#but it's still ingrained in me to feel i need to be the best in every classroom and every situation

[dsiiress]

F*CK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME BABY!!

pairings (separate) ୨ৎ : toji fushiguro x reader, gojo satoru x reader, choso kamo x reader, suguru geto x reader

contains ୨ৎ : adult content (mdni), piv penetration, jealous/angry s*x, face sitting, c*nnilingus, overstim, car sex, squ*rting, edging, oral s*x (giving and receiving), pet names

a/n ୨ৎ : i might make a part 2 w/ sukuna, higuruma, nanami and shoko (or others), but it depends on how well this does!! not proofread btw, i posted this while half asleep 👎

in honor of me hitting 300+!!

toji fushiguro—☆

“fuck did i tell you about hangin’ out with that— bastard?” toji emphasizes each of his words with a snap of his hips. deep, merciless strokes into that, slick, puffy cunt of yours.

it was tired, tired from all the abuse it had taken. toji managed to pull three— no, four orgasms out of you in the span of an hour.

impossible for some. but toji? never that. he knew you like the back of his hand.

which is exactly how he knew you’d be so gullible, so naive, towards your conniving coworker.

of course you didn’t notice when he’d take glances at your tits as they restrained in your uniform. of course, when he offered to take you out to restaurants, you thought of it as ‘strictly business’.

but of course, thats what toji was here for— to keep you in check.

“im, haah— m’sorry tojii!!” you choked out a pathetic sob, trying your best to find common ground with the man. this torture had gone on for.. god knows how long. your brain was too fuzzy to even attempt to recall what time it was.

“sorry, my ass. shoulda’ been sorry a long time ago, mama. s’too late for all that now..” he grunted in reply, still continuing the ungodly pace he was going at.

jackhammering himself into you at this point— his full, aching balls slapping against your wetness.

he had your back arched— face up, ass down, hands tied behind your back, bobbing up and down with each mean thrust. red marks ingrained into the fat of your hips from the way he hooked his nails into them, making sure you’d be unable to run from him.

and it wasn’t just your hips that were marked, oh no. the crook of your neck, just along your collarbone, the inner and outer regions of your plush thighs. toji made sure to mark you up real nice and good.

“if you were really sorry,” he continued. “you would’ve stopped fuckin’ talking to that asshole months ago. then he woulda never thought it was— shit, be so handsy wit’ ya’.”

as toji replayed the scene in his head, his strokes were even sharper, practically burying you into the mattress at this point. he remembered picking you up from work, in your blouse and short pencil skirt that rode up your ass.

your coworker stopped you before leaving though, exchanging a quick goodbye, and a ‘simple hug.’ atleast thats what you called it.

but having his hands around your waist, slowly inching towards the hem of your skirt was anything but simple.

“toji, please— m’ really sorry! didn’t know..” you almost incoherently babbled out. the way his cock repeatedly pummeled its way against your sweet spot, it had you dumb. stupid, even.

“ya’ never fuckin’ know, huh? poor thing..gotta protect you from these men out here, yeah? need me by your side at all times?” he cooed sarcastically as you frantically nodded in reply.

“need you, daddy. n-need you to protect me—”

toji chuckled darkly, almost feeling bad from how pathetic you looked, how pathetic you sounded. the way your eyes rolled back as he hit your g-spot over and over, or the helpless cries that left your mouth as he did so.

“good. n’ thats how it needs to stay, mama.”

satoru gojo—☆

satoru couldn’t wait. he physically could not wait until he got home. no no, he needed you now.

his hands were engulfed in your hair, grabbing a plentiful handful as he bobbed your head up and down, soft groans of pleasure emitting from his parted lips.

“you thought that shit you pulled today was funny, yeah? messy fuckin’ girl.”

gojo had a meeting earlier with the higher-ups, discussing training for his students. you were practically on your knees, begging to tag along. after some consideration, he obliged (of course)—after all, who’s he to deny his favorite girl?

unfortunately for you, the meeting was more boring than you thought. listening to their voices drone on for what felt like eternities made your head ache.

unfortunately for satoru though, you let boredom get to the best of you.

he looked so damn attractive next to you, so professional— like his whole demeanor changed. your mind couldn’t help but wander elsewhere. your hands couldn’t help but wander either, as they discreetly drifted to the middle of his lap.

gojo let out a soft groan as you began palming him through his slacks, but was quick to conceal it with a cough. he tried desperately not to react too visibly, but it was becoming increasingly tormenting with each passing moment.

finally, after what felt like an eternity for both of you (though likely only seconds), satoru couldn't contain himself any longer— interrupting the meeting abruptly by announcing that you both needed to leave early due "to personal matters." with that excuse out of the way, he dragged you out before anyone could question the sudden departure.

to be quite frank, it was hilarious. well, in your eyes atleast. for satoru…?

ah, not so much.

mascara ran down your cheeks, tears welling up—blurring your vision as you felt the tip of his cock hit your uvula over and over. you could feel it throbbing angrily in your mouth as your tongue slobbed around the base.

gojo continued thrusting his hips back and forth into your mouth, holding onto your hair tightly. looking up, you could see his eyes rolling to the back of his head, milky strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

even in his state, he still looked so dreamy.

satoru held you down, forcing you onto his base, your nose brushing against his well-kept happy trail. you choked, strings of drool pooling effortlessly down his cock. he let out a deep, throaty moan that seemed to reverberate inside the car. your mouth was so warm, so welcoming.

gojos thrusts intensified as he continued to recklessly pound himself into your slack jaw, the salty taste of his precum dribbling onto your tongue. he was close to cumming— you both knew it.

his movements became more shaky and jagged, sloppily going in and out of your mouth before stopping. before you knew it, sweet yet salty ropes of his essence painted the back of your throat— making you instinctively swallow. satoru quickly pulled out, resting his bare cock on your face as he felt another load arising.

and it did, painting your pretty face with his sticky, pearlescent seed.

gojo looked at the sight beneath him, cursing underneath his breath as he admired how good you looked. even covered in his cum, even with your hair all disheveled, you still looked amazing.

“a-acting out to get what you want— tsk, what a brat.” he teased, still recovering from his orgasm. typical gojo, even in his weakest moments, he never lost his charm nor attitude.

“well it worked, didn’t it?” you retorted, a sly smirk playing on your lips.

“i- uh. . . no comment.”

kamo choso—☆

choso was never the type to take his anger out on his loved ones, especially you.

the half curse, half human wasn’t unfamiliar with the feelings of anger and jealousy, although he never experienced the writhing feeling first hand.

but of course, there’s always a first time for everything.

“mine, mine, mine—“ choso whined, a series of breathless moans following soon after as he shamelessly pummeled into you. he had you in a nasty mating press as you lay flat on the bed, legs damn near reaching your ears.

“you’re my girlfriend, no one else’s. . . especially not— hngh, his.”

your male friend, who obviously had the hots for you. choso was baffled you couldn’t tell, as his flirtatious remarks and actions weren’t even that subtle.

the way he’d compliment your outfits, blatantly staring at your chest— especially when you wore lower cut tops. or when he’d ogle at your curves, licking his lips as his eyes rode up your thighs.

or like today, when he suggested you leave your boyfriend for him. now that, was choso’s last straw.

"you really shouuuld, ya know?" he slurred into your ear, clearly intoxicated from the drinks you both were sipping on. choso was just a few feet away in the living area, engrossed in some show he was watching. but his eyes flicked over to you occasionally, as he kept an eye on the situation.

"i mean, why are you even with him?" your friend continued, his voice a loud whisper, clearly thinking he was discreet. "you deserve someone who really appreciates you. someone like... me."

choso was enraged—he undeniably heard every word. someone who really appreciates you? the nerve.

standing up, he approached you two, shooting daggers into your friends wicked expression as he wrapped his muscular arm around your waist.

but that cockiness soon faltered after noticing your boyfriends deadly glare. your male friend started pathetically apologizing, claiming it was a ‘joke.’

but even choso knows that drunk words are sober thoughts.

“f-fuuck, ‘cho…he, aah— didnt mean it!”

“dont c-care…” he grunted, low and rough. his jagged, uncontrolled, breaths tickled against your skin as he nuzzled his way into the crook of your neck. “i appreciate you more than he, nngh, ever w-will.”

you let out a soft moan, his words shooting shivers down your spine. choso was never like this— so possessive. but who’s to say you were complaining?

he continued ravishing into you, so carnally— the feeling of being so completely claimed by him was both exhilarating and terrifying.

but damn, it turned you on like nothing else.

his pants echoed in your ears as he picked up speed, his body moving against yours in perfect rhythm, the sound of his thighs slamming against your own. any thoughts you had, fled from your mind except for the sensation of his cock bottoming out inside you and the way he took control of both your body and mind.

as the intensity built, you could feel yourself getting closer to you peak. you didn't want it to end, but you also knew that when it did, the pure feeling alone would be delectable.

“choso— m’gonna, f-fuck! mm’gonna cumm~!” you blubbered out, your eyes starting to pool. with those words, he picked up his pace even more— delving deeper inside of you. just as you were about to let go and give in, adrenaline coursing through your veins, choso objected.

"n-not yet,” he denied. “m’ not done with you yet."

geto suguru—☆

“s’too much, sug’!” you sobbed loudly as geto’s tongue danced around your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

you squirmed and writhed on suguru's face, your hips grinding against his mouth as he expertly teased your clit with his tongue. you couldn't believe how good it felt, how skilled he was at his craft.

