful levers like they've personally insulted him. you take the moment to edge a little closer, peering up at him with a deliberate and doe-eyed expression.

"need help?" you ask, voice sweet enough to break through teeth.

toji snorts, "you? help me with this?" he glances at you sideways, one thin brow quirking up, "i've got this, doll," but he seems to sober up, remembering that he does not have this, "unless you even know what this thing does?"

"of course i do," you shrug, feigning nonchalance, "i'm pretty good at flicking the right switch."

and what a sweet, untainted victory when toji's movements still. he doesn't tear his gaze away from the switchboard, but his hands pause and you see his lips twitch, "uh-huh."

"you should probably head back upstairs," he says gruffly, his tone almost concerned, "basement's freezin' and you're gonna catch a cold in, uh," and toji's gesturing vaguely at your thin ensemble, clearly trying to be polite.

"i know, but i was just comfortable in this," you run your hands, pretending to tug at the hem of your shorts. ignoring how the goosebumps are practically beating your ass right now, and you're about an inch of a temperature drop away from hypothermia.

toji fushiguro mutters something under his breath, something about attitude and young people these days, but he doesn't move away when you sidle back closer to him again, the faint brush of your arm against his making the great man stiffen up again.

"so, no christmas eve plans at all?" you press again, cocking your head, "not even a little festive cheer? eggnog?"

"festive cheer?" toji scoffs, finally pulling the purple switch as the low hum of the heater continues to chug away. dusting his hands off like he's just solved a national crisis, like you couldn't have solved that ten minutes ago, "i'm not big on christmas."

"that's tragic," you sigh, "and i was gonna ask you to stand with me under the mistletoe." your tone is teasing, light enough to deflect any serious questions but you let your lips form a soft pout. just enough to teeter on the edge of innocence. the faint, almost-whine in your tone is carefully calibrated: harmless on the surface but laced with the kind of undercurrent that can plant ideas in a man's head.

"ya' got jokes tonight," toji's gaze lingers, a little longer than necessary. you don't miss the way his shoulders draw tighter together. how his jaw ticks, but the real prize for you is when his hand slides up to rub the back of his neck, fingers kneading at the thick muscle, like he's trying to shake something loose.

the corner of your mouth twitches again, oh. you've got him now.

"imagine going through life, so lonely on christmas. that's gotta do something to a person." you're so not seeing the pearly gates, but you've come to terms with that.

"yeah? like what?" toji huffs.

you tap a finger against your chin, pretending to think, "well. for starters, it probably makes you very grumpy."

"tch, 'm not grumpy," toji rasps, but his tone says otherwise, as he runs a hand through sleek strands of dark hair, "yer' something else, you know that?"

"i've been told."

tojo shakes his head again, and you don't miss the faint smile tugging at the corner of his thin mouth, "alright, kid. time to head back up before you freeze to death down here."

time's up on this charade. you puff out a breath, your coy bravado dimming just a little bit, "fine, fine. but i'm not a kid, y'know."

toji's green eyes flick to yours, like chips of sea-glass as he holds your gaze, before turning back towards the stairs, "yeah. i know."

you follow him up in silence, the soft patter of your socks suddenly too cold on the pavement. at the top of the steps, toji pauses, glancing back at you with an unreadable expression, "get some rest. and make sure no-one's messin' with the switches."

"why would they do that?" you say, a touch too quickly.

"no reason," toji says, just as abruptly, stepping back as though putting physical distance between you two would help, "but it's all fixed now. go on, back to your apartment."

you blink, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift, "what? no thanks for keeping you company."

"thanks," toji fushiguro says flatly, but his gaze isn't unkind.

"wow. don't get too sentimental on me now."

"goodnight," the man deadpans, swinging your door open for you, just for good measure. before turning on his heel, and heading for his own room.

back to the drawing board.

toji fushiguro is convinced that the universe has it out for him. some karmic retribution is surely circling overhead, just waiting to strike. because really, what other explanation is there for his constant predicaments?

his life had been fine, a little lonely, sure, but manageable. until you moved in next door, perhaps sometime last year. sweet, maddening, entirely too pretty for your own good.

what the hell was toji supposed to do with that?

he's still rubbing the back of his neck, pushing open the door to his apartment. his date, right, was still perched on the old couch, scrolling through her phone. she's looking up at him when he entered, arching a brow.

"hey, you were gone for a while," she lightly comments, tucking her phone away.

"yeah, uh, sorry 'bout that," he mutters, crossing to the kitchen, "this place has a habit of breaking down on me."

shui had set him up with this woman, insisting that toji needed to crawl out of his self-imposed hermit hole and start living a little.

"you're not getting any younger, fushiguro," shui had snarked, as if toji didn't already feel every year weighing on him. so, fine. he'd agreed, figuring one dinner with a woman way out of his tax bracket wouldn't kill him.

and to be fair, the date had been...fine. the woman was attractive, sharp-witted, and she didn't pester him with inane questions. the kind of woman that most people would be thrilled to spend an evening with. but toji just couldn't shake the strange emptiness that had settled in his chest.

still, he had told himself to quit overthinking. maybe he was just out of practice. or maybe shui oddly had a point, and he needed to stop letting life pass him by. so, he'd invited her back to his place, hoping another glass of wine and small talk would lead one things into another.

what he hadn't counted on was running into you in the basement. how your light voice would replay in his head, that teasing lilt burrowing under his thick skin and leaving him restless.

tojo shakes his head, reaching for a couple of glasses and the half-decent bottle of wine that he kept stashed away from megumi's prying hands. kid was at that age where he was too damn curious for his own good about everything. his brain, however, was still stuck in the basement, circling around you.

what the hell had you been doing there anyway? sidling up to him all close, sickeningly sweet perfume or some shit that made his jaw clench. batting long lashes at him, and teasing him about mistletoe kisses.

civility. decency. that was the bare minimum that he could give you, wasn't it?

"you've got quite the collection of, uh, things up there," his date's voice pulls him back, gesturing to the open cabinet with a polite smile. toji glances at colourful boxes of cereal, and the little plastic bowls with cartoon animals splashed all over them. megumi's favourites.

"yeah," he says gruffly, pouring the wine, "got a kid. just the one."

she nods, taking the glass he hands her, "that's sweet. how old?"

"six. he's...not here tonight."

before his date can reply, catch the insinuation that he's thrown out, another sound filters through the paper-thin walls. a giggle, a sweet laugh followed by a voice he knows all too well.

"i know, right! he was like, totally into me!"

toji freezes, the wine bottle hovering mid-pour over his second glass. he sets the bottle down with a little more force than necessary, pretending not to notice the way his date glanced toward the wall, clearly having heard you too. fantastic. as if the universe hadn't done enough to torment him today.

his teeth ground together as your voice floated through again, a singsong lilt that made his chest thump, and irritation flare all at once. what were you even talking about? who the hell was 'totally' into you?

"uh-huh," you had been laughing, your voice carrying through the wall, "and then, he asked me out!"

toji's grip tightens on his glass, wondering who on earth managed to pull you into a date. wait, why did he even care?

his date seems oblivious to the internal war raging inside of him, taking a sip of her wine and smiling, "so, what's your son's name?"

"megumi," he mutters, absently, eyes flicking through the wall like he could see through it if he squinted hard enough. ugh, what an awful thing to think. what was wrong with him? acting like freak, not able to mind his own business.

his date's laugh is soft and polite, "that's cute."

cute, yeah.

you thought it was cute too, didn't you? he remembered the way your eyes lit up when megumi toddled after you once in the hallway, clutching one of his ridiculous animal-print bowls.

"oh, what did i say?" your voice drifts again through the walls, following by a light laugh, "look, he was cute and all, but he just wasn't my type."

toji rubs a hand down his face, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his noise. you're just his neighbour. you're entitled to have your fun, to live your own life. that doesn't mean he has to like hearing about it.

meanwhile, his date sits stiffly on the couch, politely pretending your voice isn't bleeding through the walls like a radio she can't turn off. she's doing a commendable job of feigning disinterest, but toji knows it's killing what little momentum the evening had.

he clears his throat, trying to salvage things, "so, uh, got any plans for tomorrow? something fun for christmas?" great, now he's stealing lines from you.

her smile tightens, polite but clearly wavering, "just lunch with my family. my sister's bringing her kids over."

toji nods, grasping at conversational straws, "that's nice. i've got, uh, a brother. and an annoying little cousin."

"right," and she's glancing up at the clock, her patience thinning faster than her smile.

"oh, come on," your voice pipes up again, clearer this time, "you know my type's never been those kinds of guys. i like the big, rough ones." there's a pause, and then you laugh, the sound both coy and infuriatingly knowing, "yeah, like a bit older. all muscles."

toji freezes, trying to pretend like his insides aren't doing the tango. his date, on the other hand, has clearly reached her limit. her lips purse into a tight smile as she stands, smoothing her dress, "look, you've been nice and all," she says, voice clipped, clearly cutting off the chances of a second date, "but i really should get going."

toji fushiguro doesn't argue. doesn't even try to stop her. just watches as her expensive-ass coat swings off his couch, her heels clicking toward the door and her figure vanishing down the hallway.

he slouches back on the couch, arms sprawled wide, feigning a calm that he doesn't definitely feel. in truth, he's seconds away from keeling over, his chest tight and his pulse betrays him.

"huh?" your voice filters through the paper-thin walls, questioning and laced with mirth. the sound sends a shiver down his spine, and down somewhere else, "oh, my neighbour? toji, yep, that's him!"

his head jerks up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash, eyes boring into the wall like he can will it to dissolve. tch, he's being such a dog. his ears are straining, sharp and unreasonably hopeful.

"yeah, he's so perfectly my type. tsk! yes, of course, i wish he'd just...yeah. anyway. but," you sigh, a dramatic exhale, "but i just don' think he's into me."

toji freezes, as heat floods his face, creeping down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. there's a traitorous clench in his groin as his stomach flips in a way that's both exhilarating and completely unwelcome.

the truth — shameful and complicated as it is — is that he is very much into you. has been for months. and it's getting worse.

every time you lean into him with those wide, sparkling eyes, every time you tease him with some playful jab or brush your fingers against his arm like it’s nothing, it carves a little deeper into his self-control. you're sweet, bright, always full of questions and comments that manage to sound innocent and maddeningly suggestive all at once.

but there's a prickling shame that comes with it, too, a harsh voice in the back of his head that tells him to grow the hell up. he's a grown man, for crying out loud.

a grown man with a kid who needs him, who already has enough on his plate without the complication of a pretty little neighbour who could turn his world upside down without even trying.

what could he offer you, anyway? you, who barrels down the hall in the mornings with an oversized bag bouncing against your hip, always late for something important, always in motion.

your life is big and full and bursting with possibilities. his, by comparison, feels...worn. quiet. comfortable in a way that makes him feel ancient when he looks at you.

still, it doesn't stop toji from looking. or from thinking things he shouldn't, like how your laughter lights up even the dullest days. or sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, pulling his hard cock out to tug on it, imagining your doe-eyes peering up at him.

toji rubs a hand over his face, groaning quietly into the crook of his elbow. what the fuck is he supposed to do with this?

you're starting to lose precious steam. for all your big talk about not giving up and winning toji over, the spark of confidence that got you this far is starting to sputter out. the lines that you'd carefully scribbled in blue ballpoint ink, a full script of fake laughter and coy quips begins to feel...a little tragic.

half an hour of pacing your apartment and pretending to be on the phone has left you feeling deflated, and painfully self-aware. your voice has grown too practiced, too rehearsed and you're starting to wonder if you even sound convincing anymore. and for all you know, toji fushiguro didn't even hear one word of it.

he's probably in there, sprawled on his couch, having a great time with his date. maybe laughing, maybe pouring wine, or maybe he's taken her to bed. fuck, your stomach lurches as your insides flip for no good, kind reason.

you glance at the cooling grape soda on your nightstand, still fizzing lazily in its can, and suddenly feeling quite awful. disgusted with yourself for the plotting, the dramatics, and the fact that it hasn't paid off in the slightest.

with a sigh that's more frustrated and resigned, you flop back onto your bed, ignoring the slight bounce of the mattress as you land. your apartment suddenly feels too hot, the air sticky and stifling.

you kick off the blanket that's bunched around your ankles, and you lie sprawled on top of the quilt. head tilted back against the pillows as you take in the dull hum of the light fixture and the occasional creak of the pipes.

with a despondent sigh, you find yourself half-heartedly parting your legs — maybe to entertain some false fantasy instead. you could have gone out, maybe really lived a little, just as toji had suggested.

you roll down the waistband of your shorts, pulling at the soft, elastic band. just tugging them down enough so you can trail your hands over the flesh of your thighs. yeah, you were that morose right now.

perhaps, you should have accepted the invites to all those christmas parties. you could have dolled up a little, grabbed a sweet drink or two on the house, fallen into the strong arms of a stranger?

you trail your hands over thin, soft skin. nails gently grazing over your mound, as you quickly run your middle finger through your slit, already dewy and moist. you muffle a small whine, because for all your showmanship earlier, you weren't above decency. and these walls were truly that thin.

but it's hard to not buck your hips up into your own touch, working your puffy cunt open with steady fingers. one finger, and then a second, fluttering at a gentle pace. how telling that the mysterious stranger in your fantasies is suddenly far older, with hazy green eyes and charcoal hair falling over his face.

you substitute the slap of your fingers for his, pretending its a rough thumb that pulls at your clit, gently pushing the throbbing hood up to run misshapen circles over the bundle of nerves.

"hah," you try to gnaw at your lower lip, keeping your mouth shut, as you're desparate for the creak of your bed frame to not carry over into the apartment next door, "t-toji, please."

there's a faint thud from next door, like someone has just hit their head. but you can hardly register it in your own mind. shuffling whines leaving your lips, as you use your fingers to stretch out your slick, sodden walls. getting faster, and faster with each piston-like gesture to curl the pads of your fingers up. searching, keening around for that rough spot that makes you squeal.

your eyes are fluttering shut, lashes falling against your cheek as your jaw tightens, heartbeat beginning to race as you heave for air, back arching up as you use your other hand to furiously flick over your clit, building up a steady ache in your wrist that you ignore, "ah, ah, toji, r-right there, fuck, 'm close."

each press of your finger against the walls of your entrance results in a large squelch echoing through your ears, getting closer and closer to that devastating peak, all the while as hallucination-toji snickers down at you and —

"hey!"

and just like that, your long-awaited orgasm, your beautiful climax, well. she disappears with nary a goodbye. your eyes snap open, heart hammering as you blink up at the dull ceiling. your hand is yanked away from your cunt, the cool air suddenly hitting the slick that's coating your fingers. your mind stutters, scrambling for clarity as an all-too-familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

"hey! c'mon, doll. don't have all day."

toji. toji fushiguro. oh, shit.

the panic rises quickly, what are your options? dive out the window and hope that you land on your feet? or fake an illness so convincing that you convince him that's contagious so he leaves? you consider it for a moment, but something else takes over. far more brave, or just reckless and lust-addled. you pull yourself upright, tugging your shorts back up. you shift your sheets, making sure that the dark, translucent patch is covered.

you pad towards the door with the air of a man marked for execution. when you swing it open, you're met with a red-faced toji. is he flushed?

you drop any cute pretense, and instead, lock your petulant gaze on his chest, straight up with the no eye-contact rule. it gives you a real, shameless good look at those heavenly sculpted pecs.

