#Started off as one shots but turned into a consistent story | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cometkenji · 1 month

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killshot, baby

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x Doctor!Fem!reader Cw: Fluff (for real this time), LONGING (this is literally 9k words of pure yearning idek how I did that), mentions of blood, Hotch gets shot, Jack being adorable, Jack gets injured too :(, no explicit age gap, this is just rlly cute idk it's sweet I love Hotch so much I need him Summary: When you get hired as the BAU's stand-by medic, the team leader ends up being the hardest part of your job. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby! She's always fat coded, but like usual she's not described here. Just know a chubby person was imagined when writing this <3 WC: 9k (Hotch is the love of my life I could go on about him forever) This is definitely not medically accurate, please just enjoy for the sake of the story. I LOVE HOTCH I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

As weird as it was, band aids were the thing you remembered most from your childhood. You grew up as a canvas for any sort of scrape, cut, or bruise. Any wound that made your parents feel mildly worried to utterly terrified were ones that decorated your body frequently. You never tried to assign any meaning to why you became a doctor, simply crediting it as your call to the profession - to people. If you had to, though, your consistently bruised adolescent body is the best root cause you could think of. It seemed only right that the kid who couldn’t keep her skin in tact would grow to love helping others. You liked to think that’s how you kept your head an average size. Your bosses and co-workers had raved about your abilities no matter the job you took, and after a while you had to start prioritizing keeping your humility. You had started as just a kid with bruises.

You tended to ground yourself with those same memories in times like this. For as long as you’d worked in the hospital, you held some disdain for agents. You saw many federal ones, being so close to the HQ for divisions like Behavioral Analysis, but some locals swung by too. You’d had far too many experiences of them being snappy, demanding, and usually inconsiderate to the team of people trying to save someone. You understood the individuals you were committed to helping often got there by doing monstrous things, but demanding to talk to someone when they were bleeding out and half-conscious always forced your tongue between your teeth in an effort to stay respectful. Especially now, pushing a stretcher with 3 other workers while trying to shake off the feds trailing after him. You recognized them, Agents Rossi and Hotchner, if you remembered correctly.

“We’ll need to talk to him immediately.” The man - Rossi, you assumed, seeing as he was going gray and had less of a charge fueling his steps - spoke quickly as the two men followed your team.

“Be here when he’s out of surgery.” You didn’t bother to look back, trying to convey your annoyance and praying they got the hint.

“He’s killed three women and has another one hostage. We don’t have time.” The other one piped up, easily keeping pace with you.

Abandoning your previous strategy, you let your team push the man into the operating room, shutting the door behind them and whipping around to face the duo. “I understand that, sir, believe me.” You were more elevated than you would have liked, years of unease unfortunately slipping through your efforts to withhold them. “But whatever happened when you found him left him barely breathing. You can’t speak to a corpse. You’ll have your time when he’s stable. Go do your job and let me do mine.” You tensed your calves planning to turn around, but quickly felt the guilt catch up to you. “I’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“If?”

You sighed. You hated profilers. “I’ll call you.”

“Call the headquarters.” He was scribbling down a number on the back of a hospital business card. “Ask for Agent Hotch. We’ll be waiting.” You nodded your head once, taking the card from his hands. He started walking away as he thanked you. “We appreciate it.” Sure.

–

The surgery to save the man had been a trip and half. One of the bullets had internally ricocheted, and the other two were lodged next to crucial arteries. You praised your mother for giving you steady hands as you inched them out of him. It took you and your team six hours and fifteen minutes to get his heartbeat steady, you estimated he’d be knocked out all night. You should call, you thought. You had no idea how late these people worked but they were more than likely expecting to talk tonight and you didn’t know if that’d be possible. You fished the card out of your pocket, his handwriting was impressively neat for how fast he’d written the number. You heard the line ring twice before someone picked up.

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh- I’m Dr. L/n down at Quantico Med. I’m looking for Agent Hotch?” Your words tilted up at the end of your sentence. The casual nature of his shortened name left a weird feeling in your mouth after you said it. “I have an update on a patient he was asking after.”

“Is this about an unsub?”

“A what?” She lacked professionalism. You wondered briefly if he had just given you the phone number of an employee.

“I’m sorry-” she laughed slightly. “Is this about a suspect? Hotch told me someone might be calling.”

“Um - yeah it’s about a suspect. He was brought in earlier. Is Agent Hotch there? I’m sorry ma’am but I've been in an operating room for the past 6 hours and I want to go home.” You hoped she’d respect your honesty, you really didn’t have the patience to explain yourself to someone new.

She chuckled. “I got you honey, I’ll page you over.” The line went dead for a second before the ringing resumed. Please be quick, you prayed, get me out of this fucking hospital.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rougher over the phone. You guessed the long hours started to weigh on him by this time of night. You always felt it the most around this time, too.

“Hi, sir. This is Dr. L/n from the hospital. We managed to stabilize your guy, but it’s unlikely he’ll be up before tomorrow. I know it was assumed he’d be awake tonight but it took longer to operate than expected.” Your guys put 3 bullets in him, so sorry for the inconvenience. “I’ll be here all day tomorrow. You can come by at any time and I’ll let you in.”

“Are you positive we can’t talk to him tonight? I understand the situation is difficult but this case is extremely time sensitive. I’m sure that’s not lost on you.” You cursed the man for not being more condescending in his delivery. Thinking of the poor person either trapped or dead right now due to the guy you just saved made you sick.

“I know.” Fucking hell. “I can wake him up.” A quarter dose of adrenaline works wonders. “Be here in fifteen minutes. You won’t have much time to talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He hung up. You put your head in your hands. Just a little kid with bruises.

–

The layout of the BAU made you envious of the workers here. You’re sure they’d dealt with atrocities beyond what the average person could stomach, but you also worked within the belly of the beast and man were those hospital hallways claustrophobic. The daylight shone beautifully through the large windows, and you asked yourself if you’d be able to cope with all the paperwork in exchange for a feel like this. There weren’t any front desks, nowhere to sign in, so you sat in one of the chairs by the door and waited to see if something would happen. You had been specifically requested to visit the building , a note signed ‘Strauss’ being left with the hospital secretary. You didn’t like being called on by a stranger, it made you nervous beyond belief. You’re sure anyone walking by assumed you were being charged with something. Sweating like a sinner in church.

“Dr. L/n?” A woman was standing near you, having completely avoided your eyesight until now. “I’m the board supervisor, Erin Strauss. Thank you for coming.” The woman was nice enough, but she seemed rigid, clearly confident in her authority. She led you to her office and gestured to the chair facing her desk.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She smoothed her pencil skirt as she sat down. “The BAU is seeking a stand-by medic and I’d like to offer you the position. You’re revered highly by your previous places of employment and your current boss has only good things to say. Along with a personal reference by an employee of mine, you’re certainly a person of interest. You’d be working interchangeably with three other individuals, however you would be the first one called when needed.”

That is definitely not what you were expecting. You were almost immediately ready to turn down the offer. You didn’t work well with cops. You worked well in a hospital, going into the field to patch the wounds of both good and evil was a less than appealing deal to you.

“You’d be on call while you worked your current position at Quantico Medical, when you’re at home you can remain there, but you’ll be flying with the rest of the team when they leave. You will be entered into a federal database, and employed as a stand-in for hospitals near you when working abroad.” She went on to explain you’d be paid salary, and when you heard just how much you could add to your monthly income by doing this, you took it. You were doing fine, you definitely didn’t need the financial boost, but you had family that could use it. Your niece had been close to turning down college because of the cost, so some extra money could really set her up.

“Excellent. You’ll start your field training next Monday.” She was shuffling papers into a hefty stack as she talked. “Come back when you’ve finished this and I’ll arrange a team meeting.” The stack was even heavier than you expected when you picked it up. It was far too early to be regretting your decision.

–

The first day of training had been easy enough. You weren’t an agent, so you avoided having to learn weapons or combat. It generally consisted of learning efficiency, along with how to work properly with agents and the expected etiquette when dealing with an unsub. You had met the team only once by now. Everyone had been nice - Garcia especially - but aside from her nobody had been particularly welcoming. The conditions of your job were a bit strange, basically capitalizing on the what ifs that came with the FBI title, and that created a bit of distance between you and the rest of the team. They questioned the necessity of you, they’d survived this long without a stand-by medic with them, why did they need one now?

Above any disregard for those in law enforcement sat your stubbornness. You knew they were on the fence about you, the most logical thing for you to do now would be attend every session required of you and prove yourself through pure accomplishment. Easy in theory, much harder to execute when Aaron Hotch is the one you’re learning from. He was a good teacher - you’d give him that - he had a confidence to him that easily dominated a room, attracted eyes in a way other men couldn’t manage. You’d ignored the initial stir in your stomach when meeting him in favor of attempting to scold him and his partner. Now, it was much harder to quell the slight pound in your head or the sweat on your palms. He was just standing up front, lecturing on the importance of a team, but his attire was the only thing able to break through the haze in your mind. Every time he’d shown up at the hospital, he’d donned a suit, a slightly baggy blazer worked incredibly well as a shield to your curiosity. That had clearly changed, as he shed the overcoat when talking to the class, having just a white button up adorn his torso. You took notice of the rolled up sleeves, clearing your throat quietly to snap yourself back into focus. You had the intention of snuffing out this little thing of yours but were a living contradiction at this point, setting on the goal of avoidance while barely ignoring the sight of the veins on his arms. You pondered the thought of sleeping with some man at a bar just to get this out of your system, but remembered how little projecting attraction onto someone else helps a situation. In other words, you were probably fucked.

–

The first mission you worked with the team had you flying to a tiny Georgia town to investigate a string of bodies being found in ransacked homes. It seemed to be a simple motive, robbery turned to murder, but the team was called down to help once the kill count hit five. You had been expecting a long commercial flight, figuring you’d need to invest in a good neck pillow and some aspirin. Nobody had bothered to inform you the Bureau utilized private air travel, or that you’d be flying in one with people you’d known for two weeks. You’re sure you looked a little out of place, looking around the plane without being obvious you were doing it and adjusting to the sight of couches on planes. The others, having had this privilege for years now, took their respective seats. You had been nervous about that, unfortunately. The unsure feeling of where to sit reminding you painfully of high school cafeterias and inferior reputations. The only open seat happened to be right next to the man you’d been ducking away from the past two weeks. Lovely. He took a moment to look at you when you sat. You were prepared to talk to him, but for now you busied yourself with rummaging through your bag looking for nothing and pretending not to see him in your peripherals.

“Do you get sick on planes?” He seemed to have a deeper motive when he asked, like you saying yes would solve a puzzle in his head.

“Not really.” You’d only been on a plane a handful of times. “Turbulence can make me nervous, but I think that’s fairly normal.” You thought momentarily that perhaps he would blame your obvious anxiety on that instead of his proximity to you. He was a profiler, you’re sure he picked up on tells for nerves you weren’t even aware you had, but maybe he’d write it off. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…” He trailed off for a moment, looking over your face to try and categorize your expression. “I don’t know, lost?” He smiled, light and easy, and you realized he was trying to reach out to you. The comfortability in the gesture made your head spin. It was like a shot of morphine, enveloping your body in a dull elation - an escape. You wanted that comfortability, wanted him to feel weightless around you. There had been a certain tension between the two of you since you started. He was warmer than the rest, but also more awkward. Your first real interaction had been an outburst, and it left you hesitant to talk to him.

You chuckled at his remark. “No I -” You shook your head as you spoke, as if shaking off his accusation. “Nobody told me about the jet. You’d think exclusive aircraft would be in the job predecessor.”

He nodded in agreement, holding a slight upturn on his lips. “Yes, you would.” He glances away to check the time, looking back to you quickly like you were his homebase. “Strauss has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Plus, we’re all pretty used to it by now. I have to remind her sometimes that normal provisions don’t have a TI.”

“I’m sure.” It was clear she’d worked with the unit for a while. “Even if they did, though, they’d never find another Garcia.” You thought of the woman, bright and sparkly and incredibly good at her job. “You guys are lucky to have her.”

He stared at you, losing a hint of the lightheartedness and letting a wave of genuinity intertwine with it. “You have her too, Y/n.” His eyes were like a trap, rich pools of honey just begging to tug you down in. “You’re a member of this team. Don’t think your newness makes you inferior to anyone else on it. We’re lucky to have you too.”

Fuck, you were whipped. “I really appreciate that, sir.”

He smiled, shaking his head and waving you off. “Don’t with the sir, please. It’s bad enough when Garcia does it. You can call me Aaron.” Not even the other team members called him that, a thought that seemed to strike you both simultaneously. “Or Hotch, whatever you prefer.”

You just looked at him, letting a smile rouse your lips and trying your hardest not to let the effect he had on you reach your face. “Ok.”

–

The first case had been good training wheels, simply tending to a vic who needed stitches and getting a feel for the life of a field agent. You’d been adjusting nicely to it, quickly getting used to working random hospitals and waiting to be needed on an active crime scene. The others had warmed up to you tremendously after getting back, opening their circle for one more, and you couldn’t be more grateful. A team like this was something you’d wanted for a while, growing more and more unsatisfied with the callous ER workspace by the day. Ironically, there was much more life in jobs dealing with murder. He had also been warming up to you. The two of you hit the status of work-place friends nearly instantly. The endearing encounter on the plane simmered inside you for a while. The memory of it prompting you to keep talking to him, always searching for a fix of the painkiller you’d felt that day.

You weren’t a profiler, but you were unfathomably infatuated, leading you to never miss his tone getting softer with you, or any one of his touches that lingered for just a second too long. It just barely bypassed the line of friendship, but you never lost sight of that linear barrier, so it was incredibly prevalent to you when he breached it. You scoffed at the idea of any reciprocity, brushing off every remark made by a coworker or the one horrific time you heard JJ refer to the two of you as ‘mom and dad.’ This wasn’t a plausible thing. This was a stupid workplace crush that was more of a hindrance than anything. The growing closeness between you and him would have it’s effects properly restrained to the confines of your head, only permitted to express themselves once you were away from the man. It was an odd dynamic, but Aaron wasn’t an obvious guy, so trying to define the edges of you two would only draw attention to the fact you had been looking at all. No thank you.

“Shit.” The team was sitting around the table going over their files. You were mainly there for support, as you were never a part of the lead up to the catch, the chase. You heard Hotch mumble the exclamation under his breath and looked over to see the trouble. He was looking down at his phone, jaw resting between his thumb and pointer finger. You got up and moved to sit next to him, the motion virtually ignored by everyone else as they continued searching for connections.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled to him, trying not to disturb your friends who were nearly nose-deep in their files.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jack’s sitter canceled. I wanted to stay here to go over the latest crime scene but I guess I’ll have to raincheck.” The killings of your latest unsub had been increasing. You knew the collective stress that was starting to boil within the team. Him going home would only slow them down, a horrible addition to a killer that was speeding up.

You volunteered your night away before you even got a chance to think about it.

“I can watch him.”

Surprise was apparent in the raise of his eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t ask that of you.

You’re fairly certain you would do anything he asked of you, but the nobility of the man in this case almost made you roll your eyes. “No, please. I offered and I would love to. I’m not helping anyone just sitting here, and you leaving would slow them down. You know what to look for here, I don’t. I don’t want another girl going missing just cause your sitter flaked. I can do it.”

He seemed mildly speechless. “I -” He paused, trying to find the wording he wanted. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send you the address, if you’re sure.” He looked at you with more adoration than you’d ever had directed at you, so intense your eyes instinctively ducked down. “Thank you, Y/n.” He was so touched by the action it made you slightly sad to think about. Had no one ever helped him? Maybe you were raised weird, this seemed hardly beyond common decency to you.

“What are friends for?” He exhaled a slight laugh in gratuitous agreement, but you saw the glimmer of his eyes dull slightly. The notion surely reflected in your own eyes as the words burned your tongue. Friends.

–

Jack was a delight. A well mannered, clearly well raised kid. Parts of his dad shined so vibrantly in him that you’re sure you’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on mannerisms alone. Hotch had called Jack’s daycare, verifying your identity and giving you the ok to go pick him up. He seemed quiet on the way home, but rushed to give you a tour of the house, and excitedly led you to his line up of toy trains once you’d entered the place. There was a shift between you and Hotch that happened when you gave the offer. A shift that was now only just settling in you. This was his house. His space, his stuff, his place of security. He’d invited you into it, gave you permission to enter it, to exist within it, and it was strangely intoxicating. He was intoxicating, and you realized quickly how much you ached for the permanence of it. You’d made Jack dinner, played for a bit, went out for ice cream per his pleading, and wished him a peaceful goodnight when his bedtime rolled around. He’d dubbed you his ‘best babysitter ever’ and you knew as soon as the words hit your ears that you’d be watching him again. You’re sure situations like today popped up frequently for Hotch, you could be a valuable asset to him when you had free time. He would be saving money too. No need to pay a sitter when you were being paid by the Bureau every second you were there. Aaron had gotten home a few minutes past one, utterly exhausted and uncharacteristically apologetic. He was sorry for being gone so long, making you stay so late, everything and anything the man could apologize for was pouring out of his mouth. He’d welcomed you to stay, but his hair was messy from messing with it all night, and he’d ditched the suit jacket for a gray long sleeve. You’d wanted to take the opportunity, wanted to bask in the safety of him for as long as he’d allow it, but those restrained thoughts were clawing the walls of your skull with a vigor unlike anything you’d felt before. It would be abhorrent to dream about the man while in the confines of his home. You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. You brushed off any apology he could conjure and let him escort you out the door. His hand was on your lower back, and his voice was low from the siphoning nature of the day.

“Thank you, again.” He looked at you. “You’re a lifesaver.” You’d expected to hear some humor in his voice. The start of banter between friends, a casual appreciation for a job well done, but there wasn’t any. He sounded rough, slightly beat down, his eyes filled with a sincerity all aimed at you. A blend of pure adoration and a deeper level of dedication. Was this a commitment? What kind?

Heat bubbled in your stomach as you made eye contact. “Please.” You shook your head slightly. “Jack’s an angel. You’re clearly as good at this as you are profiling.” You nodded in the vague direction of Jack’s bedroom as you referenced the kid. “It was my pleasure. I’d love to do it again, if you’ll let me.”

He sighed out a small laugh and broke your gaze for a moment, looking back to you as he spoke. “I’d like that.”

–

You’d seen Jack a multitude of times after that. Aaron was never particularly fond of asking you, claiming that he appreciated the gesture but it was mainly Jack’s begging that made him cave. That, and your persistence. You liked Jack a lot, and more selfishly, you liked being around Aaron’s stuff. It was a little creepy, yes, but you felt better acquainted with him after being around his things. An energetic type of understanding, the type that deepened a connection without words. He was needed late tonight, and as much as you hated denying an offer to see Jack, you had priorities at the hospital. The previous sitter wasn’t able to watch him, so she gave a personal recommendation, and Jack got stuck with a stranger. You thought about him while working, probing and patching people half-focused with the desire to be elsewhere. You’d felt mildly guilty about it, but it’s not like it altered your work, so you figured it was harmless.

You wondered slightly if you manifested the event you were watching play out. You watched in pure disbelief as a sobbing Jack was being carried into the ER by a flustered blonde woman. There was blood staining the right sleeve of his shirt, pouring out of his skin in a surplus and completely soaking through the material. A jagged piece of glass was standing at attention in his wrist, having sliced through the fabric like butter. He was marked ‘urgent,’ who knows if the shard had hit an artery or where the glass had come from.

Most other doctors were busy, either operating or tending to patients. You’d walked to the front desk, remaining as calm as your racing heart would let you, and told the secretary to assign the case to you. “I know this one. Let me take him.” She just nodded, marking your name down as the primary doctor and allowing you to take him back.

Walking up to the blonde woman, you assumed this had been the new babysitter. She was a wreck, trying to explain what happened through her own hysteria while simultaneously having her words drowned out by the crying child. “It’s ok, ma’am.” You’d reassured her, obviously she hadn’t intended the injury. “Let me take him, I’m a friend of his father.” You saw the calmness dilate her eyes, making itself apparent in the relaxation of her tense shoulders. You removed the bleeding boy from her arms, holding him against you and cooing at him the way you would a baby. You took him to a stretcher a few feet away and laid him down, ensuring his wounded arm stayed flat in an attempt to slow the blood. He was on the brink of passing out, his body not having nearly enough energy for the sobbing on top of losing vital fluid. “Jack.” You addressed him directly, two more doctors aiding your transfer to an examination room. “I need you to stay with me, buddy. Just a little longer, I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” You pushed with one hand, caressing his non-injured arm to emphasize your affection. “Just a little longer.” You looked at him in between looking forward to keep the stretcher straight, seeing that same adoration from his father’s eyes mirrored in his. You felt protective, realizing you cared for the Hotchners much more than you let yourself believe. Little kid with bruises, you skimmed through your origins in your mind in an attempt to center your focus. Just a little kid with bruises.