"suguru..." you panted, gripping the headboard tightly as yet another wave of pleasure hit you like a semi-truck. "m’sorry, please. i-i didn’t mean it…”

suguru chuckled softly against your sensitive flesh, his expression twisting into a devilish grin. "oh?" he teased, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "didn’t mean what? i can’t quite recall what it was."

he knew exactly what you were implying. yet, he was teasing— because the both of you knew what you said earlier contradicted this current state you were in now.

you bit your lip, feeling a warm blush creep up on your cheeks at the memory of what had come out of your mouth during the heat of the moment. "..‘said that you n-never make me cum," you mumbled sheepishly.

geto paused for a moment before resuming his ministrations with renewed vigor, causing yet another surge of pleasure to ripple through your body. "is that so? hm… i’ve never made you cum?" he asked mockingly, his voice full of amusement. “well she’s tellin’ me otherwise baby.”

he was referring to your cunt. the way “she” squelched as suguru slid his slender fingers in with ease, coated from your own slick mixed with his saliva.

the way he curled those digits inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that made your back arch and moans escape from between parted lips even as they were pressed against his face.

as his fingers continued to stroke your inner walls, searching for that perfect spot that would send you over the edge, his other hand reached up to play with one of your nipples.

the combination of the two was enough to make your head spin and your body shudder with anticipation. "s-suguru..." you whimpered out between gasps for air. "please... don't stop..."

his only response was a low rumble from deep within his chest—vibrating against your cunt as he swirled his tongue around your clit once again before finally taking it into his mouth completely, plunging two fingers deep inside of you.

a sharp hiss escaped from between your clenched teeth, followed by a subdued cry as suguru circled inside of you. he smirked, watching eagerly as your facial expression twisted lewdly with each nasty ministration. he was such a tease.

it felt as though your very being was on the verge of exploding. every nerve ending screamed for release, begging to be set free from this torment. the tension coiled tightly within you, threatening to snap at any moment and send waves of ecstasy crashing over your body.

you could feel it coming closer now— that inevitable peak where all sensations would converge into one, resulting in a mind-blowing orgasm. your heart raced, pounding against your chest like a drum signaling an approaching storm. sweat trickled down between your breasts and pooled at the small of your back as you arched further into suguru's touch.

but as quick as the pleasure built to a crescendo, it ended just as fast.

geto pulled his mouth away suddenly, grinning up at you from his spot between your legs, eyes sparkling with mischief. "since you said i never make you cum," he teased, his fingers curling inside of you in a way that threatened to push you over the edge yet again.

"i’m sure someone else will be able to help alleviate that little problem of yours." and with those words, he rose from his place underneath your figure. your legs being shaky, unstable, gave out beneath you, making you plop onto the mattress.

as geto sauntered towards the door with a smug smile on his face, he turned back to give one last taunt. “dont worry," he said with an air of false concern. "it shouldn’t be too hard finding someone that makes you cum as hard as i do."

DSIIRESBLOG™ 2024 — comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated!! <3

#jujutsu kaisen #anime #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #gojo satoru #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x reader #gojo smut #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #jjk suguru #jjk choso #jjk gojo #choso x reader #choso smut #choso kamo #getou suguru x you #geto smut #suguru geto smut #geto x reader #jjk x reader smut

[beelzzzebub]

my writing class is having a bracket where we pick quotations from papers to use in our essays and vote on them to see who had the best quote. what if i didn't. what if i cried instead.

#i am being so fr when i tell you that i am too competitive for this #i know that it's ridiculous but i will genuinely feel bad about myself if i don't do well in silly shit like this #does it make sense? no #but i've spent my whole life basing my entire sense of worth and concept of self around academic achievement #and these days in college i am not quite the achiever anymore #ohoho i am in fact doing so poorly #but it's still ingrained in me to feel i need to be the best in every classroom and every situation #so competitions and shit just make me dread school now that i know i can't and won't be that #aaaaanyway #burnt out two months into college hours ✌️ #lmao #boink

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. 

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him. 

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags. 

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told. 

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps. 

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway. 

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself. 

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way. 

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you. 

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms. 

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.” 

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur. 

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag. 

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.” 

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.” 

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag. 

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.” 

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him. 

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you. 

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes. 

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point. 

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.” 

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh. 

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless. 

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath. 

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power. 

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright. 

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur. 

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him. 

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him. 

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.” 

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.” 

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation. 

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you. 

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.” 

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...” 

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?” 

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.” 

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?” 

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.” 

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks. 

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.” 

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?” 

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.” 

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.” 

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.” 

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price. 

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask. 

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.” 

“Exercises?” You ask warily. 

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?” 

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose. 

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change. 

How easily he could take everything from you. 

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them. 

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor. 

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly. 

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now. 

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes. 

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.” 

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t. 

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door. 

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment. 

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door. 

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?” 

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door? 

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.” 

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to. 

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.” 

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.” 

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?” 

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’” 

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.” 

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.” 

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you. 

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess. 

You wonder if he feels responsible. 

You hope he does. 

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind. 

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room. 

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office. 

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too. 

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why. 

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy. 

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you. 

 “I don’t know.” 

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest. 

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs. 

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts. 

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. 

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head. 

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!” 

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?” 

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!” 

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.” 

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.” 

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.” 

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?” 

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear. 

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say. 

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.” 

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.” 

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again. 

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.” 

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well. 

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand. 

“No. We’re going into town.” He says. 

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?” 

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room. 

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better. 

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to. 

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing. 

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door. 

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening. 

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being. 

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.” 

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.” 

“From the institute?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.” 

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.” 

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says. 

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car. 

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story. 

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.” 

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.” 

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks. 

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.” 

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern. 

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by. 

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.” 

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.” 

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.” 

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too. 

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.” 

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options. 

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.” 

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well. 

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.” 

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one. 

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart. 

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.” 

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.” 

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles. 

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout. 

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone. 

It must be exhausting. 

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt. 

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?” 

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming. 

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car. 

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat. 

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot. 

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop. 

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to. 

You don't want to think about the things they've done. 

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you? 

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior. 

You know nothing about them. 

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.” 

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it. 

It’s only been two weeks. 

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs. 

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha. 

It had been expected of you. 

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with. 

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck. 

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap. 

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.” 

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.” 

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.” 

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs. 

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms. 

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement. 

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car. 

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha. 

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly. 

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?” 

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.” 

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you. 

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.” 

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk. 

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off. 

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you. 

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think. 

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you. 

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place. 

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash. 

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.” 

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again. 

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear. 

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time. 

Just past one a.m. 

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts. 

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room. 

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest. 

“S-Sorry.” You stutter. 

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence. 

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle. 

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger. 

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place. 

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows, @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10, @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph 

#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

[comicaurora]

I'm sorry that the terfs made their way onto your blog but it does feel good to see you support trans people. Thank you for that

Always.

I think, charitably, that the discourse going down on that post is an extrapolation and over-focus on one element of the point I was making: that for me, determining with certainty that I was cis was a rather fraught process. I was presented with many alternatives, but underlying their imposition on me was the oddly regressive idea that the things I liked, the principles I valued, the parts of myself I was proud of were not permitted of women. My whole life I got smacked with the background radiation that I couldn't like being strong because women aren't allowed to be stronger than men. I couldn't like being loud and boistrous because women aren't allowed to take up space. I couldn't be a math geek because women aren't smart. It was all deeply regressive misogyny from day one, but I started getting hit with it slathered in a fresh coat of paint - all those assumptions still held to be true, but now there was the out that I could do all those things if I just wasn't a woman.

Concluding that the underlying bioessentialist premise was wrong was very important. Absolutely none of those statements were true, and were only ever maintained by cultural saturation, goalpost-readjustment when they were actively disproven, and the occasional bout of lying with statistics to pretend they weren't just Shit All The Way Down. The core premise that certain things were only permitted of or possible for men was bullshit, and I didn't need to surrender the gender I liked best in order to play in the spaces I wanted to. I could simply exist the way I was already existing. I didn't need anything else.

The misinterpretation is the assumption that this being true of me means this is everybody's relationship with gender. I turned out to be cis, so for me, feeling that holding onto my assigned gender wasn't allowed was distressing - just another invocation of the same bioessentialist bullshit I'd been dealing with since the preschool playground. This is because misgendering is fundamentally denying that a person has the right to express themself the way they want. When aimed at me, it says I'm not performing traditional femininity well enough to deserve my pronouns. The same disrespect is the root of misgendering when aimed at trans people. "Perform your gender to my satisfaction or I will confiscate it."

The problem is, bioessentialism is 100% ingrained into the terf playbook, which is why, for instance, all their shitty talking points about trans athletes eventually boil down to "no woman can ever defeat a man in any contest because we are simply naturally weak and stupid and there is nothing we can do about it" and quite frankly nothing disgusts me more than the defeatist acceptance of the very lie that feminism is dedicated to overcoming. Instead of accepting that the paradigm of bioessentialism is a false dichotomy right from the jump, they embrace and weaponize it against the people whose existence proves the dichotomy is a lie. If gender essentialism is fundamentally false, then it is nobody's fucking business what anybody does with their gender. If the lines don't exist, nobody needs to enforce them. And yet there the terfs go, hunting down people whose lives are none of their business and trying to argue that they represent some great and terrible evil, some downfall of society made flesh, something that makes it totally correct and normal for them to spend so much time thinking about strangers' genitalia. They want this to be a noble crusade so badly they won't even examine what flag they're flying.

I love and support the trans people in my life and will always, always stand on the side of your right to exist, but alongside that, terf rhetoric especially disgusts and infuriates me because it is, at its heart, utter cowardice. The world told them they were weak and stupid and inferior and they fucking believed it. And now they think Fighting The Good Fight For Women means turning around and using the same paradigmatic weapon that hurt them to hurt the people whose existence outside the binary proves the weapon is a lie. They're the same shithead schoolyard bullies who made me believe my entire existence was foundationally wrong for years of my life and I will never, ever side with them or the shitty, cowardly rhetoric that contributed to the loneliest years of my life.

Figure out who you are and do it on purpose. Find the real source of the misery in your life and try fighting that instead of the other crabs in the bucket. Trans rights.