"what do you want?" you ask, voice as flat as you can possibly manage. but you're keenly aware of that mirror-gloss still coating your hands, and you wonder if its too obvious to scrunch your fingers in your sweatshirt. gross, someone get you out of here. the misery of your own making.

toji stands there, entirely dumbounded, and you notice the flush creeping up the peachy tan of his neck, a shade deeper than usual, "what do i want? what do you want?" he says, his voice rock-rasp.

you swallow thickly, ignoring the addled scent of leather, musk and something far more faintly addictive, "i have no idea what you mean."

toji huffs, obviously amused, before mimicking your voice with exaggerated sweetness, "oh, toji, please. right there, toji." he's mocking you, and your skin burns with the recent memory of that exact tone.

you consider for a split second if you can just hand him your lease tomorrow morning and call it quits. but then, toji continues, "y'know these walls are thin, right?"

you cross your arms, trying to steady yourself, ignoring how your poor cunt clenches with the faint memory of her ruined orgasm, "really? i had no idea."

toji mirrors your actions, his arms folding, but the effect only pushes his pecs up, and you try not to get distracted. but it's hard, very hard, "don't get all smart with me now. been hearing you giggle all evenin' and being all slutty."

"thought you had a date," you mutter, the act of playing pretend has long since passed and you're too far gone now to pretend. you scowl up at toji, meeting his gaze head-on, feeling your heart race as his eyes narrow and his pink lips part slightly. you can almost feel the urgent heat of his gaze dragging over your hand, your damp fingertips.

"how'd you know about my date? suddenly real concerned for me?" toji tilts his head, voice laced with infuriating amusement, and you fight the urge to lash out, to throw yourself into him and kiss him fuckin' stupid. instead, you dig in your heels, staying put.

"no, i'm not concerned," you stutter, floundering for a reason, "i'm just, well —"

"who asked you out?" toji cuts through your flickering thoughts, an undercurrent of something sharper in his tone.

"huh?"

"who was it? the one who isn't your type?" toji fushiguro says this all so casually, making your stomach flip. so he had been listening, he heard every word of you flouncing around your room.

you swallow hard, ignoring the sudden fluttering in your chest, "why? you jealous?" the words spill out before you can stop them, you raise an eyebrow, feeling a small victory in the way his priggish expression falters just slightly, "just go back to your date, fushiguro."

"gettin' real bold now," he murmurs, and you realise just how close the two of you are. how you can feel his body heart radiating off him. the tension between you is suffocating to say the last, and you can't decide if you want him to step back or push closer. he doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"thanks to your pretty antics, she sent herself packin', and now i'm all on my lonesome."

"how sad for you," and you suddenly curl your lip, "get a vibrator."

toji's maw drops open for a split second, before he shakes his head, "you first. don't know how you were doing all that without one," and he nods to your hand, "and because i wasn't hearin' much else."

something bold and red-hot comes over you, egged on by the damp sticking to your thighs, "want a visual demonstration?"

you barely have time to form a coherent thought before toji moves, a low growl rumbling in his barrel-like chest as he surges forward. his hands, large and calloused and warm, cup your face with surprising gentleness, though the intensity in his gaze leaves no room for doubt. then, his lips crash against yours, rough and unrelenting. the faint scrape of the scar cutting across his mouth sending a shiver through you.

it's not careful, it's testing and tasting. as if he's waiting for you to push him away. but oh, you're not going anywhere. not when his kiss is setting your nerves alight, and sending your heart into a dizzying free fall. merry christmas to you, indeed.

you respond in kind, just as desperate, your hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders. the solid, hefty weight of toji beneath your fingers grounds you, even as the world tilts on its axis.

"ohh, look at you," toji all but purrs, pawing his hands over your back, your waist, settling over your hips as he pushes you further into your apartment. a strong arm stretching out to slam the door closed, tugging you further in. it seems he's too needy to even reach the bed, and you whine as you're shoved with your back to the wall. his hand coming up to make sure you don't quite slam in with too much force.

toji's lips are practically meshed to your own, and he's already pulling at the waistband of your shorts again. just as you were doing earlier, and you shudder, feeling thick fingers run along your hips.

"s-shit," toji gasps, "if ya' don't want me to —"

you groan, "no, n-no. want you," your voice quivers suddenly as warm fingers press into your soaked cunt. finding home right among your weeping slit. you don't even see where your shorts have been thrown, instead focusing on toji's hazy eyes flickering when they see that you've been wearing nothing underneath. all damn evening.

you don't think you've ever seen the man so dishevelled, heaving for air, as he tries to come to terms with all this, "so when you were in that basement, jus' tryna tease me? is that what you wanted?"

you can't help but laugh, but it's quickly cut off when toji's pressing a hot kiss to the very tip of your clit, it's so feather light and oddly gentle for the gruff man, and it has you keening over.

"that's it, gon' have you all in my mouth. gonna drink ya' up, it's what you wanted, right?" he uses two fingers to press right up against your entrance, parting your oozing folds so he can narrow his eyes at how ready you are for him, "gonna put this all in a cup, and drink it."

"t-toji!" you whine out, feeling your head go all light, and weightless, watching toji play with your core. seeing the older man gape at how you're soaking divots into his fingers, seeing emerald eyes darken with a carnal need to taste you. right now.

"stay still, doll. yeah, just for a sec," toji's hands tighten around your thighs, smacking a fat glob of spit over your trembling core, letting his index finger run the fluid up and down your pussy, a ragged laugh running raw from his smart mouth, "had no idea you were like this, been burying your pretty fingers in your cunt for me before, right?"

you need to get a hit of your own in, before toji fushiguro turns your mind to mush, "you been fisting around your cock for me, then too? bet it super hard when — fuck!"

your words are cut off by the flat pads of his fingertips coming down to deliver a jolt to your throbbing clit, slapping wet arousal around as toji almost glares up at you, but it's softened by lazy fondness.

"watch ya' mouth, doll. 'm wanting to go easy on you tonight."

he's delving straight into your cunt, like a man starved and searching for salvation between your thighs. you feel your mind go blank, that ruined orgasm of the past hour practically gaining a life of her own and cheering once more, coming back to you in embarrassing, full force as it barely takes a few, quick munches of toji's tongue around your sweet pussy.

that's all you need before you're quickly seeing flashing stars, and doing your best to hide the tremble in your thighs. but toji's having none of that.

his laugh is low, mocking and so ruined, "tchh, i really did interrupt ya' didn't i? must have been so close on that bed," but he's not stopping, practically speaking into your stimulated cunt, punctuating his words with buttery kisses, "must have caught ya' on the very edge for her to so ready for me."

"shut u-up."

"your wish? my command," toji snickers, letting your slick, running juices gather over his chin, "and you taste so good. she's a sweet thing, right," and you realise that he's not talking about you, but rather, about your weeping, glossy cunt that's shoved against his sharp nose. you've got the man practically pussydrunk already, and he's hardly gotten a good feel for it.

his hand comes to rest on your bare thigh, tapping it, "now 'm gonna need you to move that, yeah, that's right," you're slotting it over his broad shoulders, and it pulls him closer. and at this point, you don't even care for how you should be embarrassed, should be feeling some shame at having this rugged, older man salivating into your cunt. but there's a shocking glee instead, a quiet victory that's bubbling in your abdomen and already demanding an encore.

his tongue darts out again, this time he's prodding the muscle at your entrance, feeling for that slight resistance made weaker by your fingers earlier, all on your own. the very tip of his tongue in you has you whining again, slapping a hand over your lolling mouth.

"move that hand," toji grunts, punctuating each word with a flick to your clit.

"i c-can't," you gasp, hands finding a home in his clingy, dark strands, "people are gonna hear-ahhh," he's practically mouthing himself onto your pussy, slick strands separating from his lips each time he pulled away for air. the stimulation is making you so much more sensitive, tears springing to the corners of your eyes as the pleasure begins to sting so deliciously.

you pull fingers through ink-black hair, delicate threads that are soft to the touch and feather-light, "h-here, toji," you curl your fingers to angle him perfectly just so, and the burly man is letting you use him, letting you drag his mouth over your slippery folds. just so you can get him to flick his tongue over that spot that makes you cry out so perfectly.

and toji thinks he's never seen a greater sight. he feels a dizzy, heaving tightness in his jeans, that ache building in his groin like he's about to bust his load just from having you fall apart so prettily on his tongue. he ups the pace, making sure to nimbly etch patterns over your heated, swollen clit. he had you right where he wanted you, needed you, and he'd be damned before he'd left you high and dry.

"y'know, 'm thinking about to see this pretty pussy cum again," and toji sounds so proud, taking gratified in the fact that after only one taste, he's already attuned to the signs of your climax. the way your eyes roll back in your head, tears pricking at your eyes in a way that makes his cock ache even harder.

you're unabashed now, rolling your hips into him at a messy pace. letting spikes of white-hot and red-searing pleasure curl up in your abdomen, ready to burst. the entirety of his lower chin is coated in sweet slick, glistening his rough scar, with a clear drop just beading at his lip.

"i-i think 'm gonna, toji, toji - feels s-so —"

toji's mocking you, pitching his raspy voice up again to capture your tone, "oh yeah? 'm gonna, what? what are ya' gonna do? gonna cum, because that's what i'm here for, doll."

he's making a mess now, switching between a cool, short puff of air at your throbbing clit, and letting his tongue push into your gummy walls, unending pleasure until —

"aaand, cum. now, doll."

it bursts within you, swiftly and briskly. so intense that the edges of your visions become clouded with dark spots, a hazy vignette of sheer pleasure from toji's mouth running all over the filthy mess you've created. the gushing climax that must be soaking the scuffed, dark floorboards beneath toji's bent knees.

you don't even realise that you're still babbling his name, entirely lost in the daze of your second orgasm of the night. little cries of toji, like a prayer over and over, mantras that are making toji grin with his gleaming lips underneath you. all as he wraps his arms around your thighs, lifting you with brute strength. all the while not separating himself from your oversensitive cunt, petting soft kisses over your inner thighs, "gorgeous thing, aren'tcha? think ya' give me another one?"

you groggily lift your head as he sets you down on the bed, caging you beneath his considerable frame, "why? don't wanna, uh, stuff my stocking tonight?"

toji's green eyes flicker with mirth, amusement, only punctuated by him rolling them back in faux-disgust, "still runnin' that clever mouth, hah."

you squirm as he pushes his rough hands under your sweatshirt, letting both hands cup your breasts, pinching and twirling fingertips over your nipples, "are you a, mmph, a candy cane, toji?"

he doesn't break his concentration from where he's peeling your top off, "what nasty shit are ya' gonna say now?"

you giggle as he brushes past a particularly ticklish spot, "because i think you're s-sweet, and i wanna suck you."

"fuck."

in the blink of an eye, he's got you perched over on your knees, just as he hovers you. waistband pulled down enough to reveal black boxers, close enough that you could stick your chin out and press a soft kiss to the darkened patch of pre-cum that must be driving toji crazy.

and well, it's big. like it's jingle bells, jingle balls type of big. you drag your eyes from soft, curled black hair at the base of his groin and down an angry, thick red shaft that makes you clench your thighs.

"wan' me to slide over your chimney?"

that gifts you a barked, punched laugh out of the man — toji's got a large hand wrapped around his cock, "c'mon, doll. put that smart mouth to good use then," inching it closer to your lips in silent permission. you part your lips, anticipating the savoury pre that coats your tongue, the translucent fluid dripping from your mouth already.

he's thumbing down on your lower lip, easing the red mushroom tip into your waiting, eager mouth, "hah, think ya' were meant to take me. how's...how's this slutty mouth so perfect?" toji sounds ruined, all rock-salt rasp and his pink lips fall open, and a flush is painted over his tan skin.

you've never been one to give up, ready to angle your head lower, eager to take as much of him as possible into your mouth. but it's a hard stretch, as crystalline tears cling to your lashes, from the tight wrap of the back of your mouth around his throbbing cock.

toji's got his hand wrapped in your hair now, and you can tell that he's trying to be gentle with the strands as he angles your head lower, purring as you take him so well, "f-fuck, a perfect tease, yeah? fuckin' amazing," and you know he's telling the truth, for his cock is practically twitching with a life of its own in your mouth.

you've got this man hazy and drunk, just from sucking you off, and the realisation makes you whine all over again. reaching a hand down in between your thighs to rock up against your clit, all at the same steady pace.

and you know that toji is close, for those sculpted thighs of pure muscle tremble now, the powerful cords quivering as he bucks his hips, fucking your mouth in long, steady strokes. you also realise that you want him to cum, just like this, to have thick white fall from your lips to really seal and sweeten the deal.

but suddenly, you're left popping your lips shut, as toji groans, genuinely groans and shudders, pulling himself out of your mouth with a wet slop!

"don' give me that look, doll," toji chuckles, his chest heaving underneath the sculpted outline of his dark shirt, "can stuff ya' mouth with my cock later, if that's what you want. but 'm really gonna lose it if i'm not in her right now," and he's angling you back to give a loving, gentle pat to your glistening cunt.

rough, calloused hands slide across your bare back with an unexpected gentleness, against the soft curve of your spine as toji presses you into the mattress, so your head is finally resting back against the pillow.

toji's enjoying this, you know that, just from how he's taking your times to pull your thighs apart, sucking in a harsh breath at how your sleek entrance practically winks at him. tugging his hands roughly on his rock-hard cock, all so he can run the fat tip over your clit, making you mewl.

"don't t-tease, toji," you sniffle, feeling the searing tip push up against your clitoral hood, that nerves so stimulated that you're bucking up into him, wanting toji to just put the damn thing in already.

"fuck, doll," toji's taking a small mercy on you, pressing the first inch into your cunt, "i don't 'm the tease here, god knows how long you were jus' jacking off on the other side of the wall. hopin' that i'd come and stuff you like this?"

each inch that's bullying itself into making your head spin, making you wrap arms around his thick neck, just as he presses a soft kiss to the crook of your collarbone, "ya' good, doll? 's not too much for your, hnngh, tight lil' cunt, is it?"

you mewl as he bottoms out, and the stretch is unlike anything you've ever felt before. it's so deliciously big within you, scraping at the inside of your walls, "wan' be on top, toji."

"oh, yeah? lucky that i like ya' this much, givin' me orders and bossin' me around," toji huffs, using thick arms to pull you up instead, flipping you around so he's got you straddling his thighs, split apart so perfectly around his gliding cock.

"mmph, 's much deeper like this, toji," you chase after his lips, running your tongue over the taut, rigid scar that cuts over the right side of his mouth, all while he starts to set a maddening pace, bouncing you like a pretty toy over his cock, swabbing your insides with buttery wads of pre-cum, all sticky and loud in the silence of the night.

"lookin' good, doll," toji's grin can only be described as shark-like, and he's clearly pleased by the echoing squelches from the filthy mess that's dolloped between your groins, the smack of your ass against your thighs, tacky strands sticking to skin.

your chest is pressed against his shirt, and he's so enjoying the view. loves seeing how the swell bounces and hypnotises him, fuck, toji wonders how he's gonna go about the rest of his life away from you and your perfect pussy.

your eyes widen as you glance back, swivelling your head over your shoulder to watch the smacking movement of you against him, at how his thighs hold you up with a steady rhythm, "you're f-fuckin' me really well, toji," and god, he thinks he might just lose it all, then and there. the praise from your dewy lips is rushing straight into his cock, turning his mind to mush as he finds himself on some sort of autopilot.

he needs to cum in you, right now, needs to feel you milk him for all he can give. to stuff your syrupy cunt with mounds of weeping inches, and he's picking up the pace. smacking heavy, laden balls against your skin, so you whine and keen into him.

you're so caught up in the pleasure that you don't even realise toji had said something, words snapping around his teeth as he bounces you over and over, making sure that you ride him good, "w-what?"