Two hours later, Jack was stitched up and sleeping soundly. You knew his sitter had called Hotch, probably as soon as something happened, and were not surprised to find him idle in a waiting room chair. He was leaned forward, head in his hands and knee bouncing violently. He heard footsteps getting closer, a feeling within him recognizing them as yours, and he looked up. His eyes were teary, tired. The look of a concerned father.

“How is he?” You’d never witnessed this type of worry in him, heard the amount of desperation in his voice.

You smiled lightly as a predecessor to Jack’s wellbeing. “He’s fine. Glass missed his arteries. We had him patched up in around an hour and a half. Gave him a lollipop and a light sedative to get him to rest. He should be all set to go in the morning.”

He sighed, and the amount of stress that audibly left his body made you feel a little lighter from where you stood. “Thank God.”

“Hey man, give us a little credit.” You joked, relieved when you heard the slight laugh come from his downturned head. Pity laugh, probably, but it was a cherished sound nonetheless.

“You have full credit, Y/n.” He shook his head, raising it to look at you. “Quite the hero.”

You almost physically recoiled from the term, rushing to correct him while maintaining the lighthearted nature. “Definitely not.” You rejected the praise. “Just doing my job. I’m glad I could help him.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a second before he planned to stand up. “Noble.” He chuckled. “But you helped my son. That’s about as heroic as it gets to me, doc.”

Blood rushed to your ears at your professional title being used so affectionately. “Go check on your kid, Hotch.” You waved back towards the direction of Jack, knowing that even though he was asleep, he’d want to see him anyway. You also hoped the slight distraction would draw his attention away from your increasingly flustered state. “You’ll have plenty of time to praise me.” You weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted the sentence to exit your mouth, but it was too late to bite your tongue.

He raised his eyebrows so slightly that you scolded yourself for having noticed. Such a minuscule action that seemed to move mountains within your brain. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at your own remark. “I’m walking away. You know what I meant.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, nodding his head dramatically and rising from his seat. “Just name a time and place, doc. I’ll do good on that promise.”

You went momentarily braindead, hoping your eyes weren’t giving away the less than work appropriate feeling pumping through your veins. You stared baffled at him for what was definitely a millisecond too long before giving a half-shocked, half-flattered laugh and gesturing him away. “Say that when you’re not obviously sleep deprived and delirious and maybe we can arrange it.” The last thing you heard was him, laughing the way you do when you’re very serious but desperately trying to pass it off as a joke. You knew it well, having done it almost every time you were around him since you started. Comfortable, witty retorts between friends. “Have a good night, Aaron.”

Aaron, he thought. He’d remember that.

–

That had been the second shift between the two of you. Felt immediately by both parties and tossing you both into the deep end of whatever you’d been building with him. He’d been much more touchy, seemingly subconscious on his part but noticed by every part of your body, mind, and soul. You thought about what it could mean, then sunk even further into your incoherent mind when realizing just how subconscious the actions really were. He was just drawn to you. You had viscerally fought that conclusion as it came to you but it genuinely could not be anything else. He was touching you more because - whether on the surface or deeper down - he just wanted to, and that fact was wrecking you. You were so fucking into him that it hurt. Hurt to look at him or be in his home watching Jack or have his knee pressed against yours in the back of car during a team outing. It all hurt because he wasn’t yours. He seemed into you, too. Of course, you didn’t know to what extent. You worried maybe he hadn’t said anything yet because he simply didn’t like you enough, and that hurt more than any other factor. It was a foolish notion - one you would have abandoned instantly had you peeked inside his head - but alas, no such luck.

He’d been more relaxed, too. The two of you reaching a point in your relationship you hadn’t ever let yourself dream about. He was funny, achieving that lightness around you that you’d wanted from the start. He’d gotten riskier, amping up the dial on his remarks a bit. Starting with those like the hospital, ending with ones that made you have to take a breather in the room where they kept the coffee. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, per say, but the others were certainly ignorant to the true depth of the change. You simply couldn’t measure it by witnessing, you had to feel it. And fuck were you feeling it.

A week or so after Jack’s ER visit, you’d asked after him. You didn’t know if the regret was immediate, but it flooded through you quickly. Aaron got nervous, shifty, like you’d touched a live wire of his and he now had to patch it up before it blew. You got concerned, asking if something happened with his stitches or if Jack was now showing some sort of trauma response to the event. Was that even plausible? You weren’t sure, PTSD wasn’t exactly your strong suit. However, he quickly stated that wasn’t the case, noting that Jack was actually in perfect health and had been relentless about wanting you over for dinner.

“He’s grateful.” Hotch was smiling with paternal reluctance, proud of his son for having such good morals but also uncomfortable with the possibility of rejection he was facing. “He wants to see you, say thank you for “saving his life.” He emphasized the last bit in a sarcastic tone, both of you knowing his life hadn’t been in danger but also knowing that fact wouldn’t deter the boy from considering you some type of guardian angel. “Would you be up for it?” If you hadn’t been so focused on snuffing out the heat rushing to your face, you would have seen that same heat reflected in a slight pink across his cheeks.

“Definitely.” You smiled at the thought of the boy bugging his dad about getting you to the house. “When were you thinking?”

“Saturday night?” Both of you were scheduled to be off that day, and you found yourself begging whatever merciful being would listen to not have some lead to chase that day. “He’ll want the day to prepare.” He chuckled.

“Oh no.” You joked. Prepare? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. “Well, I am extremely curious to find out what an eight year old boy has to prepare for. How about seven? Would that be good?”

Aaron felt his palms start to sweat. He’d never actually been around his house when you’d been there, only seeing you on your way out. “That’s perfect.”

“Great.” You smiled, checking the time and realizing you needed to get going to the hospital. “I’m looking forward to it.” You nodded slightly as one last confirmation and headed out, suppressing a giddy smile while trying to force yourself into a headspace you could work in.

In the meantime, Aaron watched you walk off from where he’d been perched on your desk, entirely oblivious to the man watching the scene.

“As I live and breathe.” Rossi had crept up on him, not spooking him but rather suspending him in a state of immeasurable embarrassment. “Aaron Hotcher has a crush.” The man held his shoulder, patting him there like a father witnessing his son get his first girlfriend. “She’s a good one. Quite the eye you got, Aaron.” Then he was gone, walking away with Aaron’s dignity clasped in his hands. Closing his eyes in pure mortification, Hotch simply thanked God that nobody else was around for that and walked away with the intention of fusing to his office chair to avoid ever looking at Rossi again. At least you’d said yes, he thought. He didn’t know how he’d cope with his friend watching him swing and miss.

–

The daylight seemed to be anticipating this more than you were, hours passing by like minutes until eventually the sun woke you up on Saturday morning. It was blazing through the cracks in your blinds, settling in slim lines across your floor, as light and gentle as snow. You’d been rehearsing your poker face in preparation for tonight. Writing safety manuals for any ungodly situation that could happen, everything from a fire to Aaron gaining the ability to read your mind and unearthing what you really thought about him. You were so happy that Jack held you in such high esteem, but your hands were shaking at the thought of sitting down with him and his father and acting like it wasn’t the dynamic you fucking dreamt about. You knew it was a good sign of compatibility if someone’s cat liked you - did their child liking you mean the same thing? You hoped Jack’s seemingly innate approval of you gave you at least a couple brownie points. Aaron had called you a hero. Swiftly ignoring the memory of what he’d said after he called you a hero, you pulled out your phone. You and him didn’t really speak outside of work and babysitting schedules, but you were pacing around your room and needed something to give you a semblance of structure, a reassurance - even if it was just for the time. You texted, asking if you were still on for tonight, then went to go make breakfast and inevitably pace some more. He’d gotten back to you about twenty minutes later, confirming the time and giving details of how excited Jack was about it. You smiled at that, praying tonight would be as smooth as humanly possible and you could walk away with an ounce of emotional control. You set an intention, this wouldn’t deepen your feelings for Aaron. Was it a pointless goal? Yes. Was it also highly unlikely to prove true? Yes. But the loose plan you worked around the resolution almost completely extinguished the anxiety that had been blazing for hours now. It would be fine, you thought. Completely and utterly fine.

The same words were looping through your thoughts when you got to his front door. Casual - but still minorly more dressed up than he’d seen you. You’d put a little extra effort into your appearance, mainly to pass the time if you were honest, and you walked in with mild confidence fueling your steps. You did your best not to ogle him, he was in an attire that was already threatening to unravel the safety net of the goal you set. You were used to the suits hidden beneath blazers you cursed the existence of, maybe a snippet of his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves late at night. Now, though, he sported a simple black tee, more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. Domesticity was practically oozing from the entire situation. You felt the pieces slip into place as Jack ran up behind him, and you almost cried with how badly you wanted this feeling to be your normal.

“Hey, buddy.” You laughed as he hugged you, reciprocating the act as well as you could from the multiple feet you had on his height. “How’s the arm?”

He raised up his wrist, now gauze free and proudly showed off the scar there. You played up the genuine admiration you felt for him. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar.” He nodded in response, probably feeling cool for the evidence he handled such an injury. “I don’t want to see you back in my operating room, you hear me? Scared the life out of us.” The scolding was playful, and he giggled at your words.

Aaron huffed in agreement, cocking his head to the side slightly. “You can say that again.” Jack looked between you two, smiling and seemingly thinking something neither of you could decipher. To break the moment of silence, Aaron patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her what’s on the menu, buddy?”

He told you, and you hummed along to his words, commenting that it sounded delicious and actually meaning it. He ran away a second later - presumably back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there - and left you and Aaron alone. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw multiple pans and pots sitting neatly on the stove, table set and ready to be utilized. Everything was being kept warm, and you finally gained an appetite after having wrestled with nerves all day.

“Do you want a drink?” He asked it while entering the kitchen, pausing to look at you.

“Please.” You were desperate to calm yourself, eager to subdue the shaking of your hands. “Do you have any wine?” You weren’t the biggest fan, but you couldn’t think of a drink more fitting for the evening.

He nodded slightly. “Red or white?”

“White.”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” It was quiet, more to himself than you as he was already walking away from you when he said it. He’d thought about what kind of wine you liked, you thought. He’d thought about you. He pulled two wine glasses down from the cupboard, then walked over to the fridge. He reached above it, barely having to stretch, and pulled an uncorked bottle from the storage up there. You felt your legs tense looking at how tall he was, how sure he was of his actions. Jesus. It’s been five minutes and you were crumbling. You watched his hands as he uncorked the bottle, reading the label and realizing the brand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Seems a little fancy for a dinner.”

He laughed under his breath as he finished pouring the glasses, walking back over to sit next to you on the island stools. “You’re a guest of honor.” He placed yours in front of you. “I thought it was fitting.”

You searched, but couldn’t find the humor in his tone. You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Am I?” It was sarcastic, you needed to stop the heat in your stomach from spreading. “I didn’t know doing your job earned such a title.”

He was drinking as you spoke, finishing his sip before joking back. “You’re a doctor.” He said. “I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

You sucked air through your teeth as if wounded by his words. “Touche.” You took a sip of your drink, relishing the taste. Damn, he didn’t come to play. He laughed, and you set your glass back down. “Ok, I have to know.” He drew his attention to you. “What the hell did Jack need the day to prepare for?” The question had been on your mind since he asked you.

He took a drink, chuckling with a mouthful then swallowing so he could reply. “He actually helped cook most of this.” He nodded towards the stove full of different dishes. “That was what he needed the day for. Time for trial and error.”

You grinned at the thought of Jack and Aaron spending the day in aprons, making sure everything turned out perfect. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked back towards Jack, coloring in the living room, close enough to see but far enough to miss your discussions. “He gets nervous around you.”

That surprised you. “Why on Earth would he be nervous around me?” You took your turn looking at the boy, an idea hitting you and making you feel sick. “Wait, I didn’t do something did I?”

He looked back at you, smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. He gets nervous because he likes you. He knows who you are to me, too, so he wants to make a good impression.”

Your mind latched onto that sentence and played it like a broken record, bouncing between your ears over and over. “Oh?” Your lips were curling up at the corners, eyebrows furrowing as you got ready to hold him to that statement. “And who might I be to you, Aaron?”

Fuck. He’d let that slip past his lips without even thinking about it. So used to being in the confidential company of his son. Good thing he used to be a lawyer and could lie his ass off. “Most of his sitters aren’t also my coworkers.” He delivered it the smoothest way he could, smiling and drinking to hopefully exude a false comfortability that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look sarcastic but in truth downplaying the sting you felt. What if this had been one-sided all along? You hadn’t prepped a safety guide for that.

Luckily, Jack came sprinting into the kitchen a second later, pleading with his father to eat now. Clinging to his leg and declaring how hunger was killing him by the second, dramatically threatening to wither away before your very eyes. You both shared a look, agreeing silently to put the kid out of his misery. The instinctual nature of the act hit you like a bolt of lightning. Both of you so in tune it was comical. The dinner had been lovely, and you reminded yourself to encourage Jack to keep up his cooking hobby. Maybe you could foster a professional chef. You’d talked with them both, light and the happiest you’d felt in a while. There it was, you realized. That weightless feeling you wanted to give him. You felt it in yourself too, and you could only pray it was because he felt it first. When dinner concluded, you’d help clean up while Jack resumed his coloring. His bedtime was soon, and you didn’t want him to spend his last hour washing pans. He was nearly delirious by the time 9:00 graced the clock, tired from the preparation of the day and needing to get to sleep. He’d given you a hug goodnight, thanked you for coming like the gentleman he was, and that was the last you saw of him. The rest of your time there was spent on the couch with Aaron, you both held a second glass of wine, and you noticed it manifest in the blush on his face. He was gorgeous, and you were staring. You know your eyes went to his lips a couple times as he spoke, low and rougher as the time ushered more light out of the sky. You saw his eyes slip down a few times too, this sort of unspoken, agonizing rule of look don’t touch. He’d walked you to the door, thanked you for your attendance, and then you were leaving. Sitting in your car, warm on the inside from both his presence and the anger you felt at yourself for not just kissing him. You were so incredibly needy for this - for him, and that fact just sat with you, like a raincloud constantly in a state of downpour, never letting you forget the pure fucking craving you had for him.

–

You think the start of your blackout was Morgan’s panicked voice over the speaker. You’d been stationed in your typical hut, equipped with medical gear and waiting on someone to need you. It was almost never your team in need of service, typically you were tending to an injured hostage or sometimes the unsub themselves, but never your friends. Your breath had been baited since you’d heard the gun go off. You knew the case was dealing with an aggressive attacker, you’d been expecting a fight, but nothing is ever more excruciating than waiting to hear who the shot was meant for. Derek crying out your name followed by a “get in here. Hotch is down, we need you in here.” had you ready to run the soles of your shoes down to dust just to make it in time. In time. God, in time for what? You’d ran past Emily and Rossi hauling out the unsub, anger evident in their treatment of him. How bad was it? How bad had he got him to have them acting like that?

The scene was bloody. Your brain switching off and forcing you into autopilot as you registered the pool of Hotch’s blood that Morgan was kneeling in. He was putting pressure on the wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding but it was flowing like a river. He wouldn’t make it to the hospital like this, you realized. He wouldn’t make it to the fucking hospital. You were holding his life in between your hands right now, the slightest tremor could sever that chord and you were feeling the pressure hard. Aaron was leaned against the wall, slumping down slightly which was only making the bleeding increase under the internal pressure.

You looked at Morgan, putting on the bravest face you could muster and effectively seizing control of the situation. “Morgan.” You got his attention quickly. “On three I need you to lift him away from the wall. I need to check for an exit wound.” He just nodded, doing exactly as you’d told him when you reached three. You checked the area, finding an exit wound in nearly the same spot. It’d been a straight line. You sighed in relief. Thank fucking God. “Ok, Morgan, I need you to put pressure on the wound on his back. I’m going to stitch the front to give us the time we need for the hospital drive but I need you to hold it. You got me?”

He nodded once. “I got it.” He moved his hand from the front to the back, Aaron wincing at the switch.

You took out the numbing cream from your pack, knowing it wouldn’t do much for a gushing bullet wound but hoping it would at least quell the sting of a needle. You took out the needle, threading it with hands frighteningly stagnant as the adrenaline gave you tunnel vision. You had to save him. “Aaron.” You looked at him as you prepped his skin for the procedure. “I’m gonna need to double stitch this, and it’s gonna hurt like hell. I need you to stay with me.”

The man just nodded, exhaling in exhaustion. “Do it.”

You worked as quickly as possible, gaining hope as you listened to the ambulance approach. “There you go.” You said under your breath, at this point you couldn’t tell if you were reassuring him or yourself. You looked to Morgan, who was still sealing the other injury. “Help me get him up. Keep your hand on there. These stitches are gonna give us twenty minutes tops. Hold his shoulders straight and walk quickly.” You counted again, both of you rising when you hit three, taking the man with you. The walk to the ambulance was the longest of your life. Aaron was clinging to his consciousness but you knew he was losing grip. Finally getting him to the stretcher and slamming the doors was a relief like nothing else. There was no time to debate anyone else going, you rushed him in and sat right down beside him, taking off almost immediately after. The bleeding had slowed, and your hand took the place of Morgan’s on his back. Since he was laying down, his full weight was on it, and you felt the circulation lessen more and more as it remained there. You couldn’t care less, you’d let the blood drain from your entire arm if it meant Aaron’s survival. He hadn’t passed out, which you thought was miraculous, simply walked the line of decently delirious. Groaning under his breath at every slight bump in the road.

“Why am I always having to save you Hotchner men?” You knew now wasn’t the time to be humorous, but you would have done anything to deviate from the tears in your eyes, the ball in your throat. You finally understood why it was frowned upon to date coworkers - it should be illegal to care this much.

“I don’t know, honey.” The pet name was the kicker, allowing a tear to break the dam and roll down your cheek as he chuckled. “You seem to be pretty damn good at it, though.” You laughed too, fighting the devastation you felt at the sight of him with the fact that he was clearly well enough to still be joking. “I should have kissed you when you came for dinner.”

Fuck. “Aaron, now is not the time.” You chuckled slightly as more tears fell. This is absurd.

“I know but-” He flinched as the ambulance hit another bump. Almost there. “I might as well say it now.” You wondered if there was genuinely something wrong with him. “You’ve been all I can think about since the moment-'' He paused to breathe slightly in exertion, you giving a disapproving look as his confession took it’s toll. “since the moment you started, you know that?”

“You are dying! Please, for the love of God, Aaron. Use this energy to prevent that from happening.” Your scolding was dramatic, but your actual concern shone brightly through your ruse of sarcasm.

“Exactly.” He was being equally as sarcastic. How on Earth did he manage this with a rapidly declining life force. “Give a dying man a chance. How unfortunate would it be if the last thing I hear before I go out is the woman of my dreams rejecting me?”

“Jesus Christ.” You shook your head in pure amazement. This was by far the most goal oriented man you’d ever met. “I’ll let you take me out if you shut the hell up and save your energy.” He smiled, letting his head hit the reclined back of the stretcher. “After you get better.” You added, reminding him that his recovery took priority. “Deal?”

“Deal.” This was probably the most insufferable man you’d ever met. “Such a good motivator.”

Scratch that. Most insufferable man ever.

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leilanihours · 11 days

Note

Anything with Kate Martin pleaseee!

# GOLD RUSH

pairing: kate martin x teammate!reader

word count: 1780

warnings: none !

summary: kate being the cutest most adoring girlfriend ever while you get ready on live !

from lani: this was heavily inspired by this video bc kate actually might be the cutest human to ever walk the earth ty

"WHAT IS UP guys, welcome back to yet another game day prep," you greet to the camera propped against the mirror in front of you, "today we are going up against lsu, so there's gonna be a lot of tension in the arena today."

user1: hi y/nnnn

user2: is caitlin there?

user3: team lsu lol

user4: y/n what shampoo/conditioner do u use??

it's become a tradition for you to go live and do a little "get ready with me" on the most highly-anticipated gamedays, as you wanted to get fans excited for the face-off.

the first one you hosted got lots of love, viewers falling in love with your bubbly personality and witty remarks to your teasing teammates.

you were currently in your hotel bathroom, one you shared with your teammate, gabbie marshall. but all the girls have borderline separation anxiety, leading to half the team hanging out in your room as you all prepare yourselves for the game.