#asks #not aurora

[ghostlyfleur]

okay but steve harrington + shy! innocent! crybaby-ish reader where he is like play fighting with her and tickling her to the point where he’s pinned her down and she’s laughing so cute! but secretly, the weight of her boy on top of her and his hands all over her thighs and stomach, is making her rlly rlly wet 🥹

she’s like “steveee stop tickling me!” bc she can’t take it anymore and he does! but he also fully takes his weight off of her which makes her start huffing and whining for him to come back, grabby hands shooting out at him. steve is confused, ofc, like “honey i thought you wanted me to stop?” and she’s so embarrassed covering her face, squeezing her thighs and almost, if not, crying in frustration.

steve pulls her hands off her face to see her eyes, laying back down on her body when her legs spread open again, looking at her to explain further, but all she can do is whine that “it hurts s’bad stevie”.

he’s confused for a moment but then he glances down and her ridden-up oversized t-shirt reveals the wet spot forming on her panties. he presses a big kiss on his angel’s lips before cooing on her mouth, lightly touching her clothed cunt, “aw honey you wanted me to stop bc your lil pussy got all wet f’me, huh? is that what you were trying to say?”

to which she responds something like “wanted y’to stop ticklin’ me, not to stop touching me :,(“! steve finds his lovely girl so adorable, he makes sure to take good care of her afterwards, like always! maybe even mocking her just a bit from getting so turned on from a little tickling 🫠

holy shiiiiit — normal sized font below the cut

this is definitely soft dom!daddy!steve…

like he’s so doting and caring and careful and affectionate, always spoiling and praising his angel, being all playful and funny and silly like he always is— and the two are best friends, don’t get it twisted! they’re dating, but they’re still the best of friends… they banter and play fight and mock each other, share secrets and personal thoughts and feelings and they gossip together, play pranks on each other… all the good best friend things…

so they’re very close. very. loyal and devoted and completely obsessed with each other. as much as steve’s sweet girl loves to dote on him and take care of him, it’s more so her stevie’s self-assigned job to care for his baby.

and so steve buys her flowers, takes her on cute dates, is always looking out for her and can’t help his casual dominance, tying her shoes and carrying her places sometimes and brushing her hair and treating her like a little doll, his little doll. slowly acclimates her to what being in a relationship is like, he’s so so patient.

but he’s so hungry for her, it drives him insane how oblivious she is to the affect she has on him, how fucking adorable and clueless she is but also so very eager to please— because that’s all she wants, to be stevie’s good girl, to make him feel safe and loved and cared for, to make him feel good. but she gets greedy easily now… now that steve has ingrained in her mind that he truly wants her and loves her, that he’s all hers, that he wants to spoil her, marry her and make her his little wife, and spend his entire life with her!!!!!! her! his best friend! his person! they’re soulmates after all!!!!!!

her shyness stays, it’s just who she is (and steve finds it so fucking cute he has to constantly hold himself back from cooing at her all the time), but she’s just so horny for her stevie and doesn’t know how to say it ‘cause she’s so embarrassed and flustered and unsure and finds it hard to voice her needs and wants, so it manifests into tears. whenever she wants something from her stevie she gets all soft and small and pouty, grabbing at him and whining and holding his fingers to get his attention, and steve coos at her, can’t help it, his sweet angel girl so needy, and he always wants to give her the world, right? that’s his baby! she deserves to be spoiled! but her stevie is very clear in his rules— you have to speak up, tell him what you want, communicate. that’s very important to him.

and yeah, in theory his angel thinks it’s perfect, the communication and attention and how safe it makes her feel, but she physically can’t speak up when her stevie is making her feel all these sweet, intense, pretty feelings that she’s never felt before, even though she knows her stevie, her daddy, will always give her whatever she wants 😖 she just gets so pouty and teary-eyed and huffs and puffs, crossing her arms or stomping her foot like a spoiled brat until she’s so desperate bc her stevie is adamant she has to tell him what she wants before he does anything, that he’ll give her whatever she wants if she asks for it, that she whines and mumbles and asks him “pretty please, daddy” and steve is gone.

when her perfect, incredible, dreamy stevie is playing around with her, after she teases him or mocks him or they pretend-fight, or when they’re joking around, he’ll tickle her ‘cause she has the cutest little giggles, even though her laugh is kind of weird— sometimes loud, sometimes silent, sometimes she’ll fall down from laughing so hard. still, he loves it. it’s his favorite sound in the world, along with her little needy noises. it’s always different and funny and steve loves finding out what kind of laugh he’ll get out of his sweet girl that day, so he tickles. and if there’s one thing about his angel is that she loves using him as a weighted blanket, loves his weight on her, pressing her down and molding their bodies together, so that coupled with how his hands are all over her body, fingers gripping her and poking at her, his bulge rubbing against her, she gets needy. wet. very greedy. but if her stevie gets up or pulls away or sits back????? away from her????? she’ll turn into such a crybaby, like it’s the most insulting thing he could ever do, to pull away.

and steve knows. he knows how much she’s taken to steve being all over her, making her feel good, letting her explore and learn what they both like, being the only one to touch her and her him, but she still carries this air of innocence and softness and inexperience that drives him up the wall. the little looks she gives him and the shy smiles and the eagerness. she’ll be the horniest little minx, crawling up his lap and rubbing her cunt against his thigh, but will also hide her face and whimper and get all shy even if steve is balls deep inside her.

the duality of her never fails to disarm him completely. steve definitely tickles his angel sometimes when he wants to rile her up and get her needy for him— he thinks she’s clueless about it, but soon it turns into this thing where steve has pretty much conditioned her to turn into a needy little mess whenever he starts tickling her— she gets wet instantly now.

#steve inbox! #fairy writes #steve harrington (harmo’s version) #daddy!steve harrington #soft dom!steve harrington #lovesick!steve harrington #perv!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington x best friend!reader #steve harrington x shy!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #inexperienced!reader #virgin!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington hc #steve harrington headcanon #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

[theorphicangel]

#2 “let me take care of you, okay?

warnings: none, fluff.

boyfriend miguel series.

You didn’t know what you had done to the universe to deserve all of this.

From the moment you woke up things didn’t go your way. First a broken coffee cup, then a stain on your white shirt, followed by turning your apartment inside out for 15 minutes after losing your car keys whilst simultaneously trying not to start into a hysterical breakdown. Then having two deadlines piled up on you for the end of this week, managers giving you a million and one things to do and after listening to the high-pitched whining of that bitchy co-worker who spreads gossip like wildfire has now resulted in a heavy migraine.

Yet, somehow you still had to put a smile on your face. You couldn’t break down, not here and not now. There’s no time and there’s no excuses, you have to be professional.

That was the message ingrained into your brain from the second you clocked in till the second the clock hit five. But instead of relief the heavy weight of stress and work linger on your shoulders, following you down to the car-park and on your journey home. The invisible weight waits around you like a shadow as you wait for the elevator to pick you up, only getting heavier with every step that you take towards your apartment.

The weight still doesn’t disappear as you open the door to your apartment, the familiar scent of your favorite dish cooking in the air. You slide off your shoes, too exhausted to call out your boyfriend’s name. A habit that you usually do when returning home.

“Is that you, mi amor?”

You hesitate in responding, mind distracted as you slip off your coat. “Uhh– yeah, yeah.”

Miguel turns the corner, hands on his waist. He’s in a simple outfit of gray sweatpants and a black plain tee. He frowns a little as you place your bag on the floor. You’re a little less excited than usual.

Normally, you’d be bouncing into his arms right now, rambling about your day whilst trying to simultaneously pepper kisses across his lips. You swore one day you’d find a way to kiss and talk to him at the same time.

You say nothing more as you walk into the living area, eyes avoiding him.

“Did you have a good day?” You notice the low tone of concern. You know that he knows this isn’t your usual self.

“Yeah, yeah.” You try to reassure him with a smile, a forced smile. Like the picture of you in your senior year of high school on the fireplace at your mother’s house. Miguel remembers your embarrassment, turning over the picture frame whilst calling out to your mom in annoyance for having that picture on display.

But no, maybe this one is a little different. It’s more disheartening.

Miguel watches you disappear into the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind you. He’s not sure what to do, standing in the middle of the living room like an idiot. Does he go after you or do you want to be alone? Should he plate up your food or are you not hungry?

Instead he waits, deciding to give you space for a little bit before asking. Thankfully, you’re only gone for less than fifteen minutes, re-emerging from what looks like a well needed shower and your favorite hoodie of his.

For the first time tonight, you finally meet his eyes and without a single word you find yourself wrapped in his arms. He never really understood it when you said he was the best at giving hugs. He didn’t do anything special, he just…hugged you. He figured that maybe his height had something to with it but other than that he just held you as tight as he could, almost afraid that you’d suddenly disappear in his arms.

You bury yourself into his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head as you do so. His large, calloused hand rubs small circles into your back and without saying a single word his comfort is more than enough.

Coming up to the surface, you begin to feel ready to let it all out. You feel your throat grow tight as you try to speak.

“Today was just shit, mig, I can’t–” Even the recollection of it causes your eyes to swell up with tears. All you wanted to do was to hide away from the world, the thought of clocking in tomorrow makes your stomach flip upside down.

Miguel hums, “Just let me take care of you, okay?”

His arms wrap around you a little tighter as the words leave his mouth in a soft tone.

“Okay.” is all you have to say and all that heaviness from earlier which tormented your body seems to disappear, your mind now preoccupied with the way that Miguel holds you. You pull away, glancing up at him now as you finally let it all out.

“Work was shit.”

Miguel hums, continuing to rub small circles into your back as you spill out anything and everything that has pissed you off today.“...I’m just done, I don’t even think I want to go in tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to, I’ll call in sick for you.”

“Really?” You struggle to keep the surprise out of your voice.

“Really, mi vida, didn’t I say I would take care of you?”

“You don’t have to mig’”

You let out a giggle as Miguel clicks his tongue in faux annoyance. “I want to.” He emphasizes. “How many times do I have to tell you? I want to take care of you.” He leans down a little to place a kiss on your forehead. His soft brown eyes meet yours, a silent plea before the words even leave his mouth. “Let me take care of you…please.”

You shut your eyes, taking in the sensations around you; your mind now coaxing your body to rest.

Yes, you’ll give in for tonight, you think. You’ll let him take care of you.

thank you sm for reading!! reblogs are much appreciated!