"a date, doll," toji groans, smacking your hand away from your clit, just so he can toy with it, faster and faster, "lemme take ya' out properly, what'd ya' say to that, huh?"

"wanna take me o-out?" you all but weep over him, spearheaded on his tip, and raking sharp nails over iron abs, all underneath his tight top, "please, please, t-toji, wanna go out with you! and then," you hiss as he angles himself just right, curved sheath kissing that perfect g-spot deep within you, "and then i wanna do t-this all over again."

it makes toji's hips stutter, "yeah? pretty girl wants me to take her out, parade her around t-town, hah, i can do that. i can do all of that," he's gasping, feeling your tight heat snatch the life out of him. each girthy vein rubbing itself against your tacky cunt, "i can do all of that, and more. jus' lemme show ya', i'll spoil ya' for anyone else. those d-dumb college boys."

and you look at him with such gorgeous, pretty eyes that toji wonders how on earth he's gonna function now, with you so supplanted in his life. on his cock, even. he can taste something faintly sweet and artificial on your tongue, like tangy grape as he sucks on the muscle.

"never wanted a-any of them anyway, jus' you, toji. only you."

toji fushiguro loses his mind, he's cumming and his own orgasm is hitting him so hard that, in the back of his mind, he's concerned at how he's just filling you up. sloppy thrusts slowing down as thick, white translucent spurts paint your insides, right up to where he can see the divot of his tip through your abdomen. where you've taken in him so deep.

"s-shit," toji presses his mouth to yours again, harder, "look what ya' doin' to me, ruining me," and he also feels just a little bad for ruining your sheets, right as your own umpteenth climax for the night hits you, glossy and clear over the black tufts of hair. your pretty mouth pulled open in a wordless cry of his name, but toji doesn't let go. he lets you ride it out, that sticky mess becoming an afterthought for later.

in the hazy glow, toji's eyes wander over the mess of your room. but something else catches his attention, wads of paper flattened by an empty can of soda. he tilts his head, hair falling over his forehead, dampened by sweat. reaching for the paper with his curiosity piqued.

before he can fully read the words, you're suddenly pawing at his arm, practically leaping into him to get in the way, "wait, toji, don't! hey, that's private!" your voice is an odd mix of urgency and embarrassment, nothing like the angelic whimpers from a few minutes ago. you're swatting at his thick hand, trying to grasp at his fingers.

ignoring your protests and squirms, he crumples the paper open and reads the bold, hastily scrawled letters: how to get toji fushiguro in bed.

damn. so you had been responsible for that heater, the staircase, a fake phone call. he always did like them a bit cuckoo-bananas.

toji chuckles darkly, glancing up at you, barely able to suppress a grin. you're flushed, looking like you'd rather disappear into the floor, oddly shy despite the fact that you were so bold, and a minx riding him earlier to hell and back.

"look, i can explain. don't be mad, because i swear —"

toji groans, shifting you slightly in his lap, "mad? doll, 'm hard all over again. how'd you want it this time?"

[nayaesworld]

The Cruel Mind of Terry Richmond

Inside the mind of Patient#:022802

__

Psycho!Terry x Psychologist!Black reader

Warnings: MDNI!, mentions of mental disorders, manipulative behavior, smut, mentions of murder

Summary: The workings of the human brain had always intrigued you. How no one person ever shared the same brain, each one properly tailored to their needs. Serial killers and psychopaths were no different. Their brain chemicals had mixed into a dangerous cocktail of insanity, intrusive thoughts, and murderous behavior, but lacked in areas where remorse, guilt, and empathy should have been, leaving them to be caged like animals once diagnosed. But these cases interested you and your curiosity about their humanity had led you to urgently sign up to observe and interview the most recent transfer to the ward.

__

—

Psychology had always been your first love. It had been there through breakups and losses alike, and had gotten you through college with a doctorate in psychology. You couldn’t imagine life without your innate curiosity for the inner workings of the human brain, what it meant to be human and how some thoughts turned us into monsters. No one brain was created to respond the same to stimuli, each reaction was perfectly tailored to that person's upbringing and personal experiences, and this created the vast and never ending field of psychology.

You had set your sights on Oak Ridge Behavioral Center exactly a year and a half ago. The facility was a haven for progressive research and development into the rehabilitation of the discarded people of the community. The people that had been deemed ‘unfixable’ and labeled as misfits. Today was your lucky day, a call from the center had shook off any doubts you had about your work. They contacted you. They were interested in your work and what you could do for them.

A quick shower refreshed your mind and body and soothed away the first day jitters. After smoothing a thick body butter on your skin you slid into your black jogger scrub pants and black scrub top. Your white On Cloud sneakers would assist you in being on your feet all day, and you grabbed your Apple Watch and white coat before heading to your car.The dark gray gloominess of the weather outside was a stark difference from the excitement that threatened to bubble out of you.

90’s R&B soothed and serenaded you on your short drive to the facility. Your manicured fingers tapping in rhythm to the loud bass flowing through your speakers. This could be a new beginning for you, something you could tell your family and they’d be proud of you..something you could celebrate and finally give yourself that pat on the back you've always deserved. For all the days you felt like psychology wasn’t your passion anymore, this is what would make it all come full circle.

You arrived early, courtesy of your heavy foot and you sat in your car for a few more minutes. Inhaling and exhaling to shake the nerves from your body. You wanted to go in there and be impressive. These people had sought you out and gotten in contact with you. Your work had made waves and not the ripples you equated it to. It took a big brain to graduate college but an even bigger one was needed to understand someone else’s, that’s why you were here. To show them that your work was good on and off papers.

Out of your head and in front of the doors, you badged into the facility being met with icy cool air that makes you pull your jacket a little closer over your body. You’re greeted by Dr.Leland upon arrival and a smile graces your face. She reaches forward to shake your hand and you’re immediately calmed by the soft firm grip of it—safe and intentional. The middle aged woman's smooth dark skin and warm eyes soothed your nerves, her neat braids pulled back into a high ponytail.

“ So happy to have you here, I know you know me as Dr. Leland, but you can call me Karen. I know we’ve chatted some through zoom and what not, but I’d like to give you a more in depth tour of our facility.”

“Lead the way..I’m excited!”

You were stunned. Nothing could have prepared you for the state- of- the- art facility. The pictures quite literally did it no justice. The different stations inside designed uniquely to cater to a vast variety of different personalities. Large windows and atriums pulled in bright natural lighting giving the facility a healthy lush glow. A garden center where patients could help grow fresh produce and tend to all sorts of flowers and fruit trees. A studio where they could experiment with different beats and produce their own music, a form of music therapy. She took you to the pool room, and ended the tour in the art room.

“Dr.Le- I’m sorry Karen…wow! I mean I don’t know what else to say, you all have clearly dedicated yourselves to this cause. There’s a plethora of great therapy options here, something for everyone.”

“We are dedicated, heavily dedicated…but we also know the extent of what we can offer an individual here at Oak Ridge. And if there’s ever a time where our usual practices don’t seem to be working for someone, we call in people like you.”

You couldn’t lie, your curiosity for this ‘troubled patient’ was beginning to grow. Your eagerness to wonder who it was that Karen Leland couldn’t seem to rehabilitate. But this also broughtl on doubt.. if she couldn’t do it, how could you? Karen was a seasoned psychologist, she had seen it all.. and yet she had gotten in contact and needed your help. You were slightly spooked.

“I’m appreciative Karen I really am.. but I have to ask what am I getting myself into here?”

Her lips pursed and her smile faltered a bit before she motioned for you to follow her to another level of the building. The elevator ride down was short and you tried to hide your initial shock at realizing there was a whole other level beneath where you had just been standing. Patients were being housed and treated down here?

Stepping off of the elevator she badged in and two large steel doors swept open quietly. The lighting was the first thing you noticed. It was yellow-green almost and had been a complete stark difference from the bright airy openness of the front of the building. It was darker, quieter, and as you followed closely behind Karen you noticed the patients seemed drowsy and disoriented. Each room an eggshell white with a large glass cutout in the wall, offering you and other doctors a visual of the patients.

“We’ve chosen to nickname this area of the facility Doomsday..and I’d like to show you why. Every patient on this level has exhibited dangerous life threatening behavior either toward me, other therapists, or the orderlies. This is our last attempt at rehabilitation..and their last chance at a normal life.”

You continued walking alongside her, grasping onto her words trying to get a sense of what kind of patient you’d be faced with. You felt like you had seen enough, you were ready for an introduction.

“So I obviously have to ask..when can I meet him? I’ve taken heed of what you’ve told me but I want to get a general idea about this patient before anything.”

Karen seemed impressed by your approach and the two of you began the trek deeper into the lower level.

__

You weren’t supposed to have expectations of patients, but when you had seen Terry for the first time you couldn’t help your thoughts. He looked like he belonged on the cover of vogue, and had a build like a well paid athlete. He appeared to have been expecting the visit as he stared out at the two of you, clearly aware that a visit was being made today.

“Did he know about today?” Karen nodded before unlocking the iPad and pulling up his profile.

“It was mentioned to him last week before the incident…this meeting was unfortunately supposed to be held on the upper level. I want to brief you really quickly since I’ve got his file pulled up, and then we’ll speak more about last week.”

Her keeping you in the loop about the incident was exactly what you wanted. You had seen so many instances where doctors were thrown into the lion's den with no knowledge of the patient ever being aggressive or volatile. You didn’t want that for yourself, and so far Oak Ridge was alright in your eyes.

The two of you settled into her office and she began to give you the rundown. A rundown that shocked you.

“So we have 33 year old Terry Richmond. He’s born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana, is an only child with one parent still living. He had no prior run-ins with police up until a year ago where he was arrested and charged with two counts of first degree murder for the slaying of two ex girlfriends.”

You were stunned, but you did your best to conceal your facial expressions. This was a wild card for sure. But all you had to do was get deeply submerged in as much knowledge about his situation as you could; that is how you would even the playing fields.

“His attorney was able to get him acquitted by reason of insanity, and he was carted off to us exactly ten days after his court date. His diagnosis.. bipolar schizophrenia, he apparently had been living with these thoughts and feelings for the majority of his life but his mother never had him seen. Hence this huge blowup at the age of 32 that cost him his freedom.”

“Never having him seen as a child is a bit odd, were there ever any signs during childhood?” Karen put away the iPad and swiftly stepped from around the desk.

“Are you ready to ask him yourself?”

You held your head up as you began to approach his cell, and you felt confident knowing that you had the skills to thoroughly assess the patient and rehabilitate him. You were let into his room and given a chair to sit in. His bulky form draped in the ivory sweatsuit provided by the facility. His hands and feet were shackled and clamped to a heavy slab of concrete in the middle of the floor, prohibiting him from moving from the chair he was sitting in. You looked back outside the glass and Karen gave you a nod of approval. You could begin.

“Hi Mr.Richmond I’m Dr.Rhode and I’ll be your doctor for the rest of your time here. It’s nice to meet you.” Your introduction seemed to fall on deaf ears as hazel eyes locked onto your face before swishing away in disinterest.

“The system owns me like a dog.. do they own you too? Do they whistle and you come running..trained and ready to obey?“ He scoffed and looked away, hands rubbing against his pants slightly.

“Well no… I’m here to help you. This is all about you Terry. Can I call you that?”

He never answered and instead threw a pointed look your way. You’d instead continue.

“For the duration of my time here I plan to implement tasks and exercises that will help you achieve a level of rehabilitation that will allow you to live a normal life.”

“Sound like the same shit the last one said..and the one before that. Why are you any different..why should I put my care in your hands?”

“And beside.” He continued “What do those little files tell you about me that I can’t tell you myself hmm?” His face morphed into one of annoyance before you could later up and answer.

“Why don’t you try me..tell me everything you want me to know.”

Terry Richmond was an odd man—particular mostly. His life before Oak Ridge had been colorful and full of adventure. But he wasn’t shy on speaking about the urges he had felt his whole life. How he often restricted himself from the public because being around people would trigger that part of himself and he wasn’t sure most times if he would be able to be without an incident.

“You think you can rehabilitate me…put me back out into the public that’s cute. I’ve accepted what I am..now it’s time for you and the rest of these people to do the same.”

“That’s my jo-“ You didn’t complete your sentence before he cut you off, eager to get his point across.

“No, your job is to assess me and interview me. Don’t try to be a hero, it won’t end well for you.”

__

Over the course of four months she interviewed him and he shared details;details so sick that she’d become physically ill after their sessions. He gave her what she wanted, graphic descriptions, recaps and stories of his ‘hunting sessions’ as he liked to call them— the rituals he would do afterwards. A kind of sacred ceremony for him, tying him to the crimes he’d committed and centering him—making him feel righteous in his actions.

“When I was younger I used to mutilate small animals and my mama would say ‘oh that’s just what boys do’…until I turned thirteen and this time I had stabbed my cousin with a steak knife for touching my Xbox. Wasn’t so boyish of me then.”

The tone of voice he spoke of his mother in was..interesting. He loved the woman with everything in him and yet hated her for not seeing the signs early on—hated her for not getting him help. He blamed her for his actions, because in his mind if she’d helped him like a mother was supposed to, he wouldn’t even be in this situation.

“I don’t think what I did was so bad.” He continued “Of course everyone overreacted a tad bit.. is it a crime that I don’t take kindly to betrayal? Is it a crime to expect from others what I give to them?” His fist smacked into his palm a few times before he sat back roughly in his seat; agitation clear on his face.

“You speak about betrayals and over offering yourself to people that were undeserving. Who and what were these betrayals?” You leg crossed over the other as you scribbled neat shortened notes of his accounts.

Some time lapsed before you realized he hadn’t yet answered your question. It was silent..dead silent. He had been given a little more leeway with his shackles and his hands gripped and pulled at his hair before he began to cut into his forearm with his nails. Bright red blood spilling out from the tiny punctures and coloring his honeyed skin.

“Woah woah! Terry if this question is too much for you we can skip it…please do not harm yourself. Take it slow, just breathe.”

The ragged breaths came out rushed before his large frame stilled with smoother air coming from his nostrils. Tears had started to form now threatening to fall and tell the story for him.

“They tried to get over on me..give away what was mines. They said they loved me, that they would marry me and give me children. I was engaged to both of them. At separate times of course ..and they betrayed me by keeping the company of lesser men.”

“Why do you think you had ownership of these women even after you were no longer together?” The question needed to be answered. How and why did this drive him to commit murder.

He rubbed at his reddened nose and he twisted his full lips to the side, regaining his thoughts on the matter.

“Women are emotional beings…if they connect with you emotionally a different sort of bond forms. They feel linked to you, they know and see you better—they begin to love you.”

“And how could I turn that down?” He continued. “That overwhelming feeling of being wanted and worshipped through love. I wasn’t without love in my life..I always had it—but I never twisted it the way I did with them.”