"are you on live?" you hear a voice whisper. turning your head, you see kate peeking hers into the bathroom a small smile on her face.

"yeah," you reply sweetly, "you wanna say hi?"

she nods, immediately sliding the door open to join you.

"looks like we have a special cameo today, folks, y'all got lucky," you laugh

"hi, live, how you guys doin?" kate says.

as you begin doing your skincare, you see kate take a seat on the closed toilet in the corner, carefully observing your routine.

"you okay, babe?" you ask with a grin once you notice her puppy-dog like stare. the nickname slips from your lips like first nature, appearing cordial to the camera but the two of you know the hidden meaning.

user1: help kate looks so starstruck wtf shes adorable

user2: omg wait i use that same moisturizer

user3: "BABE"?

user4: not kate just sitting on a damn toilet LMAOO

you and kate have always been close, ever since your freshman year at iowa. on the court you two bounce off of each other's energy constantly, frequently managing to raise the stakes of the game.

fans have noticed it too, of course, with proud taps after one of you makes a shot and suspiciously long post-game hugs.

the team is fully aware of your private relationship, respecting your wishes of secrecy. there have been pointed questions from reporters and interviewers, but you all know how to dodge a personal question one way or another.

a few minutes go by of you telling a funny story from the bus ride to the hotel, consisting of caitlin getting caught on video singing horribly off-key. with promises of posting the recording later that evening, you and kate both laugh at the memory.

as you start on your light makeup look, you begin reading some comments popping up on your screen.

user1: thoughts on reese and clarks rivalry??

user2: wheres caitlin and gabbie

user3: y/n can u say hi alyssa

user4: what are your guys' top 3 music artists

"'thoughts on reese and clark's rivalry?'" you read, "i mean, they've said it before, there's no bad blood between them, just some good old basketball competition," you state with a small smile as you start blending in a light layer of skin tint.

"yeah, i mean some light-hearted teasing and trash-talking always makes a game more fun in my opinion," kate chimes in, "especially when it leads to an increase in viewership."

"for sure, for sure," you smirk at her in the corner of your eye, sneakily suggesting your own dating rumors circulating before every game.

"'top three music artists?'" kate reads, "dude, mine changes 24/7 so i have no idea anymore."

"ooo," you contemplate the question as you look up in thought, "gotta be taylor swift...sza...anddd frank ocean? no, kehlani! wait actually-"

"i don't think you know either, y/n," kate laughs.

"oh whatever," you say, rolling your eyes playfully, "speaking of music, can you put some on?"

"i gotchu," kate responds, picking up her phone to connect to the bluetooth speaker on the counter.

soon enough, you hear the familiar tune of "gold rush" by taylor swift, a song publicly known to be your favorite (kate knows this, naturally, which is why she played it first).

once she notices your stretched grin and quiet hum to the lyrics, she mirrors your expression, feeling light in her chest at the sight of your happiness.

she stands up from her spot on top of the toilet seat, slowly coming up behind you to observe you even closer.

the two of you make eye contact in the mirror, immediately blushing and smiling like madmen. and, of course, nothing goes unnoticed by the live watchers so comments of you two rush in.

user1: aww the way they smile at each other im crying

user2: okay when is it my turn to get a gf like y/n or kate 😢

user3: not kate stealing my gf..

user4: they gotta be dating right??

you and kate scan over the messages, trying to keep a straight face as to not give away anything.

"kate can you do me a favor and get my setting spray from my suitcase? its in a clear bottle with a pink cap," you ask her, but shes too entranced by your beauty to hear.

"sorry, what was that?"

you giggle, "my setting spray please?"

"oh! okay, be right back, guys!"

you return your focus to your makeup and the song playing, the melodies too addicting for you to not sing along.

as kate comes back into the fairly spacious bathroom, you thank her for getting your spray, placing it on the marble counter. she reclaims her spot behind you, continuing to watch you work as if you were the most interesting movie she'd ever seen.

she wishes she could place her arms around your waist and rest her chin on your shoulder to whisper sweet words into your ear. sadly, for the sake of your private relationship, she had to settle for admiring from afar (which is really only like a foot away from you).

"y/n!" you hear one of the girls call out from the bedroom, "can i borrow your eyebrow gel? i forgot mine in my room!"

"sure, it's in here, come grab it!" you yell back. a few seconds later, jada comes sauntering into the bathroom, immediately taking notice of kate's presence and the phone displaying your every action.

"oh my gosh, heyy livee," she smiles, waving her fingers at the camera.

user1: omg jada ilysm

user2: still waiting on catilin tbh

user3: JADA!!

user4: my fav girls :((

as you apply small amounts of blush to your cheeks, jada stands next to you fixing up her eyebrows wih your gel. and, yes, kate is still behind the both of you. she has begun to fix her hair into her signature ponytail braid, quickly maneuvering her dirty-blonde locks with ease after working the style for so long.

"my teammates are so prettayy," she exclaims to the livestream once she'd finished with her hair.

"you're prettyy," jada replies, singing.

"pretty beautiful," kate sings back while you're simply giggling at the girls' antics.

you're too concentrated on curling your lashes correctly to notice that kate was specifically gazing at you with that last comment, nothing but pure love and admiration behind her words.

jada, who is now out of the frame and catching kate's longing stare in your direction, turns around to face her, mouthing: "you're so whipped."

kate playfully shoves her out the bathroom and returns to her former seat on the toilet.

"okay, guys, sorry we haven't been talking to y'all that much," you say as you step back from the mirror, "the last step of my makeup look is to apply some setting spray that, thankfully, the lovely kate martin has gotten for me."

"wait, can i do it?" kate asks, eager to help you out.

"yeah, come over here," you respond.

kate shoots up and over to you and takes the bottle from your hand. her fingers brush against yours for a split second, sending a tingly feeling throughout your body. at this point, you don't even need to put blush on, kate's subtle touches bringing more than enough color to your face.

"i'll tell you when to stop, okay?"

"okay, close your eyes for me," kate mumbles, putting a delicate hand on your shoulder.

obliging, you feel light spritzes of mist fall on your face as kate controls the bottle nervously, not wanting to mess up.

"don't t hold back, i'll tell you when it's good, don't worry," you laugh.

almost a whole minute goes by, which slightly concerns your girlfriend.

"more??" she exclaims.

finally, you tell her you've received a good amount, opening your eyes to look at her. you're instantly met those blue eyes youve grown so fond of. and again, you can't keep the smile off your face when she maintains eye contact in an irritatingly addictive manner. you practically forget about the phone pointed on the two of you, stuck in your own worlds.

"gametime, guys, let's go!" you hear a voice echo, snapping the two of you out of your trances.

user1: OMG WAS THAT CAITLIN

user2: i know my wifes voice when i hear it

user3: are we just gonna ignore the eye contact between kate and y/n??

user4: yall r so delusional lmaoo

returning to your phone, you pick it up off the mirror and follow kate out of the bathroom.

"okay, guys, hopefully you enjoyed today's live," you cheer, "make sure to tune in to espn tonight to watch the game!"

you hear an overlap of voices, each one saying goodbye to the viewers.

"bye live! see you soon!" from kate.

"bye my lovely people!" from gabbie.

"mwah love you guys see y'all at the game!" from jada.

"go hawkeyes!" from caitlin.

you snicker as you watch more and more comments about caitlin pour in, your followers going crazy at a small glimpse of their favorite athlete.

as soon as you end the live, everyone begins rushing out of your hotel room and down to the lobby to wait for the bus. hurriedly, you grab your backpack and make your way towards the door, but an eager hand pulls you back.

before you know it, a set of soft lips is placed against your own and two hands are glued to your waist. instead of jumping in surprise, you immediately melt into the kiss, finding comfort in your girlfriend's familiar embrace.

"sorry," she blushes once you pull away, "been wanting to do that all day."

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relaxxattack · 7 months

Note

Piggybacking off the last anon, what is it you like about Jane so much? I find my feelings on her kind of mixed but I lean towards positive.

okay i haven’t read act six in probably like 5 years so bear with me here. *cracks knuckles*

jane is sooo so interesting and it’s really a shame people miss like everything fun about her.

pre-scratch she used her detective work to literally succeed at tearing down the crocker cooperation, to the point that HIC has to fucking abandon ship and head into another universe to have another shot at her evil empire. pre-scratch jane is also fucking hilarious! if you didnt enjoy her antics with john as nannasprite you must just have no heart

meanwhile HIC breaches a new universe, and her FIRST fucking order of business is to NEUTRALIZE JANE CROCKER because of how goddamn detrimental she was to HIC’s plans the first time around.

not ONLY does HIC pump subliminal messaging and brainwashing into nearly every aspect of jane’s life, she also tries to straight up mind control her basically whenever possible! she ALSO sends assassination attempts after jane 24/7! (people will seriously try to say that jane lived a safe normal life… as if she wasn’t almost killed by walking into her backyard.) this is because HIC is fucking scared of jane, as she very well should be!

jane is also NOT a boring weepy annoying crybaby like everyone and their mother complains about. jane is literally the most fucking supportive friend and emotion-repressing dumbass you could ever hope to meet. jane combines john’s emotional repression and jade’s intentional cheerfulness together into one of the most fucked up cases of emotional repression in the whole comic

act 6 suffers from a LOT of shitty writing choices, but it’s not jane’s fault the whole act turns into a soap opera— and she’s ALSO not the only one who acts all soap-opera-y either! literally all of the alpha kids suffer from this, people just like jane the least so they project it all onto her. despite the fact that she did her very fucking best to NEVER talk about her feelings, to the point where she ONLY started telling people about shit when she was mind-controlled or took mind altering substances to make her do so! and you can say “ohhh that’s stupid she shouldn’t repress things in the first place how dumb” but, one she’s sixteen, and two, everyone eats that shit up when it comes from like. literally any other character.

people (cough hs2 writers) act like she would actually be “pushy” with a relationship on jake— as if she wasn’t literally the one who helped him make the decision to explore dating dirk?? because she thought it was the right thing to do???

jane is incredibly thoughtful and mature and people really throw all of those traits out of the window with preference for a version of the story where she Comes Inbetween Their Fave Gay Pairing as if she wasn’t, again, the one who got them together. jane is also extremely interesting in terms of queerness; she’s got the makings of a really interesting arc, not to mention she’s the only human girl that dresses mainly masc! there’s a lot there that people just don’t care to explore.

people just have less patience for the prospit kids in general. not to mention homestuck fans love to be misogynistic and berate jane for stuff they love the men doing, or claim she’s coming between them when she’s not, etc etc. and then because no one was writing fun meta posts about her, nobody ever rereads the comic to grab little scenes or lines to expand the online discussion about her! and then because there’s no discussion about her, people assume she’s boring and don’t go looking for bits to start discussing, which cycles on and on forever until we have the ripple effects we see of that misogyny today. which mostly consists of, “oh i hate jane because she was a villain is hs2”, or, “i know hs2 isn’t canon but i still don’t care for jane because she doesn’t do anything that interests me.” (and she’s only not interesting because of the cycle i mentioned before causing NO ONE to have meta discussion about her).

idk, it’s been a while since ive read so i could be talking out my ass but that’s what i’ve got.

TL;DR: jane is fucking COOL, she just suffers from intentional fandom ignorance. and she’s also a canonically hot, fat, masc woman, so i don’t know what else you could possibly want.

#oh god i didn’t mean for this to get so long #lol i hope this helped????#jane crocker #homestuck #op #hsmeta #long post

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maleyanderecafe · 4 months

Note

May I recommend Deep obsession on itchio? It's 18+ tho, so heed the warnings.

Man... that sure is a r18+ game that I just played. That being said, there are some pretty interesting things after a lot of the smut parts were done. You can play the game here if you are interested. This is a game submitted to the Stained Red Yandere Jam which I will not only be participating in but also do recommendations from.

The story starts out with Hex on the news learning about how five reporters went missing after trying to go after a snuff streamer. Hex doesn't believe the news at first but becomes curious, searching into it. After some searching and getting a link, they log into one of the streams to see of course, a snuff stream. While horrified by the death of the lady on stream, Hex becomes entranced with their voice, something that they try to fight the urge to look to again. The next day, they go to the mall to get some snacks and hang out, only to have someone tap on their shoulder when resting. They find a chocolate in their pocket and presumably get their keys stolen (though they don't seem to realize this, believing they lost their keys) before going to sleep after the neighbors help them get in. After a restless night of what they presume to be sleep paralysis of being touched and watched, they get the morbid feeling of wanting to watch the snuff streamer again, to which they do. After jacking off and promptly falling asleep watching the stream, they wake up with a jolt, only to be kidnapped. Upon waking up, they find that they are indeed, captures by the person who they've been watching streaming. Hex actually gets quite into this, not only deepthroating but straight up asking the streamer to bite their thighs. They have various sexy times, with Hex seemingly into it.

If Hex is more or less chilled out, they will freak out when the streamer ends it stating that they will kill Hex. This turns out to be a lie, as the streamer actually keeps them alive as they like Hex. They reveal that their name is Victor. The last scene has Victor seemingly fighting his conscious as a mysterious person talks about how this will not last, how they are the same as the others, before he wakes up and coddles Hex to sleep.

If Hex screams, they will again freak out when the streamer states that he will kill them, though they reassure them that he will not. He also pretty much gets shot at, with the mysterious person, whose name is Simon, essentially recruiting Hex afterwards for something.

So far, it is a pretty interesting premise seeing Hex actually be into more of the snuff streaming things, considering how into Victor's voice they seem to be. I do like the kind of concepts where the MC is pretty messed up at least to this degree. We don't really get to know that much about Simon or Victor though. We know that Victor has been stalking Hex for a bit, considering I don't think it was sleep paralysis that was groping and watching them. And they seemingly know where Hex lives and even seems to know their name and probably gave them the chocolate while they were at the mall. Still, again, other than knowing that Victor is a snuff streamer, has no problems with killing people and likes Hex, we really know very little to nothing about him. Same with the Simon person who apparently hires us. I think it would be a cool twist that in the end Hex ends up being a snuff streamer as well, following in the twisted footsteps of Victor. The art style mostly consists of blacks and whites which is always a fun thing to see in terms of stylization. I'm not really into that kind of dark smut as much as other people (I'm more on the side of wanting to torture someone, but I know most people don't tend ot share that sentiment in the yandere community, so that's alright), but I think it can be appealing to those who are interested in that.

Overall, a short but dark story. Considering this is likely a demo, I am really hoping that they will flesh out more of the story for Victor and Simon since the start of it does seem to leave a lot of interesting pathways that might be nice to follow.

#asks #male yandere #yandere boy #yandere #deep obsession #recommendations

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writingsbyren · 2 years

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Summer Daze | J.M.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!Pogue Reader

Warning(s): 18+ due to explicit unprotected sexual intercourse (p in v sex), oral (f receiving), language, drug use (marijuana), underage alcohol consumption. Minors, do NOT interact.

Summary: JJ overhears the reader reveal a secret about herself to the girls in their friend group. He can’t let it go and decides not only to confront her about it, but to rectify the situation.

Each year, the small costal town of Kildare hosted a series of movies in the park during the summer months as a way to entertain both locals and tourist alike. Somehow, it became an unspoken tradition for the Pogues to attend together.

Upon arriving, the girls decided to claim their spot for the evening and handle the setup, tasking the boys to obtain snacks from the designated concession stand.

JJ was the first to head back after securing drinks for the group, while Pope and John Bwaited behind for the rest of their order. He found Kiara, Sarah and Y/N sitting on a blanket they had spread out with three collapse-able chairs set up directly behind them. He took purchase in the chair behind Kie, leaning forward to pass out the drinks in his hand. “M’ladies,” he said in his best British accent, cheesy-grin on display. “Thank you, kind sir,” Y/N replied in the same half-assed accent, tying her best not to laugh as she passed the beverages to the other girls. “What movie is it this year anyway?” John B inquired, arriving with popcorn in hand as Pope trailed, holding an assortment of other junk food. Before the girls had a chance to respond, the opening credits for the movie started to roll, indicating the movie’s title. Titanic. All three boys groaned in unison, while Sarah literally squealed with excitement.

JJ would never admit it to a single soul but he actually didn’t mind the movie one bit. He found himself enthralled by the story, although he could have gone without the girls swooning over Jack every ten seconds. A nudge to his side caught his attention, making him turn his head. “Got take a piss,” Pope announced in a whisper. The blonde nodded, leaning back and smacking John B’s shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. When the brunette turned his head, JJ lifted his fingers to his lips as if he were holding an imaginary joint, lifting his brows in silent question. He watched as his friend leaned forward, whispering something to Sarah and without another word, the three boys snuck off.

While Pope headed towards the restrooms, the other two found a secluded spot behind the large screen to smoke. JJ retrieved the conspicuous joint from behind his ear, placed it between his lips and lit the end with his trusty Zippo like he’d done a hundred times before. As he inhaled, John B spoke. “This isn’t as lame as I thought it’d be,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair as the blonde passed the joint, casually shrugging his shoulders, exhaling the smoke with expert ease. “Yeah. Leo’s the fuckin’ man.” They continued their established rotation while discussing DiCaprio’s best roles until the bud was gone, only a roach remaining by the time Pope caught up with them. “I’m going to get another water. You want anything?” He asked, only for JJ to shake his head. “I’m good. I’ll meet you back at spot. Gotta drain the snake,” JB said, while the blonde was already walking back in the direction their seats.

With his hands in the pockets of his shorts, his cerulean blue eyes scanned the crowd as he walked, which consisted mostly of tourons and Pogues with the occasional Kook mixed in. By the time he got close to the girls, he realized what scene was taking place. The infamous car sex scene, which results in the iconic shot of Rose’s hand sliding down the foggy window. He smirked, perverted comment locked, loaded and at the ready on the tip of his tongue as he approached the girls until the sound of Y/N’s voice caught his attention. “Oh, bullshit,” she scoffed quietly, although loud enough for him to hear. “What?” Kie asked in a whisper. He watched as Y/N gestured to the screen as she spoke, “That.” His eyes flickered to the screen at the exact moment Rose’s palm met the glass. “This scene is unbelievable. I’ve never had sex that good,” she admitted, making both the other girls turn towards her with widened eyes. Sarah was the next to speak. “Wait. You mean to tell me that you’ve never..” She trailed off, gesturing to the screen. He watched as Y/N shook her head from side to side. “No, I’ve faked it,” he heard her say. “Every single time.” In unison, their jaws dropped at her admission. She simply shrugged without another word. JJ couldn’t believe what he had heard. Although he wasn’t purposefully eavesdropping, part of him felt guilty for overhearing such a personal conversation. He cleared his throat before taking his seat, announcing his arrival, so they weren’t spooked or taken off guard. Y/N was the only one to acknowledge him, giving him a sweet smile over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the movie. Meanwhile, the other girls were staring at each other, silently communicating the same thought in JJ’s mind: What the fuck.

He couldn’t concentrate throughout the rest of the movie. Instead, a million thoughts ran through his brain. What the fuck kind of guys had she been dating? Obviously, they were self-centered, selfish assholes but that was obvious well before he learned about her.. predicament. JJ never approved of any other male she hung out with. They were never good enough, simply because they weren’t him. He’d been harboring a crush on her since fourth grade but no one knew that. Not even John B. He couldn’t stop himself as his eyes fell to her. Thankfully, from where he was sitting, he had the perfect view. Not only could he appreciate her side profile or catch a glimpse of her smile while she laughed at the movie but thanks the height of his chair, he could see directly down her shirt, perky tits on full display. His mind continued to run wild. Did her previous partners even try? Because he would be willing to spend hours, days even, making her cum. Nothing would make him happier than knowing he made her feel so good, she came all over his cock. Or his fingers. His tongue. Fuck, he wanted her so bad before. With this new information available to him, his crush on her now taking on a new life of its own. His eyes raked down her body, appreciating every inch of her as he drank in the sight before him. Fuck, she’s pretty, he thought. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with a girl like her. Between her crop top and shorts, the amount of exposed skin was driving him absolutely crazy and caused him to shift in his seat due to his growing discomfort. At some point during the night, she has pulled her hair on top of her head and into a messy bun, a look that JJ was an absolute sucker for. He loved it when her hair was up. In fact, it was his favorite look of hers because he got to admire her neck without any obstruction. God, the things that he would do if he had a chance to mark her pretty neck up. JJ reached for a bottle of water, chugging the entirety of its contents in a matter of seconds before the sound of crinkling, cheap plastic caught Kie’s attention. She gave him the ultimate ‘eat shit’ look, although he wasn’t sure if it was for causing a disruption or for using plastic. Either way, he held his hands up in surrender, rasping a quick and quiet apology before blaming his sudden parchedness on the thick humidity.