#angel writes #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #spiderman: across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse

[laikabu]

saw someone who hc kabru as aromantic bisexual. thats actually kinda good. i dont necessarily subscribe to it but i could see it. not fully aro but in the spectrum i guess

im now just going to ramble about how i think this would work in my head. also labru bc this is my page

he sees flirting more as a game n marriage as something convenient than something he aspires to achieve w the one he loves

flirting n dating is more of a tool to make friends. he isn’t interested in getting serious so that usually turns them off, so he gets labeled as a ‘player’

he doesn’t return rin’s feelings even though he finds her physically attractive, because he genuinely values her friendship and the way he views romance is incompatible with hers and would just break her heart

ok labru territory turn away now sorry im pulling shit out of my ass atp

laios would fit right in with his preferences, because their relationship would be boiled down to “best friends who have sex” like, the easiest way for them to explain their thing

even if they go on dates, they’d be more interested in talking about a current topic or something they need to do, than super sappy stuff. they still do it! but kabru would kinda get uncomfortable with saying sappy stuff, it’s different from flirting. once laios recognizes this, he tells him he doesnt have to do that

it works out because while laios is kinda sentimental, he isn’t really a romantic person. when they were still figuring stuff out, laios just goes “x is mad at me because they think not doing y makes me a bad partner” but really, kabru doesn’t care whether he does it or not

if laios is saying this about a different partner, kabru would chastise him, but since it’s him, he’s totally fine with none of that happening

when it comes to them becoming spouses, they would rather forgo a real wedding and just do the paperwork to make it happen. marcille takes offense to this n thinks its an “affront to romance” esp since kabru wants to plan HER wedding, but neither of them think it’s a big deal

laios has a very hard time distinguishing his platonic feelings to his romantic feelings. he’s just very happy kabru that wouldn’t leave him or get bored of him. getting to kiss him and have sex with him is just a nice bonus.

kissing and cuddling is more of an emotional recharge or comfort etc for kabru than a romantic activity. his friends don’t get it at all.

even in my stupid baby universe its just “kabru wants to have a baby with me for the kingdom? he’s such a nice guy. he told me he wants utaya to live on too… thats so thoughtful.” their relationship is ‘blunt’ and ‘convenient’. the marriage was just to legitimize the heir and otherwise it was just a regular wednesday.

they love each other, but kabru expresses it to the extent that he could, and that works out for laios.

tl;dr basically someone who views romance as a performance than something ingrained w him x someone who struggles w romance. its totally fine if you dont see kabru on the aromantic spectrum, i don’t necessarily see it that way either! i just want to think about how it would work in my fanworks. what do u think. i should add more but im just going off at the top of my head LOL

#labru #then again labeling it as aromanticism is just more Convenient #than whatever the hell is happening in kabru’s beautiful autistic mind

[radiantmists]

this has haunted me since the first time i watched the movie.

[ID: two clips from Nimona. In the first, from the knighting ceremony, Ambrosius turns to Ballister with a wink and says, "Here comes the woo." Then he walks forward, calls "Woo!" and the crowd echoes him. The video cuts to a scene from the flashback, where Gloreth throws a rock into a bucket, then gives herself a little "Woo!" of celebration. Nimona watches from the forest. End ID]

when we first see ambrosius do this, he's just the golden boy jock hyping up a crowd; fine, whatever.

the second time, it's with this little smirking comment to ballister and we realize that its part of his Brand, but we've also seen him constantly joking with and gently ribbing ballister to cheer him up so it feels like a sincere part of his Brand, him sharing his excitement because he knows it makes other people smile. it's self-aware but still feels genuine, like ambrosius is just this class-clown sort of person who likes acting a little silly to make people happy.

and then we get ambrosius cutting his boyfriend's arm off because he was trained to, hunting his best friend down because he's expected to. we see how he hides his mental anguish from the people around him, even the director who he seems to genuinely care about and who's offering to listen. we get him trying to arrest bal, really believinh he's a killer, at least in part because bal's consorting with a monster and ambrosius knows what he's supposed to think about monsters. we see him latch on to the first explanation he's told for the director's confession, because it means she's good and bal's good but misguided and the monster's evil, just like it's supposed to be.

and then we see gloreth do the woo, and it's nothing like when ambrosius does it-- she thinks she's entirely alone, she's just cheering for herself out of pure and childlike joy, because she is a child and she's having fun.

but think about how this little mannerism has to have been carried into gloreth's adulthood, how people must have latched onto it so that it got passed down through generations. how it's not only self-aware on ambrosius' part but a deliberate part of his image as the direct descendent of gloreth.

except that infectious cheerfulness is also how he acts with ballister in private, and the people-pleasing is so ingrained that he pauses a manhunt to sign autographs. he needs his boyfriend to tell people about his allergies. he always smells of lavender and he bleaches his hair blond.

and some of these aren't bad things! but it begs the question, how much of who ambrosius is-- not just how he presents, but his whole identity-- was constructed to fit the perfect golden boy image?

and how sad is it that the kingdom and its forces of tradition and conformity managed to twist even this little, kinda dorky expression of joy into something obligatory?

#nimona #nimona netflix #nimona movie #ambrosius goldenloin #gloreth #also i didn't include it bc i had an Artistic Vision #but the next shot of the first scene is bal looking at ambrosius all lovestruck from the lower lit area #exactly like nimona in the second clip #holy cinematic parallels batman #nimona spoilers

[malfoyfarms]

She Wanted You

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Word Count:1.4k

Warnings:none

A/n: angst bc im boycotting watching season three LOL, not my gif

“What do you mean she left?” JJ questioned, dumbfounded. He didn’t realize it, but he was walking into a war zone. The Chateau no longer had the same feel. It was like someone sucked the air out, and pumped smog in. 

With tears in his eyes, John B pointed towards his sister’s room. Sarah and Pope were lingering in there, but JJ had no idea why. The room was oddly neat, incredibly out of character of the girl who resided there. Her closet was emptier than usual, the three picture frames that once had pictures of her with her family and friends were empty. What caught JJ’s eyes next, made his mouth go dry. His breath was no longer there. The navy sweatshirt he had given her years ago was folded, on the bed, next to the pillow he always claimed during their relationship. Atop the sweatshirt was a ring from a gumball machine, an orange and green friendship bracelet made of paracord, and a pile of notes written on scraps of random papers. Every other personal belonging was missing from its spot. 

JJ tore through the girl’s nightstand, and when he realized the box of her life savings was gone, he let out a string of colorful words and kicked the stand.

“Here, you should read this.” Sarah handed him a neatly written note. By the tear stains on Pope’s face, the somber tone from the kook, and JB’s raging anger, it was a farewell. 

He took a deep breath, and swiped the letter from Sarah. The familiar handwriting was already pulling at his heart.

J,

I’ve rewritten this letter four times already, and I still don’t know how to put my thoughts into actual words. Firstly, I love you. I love you until the waves stop coming in. I love you so much that I knew I needed to leave. I’ve known since you wandered home with John B in third grade, and gave me all the answers (even though they were wrong) to my math homework that if there was going to be another boy in my life, he was going to have to fight you for that spot. From 7 years old, I only ever wanted you. But over the last two years, I can see that I’m not the one for you. And that is why I’m leaving. One of the only things that got me through my day was seeing you smile, but I understand that there is someone else who causes those crinkles by your eyes.

I have to leave because it’s too painful. I need time to have all your kisses leave my body, I need to leave because I can’t smell the ocean, listen to Akon and Konvict, or even wash my fucking clothes without thinking of you. I see you in body language, in the waves, in every damn aspect of my life. Not only are we ingrained on this island, but you are ingrained in me. If I’m ever going to come home I need to remove every trace. 

I told you last week, I’d always be on your team, even from a distance. I need you to pursue Kiara because there is nothing more I want for you than happiness. Deep down, I know it will always be her. While that sentence feels like a shot, I’m coming to terms with it. 

Don’t try to come find me, either. I won’t be going to any of the places we’ve ever talked about, I do have my secrets still. Not Yucatan, not Tybee, and certainly not Jekyll. Take care of my brother.

All my love, 

Y/N

“When did you and Y/N break up?” Sarah asked. JJ couldn’t even think straight. Y/N and the boy broke up about a week ago, for that specific reason, JJ thought there was something there with Kiara. He didn’t think the girl would pick up her stuff and bolt. Leave her brother, her best friends, and the life she claimed to love. 

“I, uh, initiated it last week or so,” he stuttered, “it wasn’t definite or anything, but it was insinuated I guess. We had a conversation about it, but I don’t think I ever could have said it out loud.”

“Oh,” she thought. “You know she really loved you with every bone in her body.”

He sucked in a deep breath to try to keep his tears at bay. How could he walk out to the front room and face John B. He was the reason the youngest Routledge had left. With Big John gone, she was all he had left. Hell, with Luke gone, she was all JJ had too. In some form he robbed his friends of a family member. 

JJ laid down on the neatly made bed and latched onto the sweatshirt that smelled just like her. His memory flooded with images of Y/n in that sweatshirt. From it covering her bikini when they went night swimming, it being the one sweatshirt that was specifically for after she came home from school, the one thing that grounded her when she was having a rough day. JJ felt his chest start to tighten, and his hands were clammy and shaking. 

“I thought you said you’d never break her heart!” JB screamed. Impeccable timing. 

“John B don’t–” Sarah tried to interject.

“No Sarah, he promised. He promised me almost three years ago that if I gave him permission to date Y/n, he wouldn’t hurt her. He knew he’d be breaking more than just her heart. And now I can’t even help her pick up the pieces. I can’t fix my baby sister, the way she fixed each and every one of us!” 

“Bro, you think this is what I wanted? I had a conversation with her. Nothing was definitive. It’s not my fault she took her shit and ran!”

“When has Y/n ever not taken her feelings and ran? Name one time!”

JJ sat there in thought, and there had been one time she didn’t run, and he had promised that he wouldn’t tell. He was going to anyway.

“When you disappeared. I held her while she cried herself to sleep for nights on end. So don’t act like I never treated her right. You know I did.” JB ran his hands through his hair and left the room. 

“Until you decided you may have feelings for the girl who is like her big sister.” That stung. 

“What’s going on?” Kie asked.

“She’s gone.” John B said. “‘Cuz JJ’s in love with you.”

~~

JJ sat in the hammock, wearing the navy sweatshirt he hadn’t worn in years. It smelled just like her. He could even feel the marks of where she rolled the sleeves and dug her thumbs into the side. 

He barely remembered last week’s conversation about Kie, but never did he think that it would cause you to disappear. Y/n was so incredibly loyal. She wanted him. Every. Damn. Day. She wanted him when the clouds were out, and the usually blue sky was gray. She wanted him when he was bruised and beat up, she wanted him when he was crabby after a 14 hour shift, she wanted him at every hour of the day in any way she could have him. 