You clung to every word. Absorbing the pain that oddly seeped from his words. He sounded regretful and proud at the same time. A major mind fuck.

“I was never a good man. I was constantly applauded for the bare minimum…validated in all my actions. I still hear their voices sometimes..in here.”He motioned to his head, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft smile. ���They aren’t angry with me.”

“I’m a monster. Monsters don’t deserve rehabilitation, they deserve isolation.”

Their session ended shortly after and his words stayed with you all night. You showered with them. Ate with them. And when sleep didn’t come so easily, you sat at your computer desk reading article after article. Your blue light frames reflecting gory images and the film from his interrogation. The cold steel timbre of his voice as he answered all the detective's questions. Completely unfazed and unapologetic. He hid nothing from them. Told them how he did it, why he did it..didn’t fight when they began to cuff him.

You fell asleep at your desk. The days blending together like a cocktail and seeping into your brain as you rested. The focal point of them all being your patient; Terry Richmond. Why was your brain trying so hard to victimize and protect him? Maybe it was your psychology brain trying to exhaust all options before you addressed him by what he called himself—monster. Who was really at fault here? Who had failed him? Wasn’t it his job to make well thought out decisions that would impact his life for the better? Murder did the exact opposite; and yet somehow you felt sympathetic towards him. This feeling was freeing and it validated your growing feelings toward the man; you could be the pillar that made him sane again.

__

“I heard you got some free time today. You got to get out of here and paint in the art room..did you enjoy yourself ?”

You had spoken to Karen when you first arrived and was happy to hear that he was able to have a little normalcy.

“I’d rather talk to you..you paint a far better picture than I ever could.”

“Well you know we only meet every Wednesday and Thursday Terry but between those days I’ve recommended some enrichment time outside of this room for you.”

“Have you ever thought about how it might feel to not think those thoughts one day? How it might feel to free your mind?”

The questions seemed obvious enough on your end. And the exposure would have done well for his mental health.

“No that’s not something I want to ever entertain …because those thoughts feature you now. You make my stay in this dog pound worth it…even if I doubted your abilities at first.”

Redirect him. “ Did you paint anything you liked, anything you wanna hang up in your room?”

Surprised wouldn’t quite be the way to describe the painting that he was now showing to you. You felt honored and embraced. Who was really broken here? In all your years of study, you never actually had taken the time to turn the mirror around on yourself. You were compromised. And if Karen knew the thoughts that ran through your head day in and day out you’d be fired and shunned by this community. She had entrusted you with this patient, high expectations of your work ethic and integrity to commit yourself to this job—and you were failing. But what Karen didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

Reaching into your large tote bag to flicked through the cameras that had been linked to your iPad. In the midst of doing risky shit you needed full coverage of what was going on around you. No one could know about this.

Like he had read your mind you watched his eyes shine with pride and endearment. You had finally come around to him. No more fighting it. No more wasted time.

“Thirty minutes is all we have. I need to be filled to the brim and I need it quickly.”

You popped the bottoms of your blouse and exposed your heaving chest to him. Dark brown areolas peering through your bra at him.

“Come closer. Now..I’m in chains and now you want to come to your senses. Get the fuck over here!” His shackles shook with each word and you crossed the room to get to him in mere seconds. Body filled to the max with a need that burned inside you so fiercely.

This wasn’t about right or wrong. This was about fixing the man in front of you, you knew you could get through to him. Make him a man of the future and not one of his terrifying past. A union that would shape the both of you for the rest of your lives.

Shackles on the floor beneath you both as your hands gripped his shoulders tightly. Nothing in the world could have prepared you for the jolt of emotions that would come over you both as the two of you finally connected. The way he gripped your face as you rode him, nose red and eyes wet with hot tears. Your foreheads collided as you sped up. It felt like only the two of you existed—creating your own universe. Creating your own life.

Your watch signaled to you that only minutes remained of what you would describe as the best time of your life. His dick throbbed and pulsed along with your convulsing pussy. Heavy breathing and spit swapping became the soundtrack to your ears. His heavy hands roaming up and down your back as ropes of his cum entered your willing pussy.

“Tell me you love me…and I promise to do my best to let them treat me. Then me and you—and our baby were going far away from here.” He pressed his hand to your belly sealing the fate of what you both knew as your future.

This plan was the end all be all for the two of you. Something that sounded so crazy and unattainable just months ago was now within arms reach. Keeping your license was important, and getting Karen to integrate Terry back in with the top floor was the key to his freedom. So yeah you would lie and lie again about how he was doing. Anything to feed her what she wanted to hear, her praises amping you up and turning you into a deceiving manipulative woman. You were doing it all for love.

__

The coming months hit hard and fast. Your work at Oak Ridge continued through a plethora of other patients Karen believed you could achieve great things with. Hiding your bump was a no brainer. You wanted no one in your business, no coworkers and no family. You missed out on a lot and the distance from your family was hard most days . You couldn’t ask your mother about pregnancy and how she had navigated it three separate times in her lifetime. You attended your appointments alone, only able to update Terry through small spurts of information whenever you were within a few feet of him. The cold winter made it easy to bundle up during your last trimester and shorter work hours were given to you under the guise of ‘spreading yourself too thin between hospitals’.

The two of you were welcoming a Christmas baby. Your due date being on the twenty third of the month; set exactly two weeks after Terry would be released. You sighed briefly to yourself as you watched Terry play it up to Karen. You longed to reach out and touch him, to let him touch you and begin to learn the life that you had grown inside of you for the last eight months. But you were closer to the finish line than you’d ever been; you could taste the freedom. Sadness still managed to creep in when you were alone at home though. Lies flew from your mouth so fast. ‘No mommy I won’t make it to thanksgiving this year, the workload is tough’ the way you’d mute the phone and weep quietly to yourself as you let down your parents yet again. But this was for a greater cause, you and Terry both believed that.

Stranger things had happened to you. But when the Uber stopped outside your home and his broad figure came into your view you knew that this was your destiny. Duffle bag slung over his strong shoulders as a dark brown beanie protected his ears from the bite of the freeze; the two of you were meant to meet.

His knees graced the floor of your foyer immediately as he entered your home. Large gloved hands roaming over your protruding bump and raising the heather grey camisole to kiss where the baby softly kicked. He stood to his feet and craned his neck a bit to meet your plump lips. He was finally home.

“Thank you for this baby..thank you for your patience. I owe you eternal peace.”

“It’s a girl Terry. I wanted to surprise you at birth but you deserve to know…deserve to know that she’ll have the best parts of the both of us.”

Falling into a routine was easy with him. He finished your sentences, cooked and cleaned. He even dealt with the whirlwind of your hormones. Your feet were swollen, your back ached, and babygirl didn’t hold back on getting comfortable in your uterus. But the pain was only temporary and she eagerly slid into this world with three pushes and a loud strong wail. Come Christmas Day she was dressed in a snug reindeer onesie as you sipped hot chocolate and gave Terry his gifts. But the best Christmas gift was the one you carried for nine whole months and nestled close to you.

—

You curbed your family’s appetite to see you in the flesh just three months after you had given birth. Doing your best to hide any indication of childbirth, you had met them at their house and their house only, you cheered,laughed, and enjoyed a hearty Sunday dinner before you scurried back home to Amelia; your four month old bundle of joy. You felt relieved and satisfied after seeing your family and deep down you knew you had truly missed them. All the banter and loudness that made them into everything you loved and everything you knew growing up.

You brushed the shiny black curls of Amelia’s head before you allowed her to latch onto an engorged breast. Her small cheeks puffing and filling with milk as her tiny ocean eyes held yours in an intense match of who loved who more. Your greatest accomplishment. Terry came to get her and lay her down shortly after she fell asleep on your nipple, you took that needed time to pump breast milk and shower away the scent of outside.

Excitement beamed inside of you. The three of you were relocating. Your family believing the lie that you had found a higher paying job in another state; a partial lie if you will. Your whole house was in boxes right now and the two of you had to rent the U-Haul tomorrow to officially pack up and head to greener pastures. Terry's hand around your neck shocked you from your happy thoughts and you turned to him.

“We leave tomorrow.. Milly’s gonna grow up away from here. We’ll have new beginnings; together. Did you ever think our dreams would come true?” His keen focused eyes beamed with live and adoration for you.

“I promised you eternal peace my love..a freedom away from here. Me and Milly will always love you, she’ll always have you in her and that’ll get her a million miles further in life. I love you, you have given me everything I ever wanted; now rest my heart.”

Sharp pain. A swift puncture to your heart, was this heartbreak? What were you feeling? In your shock you watched your shirt stain crimson, your life force leaking slowly from you as the love of your life pushed the dagger deeper into your dying heart. You fell into his arms, gripping his wrist tightly as he tugged the dagger from your heart with a grunt before gently laying you on the living room floor. Your eyes fluttered quickly and your vision blurred with tears of betrayal and fear, your little girl wouldn’t remember you; she’d grow up without you.

But you couldn’t hold on for her. And you tried so hard to, so hard to gather up enough oxygen to even wiggle a finger. But no more fight was left. “Rest my love..it’s as easy as falling asleep.” His low voice laid you to rest and sealed your eyes closed for good.

Your earthly eyes shut and a new pair opened. Death had become you and you were dead. Your body laid sprawled on the floor and your blood trickled slowly from your stab wound. You watched as he sat Amelia next to your dead body. Her chubby hands tugging and pulling at your face before her bottom lip poked out and she began to scream loudly from your still face. Her tiny shrills filled the house and she gripped Terrys coat firmly when he lifted her to his chest. Was it possible for your heart to break in the afterlife?

“Say bye bye to mommy Milly. It’s just you and dada now..just you and me.” He pressed kisses to her chubby cheeks and her toothless grin returned to her face as she attempted to put his nose in her mouth.

Lesson learned the hard way. Red lights were actually red and so were stop signs. And monsters were exactly what they looked like; monsters. Consequences of your actions landed you here, a harsh lesson but a lesson nonetheless. For as long as you could, you would watch your little girl grow up. She’d never see your face again but it was your job to guide her and steer her away from the monsters of this world. You had learned a great enough lesson for the both of you.

—

@chessteena @ch33z3grits @slvt4her @thevelvetwhispers @moebuttta @blackmoonchilee @blyffe @big-button @motheroffeline @prettyinpikk @writingsbytee @bizzle-xoxo @atasteofmir @sleepynoirr @mrsknowitallll @theereinawrites @keehendrixx @chocoflagcutii @tswrldd @dbaileyblog @zunibugsiren @juniperlovesstuff @becauseimswagman1 @slyy-foxx @wherethewildtingsare @my-anime-garden @partypoison00 @cocooned-butterfly @orchidwonder @rawflwrs @23jammy @nikkireeds553 @princesskittendonut @keyaho @kenshisluvrgirl @zillasvilla @ranikyani @ovohanna24 @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @megamindsecretlair @brattyfics @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @thabiddie23

[enimsiyobeht]

skz & sex BUTTTT when it comes to their s/o at work 🫣🫣

why is this lowkey reminding me of this one love in the air a03 fic ive been rereading ....

Bang Chan is THE husband when it comes to 'visiting' your home office. Chan's been clingy all day, still in sweats, hair messy, and pouty because you're holed up in your home office. At first, he just wants to sit in your lap while you type… but then he starts grinding slowly, mumbling how much he missed you all morning, and how he’s so sensitive from the dream he had about you. You try to stay focused on your report, but Chan's whimpering, nuzzling into your neck, and pulling your hand between his legs until you finally shut your laptop—and fuck him hard over the desk until he can’t sit still anymore.

Lee Know is THE boyfriend when it comes to 'visiting' your recording studio. Minho always says he doesn’t like distractions, but when he stops by your studio with “lunch” and sits on the couch watching you work, you can feel him staring. He starts texting you from across the room, sending pictures under his oversized hoodie—thighs spread, biting his lip, no underwear. “Come play with me,” he writes. You try to resist, but the moment you walk over, he’s on his knees, tugging your pants down. You end up bending him over the soundboard, fucking him raw while he holds in his moans because the studio isn’t soundproof.

Changbin is THE fiancé when it comes to 'visiting' your gym. Changbin knows not to bother you during work hours, especially at the gym where you train clients. But today he showed up early—flushed and sweaty from his own session, towel around his neck, and his compression shorts leaving nothing to the imagination. He follows you into the back room “to hydrate” and ends up on his knees between your legs. By the time you’re fucking him against the wall, his fingers clawing at your shoulders, you both forget about the timer you set before your next client walks in.

Hyunjin is THE fiancé when it comes to 'visiting' your fashion studio. Hyunjin has always loved your work—especially when it involves him. He comes in during a fitting day, already in one of your experimental pieces: tight, sheer mesh and low-cut pants, saying he wanted to “model something for you.” He keeps posing, slowly, drawing your gaze to the outline of his cock straining under the thin fabric. When you finally approach to adjust a seam, his arms wrap around your neck and he whispers, “Fuck me before anyone else sees me like this.” You end up fucking him over the dressing table, his legs spread wide in front of the mirror, watching himself fall apart in your hands like he was made for it.

Han is THE fiancé while you're on a zoom call in your own (shared) apartment. You’re stuck on back-to-back video meetings, and Jisung’s been pouting all morning in your hoodie with nothing underneath. He tiptoes in while you’re mid-call, crawling under the desk without saying a word. You shoot him a warning glance, but then feel his mouth wrap around you, humming softly as you try to stay professional. He ends up riding you in your office chair during your final call, camera pointed safely up—while he bites his own hand, desperate to keep quiet as he milks you dry.

Felix is THE husband when it comes to 'visiting' your coffee shop. It’s closing shift and Felix insists on waiting for you in the back, helping you clean up. He’s giggly and clingy, hands slipping under your apron when no one’s looking. The moment you lock the front door, he’s already bent over the counter, whispering, “You’ve been ignoring me all day.” You give in and fuck him with the register light still glowing, his face pressed to the cool marble, moaning how good it feels when you don’t hold back after a long shift.

Seungmin is THE boyfriend when it comes to 'visiting' your law office. Seungmin shows up dressed nice, claiming he's just "bringing you coffee"—but the way he slowly uncrosses his legs and fixes your tie says otherwise. He teases you through the whole lunch hour, legs draped across yours, whispering how tight his pants feel and how he accidentally forgot his underwear. You end up bending him over your desk, fucking him deep with your hand clamped over his mouth as he shudders from the thrill of being used in such a clean, controlled space.

Jeongin is THE boyfriend, 'visiting' your tech office late at night. You’ve been stuck in after-hours debugging for a launch, and Jeongin shows up with snacks and a hoodie over his pajamas. At first he’s curled up on the couch behind you—quiet, scrolling his phone—but then he’s suddenly leaning over your chair, arms slipping around your neck, asking softly, “How much longer do I have to wait before you fuck me?” He’s flushed and needy, clearly been holding back since he got there. You close your laptop mid-keystroke and bend him over the desk, fucking him deep and slow as he pants into your neck, moaning how much he missed you all day.

i actually could see myself expanding these hcs into longer thoughts/perhaps a fic .... would y'all like that??

[azzifuddfanpage]

I can fight

thank you so much for the anon who gave me this amazing prompt: you can read it here!

————

2.1k words (why was this supposed to be my short one)

Tw: none but I didn’t edit so good luck 😺😺

themes: fluff/ angst (not really, paige is just a jealous gf but what’s new)

————

Paige was in her dorm after practice, her hair still damp from her shower, and only a towel wrapped around herself.