Someway, somehow, JJ kept his shit together and the rest of the evening went off without a hitch. The next morning, however, was a different story.

Everyone, with the exception of Kie, stayed the night at the chateau. Which is why JJ was surprised to find the living room empty upon stumbling out, still half-asleep, from his room as the sun filtered in through the blinds. Once his eyes finally adjusted to the brightness, he walked out the front door, searching for his two missing friends before his attention was brought to the dock.

His timing couldn’t have been more perfect. There she stood, shimmying out of her tiny shorts until the only piece of fabric that remained on her body was her barely there bikini. JJ was convinced that he was dreaming as he headed in her direction, silently praying that his eyes weren’t deceiving him. As he strolled down the dock, he watched her lie down on the towel she had previously rolled out. He drank her in from head to toe, gnawing on his bottom lip as his blood started rushing throughout his body.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she said in a sing-song voice, looking up at him through the dark lenses of her sunglasses, which disguised the way she shamelessly checked him out. His hair was wild and all over the place, shirtless with his shorts sitting dangerously low on his hips, mouth watering as she appreciated his defined abs and pelvic lines. She noticed the button of his shorts was completely undone, the only thing keeping the fabric up was the zipper. Between his carefree attitude and his good looks, JJ Maybank oozed sex appeal. It was no wonder how every girl he set his sights on ended up in his bed. All he had to do was flash his pearly whites and they were goners, Y/N included. “G’mornin’, mama,” he beamed, voice raspy from sleep, the sound instantly turning her on. “Where’s Pope?” He combed his fingers through his hair, attempting to calm his bed head but failing miserably. She had to tear her eyes away from him before she risked drooling or foaming at the mouth. “Headed out this morning. Said he had to do some deliveries for his dad,” she noted, recalling the boy’s words before he dashed out the front door of the chateau. He simply hummed in response as he begrudgingly tore his eyes away from her, looking over the marshy water when a thought popped into his head. “Wanna go for a ride?” Y/N pushed herself up and onto her elbows, looking over the HMS Pogue. “There’s no telling when the lovebirds are gonna wake up,” she deadpanned. He smiled, shaking his head from side to side before he chuckled. “I’m talking’ jus’ the two of us.” His mischievous grin told her everything she needed to know. He was up to something and she couldn’t wait to find out. He watched her face light up as she grinned from ear to ear and he felt his heart skip a beat as he turned and ran back to the house.

He managed to swipe the boat keys in record time, while she snagged the last remaining beers from the fridge and tossed them into the cooler, which thankfully still had ice from the day before. “God bless, Big John and his investment in quality products,” she laughed, waiting on the porch as JJ emerged from the house, sporting the same look from earlier, except now wearing his bulky boots and trademarked red hat. It was a look that was signature JJ and little did he know, it drove her absolutely crazy. He grabbed the cooler with ease, despite its weight and lead the way to the boat. He climbed in first, sitting the cooler down and offering her his hand, which she gladly took. “Welcome aboard the HMS Pogue,” he announced with a smile as he helped her into the boat. Once on the vessel, she perched herself on the seat directly in front of the helm as he untied the boat from the dock. “My name’s JJ, I’ll be your Captain today,” he continued with his theatrics as he took seat at the helm, starting the engine and guiding the boat down the marsh. “What brings you out today, miss?” She was unable to stop herself from laughing, which she noticed was a common theme every time she was around the handsome boy. “An adventure,” she murmured, locking eyes with his. He bit his bottom lip, unable to take his eyes off of her, despite the fact that he was driving. By the grace of god, he knew knew the marsh like the back of his hand. He nodded, his mind and heart racing, although disguised by his calm demeanor. With his knee keeping the boat straight, he leaned over to the cooler, where he grabbed two beers. He opened them both with ease, handing one to her and lifting his in the air, tilted in her direction. “To an adventure?” He watched her smile even brighter as she clinked her amber colored bottle against his. “To an adventure!”

The mid-morning sun felt incredible beaming down onto her exposed skin as she lied on her back at the bow of the boat, while JJ flipped through the radio in search of a decent station. Aside from the occasional music or static from the radio and the shuffle from his heavy boots, the only other sound was that of the ocean breeze. While others were trying to get off the Cut, Y/N couldn’t think of anywhere better to be. JJ sighed, finally killing the radio without any luck of finding a decent station. “Of course, the damn thing is too old for a freakin’ auxiliary port,” he complained before downing the rest of his beer and opening another before sitting in front of the hull. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looked at her, bottom lip caught caught between his teeth. “I have to admit something to you.” His words sparked her curiosity. She sat up quickly, hand splayed against her chest. “Holy shit. Have you brought me out here to murder me?” She asked, voice dripping with faux fear, making JJ laugh. “In cold blood,” he responded, taking another swig of his beer before sitting it in an assigned cup holder. “I overheard you last night,” he said, lifting his hat off his head, running a nervous hand through his blonde locks before readjusting the hat back on his head. She made a mental note of such because it was usually a habit of his whenever he was anxious. She sat straighter, crossing her legs as she looked at him, giving him her full attention. With her brows knitted, she tilted her head to the side. “What?” He signed. “Here goes nothing,” he thought to himself. “You’ve really never had an orgasm?”

There was a pregnant pause. He not-so-patiently waited for her to answer his question, although he sat perfectly still, giving her all the time she needed. After the initial shock wore off, Y/N’s laugh echoed throughout the marsh. “Of course, I’ve had an orgasm before,” she clarified. It was his turn to be confused. “But last night.. I thought you said that..” he trailed off. Realization appeared on her face as she shook her head from side to side, the slightest brush appearing on her cheeks. “I can take care of myself,” she said softly, the brush deepening. JJ thought she was the cutest thing, despite their very provocative topic of conversation. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he watched her lips wrap around her beer bottle, taking a quick sip. Never in his life had he been jealous of an inanimate object until now. He would give anything for that bottle to be his dick. “Did they even try?” The question fell from his lips before he had a chance to stop it.

“Why do you care? Do you think you could make me cum, JJ?”

“Think?” He scoffed. “I know I can.” He said, very matter-of-fact, cocky smile proudly on display. It was her turn to scoff, pretending as though his words didn’t phase her. Secretly, she loved playing this game with him.

“Yeah? What would you do?” She challenged, uncrossing her legs as she removed her sunglasses from her head and tossed them to the side before leaning back, elbows resting on the edge of the fiberglass as she checked him out from head to toe.

He learned forward, seizing her ankle in his hand before slowly ghosting his palm up the length of her leg, leaving a trail of fire behind him. He leaned further until his lips were positioned directly by her ear as he spoke. “I’d start by teasing the fuck outta you.” With his hand by her hip, he played with the thin strings of her bikini bottoms, sliding his fingers underneath, massaging her hip. “I wouldn’t stop until you were soaking wet,” his breath hit her ear, making her shudder. Moving his hand as slowly as he could manage, he slid his fingertips a few inches, still under the thin material as he ghosted over the top of her pussy. “Then..” he paused for dramatic effect as his lips found her neck. He placed a chaste kiss to her skin before whispering, “I’d eat your pussy like it was my last goddamn meal.” She arched into him, silently pleading for more. He smiled, removing his hand from her bottoms and snatching his hat from his head, throwing it carelessly over his shoulder. He took her face in his hands, hovering over her as he made her look at him. She locked eyes with him and instantly, melted. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” She whimpered in response. Fucking whimpered before nodding frantically. She’d never been this turned on in her entire life. “Words, baby,” he encouraged, thumb playing with her bottom lip as he physically ached, wanting to kiss her. “Yes,” she said, completely breathless already. He smiled so big that his cheeks hurt before finally connecting his lips with hers.

Neither of them had been kissed the way they kissed each other in that moment. There was so much meaning behind the action. I need you, I’ve wanted you for so long, I ache for you. All being communicated without a single word being used. Fireworks. It was the hottest thing either of them had experienced. When his tongue slipped inside her mouth, Y/N moaned at his taste. He reminded of her summer as the taste of Natty Light (or was it Miller Lite? Not that she cared), coconut and the faintest remnant of marijuana dominated her senses. She was in utter disbelief this was actually happening. Finally.

JJ dropped to his knees, his lips slowly pulling away from her as he spread her legs. With his eyes locked with hers, he grabbed her bikini bottoms and slowly pulled them down her legs. She watched him through nodded eyes. She leaned back, assuming her previous position by propping herself up on her elbows and lifting her legs one-by-one so he could completely remove the fabric from her ankles with ease. He smiled, licking his lips as he finally took in the sight before him. Her pussy glistened in the sweltering sun, completely soaked with her arousal. His jaw went slack as he reached forward, spreading the wetness from her opening to her clit. Her head fell back and he lifted his head, taking in the sight before him with a wicked grin before focusing on her exposed core. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he drawled, inching closer until his mouth was on her, completely engulfing her clit. She moaned out loud, her body immediately reacting to JJ as her hips bucked beyond her control. “Fuck,” she gasped. Within a matter of seconds, it was evident to her that he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. He roughly sucked her clit before licking her core with broad stripes, her sweet taste dominating all his senses as he lost his mind. “So fucking sweet,” he mumbled against her, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout her body. When she looked down and saw his vibrant blue eyes locked on her as he ate her pussy like his life depended upon it, a loud moan escaped her open mouth, echoing throughout the marsh. With his eyes still locked with hers, he reached up and roughly pulled the fabric of her top to the side until her breasts were revealed to him.

She was a sight for fucking sore eyes, looking so incredibly sinful with her legs spread wide and tits on full display. She looked so goddamn beautiful like this and her taste? He was a total a goner. Her hands tangled in his messy blonde locks, tugging at the roots when he started playing with her nipples. “Fuck. Yes!” She hissed as she pushed his face further into her. He continued his assault on her cunt by using his free hand to slip his middle finger deep into her cunt. “So good, JJ!” She cried out, smiling at the feeling of being so full. He pulled back, removing his mouth from her momentarily and watched as his finger disappeared inside of her before pulling out and pushing right back in. This time, adding a second finger that stretched her out even more. “Don’t stop,” she begged, making him smile. He went back to work, focusing on her clit as he pumped his fingers deep inside of her. He lapped her up, moving his tongue at a blissful pace, while the sounds of his fingers fucking her greedy cunt filled the boat. With his free hand, he flicked her sensitive nipple, making her moan out even more as she clenched around his fingers, signaling to him that she was close. He curled his fingers upwards, pushing deep into her and massaging a spot that was so deep, Y/N didn’t even know it existed. “Fuck! Fuck!” She groaned, hips moving against his fingers as he pressed his face further into her, shaking his head from side to side. “JJ! Please, don’t stop,” she begged, feeling that she was on the precipice of her finish. With a palm full of her tit in his free hand, he squeezed roughly, teasing her nipple with the pad of his thumb and sending her over the edge. The blonde never stopped fucking her with his fingers or tongue through her high, ensuring the feeling of pure ecstasy lasted as long as possible for her. He only stopped when he felt her nails digging into his scalp as she attempted to pull him away.

Sitting back on his haunches, he took in her post-orgasm appearance. Her chest was rising and falling as she tried to calm her breathing with a blissed our smile on her face. She was drop dead gorgeous as it was but after she came? She looked so good that his chest ached for her, almost as much as his cock, which was incredibly hard and straining against his zipper. “That’s my pretty girl,” he cooed, messaging her thighs as he crashed his lips to hers, sharing the taste of her on his tongue. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed him back with everything she had.

Grasping her thighs, JJ lifted her as he got to his feet, clumsily stumbling backwards until he felt the seat in front of the helm hit the back of his knees. He laughed as he sat down, bringing her with him only for him to moan when her exposed core met his clothed erection as she sat on his lap, straddling him. “Shit,” he muttered, his hands finding her hips, holding her in place so he didn’t lose his mind too early. She bit her bottom lip, hiding a smile before she busied herself by littering his neck with wet kisses. “Baby,” he moaned as she explored his neck, only to find his most sensitive patch and sucking. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to fuck you right here,” he warned, his hands falling to her ass, giving it a harsh squeeze. “Do it. Fuck me, Maybank,” She replied, rocking her hips and grinding down on his cock as she pulled back to look at him. “Don’t make me beg.” He smiled at her empty threat, while snaking one hand up her body until he wrapped it around her neck. “Mmm. Don’t tempt me,” he teased, leaning forward and biting her neck before licking and sucking the same spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure down her naked spine. He reached behind her back, untying her bikini top and ripping it away from her body before his mouth found her tits. He wasted no time, kneading her breasts before taking two fist-fulls. He guided one of her nipples to his mouth, where he happily wrapped his lips around the hardened bud and sucked before flicking his tongue against it, eliciting a wrecked moan from the back of her throat. “JJ,” she whined, head falling back as he released her nipple with an pop before repeating the same action on the other, giving her perky tits equal attention.

“I need you.” Her made his stomach flip and his dick twitch at the same time. Although he loved teasing her and seeing exactly how desperate she was for him, he needed her just as badly. “I got you, mama,” he rasped, lips finding hers as he reached for his shorts. She held his face in her hands, shifting her weight onto her knees, which were pressed against leather seat on either side of him, lifting her weight, so he could remove the only pieces of clothing that separated them. In one swift movement, JJ shoved both his shorts and boxers down his legs with ease, releasing his hard cock, which stood at attention. As her tongue explored his mouth, she reached between them, taking his cock into her hand and pumping slowly, finally giving it a fraction of the attention he needs. “F-fuck,” he hissed, breaking apart to look down, watching her tiny hand at work as his red, swollen tip leaked pre-cum onto her thumb. He knew if she continued, he wouldn’t last long and he was desperate to be inside of her. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from him, lifting it to his lips and kissing the back of it before placing it flat against his chest, directly above his heart, which was beating at an alarming rate. JJ grasped his cock with one hand and guided her down on him with the other, angling himself at her center before locking eyes with her, silently asking if it was okay to continue. There was no going back after this. They both knew it and neither of them cared. It was only a matter of time before this happened. Here it was. He ran the head of his cock against her slit, collecting her arousal before he slowly pushed in with ease.

“JJ, fuck,” she gasped as he slid into home. Once every inch was buried deep inside of her, he watched her as her head fell backwards, appreciating exactly how beautiful she was, despite her wrecked appearance. He beamed with pride, knowing it was all because of him. Giving her time to adjust, the blonde’s hands were all over her, worshiping her smooth skin and sinful curves. “Can’t believe those assholes didn’t treat you right,” he spoke, barely over a whisper. “Gonna make you cum so fucking hard that you forget them, baby. I’ll treat you right. I fucking promise.” He babbled until he felt her move. She rocked her hips against his and JJ moaned. It was his turn to throw his head back in pleasure. “Fuck yeah,” he hissed, gripping her hips tight but allowing her to set the pace. He glimpsed down to where their bodies connected before gazing at her through hooded eyes. “Ride my cock, baby.”

Something inside of her snapped, although she couldn’t tell if it was because of his dirty words, the depth of his dick inside of her or JJ in genersl. She quickened her pace before alternating between rocking her hips and circling them before bouncing on his cock. “Oh,” she moaned, finding the best angle as the head of his cock pounded a spot deep inside of her that no one else had come close to finding. “My God,” she cried out, struggling to keep her eyes open and trained on his face as he watched her. She looked so goddamn gorgeous, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she used his body to chase her high. He slid further down into the chair and gripped her hips, planting his feet firmly against the bottom of the boat, thrusting his hips upwards, fucking up into her. With his brows furrowed and his bottom lip nestled between his teeth, JJ focused on giving her the ride of her life, using every ounce of energy he had left in his tank. Lewd sounds filled the boat as the combination of skin hitting skin, her wetness, his grunts and the sexiest moans he’d ever heard became his favorite symphony. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, feeling her pussy clench around him as she braced herself with her hands on his defined stomach, loving the way his muscles flexed under her palms with each thrust. “You feel so good, J,” she sighed as he slowed his hips, moving his cock in and out of her at a painfully slow pace, teasing the hell out of her. “Yes,” she drawled out the last letter, smiling before biting her bottom lip. He reached up and grabbed her neck, bringing her down to meet his lips in a desperate kiss.

“You gonna cum for me?” He asked, lips still pressed against hers as he spoke, his hand tightening ever so slightly around her throat. A moan escaped as she nodded, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Not yet. Hold it for me,” he demanded, releasing her throat and wrapping both of his strong arms around her as he sat up straight. He held her to his chest tightly, one hand caressing the back of her head, while the other guided her hips to move in perfect unison with his. “J, I can’t,” she whined, her head falling forward, forehead resting against his as she struggled to hold off her finish. “Yes, you can. You’re doing so good, baby,” he encouraged, digging his fingertips roughly into her hip. “When you cum, you keep your eyes open and on me, ‘kay?” He watched her nod in understanding before diving in and kissing her swollen lips, swallowing her sounds as his tongue entered her mouth. He grabbed her hips with both hands, guiding her up and down on his cock, while he thrusted upward, his hips meeting hers roughly, sending him as deep as their bodies would allow. Y/N held on to JJ for dear life, her hands tangled in his hair at the nape of his neck as she finally gave in to her orgasm, allowing it to take over every inch of her body. Feeling her clench around him one final time, JJ followed her, allowing his own release, his eyes never leaving hers as he coated her walls with his cum. He continued pumping his cock in and out of her until they both came down from their highs, clinging to one another and gasping for air. JJ’s hands slid from her waist to her back, keeping her body pressed to his, both covered in sweat from their actions and the summer sun.

A giggle escaped her lips as he brushed her hair out of her face, while she pushed hairs that were stuck to his forehead away from his, watching as the handsome blonde smiled brightly, beaming up at her. “Holy fucking shit,” she exclaimed, not bothering to move from his lap, although they were out in the open water. They both knew they could be spotted at any given second but fuck, neither of them could care any less. “What’s the verdict?” He asked, voice dripping with sincerity as he traced her spine with his fingertips in a soothing manner. She hummed, peppering kisses all over his face. “I now understand why people have sex addictions,” she exclaimed before they both erupted in laughter. “What about the whole,” she rolled her eyes, lifting her hands, “No Pogue on Pogue macking?” She said, using air quotes, making him laugh harder as he shrugged. “Fuck that. I’ll tell John B that shit went out the window when Kie stuck her tongue down his and Pope’s throat.” He gently caressed her face in his hands, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he stared at her lips. “Which I wanna do to you so bad for at least the next hour.” Before he could reach her mouth, she stopped him with her hands against his bare chest. “Take me home, so I can give you the best head of your life and then, you can kiss me all night long.” JJ’s wicked smile returned as he gave her a playful salute, followed by a wink.

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nerdraging4point0 · 3 months

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Underdog//Motionless one shot

The work below consists of fictionalized ideas and stories. It is an alternate universe story with only names and likenesses used in creation of a character. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction. Please review the content warning before proceeding.

CW: 18+ MNDI, Coach/athlete au, coach athlete sexual relationship [all parties regardless of being fiction are of legal age of consent. This does not mean that the behavior is ethical or acceptable in reality-does it happen, yes. Is that something I am going to go into? No. I am not an attorney. Per ChampionWomen Sexual contacts or “romantic” relationships between an athlete and a person who has a position of power over the athlete are prohibited. Person of power includes but is not limited to coaches, administrators, judges, referees, employers, staff, medical personnel, and even volunteers or older athletes and teammates.] the following one shot includes unprotected sex, P/V sex, fingering.

A.N: @mysticdoodlez and @ladyveronikawrites I present to you and owe you for this fucking piece of art.