It was just a conversation, he thought. He never flat out said that he was leaving her for the tanned, wealthy kook. 

He felt so fucking stupid. He felt so much self-hatred. He remembered when they were 12 and 14, and Y/n wanted to walk to the gas station a few streets over, but John B wouldn’t go with her. He remembered what she usually bought. Peach iced tea, sour straws and a bag of munchie mix. Every single time. 

He remembered when the girl got drunk for the first time and dialed him to come get her. God, she was so inebriated. She clung to the boy, giggling profusely. That was the first night she ever told the boy she loved him. Y/n never knew it, but JJ kept that memory locked in his head. 

He pondered the time she was ready to give him her virginity. He remembered how nervous she was, but how much she trusted him. 

It had grown dark by the time he wandered back into the Chateau. He was surprised JB didn’t kick him out, he fully expected to be out on the streets by now. As he stumbled towards the bedrooms, he went past his own, and fully dove into the light purple sheets he had come to love. She’ll come back, he thought. She has to.

#jj x reader #jj outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #Outer Banks #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #hms pogue

[eat-limes-bitches]

Not Allowed To Die

PAIRING: Female Reader x  Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY:  We never know how much time we have left and fate is a cruel mistress. We can only make the best of the time we have left.

WARNINGS: ANGST! Like omg so much angst not really a happy ending but it's not super sad either. Sad! Bucky, mentions of death, dying, tears

Word Count: 755

A/N: Would you like to be sad and or have your heart ripped out? Good. I was thinking about this the other day and it just felt like something so raw and real to talk about, especially since this is one of my greatest fears.

Enjoy! <3

It was around three am when Bucky woke up with a start. He heaved deep breaths into his lungs, physically willing his heart to slow down. He looked to his side and saw her still asleep, the moonlight drifting in through the window casting a halo on her hair as steady, strong, breaths fanned across her pillow. It was the sight of her next to him in their bed that allowed Bucky to finally catch his breath. He reached over with his flesh hand and traced her features with his finger, mapping every dip and curve, freckle and crease on her face, permanently ingraining her face into his mind. 

His feather touches eventually woke her up. Her brows furrowed together as a sleepy “James?” left her lips. Her eyes fluttered open and landed on the man staring at her with worry and fear etched deep into his features.

“James? What’s wrong?” She mumbled as she started to sit herself up. Bucky stared at her for a moment before blurting out “You are not allowed to die before me.” 

This surprised her. She sat up a little quicker and looked at him, “What?”

Taking a deep breath, Bucky repeated himself, “You are not allowed to die before me. You, just can’t.”

She let out a deep sigh as she leaned back against the headboard keeping her gaze trained on the man she loved. 

“Now James,” She started, reaching for his hand, “What on Earth brought this up, my love?”

Bucky takes a shuddery breath, his throat suddenly becoming tight as he tries to speak.

“I- I just realized how fragile all of this is. I realized that I m-might lose you and that scares me. I’ve already lost so much, I don’t think I’d be able to handle losing you too.” He chokes out, tears starting to sting his eyes, threatening to spill.

“I can’t lose you. I- I have to go before you.” 

Now her throat constricted, the thought of him leaving before she did was not a foreign thought to her, with his line of work, there is always a possibility that he won’t come back, but something about him making that statement when the world was silent weighed a little more on her. 

“Well that’s n-not exactly fair is it?” She choked out as tears started rolling down her cheeks. Bucky reached over and cupped her face in his hand.

“I s’pose no darlin’” He murmured as his breath caught in his chest. 

“B-but I just can’t lose you. I- I wouldn’t survive it” He choked on a sob as his admission hung in the air. Y/n sighs and gathers Bucky up in her arms, tears still streaming down her face.

“Baby, we can’t avoid it. It’s inevitable but I need you to promise me something ok?” She says softly, pulling away slightly so she can look Bucky in the eye.

“If I do die before you, don’t let that grief bury you alive, my love, ok?” Bucky opens his mouth to speak before she silences him.

“Take each day as it comes. And promise me, when the pain eases, you'll let yourself feel joy again.”

“But, you’re my everything darlin’,” Bucky sobbed, pulling her into his arms. She wound her arms around him, further deepening the embrace. 

“And you are mine. But you know what my ma told me? Love doesn't end with death. It transforms into memories, moments that live on, even when the people in them are long gone.” 

The pair sat in silence, content to just sit in one another's embrace before Y/n pulled away taking a deep breath.

“Now, as things sit, right here, right now, at this moment, I’m not going anywhere any time soon ok? We still have a lot of living to do, together, alright?” Bucky nodded.

“But I’m still afraid.” He whispered. 

“And that’s ok, my love,” She whispered as a ghost of a smile danced across her features, “As long as we don’t let that fear cloud the beauty that surrounds us right now.” 

Y/n laid back down, pulling Bucky down with her so that his head was resting on her chest where he could hear her heartbeat. 

 “We’re going to grow old together, and make lots of memories, so when the time comes, and one of us has to go, we have a lifetime of love behind us. And who knows,” She whispered, “Maybe, just maybe we will go hand in hand, and I’ll follow you into the dark.” 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky x reader angst #bucky x you angst #bucky barnes x you angst

[mydearzero]

helloooo beautiful, ur recent Spence fic sent me feral - can I request a Reid x reader where they’re dating and the non bau!reader gets jealous of JJ getting to spend all this time w Spence at work and spence reassuring her it’s nothing between them. Fluff but if it got smutty then hey ;) thank you gorgeous

Hii! Thank you so much for your request! I hope you enjoy!! I was honestly feeling kinda mushy about this one so adding smut just felt out of place, sorry for that one folks

About a Girl | Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You could never be like her. You were at peace with that. So why couldn't you shake the jealous, envious feeling whenever you saw Spencer with JJ?

Contents: NO Y/N, gn!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, jealousy, comparing yourself to others, insecurity, fluff, non-BAU!reader, bathing together.

1.8K words it's short I know

SSA Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau: Mom, profiler, and one of Spencer's best friends. You looked up to her, in a way. She was successful and respected in her field, something anybody could only wish for. Combined with her sense of humour, personality and undeniable good looks, you were jealous. 

It had taken some time for you to admit it to yourself. You liked JJ. She was a good, honest person and a great friend to your boyfriend. But you slowly felt yourself comparing yourself to her increasingly often. 

You couldn't live up to it. You weren't like JJ. Somewhere deep inside, the logical part of your brain told you that you didn't have to be. Spencer liked you for who you were. You knew it, yet you couldn't shake the envious feeling anytime her name fell in conversation. You couldn't stop the tight feeling you got in your chest whenever you saw the head of long blonde locks fall backwards in a hearty laugh directed at your boyfriend. 

Spencer knew something was wrong. How could he not? It was ingrained into his very being to read you at any given time. He wouldn't understand. You loved him, you did, but these were the types of things he just couldn't seem to grasp. You knew your feelings were irrational in theory. But that didn't mean you didn't still feel them regardless. He'd try to explain them away. 

So you didn't tell him. Refused to talk about the simmering bitterness. 

It frustrated Spencer. You could tell. He was usually able to read you like the morning paper, thrown carelessly on the lawn. He couldn't be objective in his profiling when it came to you. He knew you were on friendly terms with his best friend, so why would he ever assume that that was the problem? 

You didn't blame him, didn't blame anybody but yourself. 

It wasn't until a regular Thursday night dinner over at Rossi's that Spencer finally figured it out. The atmosphere was light, wine was flowing, and stories were being shared. Spencer laughed wholeheartedly at one of JJ's tales about Henry's late-night shenanigans. He'd caught your strange, longing gaze directed at JJ. His heart broke at the realisation, putting the pieces together at lightning speed.

You were jealous of his friendship with JJ and beating yourself up for it. He didn't know what to do about it. He could only assure you he loved you, but Spencer knew you knew that. He knew you were likely aware your worries were unwarranted. Which must only make you feel worse about the feelings you were harbouring. Spencer cursed silently at himself for not realising it earlier. 

You met his gaze, giving him a soft, genuine smile. So, the feelings weren't directed at him. It was JJ who was troubling you. He turned to her, seated next to him. You'd insisted on sitting next to Emily, claiming you needed to catch up with her. Were you punishing yourself for feeling the way you did? By making him choose to sit next to JJ? 

Spencer excused himself from the table, claiming to feel unwell. You frowned, gathering your things, saying your goodbyes and following Spencer out the door. He didn't speak as his hand met your lower back, guiding you to the passenger side of his car. He held the door as you got in. 

The ride to his apartment was silent but not necessarily unpleasant. Spencer's hand reached for yours over the console, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand in a soothing manner.

"You okay?" You asked. He'd seemed fine only minutes earlier. He nodded, squeezing your hand. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?" Spencer inquired. You furrowed your brows, confused as to why he'd ask. He was the one that wanted to leave, after all. 

"Yeah? I'm fine. Why? Is that why you wanted to go? Because you thought I wasn't?" You'd been having fun exchanging stories with Emily. What had he seen that had made him immediately pack up and leave? 

"Yeah... Let's talk when we get home, okay?" He sent a quick look into your eyes, assuring you it was nothing bad. It didn't make the dread building in your stomach any less present. 

Spencer parked the car and got the door for you. He usually was a true gentleman, but he was noticeably going out of his way to ensure your comfort. 

You walked up to his door and waited for him to unlock it. He took your jacket and hung it on the rack beside his own. You took your shoes off and put them by the door, giving Spencer a peck on his cheek as he passed you into the kitchen. 

"Tea?" His voice echoed. 

"Yes, please!" You replied, plopping down on the couch and getting comfortable. Spencer was obviously not troubled by the topic he wanted to talk about, so the tension you felt in the car was slowly dissipating. 

Spencer walked carefully with the mugs in either hand. He put yours in front of you before sitting down and taking a tentative sip of his own, hissing at the heat. 

"You wanted to talk?" You urged, no longer having the patience to wait. 

"Yeah... I just noticed something tonight I should've noticed before. I don't know how to change your feelings about it, though. I know you know I love you more than anything. So, I understand you're feeling conflicted, and I'm not mad you kept it to yourself." Spencer started. He was hesitant. 