She was about to dig through her closet for a hoodie and some basketball shorts when she heard her phone buzz on the table. 

Paige had been expecting a text from Azzi within the next ten minutes, telling her she was ready to get picked up from her rehab. 

Hearing her phone buzz, she wandered over hopefully, picking it up and watching as the screen lit up.

While she did see an Azzi notification, it was not the one she expected. 

“Azzi35 posted” her instagram notification read. 

Paige was immediately doubtful, maybe it was a glitch, Azzi never posts, especially not without telling paige first. It had to have been an add for sure- paige was just surprised she never heard anything. 

When she clicks on the link, Azzi’s dimpled smile fills her screen as she holds up what appears to be a tight body suit. 

Paige holds down on the video as the video jumps to each outfit. Starting with the body suit.

Paige feels the heat in her core burn as she sees the way her ass is accentuated by the way the tight material of the one piece clung to her curves, pulling her in at all the right places, highlighting her girlfriends perfect body. 

The definition of Azzi’s abs is slightly visible through the light material, and paige can’t help her self but zoom in on the fat of her ass as she watches as Azzi turns slightly to show off the rest of the look. 

Paige continues to watch the video, the feeling between her legs growing as Azzi switched into a two piece light blue set that made the tanned color of her skin pop. 

Paige watched the video the rest of the way through, resisting the urge to stop it, but she couldn’t hide the thoughts running through her mind as her beautiful girlfriend flaunted infront of the mirror.

Next Azzi appeared in the brown two piece- that showed off her belly button piercing, and had a zipper right between her breasts. 

“The zipper will not be of much use if she ever wears that around me.” Paige thought to herself as her eyes focused in on the way the pants sat loosely on her hips.

Even when paige thought the video couldn’t get much worse, paige watches as Azzi holds up a tight tank top and shorts. 

“Fuck” paige mutters under her breath, as her eyes wonder Azzi’s body, as she reappears on the screen in the tight black short set.

Paiges eyes wander up her tan legs, seeing the way the material bunches at her abs, and she can just see where the curve of her ass sits at the edge of her pants. 

She smirked as Azzi turned and checked herself out, (paige was doing the same- and had no right to be talking) but would definitely flame her for it later- but not before making her wear it in front of her so she could be the one checking her out. 

She watched needily as Azzi slipped on a tight robe, reminding Paige of the times Azzi would sneak into her room, body wrapped in nothing but a loose robe like that one, and let paige’s hands wander as she made them breakfast. 

As the video went on, and Azzi was now bundled in a zip up and sweats, paige felt a smile tug at her lips as she saw how warm and cuddly Azzi looked all wrapped up in the oversized sweats- paige lowkey wished that Azzi was wearing paige’s sweats but…

Lastly, paige saw the finally tight long sleeve, that drew paige’s attention straight to her breasts, and surely anyone else who was watching would see the same thing, paige would think to herself.

Paiges heart was still beating, Azzi’s beautiful body still flashing in her mind as she clicked on Azzi’s contact- not before saving the ad to her camera roll-, and called her. 

Azzi answers right away “I take it you just saw my ad.” 

“Babe I’m dying, why did you post that now when I can’t immediately put my hands on you.” 

Azzi rolls her eyes  “baby I don’t think it would have gone over well if I had filmed that in front of you. Remember the time I showed you the pink blazer and shorts I wore to the D’Amelio’s, and you almost didn’t let me leave the house?” Azzi reminded as paige smacked her lips together dramatically, 

“Chill, I’m your girlfriend of course I don’t want other people to see how beautiful my girl is.” Paige said pouting into the phone. 

Azzi felt a smile curl onto her lips at the thought of how protective Paige was. 

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.” Azzi said teasingly into the phone.

“Mmmm.” Paige breathed into the phone, Azzi’s words warming her chest. 

“You’re just cute period.” Paige started. “Looked so good in that ad baby. Didn’t even know what to do with myself. If I don’t see you soon might just start touching myself now.” Paige said, her voice a low growl, that made Azzi’s stomach drop to the floor. 

“I’ll be done in 15 minutes and you can come pick me up.” Azzi said her brain running in 50 different directions as she thought about all the things her and paige might have planned. 

Azzi thought she could hear the sound of the music of her ad playing again. 

“Paige are you seriously watching it again?” Azzi asked letting out a soft laugh. 

“Uhm ofc- you didn’t just think I was gonna watch my girl show off her precious body on the internet for my view to be less then everyone else’s… needed to see it on the big screen.” Paige continued, holding her iPad up to the camera that showed Azzi’s ad playing on repeat.

Azzi laughed. 

“I love you baby- be good and maybe I’ll put it back on and let you take it off of me when we get home.” Azzi continued, her eyes scanning paige’s face.

“We’ll see, you should see some of these comments, though. Gonna make it hard for me to just sit back and hear them all talkin bout my girl like this.” 

Azzi laughed as paige began to read some of them outloud. 

“Body so Tea British are coming.. man facts, that’s a bar though.” She continues “Marry me Azzi..” Paige rolls her eyes “she’s already married.” Azzi laughs.

 “Can Paige fight.” Paige scoffs throwing her head back as she plops onto her bed, “Brrooo I can’t do this I’m bout to say something.”

 “Paige calm down, they are just comments” 

“nah I’m bout to like that comment.” Paige said defiantly. 

“Paige Maddison! Don’t even think about it.” Azzi warned shaking her head. 

Paige let out a long sigh “when the season is over and one or both of us are not at UCONN anymore, I’m literally letting the world know how bad I can fight.” 

Azzi smiles “Paige I may be the peoples princess, but I was yours before I was anyone else’s.. you don’t have to fight for me baby. I’m yours.” 

Paige smiles “I love you princess.”

“I love you too,  feel better?” Azzi asked

Paige rolls her eyes “for now.” 

“But I’ll feel a whole lot better when they know you’re off limits.” She muttered. 

“Mommy fudd.” She sneered under her breath. 

“Alright that one literally sounds like something you would say under a fake account or something don’t even play with me right now.” Azzi laughed as paige pouted at the comment. 

“That was one time okay- and I couldn’t help myself.” Paige replied a blush covering her face and she smiled bashfully.  

“Alright baby I love you- the trainer is coming back in to do the shock therapy, but you can leave now and I’ll be ready when you get here. But until then you’re banned from reading any more of my comments until then.” Azzi said, wagging her finger through the screen. 

Paige rolled her eyes, “fine but only if you give me kisses for all the trauma I’ve endured reading those comments.”

Azzi returned the eye roll, “ugh don’t even start with me right now, I swear every other video on my for you page is an edit of you and girls thirsting over your fingers.” Azzi groaned. 

“Don’t even act like you don’t like them.” Paige said smirking. 

“The edits or your fingers?” Azzi asked teasingly. 

“I guess we will have to test it later, but my guess is probably a tie.” Paige said pretending to actually contemplate the pretty obvious answer. 

Azzi and paige continue going back and forth teasingly each other until Azzi’s trainer comes back in and has to hang up against the blondes defiant arguments. 

———

10 minutes later, Paige is in a car waiting for Azzi to come out of the training facility. 

A few more minutes go by and paige feels herself getting a bit impatient. 

To pass the time, she decides to look at the add again, and it still has the same effect on her and as soon as they get alone time she is showing Azzi just how much she liked it. 

She goes back to the comments and sees so many talking about if she can fight. 

Paige feels a brief moment of cockiness. 

A mixture of annoyance and confidence she sets up her phone, “man fuck it.” She says under her breath, recording herself doing the rizz hands, a couple boxing jabs at the phone before doing like a shimmy down her body, trying to turn it into some kind of dance. 

She leans back in the seat as she scrolls through the audio options, landing on a Rocky Balboa sound, and posts to her story without giving it a second thought. 

“Yeah I can fucking fight.” She mutters to herself. 

Within minutes the fans were already having a field day over the TikTok, screen recording it, making connections between that and their previous accusations, Azzi was gonna be so done with her. 

 it takes her only a few minutes for her to see a screenshot of the comment on Azzi’s video asking if paige could fight, pasted over the video of her hilariously uncooordinated stiff punches. Paige felt a wave of satisfaction grow over her knowing that she had indirectly claimed her girl. 

Her eyes scanned over the video, settling on the caption at the bottom that read, “omfg she is letting us know she can fucking fight. Damn Paige, claim your girl then.” Paige smirked and saved the tik tok edit and then put her phone down. 

A couple long minutes later, she saw Azzi’s figure- wearing one of her own hoodies- waddle out to the car, a compression sleeve covering her left leg. 

Paige greeted Azzi with a warm kiss, wrapping her fingers around her back, pulling in the warm body of her girlfriend. 

Paiges hands linger on Azzi’s back as she pulls away guilty.

“so I did a thing..” paige starts, a blush covering her face realizing her rash actions as she looks down at the seat. 

“that sounds ominous, what did you do..” Azzi asks cautiously, trying to interpret the red blush that is quickly spreading over paige’s cheeks. 

 “uhh yeah so I saw more comments about me needing to fight so yeah I uhm- fought.” 

Azzi gasps, bringing a hand to her forehead , “what does that mean paige.” 

Paige pulled out her phone and went to her story, she held it up so Azzi could see. 

Azzi watched as her girlfriend through uncoordinated punches and paired it with a stiff body roll. 

Azzi looked up from the phone, raising her eyebrow at paige. 

“What? I only added the body roll so people would be less suspecting- it could mean anything.” Paige shrugged. 

Azzi smiled, shaking her head in disbelief, “you are crazy.” She said as she gently shoved paige’s phone away, pulling her in so she could place a fat kiss on her cheek.

Paige giggled as Azzi’s lips tickled her skin. 

“you’re not mad?” Paige asked, raising an eyebrow as she placed her hand on Azzi’s neck. 

Azzi shrugged “private but not a secret.” 

Paige’s smile spread across her whole face before she pulled Azzi into a kiss, wrapping her up in a tight hug. 

[workingbynyx]

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing headcanons of Jason Todd as the reader's boyfriend? Probably like the general dynamic of the relationship, love language, etc. Whatever you think goes best! :)

of course! i can finally use my hcs of boyfie jason to good use oml i have so much in store for you loves 😚

(this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and now that its almost v-day i think its pretty fitting to post this <3 also pls remember that these are my personal hcs so some may be entirely ooc but this is how i imagine him to be okay 😭)

Very affectionate behind closed doors

Jason wasn't a very clingy person to begin with. in fact the first time you held hands you swore you saw drops of sweat drip down the side of his face, it's hilarious. it took him a while to get around giving physical affection but once he did, hugs and kisses are non-stop. he'll either give you quick or aggressive but gentle kisses or would simply ask you to climb onto him on your shared bed and lay your head on his chest as he sleeps. he'd search for your hand and give it a squeeze when the both of you are in a big crowd (ex; galas, parties) or just rest his hand on the small of your back— as intimidating he might seem, he's just a big baby in your hands.

A pretty decent cook, to say the least

Could be an unpopular opinion but i'd say Jason isn't all too bad in the kitchen, he can pretty much fix up a simple meal if he wants to. The man could either fuck up the microwave or invent a whole new recipe just to fit your cravings, there's no in between. He doesn't want to admit it but he has a secret folder in his phone of all the recipes to your favourite dishes from lunch meals to deserts; so now on every occassion, you can expect waking up to the fresh scent of your favourite food set on the table <3

Midnight joyrides are the best

Do y'all know those tiktok accs that own a motorbike and just drive around with their partners sitting behind them? That's exactly how i imagine what it would be like to be Jason's partner 👊👊 literally like; "bubs put on your helmet" "are we going out? at this time?" "what, you don't want to?" "well, yeah i do..." "good, i'll have the bike out front then" then you guys just drive around on his bigass bike zooming through the city. He'd also have his hands run down your leg that's straddling him from behind at every stoplight possible wkehwjhejwhd

Getting out of bed is almost impossible

The first time you two moved in together was really exciting, waking up finding yourself beside the love of your life sleeping peacefully to eating breakfast and dinner with them too. But as time went by, it became almost your mission everyday to get out of bed without being held back by Jason pulling you back under the sheets. You'd have to be sneaky to move his arm that's wrapped around your waist before his reflexes react soon enough; "mmh, going somewhere?" "jay, i gotta get to work" "10 more minutes love, i promise. I'll just drive you there it's much faster" "you said that 5 minutes ago— i'll be late again!" "are you saying you'd rather leave me alone?" "jace i–" "mhm exactly, so stay a'ight? you could just tell them you caught that flu" "i already did...two days ago..."

Absolutely adores your eyes, hands and waist

I'm a firm believer that Jason is a certified waist-grabber !!! you can expect the rough tips of his gloves glide over from your back all the way to your waist once he comes home from work. He also looooves looking into your eyes and see his reflection in them, the same eyes that showed nothing but pure love and kindness to him. And he also likes your hands; the size difference when you compare them, how they wrapped around his own, and how they cling onto him every chance you get. He thinks it's such a cute mannerism (if you have them too)

He asks for fashion advice, sometimes

Jason'll probably throw on a shirt, jacket, pants and boots then call it day before he met you— but he's even conscious of how colors looked on him now. You were his stylist, often picking out clothes and giving him new looks that you think looks best on him just because he once saw a photo of him and thought the shirt and pants he had didn't match at all. Jason always thought clothes only consists of hoodies, sweatpants, shirts, but now even knows what 'preppy' clothing is after you explained it to him.

His love language is words of affirmation and physical touch

This may vary to some people but i do hc Jason's love language to be words of affirmation and physical touch. Words of affirmation; only because he absolutely loves it when he tells you what he genuinely thinks of you at the moment. "You look great in red", "i'm proud of what you did there", "i love you, y'know that right?", "you look so gorgeous, i'm lucky to have you" and physical touch; because he's totally convinced he can't live without you by his side. Jason would want to be next or near you at any given chance, he'll have you scooted beside him while he reads a book or gently rub his hand against your thigh when he's focused on a movie. Your presence alone gives him the comfort he's always longing for in nights that he's away from home, and you'd glady give it to him.

Very protective over you

It's probably a known fact that Jason is a protective person but when it comes to you he can be over the top in making sure you're okay (especially when you're also a vigilante/hero working with him.) You'll always have to assure him that you're fine and not bleeding to death with a papercut or when you accidentlly stub your toe against the bed. But when you're also a crime-fighter like him, best believe he'll always have you stay and guarded behind him. You had to explain so many times that you could also take care of yourself like he can, though it's understandable why he acts that way most of the time.

Acts all tough, but melts when you're around

Around the times when Jason still had a lil crush on you, he'd never let his guard down and likes to appear cold or tough. But once you were dating he's an absolute shy babe even with the smallest gestures or compliments you give him. He'd only crack a smile at the side comments you make but is mentally falling apart. Or when he can't keep up the act he simply dips his head in the corner of your neck and stay there til he stops blushing like a teen getting his first kiss.

Is a part of the sassy man apocalypse

Sometimes, you question if this man is simply your bestfriend or your boyfriend of how many years. The amount of bickering the two of you end up having is like watching two friends fight over peanut butter vs chocolate. You'd suggest a book you've been reading that he absolutely despises and have a debate right there and then. It's almost like that one Friends scene when Joey and Rachel were giving spoilers back to back at each other LMAO. The man also has an unhealthy habit of popping a hip whenever he stands, your gallery would probably be filled with pictures of him in that stance alone.