Exhibition

Coach Cerulli stood off to the side in the coach's box, not saying a word, his legs shoulder-width apart as he swayed back and forth on his feet. He wears his disgustingly dark ensemble of worn high-top Converse and straight-leg jeans. Already obnoxiously tall, the dress style made him look even more intimidating. Glancing over him once, you notice an apparent sweat triangle starting at the collar of the black cotton tee he wore under his polyester team jersey. An electric green sea turtle was stitched on the right side of his chest, and Cerulli was stitched on the back. Trying to focus on your drill partner, Rachel, you steal quick glances after each ball toss. Under the black bill of his ball cap, Coach Cerulli's jaw clenched as he chewed the pale green gum between his teeth.

Rachel rolled the neon yellow ball across the rust-colored dirt toward you; spreading your legs apart, bending at the waist, glove in hand, you dip to the ground, catching the ball on its roll, securing it with your other hand, you take a step, and toss the ball to her again.

As a team, you'd been at this for an hour now; the humidity from the earlier rain made beads of sweat start at the back of your neck and under your cap. The gray storm clouds rolled over the Florida coast, looking angry; another storm was approaching.

Balmy tropical air and classic South Florida smell were something you'd missed when you were on break. Some of the girls decided to pack up and hit the slopes of Colorado for a week; you were more than eager to go. It had been a celebratory and bittersweet season last year, and you were all due for a nice getaway. Coach Adams announced last season that she'd be retiring sooner than expected. Her youngest had just graduated High School, and she struggled to adjust.

Enter Coach Cerulli.

He was overbearing and a perfectionist; he drilled and worked the team till he felt you were perfect. It worked, or maybe it was because you wanted to impress Coach Adams for her final season. Leaving the season last year, you were nearly undefeated. And it was no surprise now that he demanded the same perfection.

"You're looking soft, ladies. Let's pick it up. I wanna see some sweat, some determination, act like you fucking want it." He crossed his arms, kicking up some of the dirt from the field before he dropped down, squatting on one knee as he stretched the other to its entire length.

Several players on the team turned to look at the coach; it was no secret most of the team found him hot. He was older. Way older. But that added to the heat of the idea. You were aware of Coach Cerulli's attractiveness, his dark hair and eyes; the only part of his skin not covered in tattoos was his achingly beautiful face. Once you'd gotten close enough to see his three little scars on his bottom lip, it only added to the mystery of what had been his past. Fantasy is what it was; it was all fantasy. There was no room for error when your college life was riding on a full sports scholarship.

The team continued to drill, the breeze from the water bringing a salty taste to the air. Soon, the sun started to get lost behind the gray cover, thinking it might rain you guys out; the team slowed on drills, looking to coach and back at the sky. Coach stands up to his full height, his powerful form casting a shadow over the field. Deep and commanding, his voice brought the team's eyes and attention to him.

"I've high expectations for my team; this isn't just any season. I have my sights set on the championship title, and we won't settle for anything less." Clapping his hands, you can hear the friction of him rubbing the skin together, his tattooed fingers lacing and curling over each other in a frenzy. A low rumble of thunder sounded from the sky; Coach Cerulli pursed his lips and looked at the foreboding weather.

"One scrimmage, and we'll call it a night."

The team scrambled to their gear as he called out names and positions. You adjusted your cap, pulling loose strands of hair around your ears and reaching for your glove when the coach's voice called out your name.

"y/l/n. You're batting." There was no nonsense in his voice, and when you turned to protest, he smacked his gum between his teeth, heading to stand behind home plate.

You never bat, at least not first; the pressure is too much. You were a fielder on the team with the best reflexes and speed. Others were better at this than you. Grabbing the bat, you lower your cap and head to the base. Coach is droning on about how he demands perfection from all players.

"We won't be putting people in places of their strength. I want you uncomfortable; it's the only way you grow." He turns to look at you and nods his head. Stepping up to the plate, you take your spot, raising your bat, eyes locked on Sammi, who is pitching. She gives you a look of pity, and you know she'll take it easy on you, at least.

"Bat up." Coach growls.

"It is up," you snap back.

"If 'up' means hanging off your shoulder. It needs to be up higher. Fix your grip."

You tighten your hands on the bat's base, nails nearly touching your palms as your hands turn white.

"Too tight, you're not strangling it."

You huff out the air in your lungs, rolling your eyes. Just let me hit the ball, goddamnit.

Sammi pitches the ball. It's a simple pitch, and you swing, barely ticking the ball; it doesn't even get air, hardly leaving the home base as it rolls back to her. Just great, I look like a peewee player in front of the coach.

"Jenson, if you're gonna pitch. Pitch." he snaps.

You watch as her face turns apologetic; great, no easy out this time.

"Fix your stance." a smack of his gum between his teeth follows his command. You can hear the wet smacking sounds, throwing you off concentration. He continues to throw useless advice your way each time you miss the ball.

"You're off center."

Your patience is running thin, and you can see the players on the field becoming bored from the lack of action, just standing in the field and talking back and forth.

"Ladies, look alive!" Coach booms, and they jump into their stance.

Sammi nods at you, winding up to pitch; you lose all of the coach's advice, squaring up how you want. The swing is powerful, but the ball still whooshes by your bat and hits the fence behind the coach.

You let the air out of your lungs, turning around to see Coach Cerulli looking right at you, arms crossed over his torso. You can see his brown eyes sparkling under his ball cap.

"Nice hit," he says sarcastically.

Tossing the bat, you walk off the field, tears stinging the back of your eyes and starting to burn your throat. You've had enough for one night.

You can hear him bark orders to the team as the practice continues without you. Walking from the field, you walked around campus once, then twice; on your second lap, you realized you were halfway to your dorm and didn't have any of your gear. Your hands drag down your face in frustration, pushing your cap off your head. Your hair is sticky as you put the cap between your teeth and readjust the ponytail. Throwing the cap back on your head, you turn on your heel and head back to the field.

Making your way back, you pass several teammates; keeping your cap down, you avoid their eye contact, but the sudden silence as you pass and the sad voices that follow behind your back don't go unnoticed.

Rachel caught sight of you, jogging up to meet you halfway walking backward as you continued your walk of shame to the field.

"What's up? You walked off?" She has such sadness in her voice. She knows that you are sometimes too hard on yourself. You only have a little social life between studies and sports; your trip out of state lets you loosen up and gives you a good one-night stand. But it made you realize how much you hated having unsatisfactory sex with some drunk frat boy.

"Rough time, that's all," you confess.

"I know you hate batting. I'm sorry." you only shrug your shoulders in response.

Coach Cerulli is tossing bags of extra bats and gloves next to the storage shed; the way he lifts the gear bag, throwing it over his shoulder, you catch his shirt ride up just a bit to reveal his tattooed torso.

"Need me to wait?" Rachel asks, offering a soft touch on your shoulder.

"No. I got this." She jogs back to the campus as you enter the field. Turning at the dugout, not meeting the coach's eyes as he looks your way.

You are gathering your gear in your bag, trying not to make eye contact with the coach. The thunder is rumbling overhead again, closer than before; you can smell the rain coming. A heavy set of footsteps, and suddenly, he's clearing his throat behind you, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

"Sorry, coach." You keep your voice low and sincere. Feeling the pain in your throat again. Don't cry. Don't cry.

"What's up with you out there?" The way he sounds less demanding, and the friendly tone in his words makes a lump form in your throat.

"I just get choked up."

"Why, you're here on a scholarship. Adams said you were the most dedicated player."

"And I am." You don't bother turning around. Tossing your glove and a few extra things into your bag.

"Didn't look like it today."

"People aren't perfect; not everyone can play every position you know." You turn around to face him; he's leaning against the dugout rail, ankles crossed, hands resting on the dark blue rail.

"So, what is it that holds you back?"

"I just…. It's the crowd, the ump, and the pressure. The crowd is watching me, the team is watching me, and you're watching me." He adjusts his cap, turning his head to spit his gum out in the grass.

"Grab your bat."

"What?" He kicks off the rail, stopping till he is only a foot in front of you.

"You heard me. Grab your bat."

You scrambled for the bat as he walked back onto the field. You follow close behind, with no other teammates around the field that looks like it goes on for miles. Taking up your space next to home, you get ready to bat.

You are barely set before he criticizes you.

"Okay, first, your grip is too much." He stepped forward, putting his hands over yours, pulling your fingers loose from the neck, his large hands encasing your own as he helped re-grip the bat properly.

"Loosen up, spread your hands out a bit. There," the last word comes out as a soft whisper.

His brown eyes softened as he looked into your face, calloused hands brushing your skin; they were surprisingly well taken care of, the tattoos accenting every knuckle. The sweet smell of wintergreen off his breath, the fragrance winding up your insides.

"Your feet," he circled around till he was standing behind you, twisting your body around till you could see him again; he tsked, circling the air with his finger for you to return to where you were.

"You're always on your toes,” he complained.

His words were almost lost to the electricity in your brain; he squatted down behind you, one arm sliding between your legs to wrap around your thigh, a hand bracing on your knee, as his other massaged down my calf to have your heel flatten on the ground.

"Now, for your hips." Coach's words sound scratchy; you can hear him swallow hard behind you. His hands ghost over your hips, carefully not to actually touch you. "You must bend at the waist and practically fold yourself in half."

"Arch my back?" you offer. He clears his throat the way it sounded like he was uncomfortable.

"Yeah, sounds about right."

You adjust your hips arching your back, with your feet firmly planted against the ground, your cleats into the dirt, pushing your ass back. You feel yourself brush against his body, and he hisses.

"Easy there, tiger."

"S-s-sorry." you stammer as you try to step back. His hands grab your hips and place you back in your stance. His body is so close you can feel the heat building on your skin; suddenly, you aren't distracted by nerves but by something else.

"We aren't done; just watch it," he whispers. "You want to keep yourself firm in this spot until you're ready to swing."

A drop of warm water hits your arm, then another, and another. The rain starts to pour down in a gentle storm.

"Shit." Coach releases your hips as you both jog back to the dugout. Safe under the awning, you lose footing on the last step, stumbling into the coach. He catches you, arms around your waist, as he stumbles back.

"Sorry," your voice barely audible over the rain tapping on the metal awning; you place your hands on his chest, feeling the stiff muscles underneath. Trying to push off to create distance between the two of you. Coach Cerulli's hands don't move as he looks down at you, those dark eyes glistening under the shadow of his cap. This close to him, your senses are overwhelmed with the smell of him-palo santo and amber, a rich blend like a robust coffee in one of those expensive coffee shops.

His hands slid up your back, gently caressing over the upper part of your arms, stopping at your wrists and taking them in a grip before pulling your hands off his chest.

"Let's work on your hips some more. It looks like we've got the time." The way he says the words suggests he doesn’t mean anything about batting anymore.

He spun you around so seamlessly, releasing your wrists to take your hips in the vice grip of his tattooed fingers. Pulling your body toward him, you could feel yourself make contact with his chest; he was so tall, the feeling of what was unmistakably his own arousal resting at your lower back.

Flames licked into your lower belly as his hands tightened, then loosened on your hips. He started to move you, sliding your hips from left to right in slow motions. "Keep your feet planted on the floor." The harsh whisper in your ear made every part of your skin tremble with anticipation.

You tried to steady your breathing as he moved you in slow motion against his body. Was this all a dream? Were you asleep in physics and about to be highly embarrassed when you woke up?

Your hands rested on his, trying to prove to yourself that all that was happening was real. Leaning back into his chest, he groaned as he pulled you in closer.

"This is so wrong." your voice trembles as you speak.

"Very," he growled, kissing the soft flesh of your neck. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

Fuck, please don't.

It wasn't a good idea to continue, but the feeling, the expert way his hands held you without touching anything intimate, made you melt.

Leaning your head back into his chest, your face turned to him, desperate for his kiss. Sensing your desperation, Coach took the bill of his hat between two fingers, spinning the cap on his head so it faced backward. Closing in on your face, his full lips consuming your own, two fingers brushing your cheek, tapping twice, asking you to open.

The second your jaw relaxed into the kiss, his tongue was assaulting your own. He tasted so good, that gum he'd been chewing and something nutty at the end filling your taste buds.

You let your arm snake behind his head, cupping the back of his neck to bring him closer. One of his hands takes your breast and squeezes the flesh through your clothes, your nipples sensitive to the touch even through all the layers. His other hand slides over the front of your shorts, pushing between your thighs; your hips start to grind into his hand, desperate for friction, earning a sound of approval from the coach.

Pulling apart from each other, lips wet, red, and swollen, you were panting to catch all the air you'd lost in the kiss.

"Brace yourself, tiger," he warned.

Pushing hard against you, he shoved you forward till you folded over against the railing, his body pressed tightly against yours. Forcing your hands to grip the rail.

"Remember your grip." he teased, releasing his hold. His hands slid slowly down your sides, thumbs hooking into the band of your shorts to tug them and your panties down to your ankles. You gasped being exposed like this, the adrenaline of being caught coursing through your blood, the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

He kicked your feet apart, having your legs spread till you could feel the resistance of your shorts tight around your ankles. He took your hips in his hands, bringing your ass against him again, "Remember your stance." the words going straight to your center as he nipped at your ear.

His hands disappeared, and you let out a whine from losing his touch. He shuffled behind you, dipping his head in the crook of your neck to place soft kisses on your pulse point. His hand slid up the inside of your thigh, and feeling the muscles quiver under his fingers, you paused to consider what you were doing, your mind telling you that this was wrong. You'd get caught, and you'd be a disappointment to your parents. The thoughts of calling it off stopped when two fingers slid inside your warmth. His fingers scissored open and closed, swirling around before opening and closing again, stretching your walls with expert skills.

"So tight." He continued to whisper dark and dirty words as his fingers buried into you to the knuckle. The rough pressure pushes you forward and off your heels. Feeling your release boiling just under the surface, you start to grind down on his fingers as they thrust up into you, whimpering for more. You have started to lean over the rail, seeing the field's dirt and glancing down more to see both your feet and his. His pants at his ankles like yours, and the thought that his cock was out and ready for you, made you moan.

He wraps his hand around your hair, still pulled into a ponytail under your cap; rolling the strands around his hand, tugging you back so his chest is pressed tight to your back, fingers still buried deep inside you.

"Say the word, and I'll stop."

Past the point of no return, you moan, rolling your hips into his hands, still chasing your release. He presses his face into your cheek, nose running through the hairline above your ear as he inhales your scent; it's feral, it's animalistic, it's so fucking hot. His lips press into your ear, and you feel his hot breath against her skin. "You gonna come for me, tiger?"

You barely managed to nod your head before he curled his fingers, pressing on that soft spot inside you, making your walls clench around his fingers. He lets out a strangled sound of approval and surprise, taking the slick of your orgasm to rub on his erection. His left hand cupped your ass before delivering a harsh slap to the skin, making you rock up onto your toes.

He slides his length between your thighs, coating the head in everything left of your orgasm. Muscles in his chest are tight with anticipation and what you hope is desire. "Listen carefully, tiger," his voice breathless as he pants in your ear. "This is the only time I want you on your toes for me. Got it."

"Yes, coach." you gasp as his length slides into your warm center. He pumps slowly as you stretch around him, the hiss from your lips echoing across the field through the rain. "F-f-fuck." you moan.

Bottoming out with hard thrusts, Coach's hands rested on the railing on top of yours, his fingers lacing between yours as he held you and the rail in a vice grip. Your bodies molded into each other so well you felt the hem of his jersey wrap around your thighs; god, if only you could take it home with you as a trophy for this.

"I should stop," he was panting, his voice strained. "I'm gonna get fired."

"Please," you begged, turning your head to see his beautiful flushed face, mouth agape, tufts of his black hair sticking out from under his cap. "I won't say anything, just please don't stop."

"Fuck." he groaned, continuing to thrust into you, the force pushing you practically over the rail still on your toes, the muscles in your calves straining. Your thighs shook, the rain coming to an end as another tight coil wrapped itself in your belly, ready to snap.

"One more, give me one more, tiger," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. The scream as you clenched around him echoed off the field, causing him to clasp a hand over your mouth. "That's it. Scream for me."

Your noises were muffled by his hand on your mouth, and the hot breath as he panted on your cheek brought another orgasm on the wave of the first. One final snap of his hips and warm ropes filled your body, and all the tension of his muscles was released in one minute.

The magic of whatever you two did was gone when he pulled his softened cock from you, reaching down to pull up your shorts and letting you get them back on the rest of the way; you barely turned around, seeing him taking a little bounce to get back into his jeans.

"Head out, tiger. I'll see you at tomorrow's practice."

You nod briefly, grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and bat in the other hand. Just as you are about to leave the field, you turn around to see Coach sitting on the bench in the dugout, hands running through his sweaty black hair.

"Coach?" you let the rasp fall off your tongue, and he turns to look your way. "Extra practice tomorrow night?" giving a wink to let him know what you mean. He doesn't skip a beat, a smile tugging at his lips.

"It'll be a late practice. You game?"

"Anything for you, coach." you leave the comment in the air as you walk back to your dorm.

Crashing into your dorm with shaky legs, you throw down your gear.

"Whoa." Rachel commented, "You look brutal!"

"Thanks," you meekly respond, flopping onto the bed before curling up under the blanket.

"What did he do to you?"

"Who?" you mumbled, feeling your eyelids start to get heavy.

"Coach. You look like he had you do suicides for leaving the field?"

"Nothing gets past you, Rach." you smiled as your body drifted to sleep.

Several months later, and one game win thanks to you and a home run hit, Coach Cerulli announced his retirement. Disappointed but not surprised you accepted the new coach with open arms. She was sweet and spicy, a good coach, making your focus back on the game. The rumors were Coach moved states, you’d had his number but the digits disconnected a few weeks after his departure.

Just as well, you thought.

It was almost winter break, and a final due in Psychology had kept you up most nights, your body riddled with tension from the stress. 10 p.m., and you hadn't even bothered to try and sleep yet, your phone buzzed with a new text. Opening it up, it was a number you didn't recognize, but the message was clear.

How you been, tiger?

#miw band #miw #chris motionless #chris motionless imagines #chris motionless smut #chris cerulli #motionless au

138 notes · View notes

hihomeghere · 7 months

Note

Hello my new favorite creator! I just saw your response to my last request (the soft y/n dom one) and I'm deffo going to formally request you turn it into a story (if you're not doing that already) I've been reading more of your content and it's quickly becoming an addiction 😅 any way I'll be a big supporter from the shadows <333 -🧛 anon (Naming myself lol)

Routine | Five Hargreeves / F!Reader

Part of the Tesoro series (Can be read as a one shot)

Word Count : 2.3k Summary : After the confession, Five and reader head back to a hotel room. Soft dom y/n. Aged up!Five Warnings/Tags : Smut, handjob, masturbation, piv, cursing, fluff at the end, this is filth enjoy <3 ( I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters )

If Five was anything, he was a creature of habit. His father had ingrained that in him from a young age. Chores, training, studies, hell even his meal times were scheduled. His entire life was based on routine.

Then he was stuck in the apocalypse, and even though there were millions of things Five could be mad at his father about, he had to appreciate his sense for routine. It kept him alive, he still had a set time to eat (if he had anything to eat), but instead of training he was scavenging. Picking through a wasteland for anything edible, along with trying to find a sustainable source of clean water. While picking through for food, he would also collect anything to help conserve his energy. Things like his bike or wagon, etc. His definition of ‘resting’ was mainly anytime he could sit down. During those periods he would work on equations, trying to find a way out of there and back to his family. And although it wasn’t strictly in his routine, mental breakdowns always seemed to weasel their way into his day.

Thankfully, both of those routines were a thing of the past. Now his routine consisted of reading up on case files before going into the field. He’d kill whoever he had to and afterwards he’d reward himself with fucking his fist until he fell asleep. Did it make him feel a bit disgusted with himself, yes, but masturbation had been the only stress relief he’d ever had. Again, just another one of his constants throughout the years. What he hadn’t accounted for was you. At first he had marked you off as a nuisance. Like the cockroaches that somehow managed to survive alongside Five, although you were much nicer to look at.

Five knew he was in trouble when he started subconsciously adding your routines into his. You would start getting hungry around 11:30 every day, like clockwork. So he had started planning his lunches for around 11:30, not because the thought of you eating alone made his heart seize in his chest, just to make his work more efficient. It aggravated him to have to wait for you to be finished with your lunch, only for him to get hungry once you returned. So out of convenience, he started eating lunch with you. Little things like that.