"Kept what to myself, Spence?" Your heart was beating fast, and you cursed your body for overreacting. He obviously wasn't mad or breaking up with you. 

"Your feelings about my friendship with JJ," Spencer spoke outright. Your heart dropped, and you couldn't help but feel caught. You closed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek, turning your head away from him.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Spencer's words were quiet, but you knew there was no use hiding it from him anymore. You nodded in defeat before jumping to your own defence. 

"I know it's irrational, okay? I know I have nothing to worry about. I know JJ's just a good friend, and she's happily married to Will, and she has the kids and... And I know you'd never do anything to jeopardise our relationship, and I know you love me, but you spend so much time with her at work, and she has a key to your apartment, and I know it was just to look after your mom while she was here-" You rambled, but Spencer sushed you. 

"Hey, hey. I know. I know. There's no need to defend the way you're feeling. Sometimes, feelings can be irrational, and I do spend a lot of time with her. I know that you know, okay? That doesn't make the way that you're feeling any less valid," Spencer assured you. 

"I'm so sorry, Spencer. I just- I can't stop it once I start. She's amazing, Spence. And I know you'll say I am, as well. But it's not the same. It'll never be the same. I can't give you what she does." 

"And I'm not asking you to. I'm in a relationship with you. She's one of my best friends. Those dynamics offer different things, and I'm okay with that. If you want me to change my dynamic with JJ, I'll work on it. Just tell me what you need, please," Spencer begged. 

A singular tear escaped your eye, rolling down your cheek. You wanted to scoff at it. You'd kept it in for so long. You weren't even sure where the bitterness came from nor where it was truly directed. 

"I guess I just need the external validation. I know you love me, and I feel it. My head knows you wouldn't let anything get between us. It's just my heart that won't cooperate." Spencer tugged you to his chest, putting a hand in your hair and stroking softly. 

"There's no need to apologise. You can't force your body to change how you're feeling, unfortunately. If it was that straightforward, my job would be a whole lot easier, too." Spencer laughed. 

A short laugh escaped through your tears. "I know, Spence. I just wish I could shut it off. JJ's a wonderful person. She doesn't deserve this." 

"And neither do you. And if it's gonna take some extra effort from me to make your body catch up with your head, I'll gladly put it in. Come on," Spencer got up, taking your hand in his. You trailed behind him as he stalked to the bathroom. He turned the faucet on, waiting for it to get warm before letting the water fill the bathtub. He put a generous amount of aromatic soap into it, letting it bubble. 

"Wait here," he urged. 

You stared at the grout between the tiles, following the paths it created as you waited for Spencer to return. The sound of the water plummeting into the tub covered any conspicuous noises coming from whatever he was doing. Steam was slowly forming around you, the bathroom filling with the lavender scent of Spencer's favourite soap. 

He quickly returned, arms filled with all sorts of products. Candles, snacks, a book and some comfy clothes. 

"Why're you still dressed?" He questioned, positioning the candles around the tub and bathroom. 

"You said to wait!" You shrugged. 

"Well, get on with it!" Spencer laughed, encouraging you to undress. 

"Gee, Reid. Someone might almost think you want to see me naked." You winked, tugging your top over your head. 

"Oh, I always want to see you naked, but that's not what tonight is about," Spencer assured. He lit a few candles, their light making the bathroom less clinical-looking in an instant. 

You remained in your underwear, assuming Spencer would be joining you after his frantic preparations. When he finally had everything arranged how he wanted it, he undressed. You took off your underwear and let him help you into the bath, careful to avoid any candles. He got in behind you, pulling you backwards to settle against his chest. 

"I love you," Spencer declared, taking some soap and rubbing your back. The great thing about having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory is that he could remember many massage techniques intended for relaxation. You unwound under his gentle touch. 

You stayed in the water until both of you were pruned up. Spencer had read to you, fed you snacks, massaged every part of your body he could think of and made sure you felt loved. 

Sure, you weren't like JJ. But she wasn't like you, either. And that was okay. It wouldn't make Spencer love you any less, nor her any more. 

#spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid angst #Spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x gn!reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #jennifer jareau #criminal minds #mgg x you #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction #mgg x y/n #doctor spencer reid #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagines #Matthew gray gubler fluff #fluff

[helios-writings]

I Drank Dry the River Lethe

Osamu Dazai x gn! Reader

wc: 1.2k

Warnings: none

Dazai is in love with you, he has no idea. He just knows that you make him feel…weird.

Dazai doesn’t know what’s happening to him, as far as he’s aware, you don’t have a special ability. But, that has to be the only explanation for how his heartbeat quickens whenever you walk into the room, how his breath is stolen every time you smile. How every accidental touch makes him yearn for more, like a siren song he can’t get out of his head, even if he were to jump overboard.

You were always so kind to him, a far cry from Kunikida who you claim to be best friends with. But it’s Dazai who you always hand a cup of coffee to, Dazai who you always save a pastry for. He can’t bear it, your kindness. Like he doesn’t deserve it. He’s sure you know, and yet….you still smile at him. Your smile is so bright it could rival the sun, and Dazai wouldn’t mind burning in its ultraviolet rays.

He’s staring at you now, as you sit on the corner of where Atsushi is sitting, talking animatedly at him, gesturing so wildly with your hands you nearly hit yourself in the face. You laugh, embarrassed. It’s like music to his ears, he wants to record the sound and play it on repeat over his headphones so he never forgets it, so it's ingrained into his brain.

“Dazai,” you say, “want anything from the shop?”

He blinks, taken out of his thoughts by the lilt of your voice. “What?”

You're next to him now, the scent of your body spray nearly intoxicating to him. He wants to press his nose to your throat and drink it in.

“The shop, I’m going to pick up lunch from there. Do you want anything?”

He stands, stretches and yawns. “I’ll just come with you.”

You roll your eyes, but smile still. “Well, don’t make it sound like such a chore, I could’ve offered to get you nothing.”

Dramatically he leans against your shoulder, hand over his forehead, feigning a sorrowful swoon. “And starve me to death? How cruel, even for you.”

You laugh, Dazai loves making you laugh. He craves it, almost, wants to keep doing it.

“You’re so dramatic, but alright, come along.”

He’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked, but for now, the shop down the street would do.

You say hello to a bunch of people as you pass by, almost all of them complete strangers. You even hum as you walk. He’s so content watching you, that he almost runs into a lamppost.

You pull him away just in time and frown. “It’s not good to have your head stuck in the clouds all the time. What if you got hit by a car?! Dr. Yosano wouldn’t have been able to heal you!”

“Awe, you’re worried about little old me?”

You let him go. “You know what, actually? Next time you daydream I’m letting you hit the pole, and I hope you get the ugliest bump on the middle of your forehead. And when you beg and plead with me for an ice pack, I am going to say I told you so.”

You let the silence linger for one moment. “And then I’ll get you the ice pack.”

He laughs, absolutely enamored with you. “I knew you enjoyed my company.”

“Of course, that’s why I get gray hairs trying to keep you around. Now, come on. I’m starving and I want to grab a good onigiri before they’re all gone!”

You grab his hand and pull you along and oh. He thinks this is the first time you’ve touched him on purpose, the feeling of your hand so impossibly warm in his he doesn’t know what to think or feel. He wants to pull you into him, wrap you up in his arms and never let go. He could die in your arms and nothing else would ever be more perfect.

Dazai knows what he feels when he looks at you now, the shortness of breath, the skipping heart. It is no spell, no special ability.

He is in love with you, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, a nail to a magnet.

Suddenly, all he wants to do is tell you, the need clawing his way to the top of his throat, being stopped only by sheer will. He will not tell you this in a shitty convenience store, where anyone could overhear. No, he won’t do that. Dazai has some semblance of romance after all, even if Kunikida thinks the opposite.

“What do you want?” You ask, observing the onigiri with a seriousness that otherwise would’ve made him chuckle, had his very being not been shaken to the core.

His eyes land on the first bento he sees and he grabs it. “This is perfect.”

You raise a brow. “Are you okay? Did you actually hit your head and I didn’t see?”

Dazai rolls his eyes. “I’m just really in the mood for….salmon.”

He absolutely was not in the mood for salmon, but you shrugged and continued perusing for the items the rest of the ADA had asked for. He even managed to regain some state of being long enough to help you carry the bag back to the agency.

You grin brightly as you enter the office. “Lunch! And I can say with one hundred percent certainty that nothing got crushed. Except for Dazai, almost.”

“I’m telling you, I could’ve avoided any oncoming traffic.”

You roll your eyes, but smile at him in exasperation. “Okay, okay. You’re tough as nails.”

Dazai shoves the whole piece of salmon in his mouth to prevent the feelings from spilling out. He nearly chokes.

You hand him a glass of water, eyes crinkled in the corner from amusement.

***

It’s just you two in the office at the end of the day. The atmosphere is almost stifling now that he has the perfect chance to confess.

It’s funny, how easily he was able to proposition other people that he thought were perfect candidates for his dream. But now that it was you, someone he knows, that he cares for….he almost can’t get the words out. Everyone he’s ever propositioned pales in comparison to you, you have wholly ruined him; there’s no one on earth like you.

You’re nervous as you turn to him. “I know why you're acting weird.”

“You do?” Shit.

“You found out about my feelings for you. I knew I was too obvious.”

Dazai blinks. “Huh?”

Realization that he didn’t know dawns on you and you rush to leave, but he grabs your arm and pulls you into a desperate kiss, like if he didn’t kiss you in that moment he would explode.

Your lips against his are a religious feeling, something to worship. He wonders if he could get amnesia so he couldn’t experience them for the first time over and over again. Wonders if, perhaps, he’s already dead and this is his eternal heaven.

Knows he’s alive once you pull away and laugh, eyes shining in disbelief and joy. He kisses you again. You smile into it.

Dazai spends a lot of time doing that until he’s certain he’ll never get tired of it.