[boypied]

tyler lawrence gray eating readers juicy ass while reader is in a very important work meeting and reader is trying so hard not to moan but tyler is showing no mercy with his tongue in readers ass and after the meeting tyler fucks reader over the counter and keeps spanking readers juicy ass

You lean against the desk with your pants round your ankles, and Tyler's face buried in between your soft pillow like asscheeks. You have your laptop wide open as he eats your hole out perfectly, his tongue dipping in and out of your hole at an agonising pleasureful speed. Your laptop begins pinging as you get a Skype call from your boss, and there's a message along with it that says it's urgent.

You immediately answer his call without thinking for a moment that Tyler's tongue is buried deep in your asshole. The mic and camera are on, and your boss and other colleagues begin talking about the most recent plan. Your eyes flutter back slightly, enjoying the pleasure of his Tyler as you manage to snap back into reality.

Tyler uses his hands to open up your cheeks wider to get his tongue deeper inside your hole. You watch the people in the zoom call but once they begin talking to you you hold back your moans. "You There?" They call out to you as your eyes flutter back in pleasure, you slam the laptop lid down closing it. Leaving the meeting.

...and just like that you came handsfree just from Tyler going to town on your sweet pink hole. He places a kiss on your asscheek before slapping it and watching it jiggle.

[ririright]

“Hay There, Babe”

Husband! Hayden x Wife Reader

“In which the goats are scandalized, the flirting is relentless, and the romance is muddy but real”

Morning on the farm started the way it always did: with a chorus of chickens yelling for breakfast like they were owed something by the universe, one overly dramatic goose honking like a ship at sea, and Barron declaring “TODAY I’M A COWBOY” before zooming through the kitchen wearing underpants, rubber boots, and a superhero cape.

Hayden took it all in stride, coffee in hand, beard half-trimmed, one sock suspiciously missing. His wife stood by the back door, already in boots and flannel, hair tied back, looking way too good for someone who’d just been head-butted by a goat twenty minutes ago.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Hayden called, stepping into the doorway and leaning there like he was posing for a rustic romance novel.

She gave him a look. “Did you just wink at me or do you have hay in your eye?”

“Could be both,” he said, winking again—then immediately sneezed because, yes, he definitely had hay in his eye.

Barron streaked past them into the yard yelling, “TO THE PONIES!” and vanished around the barn.

“Should we be concerned?” she asked, already grabbing the feed bucket.

“He’s wearing a helmet,” Hayden said proudly. “I’m calling that a win.”

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰

Chores began with relative calm.

They worked side-by-side in the morning light, tossing feed to the chickens while the ducks waddled around like gossiping neighbors. The goats stared at them like they were judging their life choices. One of the rabbits had escaped again and was absolutely not returning calls.

Hayden, of course, couldn’t do anything without making sound effects.

“Zzzzzp,” he announced while zipping up his vest, looking pleased with himself.

She raised a brow. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he replied smoothly, picking up a bale of hay like it owed him money. “Wanna roll in the hay later?”

“Hayden.”

“What? That one was clever. Farm-themed.”

“You made that joke yesterday. And the day before. And at our wedding rehearsal.”

“It’s timeless,” he said, grinning. “Like my love for you.”

She tried to fight her smile. “You’re such a dork.”

“Ah-ah—sock-connoisseur dork,” he corrected, proudly lifting his pant leg to show off a pair of socks patterned with tiny goats wearing sunglasses.

One of the actual goats side-eyed him in disbelief.

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰

They moved on to mucking out the stables, a task that was never glamorous and always ended with at least one person stepping in something suspicious.

Hayden was in rare form.

“Hey babe,” he called, wiping sweat from his brow and pointing to a suspicious pile. “Know what that is?”

“Please don’t.”

“Pony poodoo.”

“Hayden.”

“I’m making themed jokes, I thought you liked commitment.”

“I’m about to commit you to the compost pile.”

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰

Somewhere around hour two, the flirting only intensified.

He handed her a brush for the ponies with a bow. “For you, my queen.”

She took it with a curtsy. “Why thank you, kind sir. May I request that you not sing the ‘Duel of the Fates’ while brushing them this time?”

“No promises,” he whispered, already humming it under his breath.

While she brushed out the ponies’ manes, Hayden leaned on the fence nearby, watching her like she was a sunrise.

“I hope you know how hot you look in flannel,” he said casually.

She threw a brush at him.

He caught it one-handed and winked. “Still got it.”

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰

By the time they’d circled back to the chicken coop, the flirtation had evolved into full-blown competitive banter.

“I bet I can collect more eggs than you in five minutes,” she challenged.

Hayden narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying this is an egg-off?”

“Scared?”

“I’m wearing a lightsaber on my belt. I fear nothing.”

She smirked. “Except the Canadian goose.”

“That thing’s unholy and you know it.”

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰

They raced through the coop in chaotic glory—eggs collected, feathers flying, Hayden doing lightsaber moves with a broom while clucking dramatically. At one point, a hen tried to peck his butt. At another, she accidentally stepped in a puddle of mysterious origin and slipped—only to have him dramatically catch her like it was the final scene in a soap opera.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered.

“You smell like chicken poop.”

“Love is messy.”

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰

When the chores were finally done and the sun had crested higher into the sky, they stood together in the pasture, sweat-streaked and windblown and happy.

Hayden reached out and tugged her close by the sleeve. “Y’know what I was thinking?”

“That you need a shower?”

He grinned. “Also, we make a good team.”

She looked up at him, her face softening.

“Yeah,” she said. “We really do.”

And then Barron came riding past on the back of a pony—still in his cape, now wearing his dad’s socks on his arms like gloves—and screamed, “I’M THE COWBOY JEDI MASTER!”

Hayden nodded proudly. “That’s my boy.”

[spicycinnabun]

your little rebel 1/2

@tommykinardweek for brat/brat tamer ♡ rated e ♡ read on ao3 ♡ tags: sex toys, sexting at work, d/s, daddy kink, brat!buck, sugaring (more tags tba for pt. 2)

Tommy had finished performing routine maintenance on his bird and was sitting down for a quick lunch break in the hangar. He was just about to bite into his sandwich—pastrami on rye, nothing fancy—when his phone chimed. He dug it out of the pocket of his jumpsuit.

Tommy’s lips quirked when he saw the notification was from Evan. He had the day off. He’d said he was going to go grocery shopping, hit the gym, and then run a few errands. They were planning on seeing each other that night. 

Evan had a key to Tommy’s place. Though they hadn’t moved in together and still spent time at Evan’s loft, Evan seemed to prefer it at Tommy’s. 

Tommy didn’t mind. More than not minded, actually. It made his chest ache to come home to the lights on, warm homey smells, lively chitter-chatter, and someone who’d missed him and was happy to see him. He was trying not to get too used to it.  

Evan was going to cook dinner: chicken parmesan, a recipe of Bobby’s he’d made his own creative tweaks to. 

“I’m calling it chicken plantmesan. You’ll be amazed at how good it tastes,” he’d told Tommy. “You won’t even be able to tell the difference.”

Tommy had mentioned wanting to cut dairy from his diet for a while to see if it’d help with some bloating, and Evan had said he would do it with him. It was sweet, especially since Tommy knew Evan liked dairy products even more than he did. Evan was the guy who told the waiter to keep going when he came by the table with the cheese grater. 

“Bet it won’t taste as good as you,” Tommy had flirted, pitching his voice low on purpose just to see the blush light up Evan’s cheeks. 

Smiling a bit wider at the memory, Tommy put his sandwich down and opened the text. 

Finished my errands early.

Beneath that was an image. Usually, Evan sent him random pictures. Stupid memes, a photo of a stray cat he’d seen during his jog, his breakfast smoothie, Eddie, the rest of the 118 and their daily hijinks. This wasn’t any of those things. 

Tommy stared, a little dizzy, as all the blood in his upper body immediately rushed south. 

It was his bedroom. The shot was taken from a distance, probably from his dresser. Evan was naked on the bed on all fours, long legs spread wide on the mattress. He was down on his elbows, ass up on full display. He was glancing over his shoulder at the camera, heavy-lidded eyes drowsy with pleasure, lips red like he’d been biting them and parted like he was panting. Evidence of how turned on he was hung heavy and visible between his thighs.

But what really caught Tommy’s gaze was what was sitting snugly inside Evan. The flared base of a toy. It was red. The shape of a heart.

Tommy quickly zoomed out (when had he zoomed in?), saved the image to his photos and then deleted it from their conversation, just in case some busybody snuck up behind him without warning. He'd almost forgotten where he was.

He typed out a message with fingers that shook only slightly, heart pounding, mouth dry.

Evan. You know I’m at work.

Evan had never been so bold as to send him something like that while he was on shift. They’d sent dirty texts before; that was nothing new, but this was. 

Couldn’t wait to show you what I bought. 

Sorry, Daddy ❤️

Tommy’s arm slipped, and like an idiot, he knocked over his steaming hot coffee. “Shit!” 

He grabbed the napkins from his lunch pail and quickly mopped up the mess before it reached his keyboard or monitor. He recovered swiftly when one of the other pilots walking by gave him the stink eye.

“You okay, Kinard?”

Tommy nodded, stone-faced. “Fantastic.”

He squeezed the damp napkins in his fist and took a bite of his sandwich to occupy his mouth and seem normal. He obviously wasn’t thinking about the food anymore.

The pilot shrugged, accepting it.

Tommy’s phone buzzed again. He waited until the pilot was gone before picking it back up. “Christ, he’s going to be the death of me,” he muttered. 

You like it though? It has a remote. Thought you might enjoy controlling it.

And now it was time to get out of plain sight before he completely embarrassed himself. Tommy dropped his garbage in the trashcan and walked briskly to the washroom, locking the door behind himself. He leaned against it and tried to maintain his cool before he replied. But he was starting to sweat.

I was wondering what that charge on my card was, he answered.

He was lying. He hadn’t actually checked his statement, but upon looking now, there was one purchase of $59.74 from Cupid’s Closet. 

It had taken some cajoling for Evan to let Tommy buy things for him—little treats, clothes he wanted, toys—especially since he’d been a bit pushy about Evan paying for things at the start of their relationship—but eventually, Evan had given in. He’d even started buying for himself without needing to ask. Evan acted like he didn't deserve any of it, of course, that he didn't need any of it, but Tommy could tell the attention was doing it for him.

Tommy never thought it’d be his thing, but he loved sugaring Evan. It felt nice. Cliché, sure—the whole ‘go ahead, baby, go wild with Daddy’s credit card’ thing—but who cared? Turned out it gave them both joy. Tommy liked spoiling him. Marie Kondo would be proud of Tommy for not throwing that shit away.

Haha, yeah

Tommy could hear the faltering, uncertain gears turning in Evan’s head, so he quickly sent another message. 

I love it. Pretty. Keep it in. But you know the rules, honey. Hands off. Wait for me.

The bubbles started and then stopped. Started and then stopped again. 

I’ll try to…

Evan.

Fine. But you better make it worth my while. 

Tommy smirked. What a brat. 

Keep talking like that, and I’ll leave you all on your lonesome tonight.

This time, Tommy received a selfie of Evan’s exaggerated pout. His cheeks were flushed strawberry pink, his blond curls looking soft and tousled against one of Tommy’s dark green pillows. 

Mean.

Oh, Evan had no idea how mean Tommy was capable of being. 

You have to behave if you want my attention.

Evan’s reply was lightning-fast. Smug.

That’s not how I remember it.

Tommy chuckled as he thought of what had gotten them to this point. Touché.

And I already said I will! Evan continued. …But it feels kind of amazing. 

Tommy sighed, wishing he was home already. 

I bet it does.

♡

A little while later, Tommy received a new text. He made another escape to the washroom with the excuse that he’d drunk too much coffee, feeling like a teenager and not almost forty as he hid from his crew.

This time, it was only a photo of Evan’s naked torso. A close-up of his abs and pecs in all their glory, painted with streaks of translucent white that dripped down muscled valleys. He’d come all over himself. 

All the accompanying text said was Oops.

Tommy exhaled a noisy breath. “Do not get hard at work, jackass.” 

Honestly, he never thought he’d have to scold himself regarding that. 

Tommy put his phone on the edge of the sink, turning on the taps to give his face a quick splash of water. He wiped off with a paper towel, willing his body to cooperate and calm before he texted back.

Guess you don’t need me now, huh, hotshot? I was going to have fun playing with you, but maybe I’ll catch the game on TV instead.

Evan's bubbles started bubbling. They seemed to be moving wilder than usual, somehow. 

It's not like I can’t get it up again. I’m not an old man like someone I know.

Tommy’s brows rose sharply. He almost barked a laugh, but that was just what he needed: people outside thinking he’d lost his fucking marbles. 

There was silence for a few more moments and then a series of dings, each coming quicker than the last. 

Wait

I didn’t really mean it about the old thing

I want to be with you tonight

And your refractory period is remarkable for a man your age!

Tommy snorted. 

Wow, thanks.

I was thinking about you the entire time and how sexy you are and what I want you to do to me when you get here. I just couldn’t control myself.

Next time, I promise I won’t come until you're here and you say so.

Tommy? 

Tommy grinned to himself. He needed to make Evan sweat for a bit. It was all part of the game.

Tommy knew it. He’d played it before with other men, but…

None of them had excited him like this. Not at this level. Not like Evan did. Evan was a little (well, big, muscular, and adorable) firecracker. He was impulsive, curious as hell, and wanted to dive headfirst into all sorts of new situations. He was exploring his kinks and surprising them both with what he was learning he liked. 

Tommy was learning a few things, too. Funny because he thought he’d figured out all there was to know about himself years ago. He guessed even old dogs could learn new tricks.

Evan let Tommy drive and followed every safety precaution—for the most part. Sometimes, he tried to push too hard, too fast. Sometimes, he tried hiding his discomfort to gain Tommy’s approval and wouldn’t yellow or red light. That people pleasing, low self-worth, and fear of rejection clear as day in his every action.

They’d learned that bratting was a tangible way to break out of that mindset, at least a little. Something Evan had never let himself do. Stop trying to be good all the time. A cathartic release to say no, go against the rules, be bad, and take what he wanted. In a healthier way than maiming his best friend, of course.

But Tommy didn’t push too far in his punishments. There was only so much Evan could handle. Tommy was careful with his limits.

And… well, he felt too much goddamn affection for the kid to be as cold as he had been with previous partners. That side of him just wasn’t meant for Evan.

You’re still in trouble. 

Tommy let that sit for a minute before sending a final message.

I’ll be home soon, sweetheart. You can make it up to me.

He chuckled at the litany of heart emojis he received approximately five seconds later. Oh, cute.

[herstoryheaven]

Lando Norris x Reader: Racing Through Fear

Prompt: Y/n stands in the pouring rain among a crowd of Formula 1 fans. When Lando Norris' car crashes violently, Y/n doesn't hesitate to jump onto the track to save him. This act of bravery leads to the confession of hidden feelings.

Reader: Gender Neutral

Word count: 1840

Average reading time: 6 min 40 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: This story contains intense scenes involving a race accident, resulting in injury and emotional distress. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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The rain was pouring down, drenching everything in sight. Y/n stood among the crowds of Formula 1 fans, her excitement mingled with an underlying layer of anxiety as the weather showed no signs of letting up. She pulled her raincoat tighter, shivering as the cold seeped through. The circuit was a mess, puddles forming everywhere, and the whispers of concern grew louder amongst the crowd.