He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. You were always one to throw wrenches in the works. Although he didn’t account for a deviation of this size into his plan. When he kissed you, a silent confession on his feelings, he knew there would be no going back. You were it for him. He loved you and you seemed to share those feelings. Your lips crashed against his as he fumbled with the key to the hotel room. You giggled into the kiss, something so sickly sweet. His hands were back on you as soon as the door swung open. Pulling the key out of the lock and throwing it onto a side table as he kicked the door close behind you. His hands were everywhere, touching and squeezing. Your breasts, oh god, your tits. He couldn’t get enough of them, his hand flew under your blouse, pinching your nipple through your bra. You gasped softly, your hands threading through his hair. He stopped, admiring your flushed face as he kicked off his shoes. Your lips parted slightly, hot breath fanning across his face, a light splattering of blood across your cheek.

You pulled away, and he almost whined at the loss of contact. What was happening to him? Did you really have such a hold on him? He was taken back to his younger years, when his father would read from Homer’s Odyssey. He had never paid much attention to the sirens, that was more of Diegos and Luthers interest. He wished he had listened to Circe’s warnings like Odysseus, now he was sure he had met a siren in person. He was bewitched by you, drawn to you like iron to a magnet. Five was sure you were more beautiful than Helen of Troy, hell even Aphrodite would be jealous of your beauty.

“I’m going to take a shower.” You smiled, pushing him back onto the bed before kissing his cheek. Another one of your routines, always showering after a mission. You made a show of undressing yourself, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. Then shimmying out of your trousers. You hooked your fingers under your bra strap, pulling them down at an agonizing pace. You unhooked your bra, throwing it onto the chair. Five’s eyes never left your body until you were behind the bathroom door. He gulped, his cock painfully pressed against the crotch of his slacks. He hurried to pull himself free, the buckle of his belt clinking metal against metal. He started to get frantic in his movements, unzipping his pants and kicking them off along with his underwear. His cock sprung up against his stomach. He let out a sigh, spitting into his hand. He grabbed himself, lubricating his dick with his spit. At times like this he wondered if was seriously fucked in the head. But normally once he ran his thumb over the slit on his head any negative thoughts would be tucked away. He arched his neck, letting out a shaky breath as he started to stroke himself. His mind wandering to you, always you. “Fuck,” he sighed squeezing the base of his cock. Your flushed face, a blush painting your cheeks. That slutty fucking skirt you wore, tight around your hips, he didn’t know how you got that little thing over your ass. He groaned, his eyes rolling back as he picked up the pace. How your lips felt against his throat as you ordered him to cum, your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. His hips jolted up into his hand, he craved more, his other hand gently cupped his balls. He was close, his breath getting caught in his throat. “Y/n.” He whined, his eyes fluttering close.

“Starting without me?” You asked leaning on the doorway to the bathroom. Clad in only a towel, tightly wrapped around your body. He froze, caught red handed with his pants down. Fuck he was so close. He tugged on himself, chasing after his high as it slowly slipped away. You stopped him, swatting his hand away from his dick. “Excuse me?” You scoffed, your arms crossed above him. You stared down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together. You grabbed his face, your fingers pressing his lips together, his skin dimpling under your grip. His breath hitched, his eyes going wide. “Y/n, what are you doing?” He said through squished lips.

“You started without me.” You repeated, a wolfish grin spreading across your face. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You turned his face so he was looking at you, his green eyes wide. He let out a surprised sound, “Now, would you like to finish?” You asked with a commanding voice. His eyes flicked all over your face.

“Y-yes.” He stuttered, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. You let go of his face, walking backwards until the back of your knees hit the plush chair. You sank down onto the chair, slowly undoing your towel, letting it pool around your body.

He stared at you, his eyebrows still furrowed. You chuckled to yourself, his expression taking you back to the first night you spent together. So unsure of himself, his hands twitched against the sheets. His dick stood at attention, brushing against his white shirt. His angry red tip made a wet spot on his shirt.

“Take off your shirt first,” you said, leaning back in the chair, spreading your legs. It was like he had been frozen until your command. His eager fingers moved to his shirt, unbuttoning the buttons quickly. He tore it off of him, throwing it onto the floor. He turned to you for his next instructions, a newfound glint in his eye. “You can touch yourself.” You cooed, immediately his hand wrapped around his cock. Stroking himself with fever, he wet his bottom lip, his hips jolting against his fist. Five was so pretty like this, not that he wasn’t a gorgeous man, but he was so vulnerable. Pride bloomed in your chest knowing that you were the only one allowed to see Five like this. His head fell back, giving you a gorgeous view of his neck. He let out a strangled whine, his lips parting. You sat up, unable to help yourself. You stalked towards him, your hands holding his shoulders. Your lips attacked his neck, nipping and sucking on his neck. Dark spots adorning his pale skin.

“Fuck,” he moaned, leaning into your touch. You reached down, pulling his hand away. He let out a frustrated whine, biting his lip as he stared into your eyes. You smiled sweetly, kissing his cheek over his two freckles, before squeezing his shaft. You began to pump him harshly, sucking a deep mark on his collarbone. His hands flew to your hips, holding them with a vice like grip. “I’m gonna cum.” He said through his gritted teeth, “please let me cum.” He squeezed your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“You can cum baby,” You chuckled, licking a stripe up his neck. He cried out his hips jolting against your hand as ropes of cum shot out onto your fist. You grinned, working him through his orgasm. A pained expression painting his features. As he came down from his high, he softly rubbed circles onto your hips.

“That was…” He trailed off clearing his throat, his hands drifting upwards on his body. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against your body.

“Never would have guessed Mr. Five Hargreeves would be so obedient.” You laughed, kissing him. He pulled away from the kiss.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me y/n?” He said, cocking his head slightly. A smug smile spread across his face, his eyes darkened. You felt like the prey instead of the predator under his gaze.

“I would never dream of it.” You smirked, feeling him get hard against your stomach. “Already?” You chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“I can’t help that I have the most gorgeous girl in front of me, naked.” He mused, raising his eyebrows. You pushed him back, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows. You crawled on top of him, setting yourself over his waist. He leaned his head forward, his lips covering your right breast. You lowered yourself onto him, moaning as he pushed through your opening. He let out a pained cry against your breast.

“Are you alright?” You asked, stalling your movement.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes shut tight, his hands gripping your hips, stilling any movements you would make. “Just sensitive, tesoro.” He chuckled looking up at you through his heavy eyelashes. You grinned, you wanted nothing more than to have Five under you a blubbering mess. And you were gonna have it.

You rolled your hips against him, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. He let out a choked gasp, his head falling back against the bed.

“You like that baby?” You asked, dragging your hips up and down against him.

“Fuck yes.” He whined, arching his back off the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into your chest. You rocked back and forth, Five’s fingernails dragging down your back. You moaned, pushing him back against the bed. You leaned back, propping yourself up on his thighs as you jutted your hips forward again and again. That familiar coil tightening in your stomach. “F-fuck.” He cried, his hips jolting against your pelvis, his pubic hair rubbing at your clit. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he bit his lip, his hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

“You feel so good, you make me feel so good Five.” You huffed, struggling to keep up your pace. He whimpered a tear falling down his cheek. Suddenly his body jolted, his hands gripping your waist holding you down onto his hips as he came with a cry. You grinned against him, reaching your own orgasm. You moaned, high pitched and breathy as his cock twitched inside you. His cum painting your walls as you clenched down on him

“Christ woman.” He sighed, his arm covering his eyes. You pulled away his arm, wiping away a stray tear.

“Glad to be of service.” You asked sweetly, kissing his cheek before pecking his lips. You slowly got off of his lap, his softened cock slipping out of you. You laid down beside him, lightly trailing your fingers over his chest. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. Your head laying on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

“I love you.” He says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Are you thinking of someone else?” You tease, staring up at him through your lashes.

“No.” He says, rolling his eyes feigning annoyance. He sits up, you prop yourself up on your arm. “I’m serious,” he cups your face, “I love you so goddamn much.” He says kissing you. You were sure you had died and gone to heaven. His hand against your face, with his soft slightly bruised lips against yours. You sighed into the kiss, feeling like a love sick teenager.

“I love you.” You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you, I love you.” You kissed the corner of his lips, his cheek, his forehead. He chuckled softly, as you met his eyes. “I love you Five Hargreeves.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his.

“And I you.” He smiled. Five would happily add anything pertaining to you into his routine any day.

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #alison hargreeves #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreaves x reader #five x reader #number five #tua x reader #hihomeghere

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 2 months

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Sugar Mama Chapter 1

And another one! New story involving #sugarbabybucky Summary: Bucky is overworked and struggling to get by. The bills are piling up and he’s consistently in the red with no end in sight. Y/N is a billionaire’s daughter, entrepreneur and philanthropist having a hard time finding true friends or love. She has a proposition for him.

bucky barnes x curvy!reader

Warnings: eventual smut, sexual assault (not from Bucky)

Bucky was exhausted. He had been working three jobs for four years now just trying to get by, and this was his sixth sixteen hour day in a row. Student loans and credit card debt was eating him out of house and home, in the most literal sense. Even living in a rent controlled building wasn’t helping with the bills piling up. He had gone to college for architecture and interior design, which he was doing now working as an assistant during normal working hours for one of the many local interior designers. Then he would go straight to his second job as a waiter in a high end restaurant in downtown Manhattan, then at the end of the night go home and do a few more hours of online tutoring. He had ended his 20s and entered his 30s feeling like an old man, with no end in sight of ever getting a break or being able to break even with his debt. Forget about dating or having a family someday. That all seemed like a ridiculous pipe dream now.

“Heeeeyyyy Buckaroo?” Steve sidled up to him as he was cleaning off wine glasses.

“No,” Bucky cut him off.

“But it’s just–”

“Steve, it’s Friday night, I’d really like to go home and get in bed at a normal time tonight,” Bucky interrupted him, the dark circles under his eyes that he tried to ignore looking more prominent by the day.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. But Peggy has been hounding me about going to that new burlesque club that just opened and I told her I was working but we haven’t had a date night in a long time–”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not sharing tips,” Bucky sighed, rubbing his face as he pulled a 5 Hour Energy out of his apron pocket and quickly downed it like a shot.

“Those are bad for you, Buck,” Steve gave his friend a worried look.

“Well maybe a heart attack in my 30s will put me out of my misery,” Bucky half-joked. Steve was silent. Bucky turned to him and scoffed. “It’s a joke. Go, I’ll take the closing shift. Say hi to Peg for me.”

“I’ll take your next closing, I promise. Thanks punk,” Steve gave him a quick hug.

“Yeah whatever, jerk,” Bucky laughed. As Steve went to the back to change, Bucky went to the host stand and figured out who was his next table.

“Whatcha got for me, witchy woman?” he leaned against the stand. Wanda gave him a quick glance.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” she sighed, looking back down at the list.

“It’s not my fault you got witch eyes. And I never said that was a bad thing,” Bucky said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah whatever,” she rolled her amber eyes. “You’re gonna love this one. A Wall Street investment heiress, with some famous friends,” she gave him an unimpressed look.

“An heiress, huh? Well maybe she’ll be my next sugar mama,” he joked, giving her a wink as he adjusted his apron.

“You wouldn’t know how to be a sugar baby even if you tried,” she sassed back at him. “Table 42. She’s all yours.”

“Thanks babes,” he sing-songed at her before heading towards his section. As he approached table 42 he tried to see who the heiress was, but she was unfortunately facing away from him. Her friends, though, he easily recognized from some of the most recent films that had just hit theaters: Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov. Jackpot, he thought with a wry smile.

“Good evening, folks, welcome to Marea. My name is Bucky and I’ll be your server tonight. Could I get you started with some drinks? Or a review of our wine list?” He gave them all a friendly smile as he looked each of them in the eye at least once. The actors gave him quick smiles and glances before ordering generic wines and waters, then the heiress caught his eye. He almost did a double take once he realized who she was. Y/N Y/L/N, the daughter of Wall Street Tycoon Gerald Y/L/N. She was set for life and beyond. Her father was the investment king, knowing just when to buy in or sell out. She had taken on his legacy by doing the same but instead of investing in huge corporations she was investing in smaller businesses and projects, being the key investor until the business could truly thrive, giving her investment a return and getting a chance to grow in an area like New York City. She was the reason the new burlesque club opened that Steve was going to with Peggy. Not only was she wealthy, she was beautiful. Short in stature and plus size, she was an anomaly surrounded by her tall and slim friends, but she embraced her size and used it as a way to both literally and figuratively take up space in the industry and bring attention to the issues of body image, fatphobia, and investing in plus size companies and designers who she exclusively worked with for clothing her for events.

Bucky tried not to ogle and quickly gave her his best flirtatious smile. “And for you?” he asked her.

Y/N gave him an appreciative smile and her bright Y/C/E eyes seemed to really look at him rather than a passing glance like her friends. “I’d like to hear the wine menu, please.”

“Wonderful, we have a…” As he listed off the wines Y/N watched him intently, her eyes searching his face. He felt like he was the one being ogled and yet he persevered, trying not to sound nervous while serving some of the most influential and popular people in the world.

“It all sounds delicious, but I’m a creature of habit, so I think I’ll stick with my favorite Rose, the Billecart-Salmon. And I’ll also have water on the side.”

“Excellent choice, ma’am. Give me a moment and I’ll get those drinks out to you all,” he glanced at them all again before slipping away to the bar for the drinks.

Y/N watched him leave, a small smile on her face, before turning back to her friends. They eyed her ruefully with mischievous smiles. “What?” she asked.

“He’s cute,” Natasha commented, one eyebrow raised at her.

“Very cute. One could even say hot,” Clint added, watching Bucky walk back to the bar. “He’s got a great ass. Too bad he’s working here. He’d look divine in a Prada campaign.”

“You two stop it,” Y/N whispered, giving them a wide eyed glare. “Yes he’s cute.”

“You gonna go for it?” Natasha asked, her grin twisting into something conspiratorial.

“Oh do it! If you won’t, I’ll try my luck,” Clint shifted in his seat as he continued watching Bucky. “See if he goes both ways.”

Bucky was walking back with the drinks on a tray. Y/N narrowed her eyes and made the gesture for them to zip it.

“Alright, here are your drinks! Your waters, and the Sauvignon blanc for you,” he set it in front of Clint, “the Stella Artois for you,” he set it in front of Natasha, “and the Billecart-Salmon Rose for you.” He delicately set it in front of Y/N giving her another warm smile. She reciprocated it as she reached for her wine. She took a quick sip and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Perfect, thank you Bucky,” she said as she licked her lips.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly before he caught himself. “Well, would you like to start with any appetizers? Or jump right into the good stuff?” he huffed a laugh.

“I’d like the lobster with the salad,” Clint ordered. “And could you make sure that the lobster is really big and thick. I like them meaty.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at him and his not-so-subtle innuendo. Bucky knew what he was doing and just let it slide, nodding in agreement. “I’ll put in a good word with the chef.”

Natasha next to him giggled before ordering. “I’ll just take the scallops and shrimp.”

Bucky nodded before turning to Y/N. “I’ll have the crab cakes and risotto, please.” He nodded again and gave her a smirk.

“My favorite,” he gave her a wink, making her blush. “I’ll get those in and come back to check on you all in a little bit,” he swept the table with a smile before walking back to the kitchen.

“Stop it, don’t embarrass him,” Y/N chastised Clint. “I’m sure he and the other servers get enough grief from creepy patrons all the time.”

“Oh it was just a little fun. Besides, he’s all eyes for you, honey, he barely even looked at me,” he shot back at her as he sipped his wine.

“It’s true,” Natasha said, then gave her an exaggerated wink. Y/N rolled her eyes. “I think you should ask him out. Or maybe he can be your next sugar baby.”

“Oh don’t bring that up again,” Y/N groaned. “It was a one time thing and ended badly. I just wanted to try it.”

“It ended badly because he was an ass, not because of anything you did. You gave him charity and he gave you an attitude. This guy seems sweet, nothing can hurt from just asking,” Natasha chided her, reaching out and pinching Y/N’s arm lightly.

Y/N considered her words. She had wanted to try out the lifestyle of being a sugar mama to a sugar baby. She had a lot of events to go to throughout the year, and as much as she enjoyed spending time with her friends and networking with people, she was getting really tired of these high-class, ridiculous men who thought that just by being famous or wealthy that she would throw herself at them. They wanted to use her for her name and connections. They never really cared about her. So she had tried being a sugar mama to a man who wasn’t famous, down on his luck, and just trying to get a leg up in life to escort her to these functions and give her companionship. But once he’d gotten his debts paid off by her and a taste of luxury he quickly became influenced by the rich douchebags around him and started treating Y/N disrespectfully, so much so that he’d made front page news of some tabloids and embarrassed her. She kicked him out after that and blacklisted him from any upcoming events. If there was one thing that she would never condone it was when others tried, directly or indirectly, to humiliate or embarrass her.

Bucky did seem nice, and very tired. The dark circles under his eyes and his shirt not being as ironed as some of the other servers were small giveaways that he was struggling. She didn’t want to embarrass him either by asking to be her sugar baby and assuming that he was struggling financially.

“He is very handsome,” she conceded, a larger smile spreading across her face.

Natasha squealed, clapping her hands joyfully. “Do it!”

The night dragged on as they ate their delicious meals and ordered more glasses of wine. Other patrons were clearing out as it got later and closer to closing time. As tired as Bucky was, doing his nightly closing duties quietly and discreetly so his table couldn’t see, he was banking on their tips. High end restaurants meant high end clients meant high end tips, and he had rent coming due next week. He packed on the compliments to Y/N and her friends, gave them warm and flirty smiles, offered complimentary items, and gave all his attention to them exclusively. Y/N had asked to compliment the chef and when he came out and talked to her table she whispered something to him that he quickly agreed to and jogged back to the kitchen. Bucky gave him a questioning glance but the chef waved him off.

Bucky watched carefully until he saw Y/N’s hand raise and her eyes searched for him. His cue for the check, which he quickly grabbed and brought it over to her. As he glanced at the insane price he noticed an extra meal that wasn’t supposed to be on there as he got to the table.

“Oh, I’m sorry Miss Y/L/N, there seems to be a mistake on the bill, I apologize, let me go–”

“No mistake, Bucky,” Y/N reassured him just as the chef came back out with a doggy box. He handed it to her and thanked her for coming. Y/N shook his hand and slipped something into it before he disappeared back to the kitchen wearing a rare smile. “Thank you,” she reached for the bill and slid her black American Express into the folder.

“Oh, alright, I’ll be right back then,” Bucky composed himself after the mini heart attack he just had from thinking the bill was wrong as he walked back to the stand to take her payment. Once everything was paid he brought back the folder, this time seeing her friends standing and putting on their coats while she stayed seated.

“Thank you, Bucky,” Natasha said his name seductively as she passed him. Clint gave him a little wave and a smirk as he left with her.

“Have a good night!” He called after them. He approached the table as Y/N was opening her wallet. “Here’s the receipt Miss Y/L/N. Thank you for coming in tonight.”

“No thank you for such excellent service, Bucky,” she complimented him as she took the folder again. “Will you sit with me for a moment?”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised and he glanced back at the bar. The manager, Pietro, and Wanda motioned to him to do as she asked. “Yes, of course,” Bucky accepted and sat himself in the chair across from her where Clint sat previously.

Her gaze flicked over him as she opened the folder, took the pen provided and filled out the parts of the receipt meant for her. She closed it and slid it over to Bucky who thanked her and placed it in front of himself.

“I have a proposition for you, Bucky. And please understand when I ask this that you are under no obligation to accept it and I don’t mean to embarrass you,” she started, looking a little nervous.

“Okay,” Bucky stated lamely as he watched her.

Y/N cleared her throat and put her fidgeting hands down in her lap. “I would like to offer you a type of job. As an escort, a sugar baby, to me.” Bucky’s eyes widened comically as he processed what she said. “I know it’s a strange request. But it’s something that I enjoy trying and it helps others…sometimes. I don’t want to assume anything of you, but I can tell when someone is struggling, and you look like life has not always been the easiest or kindest to you. I mean no offense.”

“None taken,” he replied automatically. “I…yes,” he looked down as he confessed to her. “It’s been, uh, rough, to say the least.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed. She reached a finger out and pointed to the closed folder. She gestured for him to open it. He did and took a look over the receipt, nearly choking when he saw the amount on the tip line.

“No, no Miss Y/L/N, this is too much,” Bucky protested as he stared at the number.