#daylightarchive #fandom☀️: bsd #character☀️: dazai osamu #bsd x reader #bsd x you #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #reader insert #sunbathing with: dazai

[sempersirens]

yes, chef

masterlist

based on this request from the lovely @cool-iguana

summary: joel miller is the head chef of a prestigious michelin star restaurant in the city. after working for him for over a year, you're determined to not let his ill-temper and cutting words dampen your spirit and love for your career. you won't give in at chipping away at his tough exterior, living for the hope of finding something sweeter below the surface

pairing: no-outbreak, chef!joel x f!reader

content/warnings: angst, joel is a cocky piece of shit, hurt/comfort if you squint

a/n: so i've been binging the bear. what of it. if you have culinary experience i am so sorry, i don't know what the fuck i'm talking about. i literally just watch masterchef.

"I need that grilled octopus plated. Now. This ain't a fuckin' old folk’s home."

"Yes, chef!"

Joel Miller was mean. That was the first thing you had learnt upon stepping into his kitchen over a year ago.

You'd know what you were getting yourself into before you'd even arrived at the restaurant for your first day. Joel's reputation preceded him; he was notorious for running a tight and intimate regime, so successfully that he'd earned a Michelin star to his name. The restaurant itself was a small but sweet seafood and farm-to-table bistro in the middle of the city.

It had taken some settling in, to put it lightly. You had your fair share of culinary experience having worked your way around Europe as a poissonier after graduating culinary school. Still, the other chefs at Joel's restaurant had been working in kitchens since you were in diapers, as they frequently enjoyed reminding you.

Despite the high expectations and fast pace of the kitchen, you soon found your feet.

"On the pass for saucier, chef."

Luke, the restaurant's saute chef, rushed to your side, saucepan in hand. He delicately poured an olive oil, shallot, and herb dressing onto the tentacle, stepping back to indicate the dish was ready to be taken out onto the floor.

"Good job, sweetheart." Luke winked at you, placing a light tap on your ass.

As much as you loved your profession, degradingly misogynist gestures were extremely common. You'd made the mistake of calling out a sous chef earlier on in your career, soon realising how ingrained this kind of mindset was in the older generations you found in a kitchen.

So, you gritted your teeth and got on with it.

"This is a kitchen, not a brothel. Feel each other up on your own damn time." Joel called across the room, making you thankful for the heat of the kitchen masking the blush across your cheeks.

"Yes, chef. Sorry, chef." Luke responded, tail between his legs.

You continued preparing your seafood dishes, feeling Joel's presence lurking behind you.

"Waitin' for that sea bass to come back t'life?"

"No, chef."

"Then fuckin' grill it."

"Yes, chef."

"Too busy thinkin' 'bout your fuckin' boyfriend over there if you ask me."

You were a good chef; not even a decent chef, but a really fucking good one. You put your everything into your dishes, and Joel knew that, meaning his degrading comments stung even more sharply.

Sometimes it felt as though he specifically targeted you. You had wondered if it was down to your age, or maybe simply because you were a woman. You never did anything that warranted such scathing words, yet you were the main recipient of them.

You did what you do best, and just got on with it. You carried on the rest of the night enduring his small but cutting digs in your direction, as well as a slap on the ass from Luke after plating up each dish.

Maybe it was the heat of the kitchen, or your patience wearing thin, but when you'd braved a particularly vicious snide comment from Joel back-to-back with a far too over-familiar hand on the waist from a passing Luke, you snapped.

"Fuck!" You shouted, slamming your fists down, realising just too late that your left hand was in perfect line with the grill.

Your reflexes kicked in instantly, pulling your hand to your chest with a pathetically weak hiss. Thanks to your prior outburst, everybody's gaze was already fixated on your station. Your eyes caught Joel's, fury burning on his face.

"Out. Now." He ordered.

Now it was your turn to tuck your tail between your legs, still clutching your hand as you barged out of the back door.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't you fucking dare cry.

Blatantly, your body wasn't listening to you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before rapidly falling down your face. You had tried to stand up for yourself, to make a stand, and you'd failed miserably.

You were so in your own head that you hadn't heard the kitchen door open, the sound of a small cough causing you to not so discreetly wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

"You're not fuckin' blubbing, are you?" Joel scoffed.

"What's your fucking problem?" You spat, surprising yourself with your tone. Fuck it, you thought. Probably fired anyway, may as well go for the jugular.

"Why are you so mean to me, and only me? I work my ass off in that kitchen, day in, day out. Harder than anyone else, including you. You don't give any of the others half the shit I get. Is it because you're some soon-to-be dried up lonely chef with just your ten-year-old Time Magazine front cover to keep you company at night that you've got such a stick up your ass? Or are you just a sexist pig?"

He whistled and raised his eyebrows, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his back pocket, taking one for himself before offering you one. You accepted, leaning forward for him to light the end for you. As he flicked the lighter, you flitted your eyes up to meet his, which were already trained directly on you.

The second thing you had learned about Joel Miller, not so shortly after the first, was that he was beautiful. Whenever you caught his all-consuming, hazelnut eyes lingering on you, you couldn’t help but feel butterflies swarm in your stomach. It had been hell swallowing your attraction for him for well over a year; you knew the reason his curt words and stoic attitude hurt you so much was because you were desperate to impress him. Not because of his status or accolades, but simply because of the kind of man he was. He was rough around the edges and cruel just for the sake of it, but every now and then you would catch a tenderness to him. Namely, when his daughters came to visit the restaurant and he would scoop them up in his big arms, transforming into a loving teddy-bear as soon as he stepped out of the kitchen.

You stayed close to him after pulling away, both of you taking a drag in silence.

"S'only five years old, actually."

"What?"

"My Time Magazine cover. Only came out five years ago."

"Right." You suppressed a laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that you'd found his comment humorous.

Another couple of minutes of silence passed as you soaked in the distant noises of traffic from the inner-city; the mixture of the far-off bustle, the warm summer night, and the nicotine rushing to your head made your outburst feel like a distant memory.

"You any better at pouring a whiskey than usin' a grill?" Joel asked, breaking your momentary tranquility.

"Excuse me?"

He didn't respond, rather, half-opened the kitchen door and barked for the sous chef to cover for him.

"Let's take care of that hand'a yours."

The adrenaline coursing through your blood had shifted your focus from the searing pain in your palm, which now came rushing back to you all at once. It could’ve been worse, but you were eager to ease the tight stinging as quickly as possible.

You followed Joel through to the back office, the commotion of the kitchen down the hall a honeyed murmur through the closed door. He placed two tumblers and a half-full bottle of whiskey in front of you.

“If you’d be so kind.”

As you poured the drinks, he rifled through the overflowing shelves for the never used first-aid kit.

He took a swig from his glass before taking your hand in his, turning your palm upwards and resting it on his lap. He worked in silence, brushing over the wound with cleaning solution, gently dragging a thumb soothingly up the side of your hand each time you hissed through your teeth at the pain.

His touch was uncharacteristically gentle; he took his time in applying the antibiotic cream, rubbing smooth circles over your blistering skin.

“So, you and Luke an item or somethin’?” He asked, a hint of something coating his voice that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Are you serious? God, no. He just seems to have a problem keeping his hands to himself.”

Joel’s head snapped up, meeting your gaze for the first time since you’d sat down opposite one another.

“I’d never have let him touch you like that if I knew.”

Unsure how to respond, you took another swig from your glass to keep your mouth occupied.

“M’sorry, by the way. For always bein’ so harsh on you. I just know you’re talented-”

“Don’t give me that I just want you to reach your full potential shit. I know you don’t care enough for that-”

“I don’t care? That what you really think?”

His tone was softer now, if you didn’t know him better, you would’ve sworn you could hear a twang of sadness in his voice.

He gently dressed your wound, taking care in placing the adhesive and securing it with a bandage. He tucked the loose end into place but kept a gentle grip on your hand, rubbing his thumb over your padded palm absent-mindedly.

“Course I fuckin’ care, that’s the damn problem.”

“You’ve got a real funny way of showing it.” You scoffed.

He poured you both another round, taking a swig of his drink before rubbing a hand over his mouth, a laugh creeping across his face.

“You were right earlier, I am fuckin’ washed up and lonely. I should’ve left, got more than enough damn cash than I know what to do with. Nothin’ I want more than to disappear to a farmhouse somewhere w’my girls, leave all this pompous shit behind.”

“So, what’s stopping you?” You asked softly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“You walkin’ into my kitchen like a damn angel sent from above.”

A breath caught in your throat. It must be the whiskey, you thought, he’s probably loosened up and horny, trying his luck for a token of your appreciation for him putting you back together.

“I thought t’myself, how can I up and leave now, when the most beautiful woman I ever saw has just walked into my kitchen?”

“You’re drunk.” You tried to rationalise, not believing the words tumbling out of his mouth.

He held his hand out flat, as still as a surgeon’s, as if it would somehow prove he was telling the truth.

“M’not, see. I just thought you n’that idiot in there were fuckin’.”

“Oh my god,” your eyes widened, leaning back in your chair at the realisation finally piecing his actions together.

“You were jealous.”

“Of him? Never.”

“Don’t lie to me now, Joel. You thought we were together and you were jealous. That’s why you were always so fuckin’ mean to me.”

His cheeks reddened as he brought a hand to the back of his neck.

“Maybe I was. Hated thinkin’ of a girl like you endin’ up with a piece of shit like him.”

“In comparison to what, someone like you?” You leant forward, placing your glass on the side before rising from your chair to stand in between his legs, resting your hands on the sides of his rough face.

“Now, sweetheart, would that be so bad?”