"Is it even safe to race in this?" someone muttered nearby.

Despite the worried murmurs, the race went to a start. Engines roared to life, and the cars zoomed down the track, spraying water in their wake. Y/n's eyes were fixed on one car in particular, Lando Norris'. Her heart raced along with the cars, a mixture of pride and fear surging through her for her friend.

Several laps into the race, disaster struck. Lando's car hit a particularly treacherous patch of water, hydroplaning uncontrollably. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she watched the car veer off course, crashing violently into the barrier. The collective gasp from the crowd was deafening.

Red flags waved, and the race paused. Panic surged through Y/n as she realized there was no communication from Lando’s car. The team's radio was down, and there were no marshals nearby to assist. Her gaze fixed on the small fire beginning to form at the back of the car.

Without thinking, she bolted from her spot, jumping over the barriers and sprinting onto the track. Rain floods her face, blurring her vision, but she is determent. The only thing that mattered was reaching Lando.

"Lando!" she shouted, skidding to a stop beside the wrecked car. "Can you move?"

Lando groaned, clutching his wrist. "I... I can't, my wrist..."

Y/n's hands trembled as she removed the steering wheel, her heart pounding wildly. "You have to get out, now! There's oil leaking and a fire starting. The car might explode!"

Lando's eyes widened in realization, and with Y/n's help, he managed to climb out of the car. Together, they ran, the adrenaline giving them a burst of speed. They barely made it over the barrier when the car exploded, the force of the blast knocking them to the ground.

Lando instinctively covered Y/n with his body, shielding her from the flying debris. They lay there for a moment, panting and shaking. When the danger passed, Lando helped her to her feet, his eyes scanning her for injuries.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice shaky, his eyes searching hers with intensity.

Y/n nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Just a few scratches. What about you?"

"Just a sprained wrist, I think," he replied, wincing slightly.

Marshals finally arrived, ushering them both to the paddock for medical exams. Lando was checked first, and surprisingly, his injuries were minor. Meanwhile, Y/n tried to slip away, feeling out of place amongst the drivers and team members.

"Hey, where are you going?" Oscar called out, stopping her in her tracks. He jogged over, concern written all over his face.

Charles, Carlos, Max, and George quickly joined them, their expressions mirroring Oscar's worry. "Is Lando okay?" Charles asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

Y/n nodded, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands. "He's fine, just a sprained wrist I heard."

"And what about you?" Max asked gently, his gaze lingering on her face with genuine concern. His normally sharp, competitive demeanor softened due to the day’s events.

"I'm fine, really," Y/n insisted, though her voice wavered slightly. She tried to smile, but the adrenaline was still coursing through her, making her feel unsteady.

George placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding. "Thank you for what you did. That was incredibly brave," he said, his voice filled with admiration.

Carlos stepped closer, his eyes warm and sincere. "You didn't hesitate for a second. That takes a lot of courage."

Y/n shrugged, feeling overwhelmed by their praise. "I just did what anyone would do. I couldn't just stand there and do nothing."

Oscar shook his head, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Not everyone would have had the guts to do what you did. You were amazing out there."

Charles nodded in agreement, a hint of a smile softening his features. "We all saw what happened. You saved Lando’s life."

Y/n felt a blush creep up her cheeks, the intensity of their gratitude and concern almost too much to bear. She had always admired these drivers from a distance, and now, here they were, complementing her for what she did.

Max took a step closer, his eyes searching hers. "You might not realize it, but you’re a hero today."

Before Y/n could respond, Lando emerged from the medical area, spotting her surrounded by the other drivers. His face lit up with relief and gratitude. He walked up to her, his eyes locking onto hers with a look of intense emotion. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

Y/n shrugged again, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I couldn't just sit there and watch you possibly die."

Lando pulled her into a gentle hug, his warmth seeping into her cold, damp skin. "I owe you my life," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her neck. He pulled back slightly, noticing her soaked clothes and trembling hands. "Come on, let's get you into something dry."

The other drivers nodded, stepping back to give them space. "We'll catch up with you both later," George said with a reassuring smile.

He led her to the McLaren hospitality area, handing her his hoodie and a pair of women’s sweatpants he found. She changed quickly, feeling a warmth spread through her from the dry clothes and Lando's kindness.

The race was canceled due to the severe weather, and Y/n found herself sitting with Lando, talking quietly. She explained her actions, her voice trembling at the thought of what could have happened. Lando reached out, taking her hand in his, their fingers intertwining.

"Thank you for saving me," he said again, his thumb stroking her hand gently. "But promise me you'll never do something so reckless again."

Y/n managed a small smile, her heart fluttering at his touch. "Only if you promise not to be so reckless on the track."

He chuckled softly, squeezing her hand. "Deal."

As they sat together in the quiet of the McLaren hospitality area, the events of today but a distant memory. The adrenaline that had once coursed through their veins had settled into a serene calm. Lando's thumb traced gentle patterns on the back of Y/n's hand, anchoring them both in the moment.

"Y/n," Lando began softly, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart flutter, "I don't know how to thank you properly. What you did was beyond brave. You risked everything for me."

A blush crept up her cheeks as she glanced down at their intertwined hands. "I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. If your car had exploded and I just sat there and didn’t even try anything I would have never forgiven myself. I care too much about you to not have done anything."

Lando's heart swelled at her words, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with his dry clothes. He gently lifted her chin with his free hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I care about you too, more than I realized until today."

A shy smile played at Y/n's lips. "I guess it took a bit of chaos for us to see it."

Lando chuckled, the sound light and genuine. "A bit of chaos and a very brave heart." He leaned in closer, their foreheads nearly touching. "You know, when I was in that car, all I could think about was you. I didn't want to leave things unsaid."

Her breath hitched, and she whispered, "What do you mean?"

He paused, his eyes searching hers with a depth that made her heart skip a beat. "I mean that I've been falling for you for a while now, and today just made it crystal clear. I don't want to waste another moment not telling you how I feel."

Y/n's eyes glistened with tears, but this time they were tears of joy. "Lando, I feel the same way. Seeing you crash... it was the scariest moment of my life. I realized how much you mean to me."

Lando's smile was radiant, his face inching closer until their lips met in a tender, heartfelt kiss. The world outside seemed to disappear as they lost themselves in each other, the kiss deepening with every passing second. It was a kiss filled with unspoken promises and the relief of two longtime friends finally coming together.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their smiles wide and hearts full. Lando pressed his forehead against hers, his voice barely above a whisper. "I promise I'll be more careful out there. For you."

Y/n nodded, her fingers gently caressing his cheek. "And I promise I'll always be there for you, no matter what."

He hugged her tightly, as if afraid to let go. "You're incredible, you know that?"

She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I think we're both pretty incredible."

The rest of the drivers, who had been watching the tender moment from a respectful distance, approached them with wide grins and teasing remarks. Oscar clapped Lando on the back, chuckling. "Took you long enough, mate."

Charles nodded in agreement, a playful glint in his eyes. "We were starting to think we'd have to lock you two in a room together to get you to admit your feelings."

Max smirked, adding, "Looks like a bit of danger was just the push you both needed."

Y/n blushed again, but Lando just laughed, his arm securely around her waist. "Yeah, well, sometimes it takes nearly losing something to realize how much it means to you."

George grinned, giving Y/n a gentle pat on the shoulder. "We're glad you're okay. Both of you."

Carlos stepped forward, his expression sincere. "You both showed incredible bravery today. It's a story we'll be telling for years."

As the group shared in their relief and happiness, the bond between Y/n and Lando only grew stronger. They spent the rest of the day together, surrounded by friends who had become family. The rain outside eventually subsided, giving way to a clear, starry night.

Lando and Y/n found themselves alone again, sitting on a quiet balcony overlooking the now peaceful circuit. The air was cool, and Lando draped his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, "this is just the beginning for us."

Y/n smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know. And I can't wait to see where it takes us."

He kissed the top of her head, his heart full. "Neither can I."

Under the starlit sky, they sat in comfortable silence, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

----------------------------------------------------------

Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

[wcnderlnds]

──★ eye of the tiger / peter maximoff

short drabble in which peter takes you to karaoke. some slight swearing! requested by anon <3

“Look, all I’m sayin’ is a lil karaoke might cheer you up and help you forget all about that loser,” Peter chewed on his gum, the nonchalant expression on his face showing that he really did not know a single thing about heart break. He wasn’t trying to be insensitive— this just wasn’t his area of expertise. He had accepted his role of dorky best friend with excellent taste in music years ago. It was fine. It was totally fine.

“I doubt it but… we can go,” you wiped at your eyes with the tissues Peter had zoomed out mere seconds ago to grab for you.

That was all Peter needed to hear. Swiftly, he cradled the back of your head then in a thwip, you were standing outside the karaoke bar. It wasn’t your usual hang out. Arcades and diners were where you and Peter usually spent your time but he figured this time he had to pull out the big guns. If he had to flex his rarely used vocal cords to put a smile on his best pals face then so be it. Peter would do anything to make you feel better. He wouldn’t call himself an empath - in fact, he’d probably make fun of anyone who did - but when it came to you he was always in tune with how you felt. He led the way inside, holding the door open like the perfect gentleman. Nobody needed to know he accidentally closed it in the young man’s face that was walking in behind the two of you.

“Okay, you ready to see me blow everyone out of the water? Not to brag or anything but I’m pretty sure after this someone will be offering me a record deal. I’ll remember you when I’m touring with AC/DC.” Peter shot a wink your way, heading to the microphone.

You hadn’t even realised the drink that was on the table in front of you — Peter must have used that mutation of his to grab you one without realising. You cradled the glass in your hands as the familiar tone of ‘Eye of The Tiger’ sounded through the speakers. Peter instantly began to belt out the lyrics not even needing to look at the words; he knew them by heart, of course. In true Peter fashion, he made a show of it by adding in his own jumps and dramatic flairs. At one point you were sure he was about to split those damn leather pants of his but thankfully he ended the song without exposing his ass to everyone. He bowed to the crowd (consisting of you and maybe three other people) with obnoxious comments like ‘I’ll be here all night’ and ‘I charge ten dollars for an autograph’.

As much as you hated to admit it, he had brought a smile to your face. Your cheeks were even aching with how big you were smiling. It was almost like you hadn’t just gone through a break up. Peter’s arm was thrown over your shoulder, the cool material of his jacket against the skin of your neck making you shiver. His cheesy grin letting you know he was damn proud of himself. “So, what’d you think?”

“I think I’m lucky to have a best friend like you.”

“Don’t go getting all soft on me now. Might start thinking you’re fond of me.”

“I am,” you spoke softly, arms sliding into his open jacket to wrap around him. He was warm, soft. It was exactly what you needed. Peter hesitated for a moment, hands hovering in the air while he wondered what to do with them before he mumbled a ‘screw it’ and wrapped them around you, holding you tight against his chest.

Maybe one day he’d tell you this meant more to him than you knew but for now he’d take what he could.

[canjo1269]

I may or may not have a bit of a request; pregnant man that is carrying triplets that suddenly goes into labor at his office job which leads to a birth during a zoom call?

-So this is my first work on here. It's not my best but I would like to get better with each story!

TW: Birth

The sounds of the fax machine and keyboards along with the voices of other coworkers filled the large room. Max was sitting at his desk rubbing his very large heavy stomach, he was carrying triplets and was loving it. He was reading over the materials for the important Zoom call he was scheduled to have later in the day. He had been feeling a little off ever since he woke up this morning, it was a feeling as if something bad was going to happen today. His husband urged him to stay home but this meeting was more important to him than the strange feeling.

The time for the meeting was growing near, Max was finishing the last little bit of setting up. He didn’t want to sit, he thought if he showed off his pregnancy maybe he could get this deal. His breasts had gotten bigger during this pregnancy so sometimes it had its perks. A slight twinge of pain hit him making him buckle over. He held his stomach panting trying to regain himself, was it time? Where are the babies going to make an appearance today?

 The sounds of people filling up the Zoom call brought him back to his senses. He kept his screen and mic muted until he collected himself better. He took a deep breath and clicked everything on.

“Hello, my name is Max and I'm going to talk to you today about why cutbacks aren’t important for the company” Max started his presentation, walking around and rubbing his stomach as he talked. He noticed that the men on the Zoom call never took their eyes off him. He could tell some were aroused by his newfound body that he hadn’t shown to them in a long time.

Without warning a large rush of water splashed on the floor, Max gripped the table nearly letting out a scream in pain. The triplets were ready to make their appearance, but Max was not prepared for this. He tried hard to play it off that he was in active labor, the pain was too much for him to handle. The contractions started to get more and more intense as he tried to keep talking. He could feel the babies moving down at an alarming rate, he was starting to get the feeling to push.

Max didn’t have time to cut the call as he felt the first baby's head coming out. He got on the table taking everything off, he felt a slight arousal knowing he was being watched by men who wanted to fuck him for so long. He pushed down as hard as he could, his screams filled the small room. Some coworkers could hear his screams in the office but didn’t pay much mind to it. Max was feeling the worst pain as he kept bearing down with all his might.

With one huge final push, he birthed the first child, it was a girl. Before he could check on her the urge to push the second one overwhelmed him. He screamed loud and hard as this one was much larger than the first. He was begging for help but the men on the Zoom call were so glued to what they were watching that none of them wanted to help. It felt like hours of nonstop but were only minutes before the second baby was coming out. Max threw his head back screaming as he did one big push and the baby came out. Max lay there panting, he felt milk soaking his shirt as he was also covered in sweat.

The Third baby took its time to make an arrival, he had time to gather himself slightly to take a break. It didn’t last as long as he hoped, he gripped the table and pushed down trying not to scream this time. He was getting used to giving birth at this rate but wanted it to end soon. At times Max could hear the sounds of phones taking pictures of what was going on and it made him even more embarrassed. After a few more times of pushing Max gave it his all and the third came out in a rush of fluids.

The cries of his babies filled the small room, he scooped them up and began to cry. He wasn’t sure if it was from the fact he’s a mother now or the fact the men watching him didn’t bother to help. 

[neallo]

snippet saturday: camcorder (working title)

ship: Mello x Near x Matt category: F/F/F words: 915 rating: explicit (minors, do not interact!)

calling this one a snippet is a huge fucking stretch, because it's about 900 words, but it's also not complete enough to post on AO3 and won't be for a hot minute (<- really trying to work on something else rn) so. in honor of matt's birthday... :-)

mildest of warnings for degrading language, and disclaimer that this has not been edited almost at all. xoxo, enjoy!

---

“No, no, Matt, you have to really watch. Listen.”

Matt was really watching and really listening the first time, and she caught it on tape besides, but she doesn’t bother protesting. It’d be a dumb hill to die on, especially since she’s got 70% charge, a backup battery, and fuck-all else to do this afternoon— plus, it’s not like she’d mind a repeat performance. Silently nodding, she sits back on her heels and zooms out, angling the camcorder so the frame captures both Mello and Near in full again.

Her eyes flicker between the screen and the scene in front of her, taking it all in and patting herself on the back for— well, everything. This is only happening thanks to her hard work and utter genius, after all. If they’d waited for Mello to come around to the idea on her own, Near would’ve been a virgin for another ten years, and they all might’ve almost died of sexual frustration in the meantime. Neither of them would’ve thought to record it all, either. Sure, Mello’s sentimental enough (though she’d definitely deny that), but not nearly enough of a pervert. That’s what she has Matt for, though.