“That’s what your service was worth. You are worth every cent, and more,” Y/N praised him. “You don’t have to decide tonight, Bucky, but in the meantime, here’s my card,” she slipped a business card over to him. “Think about it,” she said as she stood up. Bucky quickly stood up with her. Y/N stepped closer to him and reached for his hand. They shook hands and she leaned in and whispered to him, “By the way, you’re very handsome.” Bucky’s eyes bulged and he swallowed hard as she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek then turned and left. Bucky realized as he watched her leave that she had slipped something into his hand. He opened his hand to find a small folded wad of one hundred dollar bills in his palm. “Oh and that’s for you!” She called out and motioned towards the doggy box still sitting on the table. “Your favorite. Dinner’s on me,” she said and gave him a wink then twirled back around and out the door.

After she was out of the restaurant and beyond hearing Wanda and Pietro ran up to him. “How much did she give you?” Wanda squealed as she looked at the bills in his hand. He quickly counted it.

“$1000,” he whispered as he gawked at the money.

“Give me that,” Pietro demanded as he took the folder from Bucky. He opened it and gasped. “She gave you a $2500 card tip?? What did you do, Barnes, give her and everybody at her table a blow job?”

“Wow…I don’t know if I want to be her or be on her,” Wanda said wistfully as she looked back out the glass door where Y/N had already gotten into her car and drove off.

Bucky felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he stared at the bills, the $2500 floating around in his mind. He was not comprehending just how much she had given him. He looked at her business card again and knew he had to at least meet with her and find out what she was offering. But to become an actual sugar baby? To have a sugar mama? To have his debt disappear? To be taken care of? He smiled as his fingers touched where her lips had been.

**this picture has me SALIVATING. This is what I imagine sugar baby!Bucky to look like in this. Hope y'all like it!**

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #sugarbaby!bucky barnes #sugarbaby #sugar mama #sugarmama!reader #chapter 1 #curvy reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader

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itsawhumpsideblog · 1 month

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BBU Community Days 2024, Day 3

April 16 / Writing Prompt: "RULES" / Write a BBU story based on the one-word-prompt and share it!

CW: for institutionalized slavery, emotional abuse, manipulation, drunkenness and drunk antics, a lot more swearing than normal, burning with cigarettes, forced to self-injure

"Shit, why didn't we invest in one of these earlier?" The speaker was a tall man in wrinkled slacks and a polo who looked like he was probably a good shot. There was no gun in evidence, unless you looked behind the counter of his establishment, but it didn't need to be visible for his customers to know that crossing him would be a bad idea.

"Cause they're fucking expensive," his bookkeeper replied, in the weary tones of someone who had explained this before. "We had to start coming out in the black consistently before we could afford the expense. You know that."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." The first man looked down at their new acquisition, kneeling on the floor next to the counter, looking down at his lap and wringing his hands. "Hey, uh- you- uh-" he looked back up at his colleague. "Hey, Ed, what do we call him?"

"His serial number is GU2938." Ed was engrossed in whatever he was doing on a laptop and didn't even look up.

"Nah, that's a mouthful. I'll just call him Pet, that's easy enough. Hey, Pet, there's some food there in that bowl for you. Take five and eat up, but be quick. We're gonna have customers in here in a few hours and we gotta clean and everything."

"Yes, Master," GU2938 replied, as he had been trained to, and scurried over to the bowl. It was full of scraps, probably the remnants of food humans had ordered but not finished. Sometimes people were so busy gambling or getting drunk that they forgot they had a meal in front of them. One of the first things GU2938 had learned was that people on a binge of any kind- betting or drinking or drugs- were unpredictable and did not always act according to logic that he could discern.

Once he had finished eating, GU2938 went back to the counter and crouched next to it, rubbing his knuckles and bent over to ease a bruise on his right side. The previous night, his first in the bar, had been an education, to say the least. It was his third day with his Master, but he had arrived mid-week and the bar was quieter on a Thursday night. Master had said that was best, since it gave him an evening to observe and learn his job.

GU2938 had been purchased to serve as a bouncer for the drinking-and-gambling establishment his Master owned, a dimly lit and slightly greasy place that was accessed by knowing which alley it was in and which stairs to go down to find the door. People did not come here for a quiet night out and GU2938's job was to get them out of the bar when Master determined that they were too drunk or high or broke to give him any more of their money.

Thursday had been quiet, with only a handful of regulars who hadn't left the Pet alone, but hadn't exactly hurt him, either. They only wanted to play with him, ordering him around just to watch him follow their commands. They had ordered him to bring their drinks from the bar, poured condiments on the table just so he would have to clean it up, and made him lick ketchup off the floor. When they lit a match, Master intervened.

"Hey!" he barked, so loudly that GU2938 jumped, although the regulars did not. "You were having your fun- fine. But you don't damage my property. I bought that to do work, not keep you entertained. That's what the races are for." He scowled at the men and waved GU2938 back to his corner beside the bar.

Friday had been very different, in a way. There was more work to do, or at least, more of the kind of work Master had in mind. GU2938 broke up a fight over poker and had to throw out a man who had gotten so drunk he forgot where- or possibly what- the toilet was. Then GU2938 had to clean up after the man, which might have been even worse than hauling him to the door.

When Master turned the lights off, locked the door, and left at almost 4 in the morning, GU2938 finally sat down and hoped he could fall asleep. It was hard to do, just like it had been hard the previous night. The floor felt very flat and a little sticky, and the small, barred windows didn't admit any light beyond a neon glow from some other business across the alley. Through the thin wall, he could hear the sounds of cars outside and the occasional siren and the strange noises frightened him.

GU2938 squeezed himself as far under the bar as he could manage. He was tall and broad-shouldered and the training at the facility had focused on building his muscles so that he would be marketable as a guard dog. He had learned a lot during his training- how to throw a punch and, more importantly, how to take one; how to dart past an opponent and use their own body weight to throw them; even where to put his hands to make someone pass out, permanently if the order was given. But the main thing he had learned was that he hated to fight.

He could fight, it turned out, and well. He was big enough to hit hard when he was ordered to do it and he was surprisingly fast for someone his size. He was perfectly compliant in the gym and ate the diet he was given, perfect for building muscle and laced with steroids that the WRU left off the guard dogs' medical records when they were sold.

But every time a fight ended, GU2938 would pause, look at his opponent, and break down in tears. And every time, the guards would make fun of him, order him to stop crying and, when he couldn't, beat him until he was too stunned to react any more. Then they would take him back to his cell where his wits would slowly return to him. He lay on the floor every night, seeing the face of the Pets he had fought in his mind's eye. He worried about them until he saw them again and could reassure himself that they were still breathing, even if they were damaged. His own injuries, even when they were severe, were less painful than the knowledge that he had hurt someone else.

Under the bar, GU2938 thought of the other Pets and closed his eyes against the mental images that formed the only memories he had. He began to rock back and forth, as if trying to shake the pictures away, and then found that the swaying reminded him of the last time he felt safe. It had been in the box on the truck between the facility and the bar. In that box, nobody was there to hurt or frighten him and he knew he would be left alone as long as the truck kept on swaying down the road. GU2938 tried to pretend that he was back there in the box on the truck and eventually he fell asleep.

He was woken late in the day by his Master opening the door and turning on the lights. GU2938 jumped up and stood with his head bowed at respectful attention as his Master crossed the room to the bar and set down a box.

"Got you something," he said. "Come here." Master opened the box and drew out a thick black collar with a small box attached to it. When GU2938 came over, Master reached up and fastened it around his neck. "That's a shock collar. I got the remote right here, see? I don't want to have to use it, but if you leave here or you disobey me, I can and I will. Understood?"

"Yes, Master." They were the only words GU2938 had uttered in recent memory and he heard his own voice so seldom that he was almost surprised by the sound of it, soft and deep and uncertain.

"Good. Now fill the cooler and get the floor mopped." Master went off to his own tasks in the back office.

GU2938 hated the feeling of the collar. It wasn't actually too tight, but it felt like it was and it made him cringe whenever he turned his head and felt the material rubbing against the front of his throat. He tried not to turn his head much, but it was difficult to remember not to move naturally. Even worse, he had no idea what Master's idea of disobedience was. GU2938 was trying his hardest to be a good Pet, but he was very afraid that Master would disagree.

As the weeks passed, GU2938 became more accustomed to the rhythm of life in the bar. He found that sleeping sitting up and leaned against the inside of the bar was more comfortable than trying to stretch out on the floor, especially with the collar snug around his throat. He also slept with one hand inside the collar, holding it away from his windpipe. Master fed him at least once a day from anything left in the kitchen before closing time and Ed, the bookkeeper, even gave him permission to eat scraps off of customers' plates when he did the dishes. He was hungry, but on most days not painfully so.

Only dealing with the customers never got easier. When Master ordered it, he had to throw them out of the bar sometimes, but Master also let the customers order him around when they wanted something. Occasionally, they played a game with him where they made a rule he had to follow for however long they said.

They seemed to play this game about once a week and GU2938 dreaded it. The first time they played, the rule had been that he had to do a somersault whenever one of them clapped. After he had rolled across the dirty floor a few times, one of the customers got it into his head to start applauding, making the Pet roll over and over around the bar until his back ached from contact with the hard floor.

The next time, he had to serve them with his eyes shut until they said he could look. The bartender played along and even Master laughed when someone put a chair in front of him to trip him when he brought a table their bill. The Pet went sprawling, afraid to open his eyes even to catch himself, and landed hard on his wrists. Without looking, he picked himself up very carefully and felt his way to the nearest table.

"Wrong one," someone said, when he tried to give them the little plastic tray with the paper and pen on it. There was a roar of laughter as he felt his way from table to table, each of them refusing the bill, until he was touching the back wall.

There were no tables left and he found himself shaking and afraid, because he didn't know what to do next. Should he ask again? But then Master would think he was questioning the honest of Master's customers and he wouldn't like that.

"Give it here," said Master's voice. "And go back to the front."

Still with his eyes squeezed shut, GU2938 went. Master must have delivered the check and the game continued, with GU2938 delivering food and drinks in between orders from the customers to go find the pinball machine or tie a customer's shoes.

The game came to an abrupt end when GU2938 slammed into the pool table and spilled an entire tray of beers all over himself and the floor.

"Open your fucking eyes and clean up that mess," Master snapped. GU2938 blinked in the light as he opened his eyes for the first time in hours and beheld the immense mess in front of him. Entirely without meaning to, he began to cry and almost immediately there was a sharp stinging feeling at his neck that made his whole body tense up. It only lasted a second, but when it ended, the spot on his neck under the little box didn't feel right and he ached horribly.

"Enough," his Master said in an angry voice. "I don't want to see any of that bullshit. Just clean. it. up."

"Yes, Master."

That first use of the collar marked a terrible turning point in GU2938's life. Now that the bar regulars knew he could be shocked, and knew one thing that would make Master do it, it seemed to become their goal to make Master shock GU2938.

In addition to the Rules game, they began betting on how long it would take them each night to make him cry. In between watching races or poker on tv, they pinched him as he passed or kicked his ankles or kneed him when Master wasn't looking.

If he had seen in, GU2938 supposed, Master would have stopped them, if only to protect his investment. The night one man pressed a lit cigarette to the Pet's arm, Master yelled at him and made GU2938 throw him out- but he had already been shocked and the man had won his bet. Every night GU2938 did his best not to cry, from either pain or fear, but they managed to find his breaking point all the same.

When they left and GU2938 had done his cleaning and eaten a bowl of leftover scraps, he would wedge his aching body and all its bruises under the counter and think about a quiet, dark box in a quiet, dark truck and rock himself back and forth until he could calm his adrenaline enough to sleep.

Things reached a crisis point the night the TV set broke. It might have had something to do with the bottle a very drunk customer had thrown at it earlier in the week, or it might simply have been a very old set. But whatever the cause, it broke in the middle of a race and the customers had been very invested in watching cars circle a track.

"Fuck," Master swore, and emptied the contents of his pockets onto the bar until he found his phone. He smashed the buttons and yelled into it, already sounding angry. "My fucking TV just died." There was an indistinct voice from the other end, and then Master said, "So what? The race was on and the TV just died, just like that." Pause. "Yeah, I know." Pause. "Well, I think we probably need another one, dumbass." Pause. "What the fuck?" Master sighed. "I'll be back when I sort this out," he announced to nobody in particular and stormed outside, still swearing at whoever was on the phone.

GU2938 was already nervous to be left alone with the customers, but when he saw that Master had left the remote to his collar on the bar, he thought he might be sick. He wondered for a split second if he could hide it until Master got back. Even if Master shocked him for it, it would still be better than whatever the customers might do.

He wasn't fast enough. One of them saw it and grabbed it out of the pile of loose change and crumpled receipts.

"Hey," he called to the other men, "Look what I got!" This was greeted with a round of drunk cheers that made GU2938 feel sick.

"Okay," said the man holding the remote. "First rule, umm... you have to walk around with your eyes crossed. Now go to the pool table and see if you can hit anything."

GU2938 did as he was told. He made it to the pool table and tried to pick up a cue, but he was so concentrated on the pool balls that he forgot there was a second condition.

"He's looking at them," someone called and instantly there a shock ran through him, making his muscles seize.

"No good," called the man with the remote. "Next rule? Anyone?"

"Make him eat gum off the bottom of the tables," someone suggested, to laughter. There was plenty of gum on the undersides of the tables and the chairs, too, as GU2938 well knew. As instructed, he scraped some off and put it in his mouth, but when he gagged, they shocked him again.

Then they had him carry a plate on his head and shocked him when it fell off. He had to turn a cartwheel and was shocked when he couldn't. With every broken rule, the shocks seemed to last longer and he was sure they were turning up the intensity. He couldn't help himself and screamed with each wave of electricity that shot through his body.

Prank call the emergency phone number.

Stand over here and piss into the potted plant.

Use this lit cigarette to draw a smiley face on your palm.

Stand under the target while we play darts.

Punch yourself in the face. No, harder. Right in the nose. Not like that.

Every time, they shocked him and with every shock, GU2938 felt his body grow weaker and felt his mind grow more afraid. His heart didn't feel right anymore, as if it skipped a beat when the shock came, and his legs could barely hold him.

At last, they got what they really wanted and he began to cry. Not just a few tears, like most nights, when GU2938 could keep himself mostly under control and the shocks from Master would be brief and comparatively light. Now, it was as if floodgates had opened and he sobbed from somewhere deep inside himself, the tears pouring down his aching face. He could feel a ball of grief deep in his stomach and he leaned against the bar and covered his face with his hands, as if they hadn't already seen.

"Uh-uh," the man with the remote crowed. "You're not allowed to do that. Your Master said you weren't. Didn't they train you better?"

GU2938 was sobbing too hard to answer or even to begin to collect himself.

"Guess not," the man said. He was looking out into the bar, talking to the other customers now, as if he was onstage speaking to an audience. "I guess we better help you out, get you properly trained. What do you think, boys?"

There was a cheer and to a background of applause, GU2938 felt the shock in what might have been slow motion. He could hear himself screaming at the top of his lungs as the man with the remote adjusted the intensity for maximum effect.

There was the feeling of a burning ring around GU2938's neck and he fell full-length onto the floor as his body tensed up. It was like an induced seizure and he felt his limbs shaking, his joints striking the tile. His teeth were grinding together and his eyes rolled in his head and then even the screaming stopped because he couldn't get a breath and his throat felt like it was on fire.

It only stopped because Master came in and shouted, "What the fuck do you think you're doing? I paid good money for that and you motherfuckers are just ruining it for fun." He kept on in that vein for some time, but GU2938 heard none of it. Consciousness ebbed and flowed and eventually someone dragged him behind the bar and left him there, supine and weeping, for the rest of the night.

The last thing that happened was Master shoving a bowl of scraps towards him. "You got the night off," Master said, "But I expect you to work double tomorrow to make it up."

"Yes, Master," GU2938 tried to say.

His blood ran cold. He hadn't made a noise- Master had spoken to him and he had answered but no noise had come out. GU2938 grabbed frantically at his throat, trying to pull the collar away. He opened his mouth in a silent scream, but there was nothing to hear.

Years later...

They were the first ones to arrive, which meant that Mikey had time to get the podium set up where he wanted it while Angie, Tim, and Nathan unfolded metal chairs into straight rows. Francis parked his wheelchair at the back of the room and got his crutches situated comfortably, pulling the sleeves of his flannel down smooth under the cuffs around his forearms.

"Are you ready?" Francis asked Mikey as they took their places at the front of the room.

Mikey shrugged. "I think so," he signed and Francis grinned.

"You'll be fine, I know you will. We'll do it just like we practiced at home."

"You're right, I know. But either nobody's going to show up or too many people are."

"Either way. Just like we practiced."

Mikey nodded and they watched the door as it opened to admit a stream of people. The local meetings of the Pet Liberation Movement were invitation-only to ensure that everyone in the room could be trusted; it looked like tonight everyone who was welcome had chosen to show up.

By 7:00, the library's conference room was standing room only and there was a low buzz of chatter as the attendees waited for the program to begin. Mikey focused on the front row, where Angie gave him an encouraging smile and a subtle thumbs-up. Nathan made a silent but enthusiastic cheering motion and Tim gave him two thumbs up, grinning broadly. Mikey blushed and laughed, but he felt better.

When the door had stayed closed for several minutes, suggesting that nobody else was coming, Mikey looked over at Francis, who nodded that he was ready to begin. Mikey raised his hands for quiet and the talk slowly died away as people noticed the gesture.

With a nervous deep breath, Mikey began to sign as Francis interpreted for him.

"Good evening. My name is Mikey and even though I'm using Sign Language, I'm not deaf- I'm mute. I lost my voice permanently because a shock collar was used on me when I was being kept as a Pet. My friend and fellow rescued Pet, Francis, and I are going to talk to you tonight about our experiences as victims of the Pet trade."

Master List

Notes: The end sort of just came to me, but I'm in love with the idea of Mikey becoming an activist. Also- is Mikey actually Ferdinand the Bull? Discuss.

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds, @honeycollectswhump @taterswhump, @starfields08000 @whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial

#bbucommunity #day3 #the safehouse #bbu #box boy universe #box boy whump #whump #whumpee #pet whump

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noirineverysense · 2 years

Text

Racism in the whump community

I'm a tired black woman and I wanna talk about the kind of racism i see in the whump community. This isnt a callout, but a discussion and its an invite for white people to listen not talk over me.

Whump is when characters get hurt, this can be from fandom or with original characters, so I'll go into each of these starting with fandom.

Fandom racism is well documented, white people will actively ignore or hate on people of colour, especially black women, both the characters and the actors. Black, Latino and Asian characters are consistently hated or ignored, especially in whump. As someone who runs a poc whump blog, I have to make gifs (as someone who doesnt have the talent or energy to do that) for franchises like the fucking MCU, where characters like Sam Wilson or T'Challa, who have massive fanbases outside of tumblr/whumpblr, but here theyre irrelevant. Black stories and pain are irrelevant in whump.

Been in servers where people will talk about a whumpee by showing pictures of a group of people, no one has to mention theyre talking about the white man in the group, we all know ofc whumpees are white men. The poc in the shot are the background, even if theyre the main characters, to a white person eyes, they arent relevant, arent important.

And OC content isnt free from this either. Instead of ignoring people of colour, we are simply not present. And whump is derived from fandom so its clear that these are linked. You dont like it when we're there, and make worlds where we are not. And it's not about intention, maybe youre just worried about writing poc, maybe we just dont come to your mind at all. But the effect, the consequence, is more important on poc in the community than any of that.

And when you do write us, you feminise and fetishise asian men, you make black men hypermasculine or subject them to poilce brutality. You make black women the sassy best friend type, the black mama to serve white people. We're never the centre of the story.

And whiteness is glorified. In its pale innocence, in the beauty of blue eyes or brown hair. The whumpee was made to be white and for white people to project themselves on. Not for poc. This wasn't made for us.

Something that is so innocent, so obvious to a white person can be harmful to a person of colour and the problem isnt an individual, its a structure. Fandoms are structurally white, the whump community is structurally white. Places white people go to turn their brain off, to "escape" always mean that its a space where poc cant escape. Because you let the racism that is in you not get addressed, and where no one is addressing racism, it flourishes.