#joel miller x reader #my fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedrostories #the last of us #request #tlou fanfiction

[acrylic-anxiety]

things I thought were canon in mha but are probably just things the fandom made up that are so deeply ingrained in fanmedia, coming from someone who only joined the fandom a few months ago (correct me if im wrong)

(also not caught up on s7)

- literally any ships (rip, i know, but guys, no student relationships are canon as of rn)

- eijirou and mina went to middle school together

- denki probably has (absence) seizures due to overusing his quirk/bc storms

- red shoe theory (the quirkless have an extra toe joint and bc of that they need different shoes. unfortunately there's only one type, so doesn't matter if you're 5 or 80, you're stuck wearing bright red sneakers ://)

- erasermic. just the entirety of them being together. also includes erasermic fam. still rioting from when i found out erasermic is not canon >:((

- denki has adhd + dyslexia + dyscalculia (and probably a seizure disorder)

- hitoshi is in the foster system (and was probablg ab*sed bc of his quirk. includes mentions of muzzles and quirk suppressants)

- present mic was born with his quirk, deafening everyone in the room when he was born (includes mentions of muzzles)

- the bakugous (mitsuki and masaru) are either the best parents in the world (super attentive and caring) or suck and are probably ab*sive (quirk suppressants on katsuki any time he comes home, neglectful masaru, aggressive mitsuki)

- izuku is autistic (while not canon, i wouldnt be surprised, this is coming from someone with auDHD)

- denki's parents are both pro heroes (theres two pro's with electricity quirks. maybe?? maybe not?? we'll never know)

- endeavor is homophobic (i mean... im not saying he's not-)

- present mic was adopted by two moms

- eijirou has two moms (this one tho, so cute oml im screaming)

- the bakugous run a fashion empire (katsuki modeled for them before UA

- rooftop trio's full friend group included nemuri (a year ahead of them) and tensei (iida's brother)

- iida is autistic (ngl, if this aint the case im rioting)

- tsu never had a childhood, too busy parenting her siblings while her parents were at work or traveling

- back to the bakugous, they were too busy traveling to do photoshoots (mitsuki was the model and masaru designed clothes) to watch over katsuki, so he taught himself how to do everything (chores, keeping tbe house, cooking, etc)

- eijirou has depression/was su*c*dal in middleschool, the only thing keeping him from toppling was mina

- some mutation quirks are there at birth, others come in later. ex: toru (hagakure) was not born invisible, she turned invisible when out shopping with her mom (just imagine thinking "oh shit i just lost my kid at the store" and feeling something grab your leg with the voice of your kid but nothjngs there. wild, absolutely wild) just imagine this shit with the rest of our resideng mutation kids (whom i adore) koji, fumikage, mina, mezo, mashirao (would you consider hanta, kyoka, rikido, and mineta mutation quirk kids? bc i do)

- some kids come from all over the world (i like the idea of it, just how do they all know japanese then??) one i can remember rn were like denki is a 2nd gen japanese american, yuga we know is from france, hanta is latino (i adore this)

- mineta is great!! or mineta is a r*p*st (now, hes gotten better, i'll give you that, but hes still not great and i choose to hate him so im moving on-)

- the sports festival ceremony triggered a flashback for katsuki, making him feel like he was back with the sludge villian again

- izuku and katsuki co-wrote all might fanfiction and individually at one point had all might stan pages.

- fumikage, hitoshi, and kyoka rotate between the bakusquad and dekusquad

- the emosquad consists of fumikage, hitoshi, kyoka, mezo, katsuki, and shouto

- ochako has dad sneezes (loud asf and probably back to back) and katsuki has kitten sneezes (cute and singular) (no i will not explain further)

- while katsuki is loud and "angry" all of the time, you only really got to worry when he becomes deadly silent

- if you want tea on anyone, go to either mezo or kyoka. they know all

- shouto had many firsts after the dorms were implemented: first time trying ice cream, watching a movie, listening to music, trying certain foods, etc. bc endeavor either hated it, or didnt allow him access to it bc he thought it was a waste of time

- momo probably has an eating disorder, regardless of her quirk, due to her parents pressure as a high society family

- quirk related symptoms/damage. ex: katsuki's explosions causing low blood pressure and hearing loss. present mics causing hearing loss and chronic sore throats (maybe even repeat tonsilitis??). hitoshi getting migraines, insomnia, and nose bleeds from excessive quirk use.

- aizawa transfered to the hero course after winning the sports festival his first year at UA (i think it makes sense, what with him training hitoshi later)

(this is what i could think of rn, theres probably more, add on if you think of any)

#mha #my hero academia #class 1a #kirishima eijirou #mina ashido #denki kaminari #present mic #yamada hizashi #erasermic #aizawa shouta #aizawa #eraserhead #hitoshi shinsou #bakugou katsuki #deku #izuku midoriya #mutation quirks #shouto todoroki #do they consider mutation quirks for any quirk that changes physical aspects of the body or just if it affects like the overall body? #bc mina's pink but sero's got weird elbows #you cant even see hagakure but ojirou has a tail #and is sato's a mutation quirk or just weirdly drawn big lips?? #thinkin about how midoriya never got real quirk counseling like literally everyone else got :// #the fandom really grabs onto hc and says yep this is real no need to look any further

[justblades]

⋆｡˚ ♰・oiled up! with luka, gepard, blade & jing yuan x gn! reader

┈─・(ex)plicit, mdni.

oiled up! luka's actions are heavily hinted with hesitation as his heart thrums against his ribcage. "are you sure this is necessary?" he asks with curious aqua eyes meanwhile you resolutely reply. "this is just a little maintenance for your mechanical arm." you utter lowly and drizzle the lubricant all over the gleaming titanium parts, your body seemingly getting closer to luka's that your lower part is hardly pressing against his knee.

luka's posture stiffens, lips tightly pursed and rose hues tint his ears, similarly to his lush crimson hair. "i can manage though, no need to focus on me." he insists and you could only chortle in exchange. "is the renowned wildfire fighter getting shy now?" luka's eyes widen in realization, breathing deepens. "no, it's just that—" hushing his lips with your index finger in an instant, "it's okay, i understand." you guide his mechanical arm to your sex, uncurling his machine fingers to tease with your sensitive spot. "should i do the same with your other hand next?"

oiled up! gepard is flustered, watching the sticky liquid trickle from his pecs all the way down to his sculpted v-line, a good portion of his blond happy trail peeking from the lax white pants he's sporting. on the other hand, you — who's been watching along behind him, reach your limits that you couldn't resist not flicking your tongue on his bare shoulder blade. he flinches from his seat but hands remain still given the tie on his back, slithered on his wrists, gepard's lips twitch.

"are we not done yet . . ?" he asks, voice lowered yet weak, almost as if his own tongue betrayed him. "there is much more for you to feel." you respond and face him this time, descending to his position and inch your face towards the plane of his chest. "tell me how you like this." speaking up once again, you poke your wet tongue, aiming for gepard's erect buds. gepard's legs jerk at the foreign sensation, the oil being an additional factor to increasing his sensitivity.

oiled up! jing yuan loves handjobs so much that everytime you'll pump his throbbing cock, he whips out the bottle and smother your hands with the oil - not caring if the liquids drip all over his office floorings, desk, bed, wherever you're doing it. he'll also wrap his large calloused hands around yours to assist you, "tighter." he coos, hand resting over your shoulder while you sat across him, biting your lip in anticipation. your digits now tightly curled around his girth, you skillfully stroke his dick, meriting you guttural moans from the general's slicked lips.

he groans whenever you'd complete one pump, to the point that he cannot mute himself from saying such lewd words - "your handjobs are the best." "yes, just like that, keep it like that." "hah, i'm so close!" the silver haired became so whipped he'll request for your presence even during his general duties. a view you've long ingrained in your mind was him bucking his hips upwards to sync with your tempo, truly an arousing sight to behold.

oiled up! blade doesn't like to get messy with himself only, he'll make sure you are too. he lathers oil from his scarred hands, coating his digits with the liquid until the substance overflows past the margins - oozing on your naked body he'd come to adore so. he caresses your frame, massaging the flesh like a therapeutic session: reaching pleasure points you didn't know existed. you couldn't help but let out a mewl from the satisfaction but blade's hands travel somewhere else, a spot you already predicted he would toy with.

adorned with the lubricant bedaubed all over your body, he tugs lightly on your hard nipples. your breath hitches in return, but you feel your soul dissipate as blade fondles the plush of your ass, only to leave it with a loud spank right after. the spank sounds, it stings, "that's too much!" you yelp underneath his towering figure. however, he doesn't respond but completely flips you over, your back facing him now. "i'll reward you something good right after." he replies in a low tone, leaving yet another swelling slap on the cheeks of your ass.

#luka x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr luka #blade x reader #gepard x reader #hsr x reader smut #honkai star rail smut

[sister-lucifer]

okay masky x hoodie idea

masky is clicker trained. to an embarrassing degree. Brian used to dominate him and they were weirdly kinky in college and now the sound of a clicker drops Masky to his knees ready to suck like the good dog he is

And Hoodie doesn’t even need the actual clicker, just clicking his tongue does it. Masky doesn’t even understand he’s fucking doing it when it happens it’s that ingrained into him

idk im jn love with the master x dog metaphor for Masky in anything ever

there’s no doubt about it, Masky is the best of the two at following orders. Tim’s mind is so tired and weary it’s easy to mold however his master wishes, and that shows through when he’s hardly lucid in the Masky headspace.

Tim and Brian hadn’t spoken in years, but Masky and Hoodie know each other very well. something triggers a memory in Hoodie, maybe the sound of Masky breathing or the smell of his lingering cologne, barely covered by the smell of pine trees and dirt, but it gives him a brief flash of something only Brian should know.

he stares at Masky for a moment, both of them sharing a silence. Masky tilts his head curiously as Hoodie lifts his mask just above his mouth to make sure the sound is clear.

he clicks his tongue twice.

Masky jolts, the physical reaction nearly making Hoodie flinch. Masky drops to his knees a moment after, looking up at his partner as if expecting something, but…neither of them know what.

Hoodie gestures for him to stand again, and he does, though slower than he dropped. silence stretches between them once more, but not for long.

Hoodie clicks again.

even faster this time Masky is down. he gets onto his knees with his hands sitting flat on top of his thighs, clearly awaiting something that’s just barely evading both of their memories.

Hoodie takes a step closer and reaches out, putting a cautious hand on Masky’s head and gingerly running his gloved fingers through his hair. his hand slides down the side of his face to his chin before pulling away. the shape of his jaw is disturbingly familiar.

Hoodie’s eyes trail down Masky’s still body slowly, taking his time. Masky can feel his stare but does nothing; that is, until he feels it stop at his groin.

he follows Hoodie’s gaze down to his lap, eyes widening behind his mask when he sees the obvious hard-on straining against his jeans. he hasn’t even realized.

there’s a flicker of realization between the two of them that there’s more to this than either of them know, but they don’t care. this feels right, and thats all that matters.

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Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

#i’ve got mail! #drabble #marble hornets #masky #hoodie mh #masky x hoodie #tim wright #brian thomas #marble hornets smut #masky smut #dom/sub