“Ready when you are,” she tells Mello once Matt realizes she’s waiting.

Mello grins. She’s propped up against the headboard with Near sitting between her legs, leaning back against Mello’s chest. The younger girl is glassy-eyed, panting, and— most importantly— in nothing but panties. They’ve been fooling around with Near for a few weeks, now, but it’s always been through clothes— neither of them have actually seen her whole body until today. She’s even cuter than Matt bargained for, which is impressive, because she did think Near was pretty cute already.

Of course, some of the present appeal is in more than just Near’s perky tits and pretty, spindly limbs; it’s in watching Mello toy with her. Each one of them is hot on their own, but together? Jesus. For today, Matt’s not getting involved directly, because Mello wants Near’s first time all to herself, which Matt really doesn’t mind; being the cameraman and director is fun enough on its own, and a higher calling besides. Sure, she’s already pretty horny, but her vibrator will take care of that when she’s finished becoming the patron saint of homemade lesbian porn.

Mello looks right into the camera, eyes smoldering as she puts her hands back on Near’s breasts and slowly, deliberately gropes her, smiling wider when Near’s head tips back and her mouth falls open again. It’s literally exactly the same thing that happened the last time Mello told her to watch.

“O-oh,” Near gasps, “Mello, I— mm—”

And, okay, it is still really hot the second time around.

“Cute,” Matt says. It’s an understatement, kind of, but she can’t figure out a way to express her actual feelings without sounding like a total creep, and she thinks Mello will get what she means, anyway.

“I swear, she gets more sensitive every time.” Mello’s fingers find the little pink peaks of Near’s nipples, and she thumbs at them. Near jerks in her grasp, crying out in some mixture of ecstasy and agony.

“God damn,” Matt murmurs. “She really likes that. Keep going, I— wanna make sure I got a good shot of that part.”

Shifting to pull Near upright again— she slipped a little while squirming— Mello tucks her chin into the crook of Near’s shoulder, putting their faces at the same level. She lowers her eyes to Near’s chest and pushes her little tits together, showing Near off for the camera before turning her attention to her nipples again. At the very first brush of Mello’s fingers, Near whimpers.

“It’s like she was made for it,” Matt mutters, absent-minded, half to herself.

Mello, of course, hears perfectly. “You hear that, Near? Matty thinks you’re good at this.”

“O-oh,” Near says. “Thank you?”

A mean little smile blooms on Mello’s pretty face. “You know how much porn Matt watches? A ton.” She flicks one of Near’s nipples. “She’s not easy to impress, angel.”

“Angel,” Matt echoes, a bit sardonically.

Mello gives her a sharp look. “Something funny?”

“It’s an ironic choice right now,” she says. “That’s all.”

“Why? ‘Cause she looks like a desperate little slut?”

Near whines. Writhes. Gets pinched for her trouble, and whimpers helplessly over it.

“Yeah,” Matt says faintly. “Something like that.”

“We don’t even know how wet she is,” Mello points out. “Near. Open your legs. Show Matty how much you like me.”

It’s a testament to how far gone Near is that she just obeys. An hour ago, when they first took out the camera, she was a little shy, but all the hesitation has evidently been teased out of her by Mello’s touch.

“Holy fuck,” Matt says, staring at Near’s newly-exposed cunt. The white, wiry hairs between her thighs are plastered to her pink skin by slick arousal. As Matt’s looking, she visibly drips.

Mello’s hands migrate from Near’s chest to the backs of her knees. She lifts Near’s legs from the bed and places them on either side of her own, holding Near’s thighs wide-open. Putting her on display.

“Good girl,” Mello coos. “So fucking wet for me, aren’t you?”

Near’s legs twitch toward each other, but the strategic positioning keeps them spread. Mello’s right hand slowly creeps up the inside of Near’s thigh as her left palms one of Near’s tits again.

“Should I be rougher with her, you think?”

[peydawgz]

saw your requests are open and i was wondering if you could do a lil thing where reader is like a inventor and makes a star projector for siebren?? romantic ofc :] hope u have a wonderful day!! !

You Gave Me The Universe || Siebren de Kuiper (Sigma) x Reader

Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like this!! It’s a little angsty, but wholesome ending :3

You and Siebren were tasked to work on a project together, your brilliant minds pairing perfectly. He came up with the ideas and physics, and you brought it to life. He was for the most part quiet, but he would go on rambles when the inspiration sparked.

You understood the trauma behind his mask. You took notice to the way he’d get lost in thoughts, the fear and anxiety, the shaking anger and frustrations. You were the only peaceful thing to come about his sad life. When the black hole appeared around him, and the gravity began to rise, he thought before there was no way to stop him. The thought of hurting the only one who could understand, oh it was like you had a sweet control over him.

Was it fear? Was it anxiety keeping him from you? You hadn’t seen him in a few days, you assumed he was recovering from his outburst. In the meantime, you worked on your own side project. It was just something small, something to keep his mind occupied and make the music fade for once. You cultivated a tiny machine, interpreting his interest in astronomy to create a holographic star projector. It would follow each moon phase, and could zoom in and out of each part of the known galaxy. You’d put so much work into it, you just hoped he would show up eventually so you could give it to him.

After waiting through your usually workday hours with no sign of him, you decided to pay Siebren a visit and see what was up. You tried to call but he would not answer, you still showed up anyways. You knocked on his door, expecting no answer but it only took two seconds before the door creaked open and the tall man stood before you. He wore a comfortable attire, black long pants and a plain white shirt. He looked defeated and uneasy, making you think perhaps he didn’t want you here. It was refreshing just to see him, though, you were worried of the disaster he could cause.

Without exchanging a hello, you lunged into Siebren’s chest, throwing your arms around him as to heal his saddened heart. He was tense, but completely relaxed at your touch. He sighed and invited you in for tea, happy to see your face as well. He didn’t want you to remember him for the monster he showed you he could be. You sat together and talked, mostly you catching him up a bit before getting to your point.

“I made something for you, to help you rest and strengthen your focus.” You told him. He looked shocked, he must not often receive gifts. Before he could say any mess about you didn’t have to get him anything- you told him to close his eyes. You carefully set up the projector out on the table, and shut off the lights. He had a smile creeping over his face, his demeanor changing into excitement.

“Okay you can open them up now.” You take your seat back next to him. He peeks at first, then opens his eyes and mouth in awe as he stares upon the illuminated ceiling. “You made this,, for me??” His voice is almost childlike in bewilderment, and the stars reflect on his glassy eyes. “Yeah! This way, you can relax, when your mind gets fogged up or if you need to fall asleep.” You responded.

“Fascinating…” he mumbled as he lifted a hand, controlling the coordinates with his gravity powers. As you watched him inspect your handmade device, you admired his happiness in this moment. In a state where all chaotic forces do not control him, his intelligence beams. He names each constellation out loud, like checking off a list he knows all too well. He pulled back so far out of the known universe you were staring into the purple clouds and star pools of your own galaxy, suddenly feeling small.

“You are extraordinary. I can’t thank you enough for this… you know me so well.” He said as he faced you. He pulled you in for another hug, his hands holding the fabric of your clothing like something might steal you away from him. He made a mental decision to keep you away from danger, to protect you at all costs and to also cherish your gift to him. No more running and hiding- he would have to fight with his mind to get it under more control, and was thankful for your help to allow him to see this path.

You were taken back by suddenly his whole body covering you in his craving grasp, not understanding the amount of emotion behind it. He was shaking a little, giving you the impression he may cry or his thoughts were becoming too much. You gently caress his back, and slowly moved up to pet his soft, greying hairs as if to soothe him.

His convulsions were that of being overloaded with affection aggression, his desire making him want to nearly crush you, with how sweet and caring you treated him. All signs in his head were pointing to yes, and he could no longer doubt those emotions any longer. He pulls away slowly, his gaze looking among the beautiful swirling colors around you, your own eyes moving around the room as well. He caught your chin with his fingers, crashing his lips into yours very passionately, like letting go of all that held him back. Your face felt hot, a blush showing over your cheeks as you moved closer for more. Once the kiss was over, Siebren slouched over and tucked his face into your neck, scared to look you in the eye for what he’d done. You thought he was so cute, trying to reassure him with more petting and caressing. He moved back, still looking away shyly, you were supposed to be just a coworker, how could he let himself be so inconsiderate to your profession. He looked sad with what he’d done, guilty even.

“It’s okay! I feel the same. There’s no need to worry about later, we should just enjoy now.” You assured him, always being the bright light in his black hole thoughts. He chuckled, reminding himself to relax again, and he leaned back into your touch to enjoy being in the moment with you.

“I can’t thank you enough for all that you do for me. My affection for you goes deeper than the universe.”

[abarbaricyalp]

Hi! Can I hear about the Actor AU please? 😊

Oh the Actor AU, my beloathed (jk) WIP Game

This goofy story was supposed to be a 5+1 pwp that I wrote over the course of one weekend and then that did not happen. In this fic, Actor!Sam is filming an intimate scene, but keeps ruining it with various terrible o-faces because apparently he can give an Oscar worthy performance to a green screen, but he can't fake pleasure. Bucky, the director of photography for the movie (and Sam's partner), takes it upon himself to show Sam what he looks like in the throes of passion with mirrors or cameras or whatever. But even then Sam manages to close his eyes or look away or put his face in a pillow. It's a silly little light-on-the-plot story.

.

He peeled out of his shirt and stared at himself. Another thing he kind of hated doing. He didn’t mind watching his own movies, but actually examining himself? No thanks. Still, he trailed his hand over his chest, down his ribs and his stomach, to the waistband of his pants. As always, it sent pleasure skittering over him, like it wasn’t sure if it should sink in just yet. He used to be real good at turning himself on, but then he’d fallen into bed with Barnes and, unfortunately, nothing quite compared.

Maybe that was what the problem was. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fake an o-face. He just needed Bucky’s hands on him to do it. He wasn’t in the right mindspace to do it while he was over a woman he only half knew and liked slightly less.

With a sigh, he fell back across the bed and watched the cheap fan spin overhead, bouncing light and shadows around his room. He hated spending any time at all in a trailer. He was just contemplating turning the fan off when the door opened and Bucky noisily came inside. Sam listened to him kick off his boots and shuck off his jacket.

“You used too much soy sauce again,” he called.

“No such thing,” Sam called back.

“How come you’re still wearing pants?” Bucky asked, much closer this time.

Sam lolled his head so he could see the doorway and he gave a pleased little grin at finding Bucky there. “I know you like to unwrap me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and came over to the bed. He kneeled down to unlace Sam’s shoes and pull them off, then his socks. He trailed kisses along Sam’s legs, over his jeans, until he had to crawl over him on the bed to keep going. Up his abdomen, his ribs, his chest, his neck. Goosebumps followed where he went.

“Hi,” Sam breathed against his mouth.

“Hi,” Bucky greeted back. “Your pants,” he prompted.

Sam quickly reached between their bodies to loosen the fastens on his pants and then kicked them away. The movement rubbed their bodies together, a tantalizing tease of friction against building desire. Bucky had dropped his head to mouth along Sam’s neck. He already knew the rules–no bruises anywhere, no excuses–and he knew exactly how far to push things before easing up. And, God, Sam couldn’t live without it.

“Why are you still dressed?” Sam asked, pulling at the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt.

“It’s not about me,” Bucky teased back, but he sat up to yank his shirt off, only slowed briefly as he untangled his prosthesis from it and threw the shirt across the room.

“Yeah, but I get off faster when I get to look at you.”

Bucky grinned down at him, an endearing quirk of his mouth to the left side of his face. “Well, if it’ll help you figure out how to make a face like you feel good and not like you’re constipated…”

“I do not look like that!” Sam objected. He sat up as well, chasing after Bucky’s mouth.

“I’m the one with the camera, baby. I zoomed in on it. Have the proof.”

“There better not be proof.”

“Gonna go in the gag reel.”

“You know what, I’ll give you something to gag on,” Sam threatened and wrestled Bucky back to the bed.

[8perpetualmotionmachine8]

Chokehold

Take Me Back Eden

We open to see a hooded figure at a computer desk. We are positioned behind them. The screen is brightly lit in an otherwise dark room. The glow reveals several used and discarded energy drinks and crumpled food wrappers.

We zoom in to see the figure typing various lines of code. Things start glitching (as they do) and the figure pauses rubs their eyes. We cannot see their face in the shadow of the hood. They are wearing all black. Slouchy pants, socks, and an oversized hoodie.

The code goes back to normal and the figure jots down something on a piece of paper.

The figure closes the program and goes to lay down in bed. The only light is from the moon. The room is sparse and disheveled.

The figure tosses and turns, but eventually falls asleep, plunging them into an intense dream.

They are standing in an empty expanse of white nothingness. Still hooded, face from view, they shuffle around inside their pocket and take out the piece of paper they scribbled on earlier.

It says CHOKEHOLD.

A panel opens up in the floor, revealing a set of ancient looking stairs. Ivy coils and curls up the steps, and there is a path worn into the stone, showing us that a pair of feet have walked this way many times. The figure descends down and into the darkness.

As the figure goes downward, torches light up the walls in synchrony. There are Eden runes painted on the walls in what appears to be blood. The surroundings slowly become more pixelated, giving it an 8 bit video game quality.

The figure reaches the last step, and as their socked foot touches the ground, the white nothingness pixelates into an entire kingdom and the view changes from 3rd person to 1st.

As we move confidently through this alterate reality, the pixels continue to radiate outward, turning blank space into a high fantasy video game experience. All of the typical video game icons are there. Healthbar, energy meter, map and what have you. The graphics become far more sophisticated. There are castles, dragons, crooked trees, winding rivers, and all manner of fantastical creatures.

We ignore every npc trying to take us on a quest, we walk right past the blinking signs that indicate an item can be interacted with.

There is a castle on a floating island. It is made of obsidian glass. The spires reach upward to the sky, and the closer we get, the more it looms over us, hiding everything else from view.

We open our hand and pixels converge to become a hookshot. We shoot it at the island and deftly scale the side of it.

We reach the entrance to the black castle, and it is very intimidating. The black doors dissolve instead of opening. We make another hand movement and weapons appear. A sword, a bow, a shield.

Once equipped, the walls and floors undulate and become creatures that we have to fight.

We take them all out in quick succession. *Fwip* We put an arrow in a creature's eye. *Clang* A sword ramming through another's gut.

We ascend a massive spiral staircase without even breaking a sweat. Our healthbar is full. We continue upward a long while, fighting more and more creatures with increasing difficulty until we reach a door. Now we are sweaty, tired, and our healthbar is low.

We open our hand and something pixelates into our palm. It's a gold key. The details are intricate, like you'd expect the typical mythical key to look.

Upon closer inspection, we see something carved haphazardly into the key.

The word CHOKEHOLD.

We attempt to put the key into the lock, and as we do the door begins to dissolve and with it, the dream.

Instead of triggering the FINAL BOSS...

The view suddenly snaps back to 3rd person. The hooded figure awakens suddenly from their sleep as a cellphone vibrates on the bedside table. Bzzz bzzz bzzzz.

They pick up the phone and on the screen is a call notification from (555).

They swipe to accept the call and put it to their ear.