#a ramble #a rambly ramble #but im tired amd someone has to do it #dont go on this post to tell me why you dont write poc or some other white bs #i dont wanna hear it #also i talk as a black woman so i camt give other poc perspectives #so if any other poc want to add on pls do #racism #whump #fandom racism

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neothingss · 11 months

Text

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✧・.・

✎ genre: 🎀 fluff, ☁️ angst, ⛓️ smut, 🧚🏼‍♀️ fantasy, 💫 humor, ♟️ dystopian, 💌 smau

ੈ✩‧₊˚ svt hospital ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ by @taeyegu

✎ 🎀 ☁️ + tba: hospital playlist au.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ four different departments, four different love stories, all in one hospital; ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ in pursuit of wedded bliss ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ by @fantasyescapes17

✎ 🎀: regency au. mem x y/n.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ It is the season- and London is full of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, waiting to be swept up in a whirlwind of romance, passion and matrimony as they each fight their own battles for happiness in London's elite society. ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ and the universe said, ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ by @thepixelelf

✎ 💫🎀⛓️: soulmate au. ot13 idol!svt x reader.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren't -- and that's before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA. ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ horanghae ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ by @horanghaejamjam

✎ 🎀 ⛓️: hybrid!reader x svt (mainly hoshi).

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Everyone knows that Soonyoung loves tigers. The term Horanghae literally means “I tiger you”. Needless to say, the Seventeen members shouldn’t have been as surprised as they were the night he came home with a very timid white tiger curled against him. ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ under the sun ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ by @dokiyeom

✎ ☁️ ♟️: non-idol!svt x gn!reader.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ It all starts when you wake up in a field without a name or any memories to define yourself with. Thirteen men take you in as one of their own, and slowly you begin to wonder what is going on within this world... and between you and one of them. ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ in full bloom ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ by @wondernus

✎ ☁️ 🎀 💫: flower shop au.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Flowers can speak for you when you can’t find the right words to say. Five mini stories surrounding five different orders a local flower shop receives. ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ the xperiments ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ by @gamerwoo

✎ ☁️ 🧚🏼‍♀️ ♟️ : svt and reader as lab experiments au.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Growing too strong to stay at the lab you grew up in, you’re shipped off to South Korea to continue your life in their much bigger and more high-tech lab. That’s where you meet thirteen other experiments who are just like you, only knowing life inside the labs which consists of constant inhuman studies and awful mistreatment. However, being kept solitary for your whole life, you find it difficult to trust even the experiments who know exactly what you’ve gone through. But the labs simply creating these experiments because they can may not be the only reason for your existence, and trusting the other experiments might be your only way to freedom – assuming you can stay hidden from the white coats. ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ fear ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ by @gamerwoo

✎ ☁️ 🧚🏼‍♀️ : mystical horror creatures!svt x reader.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ A series of short one-shots inspired by the lyrics to Fear by Seventeen. the one-shots are listed based on the order in which each member has their first line, and each one-shot is based on each member’s individual lyrics that they sing. ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ fate & desire ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ by @gamerwoo

✎ 🎀 💫 ☁️: soulmate au. host!svt x reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ You know you’ve found your soulmate when your pendant turns red. It’s just your luck you meet an entire host club of 13 boys – save for your best friend, Jeonghan, and his boyfriend – all at once. Your pendant is now red, and all of theirs are always hidden in their shirts. But one person in particular kind of makes you want to forget about the whole “fate” thing. ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ package delivered! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ by @wondernus

✎ ☁️ 🎀 💫 : secret agent!au, mail room!au, business owner!au.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ In an unknown location, the mailroom and technical analysts of an intelligence agency are unboxing what was supposed to be prototype spy gadgets. Instead, they find themselves hundreds of eco-friendly tote bags. You thought you were getting a shipment of supplies for your business. Instead, you find yourself with hundreds of beautiful crystals that you have no use for in your tote bag business. Mistakes are made. Lies are told. How far are you willing to go to take back what is yours? ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ package received! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ by @wondernus

✎ ☁️: secret agent!au, mail room!au, business owner!au.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Mistakes were made, lies were told. Nobody told you that going lengths to take back what was yours meant losing those closest to you. And for a person who seems to have everything, you truly have nothing. ࿐ྂ

—

#seventeen imagines #seventeen fics #seventeen au #seventeen fic recs #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year

Note

Can I have "I'm so proud of you" with Benny 🥺

Proud of You

Pairing: Benny Miller x wife! “Sparks”” Miller

Word Count: 900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: This fic will deal with pregnancy, labor, and childbirth. Nothing terrible or extremely descriptive. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: I saw this ask and immediately thought of my 2 babies from Light Me Up. I miss the hell out of those 2 and will always be down to write little snippets or one shots. Obviously spoilers if you haven’t read the fic!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

Light Me Up Masterlist

!!!SPOILERS FOR LIGHT ME UP IF YOU HAVEN’T READ IT!!!

You'd been feeling weird all day. Not bad, per say, but just off. Like something was just not quite right. When you'd finally had enough, you pulled out your phone to call the doctor.

And then your water broke.

It wasn't like the movies, no giant gush that soaked the floor. But you'd felt a small pop and your underwear got really wet really fast.

"Benny?" You call out, a little afraid to move.

"Sparks?" Benny comes around the corner quickly, hearing the nervous tone in your voice. He looks at you and the growing wet spot on your leggings and his eyes grow wide.

"Is it time?" He asks, rushing to you side and placing one hand on your back and one on your round belly.

"Everyone says to wait a bit at home. 4-1-1, remember? Contractions 4 minutes apart, lasting for 1 minute, and consistently for 1 hour?"

Benny's eyes fill with concern. "Y-yeah. Are you sure? We can go no-"

You shake your head. "No. Just, let me start to get dressed and see how I feel in a bit. I'd rather labor here than the hospital."

Your first born had other plans.

Within the hour, you were climbing into the car, Benny keeping very calm and collected, like he was in mission mode. Which you guess, he was. Luckily, traffic wasn't an issue and you pulled up to the hospital fairly quickly. Benny helps you out and a nurse comes out with a wheelchair, asking you to sit and they'll wheel you back to triage.

Benny grabs the bags and tosses his keys at the valet, following behind you. You get booked in and are pacing in a triage room, your contractions coming closer together. Benny was there for every one, putting counter pressure on your hips, helping you to breathe through them, telling you how amazing and strong you were and that you could do this.

When the nurse finally comes to finish triage, she checks you and immediately transfers you to labor and delivery. Benny drops your bags and is by your side in an instant, helping you through a really intense contraction, dabbing at your forehead as you come down.

“You are so strong, baby. You got this.”

The contractions were coming closer together and getting more intense. You’d done the courses on pain management and, while they help, you could feel your mental strength slipping. Benny seems to sense this and immediately starts showering you with quiet praise and awe. He holds you while you stand, swaying like you’re doing a slow dance with your arms above your head, crossed and resting on his broad chest.

Then something changes, your body telling you it was time to push. Following your body, you get on all fours on the bed, Benny rubbing your back and speaking affirmations in your ear, reminding you to breathe your baby out, not push. Several minutes later, your body pushes on it’s own and your son, Emmett, comes screaming into the world, right into Benny’s hands. Taking a deep breath, you turn around, laying on your back and pushing sweaty hair from your face as you see Benny holding your son, covered in what Benny calls “baby guck”, and tears just streaming down his face as he talks to him.

“Hey little guy! I’m your dad. I’m so happy to finally meet you!”

He walks around the bed and hands Emmett to you, a little slippery from the baby guck, and you clutch him to your chest, crying as you take in his tiny features, counting his little fingers and toes.

“Hi Emmett. It’s mom. It’s nice to see you on the outside.”

The midwife calls Benny to cut the cord and he does, back by your head a moment later. Emmett latches to you pretty quickly, taking his first sips as he cuddles against your bare skin. Benny puts his finger under your chin and turns your head up to him.

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, Sparks.”

He leans in an kisses you, both of you turning to watch little Emmett a few moments later. The nurses finish up their prep, taking Emmett to weigh him and check him over before returning him to you and leaving the room.

“Benny?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll take that steak dinner now.”

Benny laughs, already moving to grab his keys.

“You can have whatever you want, my beautiful wife.”

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics

#benny miller #ben miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #benny miller x f!reader #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #benjamin miller #benjamin benny miller #garrett hedlund x reader #garrett hedlund x you #garrett hedlund characters #garrett hedlund character fanfic #garrett hedlund character ff #garrett hedlund character fanfiction #light me up

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years

Note

CONGRATULATIONS LOU!! You deserve every like and follow. Congrats on 1,000!! 🥳 expect two requests from :)

Here’s my first request loves.

Plus-size read x Loki And Bucky/ Sugar Daddy AU 😉

Prompt 38 & 6 and trope 10 please:)

Once again congratulations Lou! 💋✨

Money Can't Buy Everything

Sugar Daddy!Loki x single mom!reader x Sugar Daddy!Bucky

Loki x plus size reader x Bucky

With one missed call, the whole world shifts

Warnings: references to teen pregnancy, age-gap (21 and mid to late 30s), sugar daddy/baby relationship, implied past BDSM, parental abandonment, little bit of angst, idiots in love

A/N: @lokiandbuckysdoll I love you so much!!!!!!!

WC: 2.4k

Minors DNI

6: “I want to have her babies.” 38: “I’m scared I can’t give you everything you want, everything you deserve.” 10: Single parent 6: Sugar daddy!au

1000 Follower Celebration

She hadn’t texted today. And considering that in her rules, she was required to contact them at least once a day, it was certainly strange.

Bucky stepped into his partner’s office, still staring down at her contact name on his phone. “Everybody out.” He barked, sending the occupants scrambling to leave, none of them keen on incurring Bucky’s well known wrath. Loki sighed, dropping the butterfly knife he was playing with onto his marble desk.

“Is there a reason you decided to interrupt my meeting, Barnes?” His green eyes narrowed at the bulky man who dropped into the black leather chair in front of him. He thrust his phone at Loki as he huffed and crossed his arms over his muscular chest. “Angel hasn’t called today.”

Loki hummed, taking the device and scrolling through their recent texts. “She has been quite busy with work lately.” Bucky’s dark eyebrows shot up. “We pay for literally everything for her. She shouldn’t be working, especially if it interferes with our agreement.” He hummed but didn’t say anything in response, just glancing at the scantily clad photo of her Bucky had been sent last night.

“It could be that you kept her up late.” He insinuated, handing the phone back. A faint pink blush spread across Bucky’s cheeks but he quickly covered it up with a cough. “We’ve both pulled all-nighters with her and she was still contacting us the day after. Besides, it was one little photo, nothing else.”

He crossed his legs, leaning back in the chair, looking at the photo of her. She was wearing the red lingerie they had bought for her last week, the lace beautifully criss-crossing her thick curves, leaving her tits exposed, the crotchless panties showing her dripping folds. Bucky licked his lips before locking his phone so he wouldn’t get too distracted from the task at hand.

The agreement had been made a year ago when the two heads of Sword Inc., the most successful stock brokers on the East Coast, quickly becoming the most powerful in the country. The two men bumped into the young art major at a gallery opening and were enamoured by her innocent beauty and intelligence. It just made sense.

They wanted someone to spoil beyond belief and she needed the money, and a little bit of attention from two of the most attractive and incredibly sought after bachelors. They gave her everything she could ever dream of, and all they asked in return was honesty, consistent communication, no catching feelings, and an open mind.

A very open mind at that, considering they were two men approaching their forties with sexual frustration coming out the wazzu. But she always followed their instructions, gave them what they wanted.

But now, she had dropped off the radar, her location turned off, no updates to her instagram story. Nothing. And Bucky was starting to get worried.

“Have you considered it might be her time of the month?” Bucky rolled his blue eyes. “Yeah right, she always texts when she’s riding the red wave. Besides, she’s been busy a lot recently, she could be trying to pull away.” Loki sighed, rubbing his temples, his long black hair falling from the elaborate braids he liked to tie it in. The day was stressful already without his partner disrupting his carefully planned schedule.

Bucky loosened his navy tie, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. “Well you can do what you want, but I’m going to check on her.” “You just want to get laid, Barnes.” He dismissed, turning back to the mountain of paperwork his secretary had dropped off this morning.

“Well that too but come on, she’s never broken a rule before, she could be seriously hurt.” Loki opened his mouth to respond but Bucky beat him to the punch. “If she isn’t hurt and is just being a brat, you know what we can do.” Images of their angel tied up with a vibrator strapped to her clit as they tortured her with pleasure flashed behind the man’s eyes, his black slacks getting tighter at the thought.

“Fine but I’m holding you responsible if any of these deals I’m missing today fall through.” Bucky smirked victoriously.

——————

The kettle was screaming but the woman paid it no mind as she rushed through her small apartment, picking up the mess as she went, trying hard to get as much done as possible while she had the chance. Wearing just a hugely oversized shirt which she stole from Bucky and some biker shorts, she was hardly the picture of sensuality. But she didn’t care how she looked right now, there were bigger things at hand.

She pulled the kettle from the stove, wincing as the steam bellowing from the spout burnt her hand. “Fuck.” She was already so close to tears, having stayed up the entire night, not getting a wink of sleep, as well as receiving a failing grade on a project she had spent months on, and the stress of an upcoming gala Loki and Bucky wanted her to go to next weekend had frayed her nerves.

Fat tears dripped down her cheeks as she collapsed on the couch that also doubled as her bed. Maybe she should break it off with them. Admittedly, they were the most fun she had ever had. They were attentive and sweet and could fuck her like there was no tomorrow. But the stress of being in a ‘relationship’ with them was becoming too much, especially when she had so much already on her plate.

Just as her breathing started picking up, panic truly settled over her chest like an elephant slowly putting pressure on her lungs, there was a firm knock at the door. Quickly standing, she straightened out her stained shirt, trying to at least appear somewhat put together. Another knock urged her on quicker.

“Coming!” She called out, stepping over the pile of laundry she had yet to deal with, her bare feet thumping on the hardwood floor. The woman unchained the lock and swiftly swung the door open, only to be greeted by the two men who she really didn’t want to see in this state. They looked down on her, concern immediately colouring their features.

“B-bucky, Loki! What are you two doing here?” She unconsciously stepped between them and the apartment, blocking their view. “You didn’t call today angel.” Loki stepped forward, forcing her to move one step back. “We were worried.” Bucky continued, stepping around her to enter the small space.

He observed the cheap apartment with disdain, obviously disgusted by the state of it considering how much money they gave her every month. Loki, instead, took their angel in his arms, cupping her plump cheek, thumb rubbing the dark circles under her eyes. “Are you alright angel? You don’t look well.” Attempting to look away, she swallowed the lump in her throat, tears threatening to escape once more.

“Y-yeah.” She cleared her thrust. “Sorry I didn’t call, I’ve just been really busy.” Turning out of his grip, she walked towards Bucky trying to prevent him from going further in. He eyed the couch, where a pile of blankets and a pillow lay, as well as an old cup of tea on the floor beside it.

They looked so out of place here. In suits more expensive than the apartment and everything in it, they stood out. They didn’t belong here. Her heart clenched in her chest as Bucky looked at her, clearly not convinced by her words. “Right. So you know that you’ve broken one of our rules. And that means…” He trailed off, letting the young woman fill in the blank.

She lowered her head in submission, avoiding both pairs of blue eyes. “I get punished. But!” Loki tssked, gripped her jaw in his long fingers, shutting her up. “No buts love, you know exactly what you signed up for when we made the rules. And since you are clearly alive and otherwise free, considering your state of dress. You should have called us.” She whimpered and tried to pull away but suddenly, Bucky was at her back, holding her in place.

His nose traced up her throat, sending a shiver down her spine. “Now, whatever shall we do with our little rule breaker? Oh I know-“

“Mama!” A little voice called out from the bedroom, a fit of coughs quickly following. She broke out of their embrace and scrambled into the back room, throwing open the door and disappearing behind it. The two powerful men glanced at each other, holding a silent conversation with their eyes before quickly following.

Their angel pulled a little bundle of blankets from the small bed, bringing it to her chest as she gently swayed, shushing as more whimpers rose from it. “You’re ok, bear. It’s alright. Mummy’s here.” She cooed, pulling back the blue blanket from their head. The toddler’s usual babysitter, the old woman across the hall, had gone home to visit her own children so she was on her own.

“You have a kid?” It was Bucky that spoke first, Loki was too entranced by the sight before him. She held the toddler close, eyes sad as they coughed once more, their little lungs straining. She ignored them, instead focusing all her attention on the child who looked so much like her, even down to the smallest of details.

The room was littered with expensive toys and high brand baby items. It was obvious now, where all their money went. Bucky kneeled and picked up a little stuffed rabbit that he had won for her on Coney Island during one of their dates. It was well loved, one of the eyes missing and an ear hanging on by a thread. He smiled fondly at it, standing back up.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell either of you.” She muttered quietly, still urging the child back to sleep. “I couldn’t afford for her to get hurt. I wanted to but then I- I started catching feelings and I’m scared I can’t give you everything you want, everything you deserve.” Her voice was shaky and close to breaking. Bucky approached her, gently placing the rabbit in the little girl’s grasp as she reached from the blanket, getting a contented squeak in reply.

Loki’s arm wrapped around her thick waist, resting his chin on her shoulder, staring down at the beautiful child in her arms. “You don’t need to apologise angel. We understand. Your first priority was your baby. I just wish we could have helped you out more.” He planted a kiss on the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

The baby fussed once more before little snores escaped her lips and her mother moved to tuck her back into the bed, laying a small kiss to her overheated forehead. “Come one, she needs her rest.”

She led them back to the living room. “Would you like a cup of tea?” Bucky cupped her wide hip. “Go sit down, doll, I can take care of that.” Loki took her arm, bringing her onto his lap as he sat on the couch. He hugged her close with a firm grip so she couldn’t escape. “Now, why don’t we start with her name, that seems a good place to begin.”

His angel wiggled in his lap, trying to get comfy as Bucky poured three cups of tea. “Orsa.” A beautiful smile overcame Loki’s features. “A wonderful name. And how old is she?” The girl relaxed, happy to finally talk about her daughter to the men she loved. “She’s turning three in a month.”

Bucky sat on the small coffee table, the wood creaking under his weight, and handing over two of the mugs, taking a sip from his own. “And the father?” She waved him off. “You don’t need to worry about him. High school boyfriend that split as soon as he found out.” He nodded.

“And what’s this nonsense about what we deserve?” He growled, making her shrink in on herself and bashfully hide behind her cup. “I don’t think you’d want to deal with a single mom who lied about practically everything in order to become a sugar baby to get money to feed her kid and pay for college.”

Loki sighed, letting his head fall onto her back, trying and failing to disguise his laughs. “And what did you lie about my sweet?” Bucky placed his metal hand on her knee, encouraging her. “I have a kid?” “And…” He prompted.

“And…” She echoed, pausing, thinking. “So you aren’t a 21 year old art student from a small town in the Midwest who wants to be a teacher?” Loki teased, voice light and full of humour. “I-“ “We don’t care that you’re a mom, we love you all the same. Maybe a bit more now cause that kid is so darn cute.”

She beamed. “You love me?” Leaning forward, the blue eyed man cupped her cheek gently, pecking her slightly chapped lips. “More than anything.” He whispered against them, pulling away so Loki could do the same. The woman settled against her beau once more sipping from her cup. Bucky made a surprisingly good cup of tea.

“So, I’m guessing that’s why you have been busy.” She nodded. “Orsa’s been sick the past couple days and I’ve been struggling with her and college.” “Ok, so let us help you, I’m sure we are capable enough to take care of both of you. And then, once Orsa is better, you’re moving in with us so we can keep a better eye on you.” Bucky winked.

She tried to object but Loki cut her off. “No arguing angel. Now, how about you sleep for a while and when you wake up, everything will be taken care of.” Slumping against the lean man, she allowed her eyes to flutter shut, not having the energy to tell these men no. She’ll put up more of a fight later.

Once she was fully asleep, Loki lounged on the couch, stretching his long legs so that the young woman could rest on his chest, soothed by the sound of his heart. He gazed lovingly down at her, giving a kiss to the crown of her head, laying a hand on her back to keep her in place.

“So, I guess the no catching feelings rule is done for.” Bucky chuckled, picking up her discarded cup to put it down beside him. “I don’t think that rule would’ve ever stayed.” “You’re not wrong there.” He glanced at her once more. “I want to have her babies.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ. One step at a time.” “Yeah, you’re right, we have to get married first.” Loki sighed. “I should’ve stayed at work.”

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